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“You want me to be frank, Sam?”

  “That’s what I pay you for.”

  “Laura still hasn’t got her memory back?”

  “Correct.”

  “I know you want to help, but there’s a good chance the past will all come back and you’ll be in the doghouse again. Even if those memories don’t return, you’re still going to have to tell her the truth.” When Bishop only stared into the sun, scrubbing his jaw, Willis prodded. “You know that, right?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “I don’t imagine it is. That’s why you need to be doubly cautious.”

  Hell, cautious was his middle name.

  But Willis was right. He was getting carried away. Getting tangled up between past, present and possible future. One of them needed to keep their feet firmly planted on the ground.

  Willis changed the subject. “Are you coming tomorrow night?”

  To his birthday bash? Bishop moved back to the axe he’d left leaning beside the block. There’d be people there from work. People who knew about his divorce. He doubted anyone would have the guts to ask either him or Laura directly about that, or the fact that they looked to be together again. If anyone did…

  With his free hand, he swung up the axe and inspected the blade. The sharp edge gleamed in the sunlight.

  Bottom line, he wanted to help her remember, right? If things got interesting tomorrow evening and she started to come around too quickly, he’d whisk her away and begin explaining. Not a moment he looked forward to.

  But Willis had hit the proverbial nail. He and Laura couldn’t live in the past. Not indefinitely, anyway.

  “We’ll be there,” Bishop said. “Laura’s excited about it.”

  “Great. We’ll find a few minutes to talk then.”

  Bishop was signing off when Laura strolled out again, Akubra in hand. She stuck it on his head and told him to leave it there.

  Grinning, he tipped the rim. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is everything okay at the office?”

  “Everything’s good.”

  “It’s been wonderful having you home this week, but if you need to go in, don’t stay because you’re worried about me.” When he only looked at her, she set her hands on her hips. “I feel great, Bishop.” Then, shading her eyes from the sun, she asked, “What will we give Willis for his birthday? Is he interested in chess?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “You’ve never asked?”

  “It’s never come up.”

  “But you have a chessboard in your office. The one I gave you as a wedding gift.”

  Twenty-four karat gold and pewter pieces. It was the most exquisite set he’d ever seen. But something in her tone set his antenna quivering. These past days they’d spent so much time together, taking walks, enjoying picnics, at other times staying indoors to ponder over the chessboard. Laura had been testy when they’d left Dr. Chatwin’s office on Tuesday; she didn’t want to see a specialist. And she’d seemed so off balance that evening on the porch—Monday. But since that time she hadn’t shown any obvious signs of feeling foggy, as she called it, or agitated. Quite the opposite. She’d seemed particularly breezy.

  And yet subtle things she’d say or do let him know that some connections, or at least curiosities, were still clicking. The thing that struck him most was that, despite whatever connections she might secretly be making, Laura didn’t seem any the less in love with him. In fact, her love seemed to grow every day.

  As for him…

  Laura’s next question took him by surprise.

  “Have you heard from your parents lately?”

  He gave the obvious reply. “They live in Perth.”

  “I know that, silly. But there is such a thing as a phone.”

  Some years ago, his parents had moved to Western Australia, a six-hour flight from Sydney. They’d flown back for his wedding and had approved of Laura in every way. He only wished his mother hadn’t cried so much during the ceremony. Without asking he knew she was wishing that his brother had been there; she’d made sure to tell him later. Bishop understood the emotion—he felt it, too. But on that one day, Lord knows he hadn’t needed it.

  He’d vowed if anything so tragic ever happened to him—if, God forbid, he lost a child—he’d keep the memories, the pain and regrets—to himself. But in hindsight, he should have been more open about his feelings after Laura’s miscarriage rather than building that wall…pretending it hadn’t hurt as much as it had. As Laura stood here now, the mountains a dramatic backdrop and the sun lighting her hair, he knew he ought to have shared more of himself, particularly when she’d stayed shut down.

