QUEENSTOWN, NEW ZEALAND

The BlackBerry clattered carelessly across the glass surface of the coffee table. Jayden swore under his breath, his long, lean fingers raking through his thick hair in frustration. What the hell was he supposed to do now? This was supposed to be his holiday, and a holiday was supposed to be stress-free. No work. No family. Just peace and relaxation.

No work? Yeah, right! As a self-confessed workaholic, it was unsurprising now that his five out of eight companies had recently been floating in the international market, hitting the multibillion-dollar level on the way. That kind of money needed looking after, nurturing, and feeding. Still, he loved the job, even more so now that he didn't need to be in the office twenty-four-seven. He could simply flick an e-mail from wherever he was, whether in a hotel room in some lush French wine valley, a Hong Kong restaurant, or even his own bed! Whenever, wherever he was, his people could handle everything he threw at them.

Sadly, the current focus of his stress was his family—more specifically, his grandmother. His mother, Gracie, married to his father, Tom McCartney, for thirty-five years, had insisted he bring his current girlfriend to attend his sister Kelly's upcoming wedding in order to meet the whole family for the first time. Tom's mother, Elizabeth, known to them as Granny Beth, had agreed to this with the reminder that it was high time his girlfriend was measured against her criteria of what made a suitable granddaughter-in-law.

Jay stepped back from the open window and sat on the leather sofa. He took a deep, calming breath. The fresh, apple-crisp air that seemed so unique to Queenstown filled the room with a delicious coolness. The echo of that damned phone call, however, had already destroyed any peace of mind he might have expected from this trip. There seemed to be no solution. He couldn't beg Sarah to go and pretend nothing had happened, that he hadn't caught her with his best friend. Even the unspoken presence of her name in his mind caused a crippling ache in his chest.

He shut his eyes, and his mind filled once again with the smoothness of her skin, the curves of her naked buttocks, and the tiny moan escaping her lips as Kyle Shore moved over her. She had been beautiful even in that moment, but that beauty was tainted now. When he tried to picture her face, it was as if a shadow lay across it. God, it seemed like such a cliché—his best friend and his girlfriend! Yet he would never have bet on such a possibility, especially as they seemed so different and there appeared to be so much hate between them. Perhaps that was it. He had only seen what they wanted him to see. Perhaps even bursting in on them in Sydney had been part of a larger plan. Either way, Jay had known in that instant the relationship was over.

In the days that followed, he told her no future existed for them. Oh, how she begged him to forgive her, to take her back, and that it wasn't what it looked like.

"Not what it looked like!" he shouted at her, his face contorted with rage and regret. "You were screwing him!" And he told her, "I don't know what is worse—your betrayal or his," before refusing to listen to any more of her lies. He told her to get the hell out of his life, and she did go, telling him she had never loved him by way of a parting shot.

Further days of binge drinking had not brought the expected oblivion. Then one night, nursing a beer in a nameless yet expensive bar, Peter Thompson, a good friend from New Zealand, or Godzone, as they called it in those parts, put a strong hand on his shoulder and told him, "She's gone. Let it go, man. Plenty more fishes in the sea."

He laughed when Peter suggested flying halfway around the world to indulge in some interesting and somewhat suicidal sports. He agreed because he felt the need to do something—anything—and suicide by itself was not an option. Besides, even in the bleakest moments, he felt that there was much more for him in this life.

So he flew with Peter to Queenstown, the adventure capital of New Zealand, if not the world, and threw himself off bridges, out of airplanes, and into raging rivers. Once they even strapped on skis and jumped out of a helicopter over the high, snowbound southern mountains. He hadn't killed himself, wouldn't have counted as suicide anyway, and the combination of exhilaration and exhaustion had driven away any thoughts of Sarah or Kyle—for a little while at least. He knew the healing process would take far longer and that he found a little peace here in this isolated place.

Now Beth asked him to bring his girlfriend to Kelly's wedding. If he didn't bring Sarah, they would want to know what happened, in excruciating detail naturally, and they would start matchmaking again—a thought that brought a shudder to his core.

It was then that Jay heard somebody whistling in the corridor. A moment later, Peter Thompson walked in. When the man saw the look on Jay's sour face, he queried, "Jay, mate, what's up?"

"Just got a call from Gracie and Beth."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Well, from the look you're wearing, it doesn't sound good."

"Of course it's not good, Pete."

"Spill it, then."

Jay glanced at his friend he first met at Harvard University. "They're at it again."

"What, matchmaking?" Pete chuckled.

"It's not funny! What the hell am I going to do?"

"I suppose they are getting worried. You are twenty-seven. Not getting any younger, bro," Peter said, heading to the refrigerator in the kitchen. He opened the door and rooted around among the various brands, searching for a bottle of Heineken. "Want one?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, sure," Jay replied distractedly.

Peter took out two and tossed one to Jay.

Six bottles of Heineken, two packs of Blue Bird chips, and four packets of Giant Cookies later, they were still contemplating the dilemma at hand.

"Any suggestions?" Jay asked finally.

Peter glanced sideways at his friend. "I suggest you find yourself a new girl, bro, and take her to New York."

For an extended moment in the complete silence that followed, Jay's blue eyes stared intensely into Peter's green ones. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," Pete replied. He stuffed some crisps in his mouth, chewed loudly, and took a solid gulp of beer.

Jay considered this for a second. "I'm not up for it, Pete. You know I'm not."

Peter raised his eyebrows in question. "Sarah?"

"It's still too new," Jay muttered. No, he wasn't over Sarah yet, and dating again right now just seemed wrong and odd, like they remained linked in some way. Basically, he was just not ready.

"Look," Peter began, "you don't have to do this dating thing yet. I said you just need to find a girl and take her to meet your parents. You don't have to date her."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning you hire a girl and take her to see your parents."

Jay didn't make any comment, but his expression quite clearly said, Seriously, dude, can't you come up with a better plan than that?

"Just hire a girl. Simple."

It must be a Kiwi thing, and he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "Who the hell is desperate enough to want to pretend to be my girlfriend?"

"Lots," Peter said. "Professionals."

Jay narrowed his eyes. "Oh, no. I'm not hiring those types of girls."

"Okay," Peter said. "You need a new girlfriend, a fake one. I think I just might know where you can find one."

"She better not be a professional. She has to be perfect," Jay said, and he managed to sum up the criteria for Peter.

"Nope, she's not a professional at all." Peter confirmed. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he added, "In fact, she's the total opposite."