in luxury cars all of her life. She didn’t know what it felt like to be dirt poor with no funds available for extras, let alone the essentials.
Just take his mother, for instance. Stuck on a long transplant list and living way out in the bush to boot, his mother had died waiting for a kidney. His working-class parents hadn’t had the money to pay for private health cover. They hadn’t even had the money to afford another child after him. He knew what it felt like to want things that were so out of your reach it was like grasping at bubbles, hoping they wouldn’t burst when your fingers touched them. In his experience they always burst.
Lexi was another bubble that had burst.
‘You call that a dent?’ Lexi bent over to examine the mark on the door.
Sam couldn’t stop his gaze drinking in the gorgeous curve of her tiny bottom. She was all legs and arms, coltish, even though she was now twenty-four. It didn’t seem to matter what she wore, she always looked like she had just stepped off a catwalk. Her legs were encased in skin-tight black pants that followed the long lines of her legs down to her racehorse-delicate ankles. She was wearing ridiculously high heels but he still had a few inches on her. The hot-pink top she had on skimmed her small but perfectly shaped breasts and the ruby-and-diamond pendant she was wearing around her neck looked like it could have paid off his entire university tuition loan.
She smelled fabulous. He felt his nostrils flaring to breathe more of her fragrance in. Flowers, spring flowers with a grace note of sexy sandalwood, or was it patchouli?
She suddenly straightened and met his eyes. ‘It’s barely made a mark,’ she said. ‘But if you want to be so pedantic I’ll pay for it to be fixed.’
Sam elevated one of his brows mockingly. ‘Don’t you mean Daddy will pay for it?’ he asked.
She pursed her mouth at him and he had to stop himself from bending down and covering it with his own. ‘I’ll have you know I earn my own money,’ she said with a haughty look.
‘Doing what?’ he shot back. ‘Painting your nails?’
She narrowed her blue eyes and her full mouth flattened. ‘I’m Head of Events at SHH,’ she said. ‘I’m in charge of fundraising, including the gala masked ball to be held next month.’
Sam rocked back on his heels. ‘Impressive.’
She gave him a hot little glare. ‘My father gave me the job because I’m good at what I do.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ he said. After all, partying was her favourite hobby. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.’
‘Is this your first day at SHH?’ Lexi asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you living?’
‘I’m renting an apartment in Kirribilli,’ he said. ‘I want to have a look around before I buy.’
A small frown puckered her smooth brow. ‘So you’re back for good?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Sam said. ‘My father’s getting on and I want to spend some time with him.’
‘Is he still living in Broken Hill?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘He’s retired to the Central Coast.’
Sam was surprised she remembered anything about his father. It didn’t sit well with his image of her as a shallow, spoilt little upstart who had only jumped into bed with him as an act of rebellion against her overbearing father.
That had really rankled.
Damn it, it still rankled.
Their red-hot affair had only lasted a couple of weeks before her father Richard Lockheart had stepped in and told him what would happen to his career if he didn’t stop messing with his baby girl. To top it all off, it turned out she was six years younger than she had told him. It had been a jolting shock to find the young woman he had been sleeping with had only left high school the year before. Nineteen years old and yet she had looked and acted as streetwise and poised as any twenty-five-year old.
Sam had told her things during that short affair he had told no one else. Things about his mother’s death, like how hard it had been to watch her die, feeling so helpless, his father’s endless grieving, his own dreams of making a difference so no one had to go through what his family had suffered. For once in his life his emotional guard had come down and it had backfired on him. Lexi had used him like she used her social standing to get what she wanted. He had almost lost everything because of her puerile, attention-seeking little game.
When it came down to it, it had been a choice between relocating or sitting back and watching his career implode. To a working-class trainee who had lived on Struggle Street for most of his life, Sam knew that the well-connected and powerful Richard Lockheart could have done some serious damage to his career. He hadn’t taken those threats lightly. He had been lucky enough to be able to switch to the US training programme, and while it had cost him a packet, it had been the best thing he’d ever done. He had worked with some of the world’s leading transplant surgeons and now he was considered one of the best heart-lung surgeons on the planet. Everyone back home had believed he had transferred on a scholarship and he hadn’t said anything to contradict the rumour. Interestingly, neither, it seemed, had Richard Lockheart.
The appointment to SHH had been timely because he had been keen to come home for a couple of years. He missed his homeland and his father. The man was the only family he had. It was time to come home and put the past behind him.
Lexi was a part of his past but she had no place in his future. He had been captivated by her beauty and her alluring sensuality. But her party-girl mentality had been at odds with his career-focussed determination back then—just as much as it was at odds with it now. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by her. Even though the eleven-year age gap was no longer such an issue he didn’t want anything or anyone—particularly not red-hot little Lexi Lockheart—derailing his career plans.
Lexi flicked a strand of hair away that had drifted across her face. ‘How will I contact you?’ she asked.
Sam’s brows snapped together. ‘About what?’
‘About your car,’ she said, with another little mocking quiver of her eyelids. ‘About the dent you need a magnifying glass to see.’
‘Forget about it,’ he said.
‘No, I insist,’ she said, taking out her mobile. ‘I’ll put you in my contacts.’ Her slim, beautifully manicured fingers poised over the data entry key.
And that’s when he saw it.
The diamond engagement ring on her finger seemed to be glinting at him like an evil eye, mocking him, taunting him.
Engaged.
He felt his throat seize up.
Lexi was engaged.
His mouth was suddenly so dry he couldn’t speak. His chest felt as if someone had backed over it with a steamroller. He couldn’t inflate his lungs enough to draw in a breath. His reaction surprised him. No, damn it, it shocked the hell out of him. She was nothing to him. What did it matter if she was engaged? It wasn’t as if he had any claim on her, certainly not an emotional one. He didn’t do emotion. He didn’t even like her, for goodness’ sake. She was an attention-seeking little tramp who thought bedding a boy from the bush was something to giggle about with her vacuous, equally shallow socialite girlfriends. Good luck to the man who was fool enough to tie himself to her.
Lexi looked up at him with an expectant expression. ‘Your number?’ she prompted.
Sam reluctantly rattled it off in a monotone he hardly recognised as his own voice. He had changed his number five years ago as a way of completely cutting all ties. He hadn’t wanted her calling him or texting him or emailing him. He didn’t want that soft sexy voice purring in his ear. It had taken years to get the sound of her