  She’d needed comfort then, not steel.

  “Maybe we should invite them out for a couple of weeks,” Laura went on. “Your mother seems so sweet. It’d be nice to get to know her more.”

  “I’m sure she’d like that, too.”

  “You could call your folks tonight after dinner.”

  “I could do that.” But he wouldn’t.

  “I should probably start getting the guest wing ready.”

  “Laura, my parents travel a lot. They might not even be home.”

  And as they walked arm in arm back to the house, she leaning her head against his shoulder and a palm folded over the hand he had resting on her waist, Bishop decided that was the excuse he’d give after pretending to call.

  The following evening, he and Laura arrived in Sydney for Willis’s birthday bash forty minutes late. For a present, they decided on a dinner voucher at one of Sydney’s most exclusive restaurants. As Bishop slid out from the car now, the lights and sound coming from the party venue descended upon him. He’d tried to stay optimistic, but he couldn’t see tonight working out well. Someone was bound to say something that would trip a switch and Laura would naturally want to know more. Most likely she’d grow suspicious. Agitated. There could be a highly embarrassing scene.

  It wasn’t too late to back out.

  Instead, Bishop sucked it up, swung around the back of the car and opened Laura’s door.

  “Willis knows a lot of people,” Laura said, surveying the elite restaurant as she slid out. Through the generous bank of streetfront windows, a throng of people could be seen milling, talking and generally having a good time. Wringing her pocketbook under her chin, Laura hesitated.

  Bishop’s palm settled on her back. “We don’t have to go in if you’d rather not.”

  The pocketbook lowered, her shoulders squared, and she pinned on a smile. He guessed that at some deeper hidden level where memories waited to be restored, she was as worried about this evening as he was.

  “I want to go in,” she told him, but then rolled her teeth over her bottom lip. “I’m just a little anxious. I don’t know many of the people you work with.”

  Bishop straightened his tie. She’d know fewer of them tonight.

  They climbed the stairs, entering through tall timber paneled doors decorated with colorful leadlight, and a DJ’s music, underlined with general chatter, grew louder. There must’ve been a hundred people talking, drinking, laughing at anecdotes and discussing politics or the latest Hollywood gossip. Bishop’s gaze swept over the group. No Willis in sight. In fact, he couldn’t see anyone he knew. But then a familiar, animated face emerged from the crowd.

  Ava Prynne worked in Bishop Scaffolds’s administrative section. Tonight she wore her platinum-blond hair in cascading ringlets that bobbed past the shoulders of a snug-fitting aqua-blue dress that barely covered her thighs. When she saw him, Ava, champagne glass in manicured hand, sashayed over.

  “Mr. Bishop! I was hoping you’d come.”

  “I’ve said before, Ava, call me Sam.”

  He didn’t agree with those formalities in the office.

  Ava’s gray eyes sparkled beneath the chandelier light and she breathed out his name. “Sam.”

  Bishop cleared his throat. He hadn’t been aware that Miss Prynne had a crush on him until this moment.

  Lau
ra leaned across and introduced herself. “Do you work at my husband’s company, Ava?”

  The blonde’s gaze slid across. Her smile disappeared at the same time Bishop’s stomach kicked and he bit his inside cheek. Already it begins.

  Ava looked Laura up and down. “Husband?”

  Bishop waited for the answer, then the next question, then the next. He might feel sick to his gut, but what else could he do?

  But before Laura could speak and confirm that the man to whom this woman was so obviously attracted had been married three months, a uniformed waiter with a tray appeared.

  “Drink, sir, madam?”

  Thankful for the intervention, Bishop grabbed a juice—he was driving back—and collected a champagne cocktail for Laura.

  He nodded at Ava Prynne’s glass. “Top up?”

  Ava’s curious gaze, swinging from Laura back to her boss, lightened a little. “Uh, no, thank you…Sam.” But the smile she had for him fell as she looked back to Laura, then she manufactured an excuse to leave behind an awkward situation. “Katrina from accounts has just walked in. I’ll see you both later.” Ava and her blue micro dress hurried off.

  Laura’s brow quirked at an amused angle. “Lucky I’m not a jealous woman.”

  “You have nothing to be jealous of.”

  He’d said the words before he’d thought, but it was true. Laura had never had reason to think he had eyes for anyone but her. She still didn’t. Ava Prynne, Annabelle…no one compared.

  Tables set with gleaming cutlery and fragrant multicolored centerpieces occupied the far end of the room. To their left, waitstaff manned a line of bains-marie filled with steaming dishes. The tantalizing aromas of roast beef, mornay and Chinese cuisine seeped into his lungs.

  Ready to set off toward the food and avoid any more awkward introductions for the moment, he tipped his chin at the spread. “The buffet’s out.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not that hungry yet. Are you?”

  “I can wait.” In fact, he could wait until they got home. He’d thought they could handle whatever came from tonight but now, whether it might seem rude or strange, God how he wanted to leave. But he could delay…keep them alone and together for a time.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  Laura’s emerald eyes lit up. “You recognize it, too.”

  “Recognize what?”

  “That song.” She sidled up to him, toying with the silk knot at his throat. “It’s our bridal waltz.”

  He concentrated and the memories the tune stirred left a warm place in his chest. He cast a glance around for a dance floor, but couldn’t find one.

  Laura craned to peer over the heads of the crowd. “There’s a courtyard through those French doors.”

  Bishop smiled. More private than he’d hoped.

  “In that case,” he offered his arm, “may I have this dance?”

  They cut a path through the pack and emerged in a private courtyard. Over the fainter music drifting out, the nearby trickling of a fountain could be heard. Above them, the moon was a pale yellow claw hanging amid a quiet tapestry of twinkling lights. Feeling as if they were the only couple on earth, he brought her to the center of the cobblestoned area, instinctively immersed himself in her eyes, gathered her in his arms and began to slow dance.

  She rested her cheek against his shoulder. The floral scent that was so distinctly Laura wrapped itself around him. His eyes drifting shut, he grazed his jaw over her crown, soaking up the magic that was “them” again for however long it lasted.

  Moving against him, she looked up. Her eyes were dreamy, her lips moist and slightly parted.

  From his heart he said, “You look incredible tonight.”

  She wore a black evening dress, low at the back, with a high halter neck, the ties of which were studded with glittering diamantés. But Laura looked as breathtaking in a pair of tatty weekend shorts as an evening gown. In anything. Or nothing. She was the kind of woman who could never lose her beauty. It was far more than classic bone structure and those large well-lashed eyes. Laura had a quality that defied and superseded simple beauty. No matter how old, she would always glow and turn heads.

  “So,” she said, with that seductress’s smile, “you’re not sorry you married me?”

  She’d said it teasingly, but a certain light in her eyes hinted that she was digging and not simply for compliments.

  Holding his easy expression, he rocked her gently around. “Why would you say that?”

  “There’re a lot of beautiful women in there.”

  “The most beautiful is dancing with me.”

  Happiness radiated from her every pore. It hadn’t been empty flattery. He’d meant every word.

  Leaning her cheek against his shoulder, she gazed up at the stars.

  “Have you ever thought what we’d be doing ten years from now? Twenty?”

  He gave an honest answer. “I’m more focused on tonight.”

  “I wonder how much of the world we’ll have seen together. How many different celebrations we’ll have had.” Her gaze lowered from the stars and met his. “I wonder if we’ll be as in love as we are now.”

  His heart thumped harder. He didn’t answer. Hell, didn’t know what to say. So, with the slightest pinch between her brows, she rested her cheek against his lapel again.

  After an uncertain silence, she asked in a soft, curious voice, “Are you happy, Bishop?”

  He fought not to stiffen or clear his throat.

  “Don’t I look happy?”

  She peered up again and warm trust filled her eyes. “Yes. And we’ll always be.” Her hand tightened slightly on his. “I was thinking, after I see that specialist next week, after he gives me the all clear—”

  “Let’s get there first,” he cut in.

  But she plowed on. “I thought we could talk more about having a baby.”

  His jaw tensing, he looked away. But he’d known that request had been waiting in the wings. Given this romantic setting, how close they felt right now, he shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d brought it up.

  His palm moved to stroke the smooth dip low on her back. “We’ll talk about it when we get home.”

  “I don’t want to stir anything up,” she added, “but we need to talk about it again sometime.”

  He cocked a brow. Was she going to push it now? “Laura, this isn’t the place.”

  She flinched and he cursed himself. He’d sounded dismissive, patronizing, when he knew full well how much having a baby meant to her, probably better than she did at this point. He was only trying to delay. Delay long enough for all her memories to return.

  Or to consider more that other idea…half-baked and brainless though it was. What would happen if Laura fell pregnant again only this time she went full-term and gave birth to a healthy child? Given her condition, he was well aware the notion was appalling. While they slow danced beneath this moon and he thought about taking her home, however, it was also dangerously appealing.

  He’d never wanted a divorce. He should never have left that day.

  The music faded and inside someone took a mic.

  “Everyone, it’s time for the cake!”

  Stepping back, Laura toyed with one diamond drop earring, his wedding gift to her two years ago. “Guess that’s our cue.”

  “We’ll talk later. Promise.”

  She gave a wan smile that said she’d like to believe him.

  Back inside the crowd was congregating at the far end of the room. A massive cake was displayed on a round table, its decorated top ablaze with candles.

  A heckler called out, “Blow ’em out, Willis, or the place’ll burn down.”

  Dressed in a tux, Willis laughed along.

  Someone hollered, “Speech!”

  The man of the hour held up his hands and eventually everyone quieted.

  “First I want to thank you all for coming tonight,” Willis said. “The big three-oh is certainly a milestone. But I’ve enjoyed every step along the
way. Best one being the day I met my wife.” He held out a hand and the lady in question joined him, her face stained with a blush. “Life wasn’t complete until I met you.” He brought his wife close and gifted her with a heartfelt kiss.

  Someone called out, “You’re getting soppy in your old age, Will.”

  “I’ll get soppier still,” he called back. “I have an announcement.” Oozing love and commitment, he brought his petite wife closer. “Hayley and I are having a baby.”

  A hoot went up. Glasses clicked while Willis and Hayley embraced like the young lovers they were, with all their future ahead of them.

  His heart sinking to his knees, Bishop dared a sidelong look at Laura.

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. When she caught him studying her, she forced a carefree laugh.

  “I’m so happy for them.” When she lowered her head, he read her thoughts. I want us to be that happy.

  Bishop ran a hand down her back. They’d come tonight, had a nice dance. Now, after that announcement, it was past time to leave.

  He was about to say they’d go home when Willis appeared before them, surrounded by well-wishers raising their glasses.

  Willis nodded to them both. “Glad you could make it. Laura, you look wonderful.”

  Faultless in company, Laura resurrected her smile. “Congratulations.” She came forward and pressed a light kiss on his cheek. “You and your wife must be so happy.”

  “We’ve been trying for a while so, yes, we’re both over the moon.”

  Having received dozens of congratulatory hugs, Hayley joined them. Her face shone like Laura’s had when she’d known she was carrying their child—the same rosy tint to her cheeks, the same exuberant confidence knowing that soon she would be the mother of a healthy, beautiful babe.

  Willis brought his wife close again. “Hayley, you remember Sam Bishop. And this is Laura.”

  Bishop held his breath and his gaze darted around at the faces of onlookers. Some murmured behind their hands. Others, less discreet, openly gaped at the boss’s stunning companion. He guessed the women might have glimpsed the wedding bands on both their hands.

  “I’ve heard so much about you,” Hayley said.