DUNEDIN, NEW ZEALAND

Though her eyes were on her book, Alexandra Stewart, known simply as Alex to close friends and relatives, knew Mr. Hot-Choc was still watching her. Perhaps he wanted to sit next to Mary St. Clair, which wouldn't surprise her at all. Her ex-classmate from high school was popular with everyone. Her catwalk figure, dark-brown curls, and bright-blue eyes stole the tongues right out of the mouths of the boys. You could say she was perfect, almost. If only she didn't act like such a bitch, thinking everyone was beneath her and that no one else was as deserving of her perfect life.

Alex could never behave like Mary. She would rather hide in a closet or do dishes than flirt with a guy. In her world, she wasn't pretty enough to have the confidence that seemed to exude from Mary.

And now Mary looked to be hitting on Mr. Hot-Choc. Again, Alex wasn't surprised. The man was a hunk, tall and trim, blond-haired, and blue-eyed. She was sure she had never seen him around Dunedin. He walked around the long table with that loose-limbed grace usually only seen in big cats. A true-bred alpha male, he had that powerful aura about him that fairly screams, Don't challenge me or I'll eat you for breakfast.

Why did he watch her with such intensity? Who was he? Why was he with Peter and Mary? Were they friends?

And why name him Mr. Hot-Choc? Because he was damn hot, and at the moment, she was craving a cup of hot chocolate. Only she couldn't afford one. Her budget was tight. Every cent went to support the family.

She nibbled her lower lip and tried to concentrate on her novel. Hercules Poirot uncovered the murderer, the motive was laid bare, and all from brilliant deduction of seemingly insignificant facts. She couldn't figure out how, and now her mind, without warning, flipped to her dad, Jacob Stewart.

How long can he wait for a heart to be available?

His condition was getting worse. He needed a new heart and fast, as Peter, the young cardiologist and longtime family friend, told her. Finding a donor, however, was difficult. There was the option of going to a private hospital. There was no way they could afford that. There were the costs of flights to Auckland, the accommodations, the surgery, and of course, the heart itself. But they were desperate, and her mother, Mali Stewart, had been willing to apply for a personal bank loan just so Dad could get his surgery done more quickly.

Unfortunately, Alex had found out half an hour ago the bank rejected the application. The risk of nonpayment set against her modest income as a lab scientist and the mortgage on the family home was too much. On top of that, she had her student loan and family living costs. Then there was Timothy and Emma, her younger siblings. Tim was just about to finish high school, and a university education was on the horizon. Emma still had a couple years to go.

Alex grinded her teeth. It had been one thing after another. The company Dad had worked for closed the Dunedin factory and moved it overseas, chasing cheap labor in their quest of the almighty dollar. Jacob's services were no longer required. What a bitter day that was! Dad went into overdrive trying to find another job. The stress led to his sudden massive heart failure six months ago, and it was a miracle he survived.

Alex hoped he had taken out health insurance, but as the ambulance sped him to the hospital, a frantic search of his papers revealed nothing. Too late now, she thought, but her mind wasn't in the mood for staying on one subject today. She remembered the text message she had received from Peter. She took out her cell phone and read the message again.

Happy Bday, Alex. Bck frm Qtwn. Catch up? Coffee?

I hve a frnd u shuld meet. He can hlp u & yr dad. C ya soon :P

A grin creeped across her face. Peter always remembered her birthday, and his gifts were usually thoughtful. But lately he had been trying to find her a guy, which was annoying. It had started innocently enough with some simple suggestions. That was until last year, when he had arranged a blind date for her. The guy, Andrew something-or-other, seemed pleasant enough to begin with, although the evening was awkward. Then, as the hour grew late, he made a quite inappropriate move on her, and she slapped his face and left. When she told Peter about the incident, he ended his own short friendship with the man. Peter meant well, but she didn't have the time for a boyfriend.

The light trill of a woman's laughter drew her attention. Mary was giggling away loudly and enthusiastically, leaning closer to Mr. Hot-Choc. Alex couldn't help but admire the way he was handling the situation. Mary was an outrageous flirt, confident the men around her would be enchanted, but he seemed unaffected. In fact, it looked as if he were playing the game and playing it well, in full control of the situation.

Suddenly, he caught Alex looking at him. She glanced away, her heart pounding and her cheeks hot and flushed with guilt. She pretended to be interested in her phone, but she felt his amusement from across the room. The urge to be somewhere else, anywhere else, was strong, but not as strong as her curiosity about this extraordinarily handsome man. Then a thought struck her, and she started texting.

Hey, Pete, sorry didn't join u cos u wth frnds.

Coffee sounds good. Sunday? 2:30? SAN Cafe?

A push of a button and the message was on its way. She looked up and saw Peter checking his cell phone. He turned around to face her with a big grin, waved, and nodded. Mr. Hot-Choc watched her with interest, the gentlest of smiles playing with his lips. She was about to smile back when she noticed Mary's hateful glare. The message was clear—Piss off! He's mine! Alex blushed and dived for cover into the musings of the great Monsieur Poirot.

Ten minutes later, she glanced up. Peter, Mr. Hot-Choc, and Mary were heading toward the exit. Well, she should get going too. Back to work for her. She tidied up, wrapped the satchel over her shoulder, and picked up her half-empty cup of cold tea.

She was deep in thought, and her eyes saw only the threadbare carpet as she headed toward the conveyer. She slammed into a body. She was aware of cold tea seeping quickly through her jersey and chilling her skin. She felt strong hands holding her as she tottered. She looked up straight into a guy's clear-blue eyes as he pulled her upright, almost in an embrace. Warmth and strength seemed to flow from him in an intoxicating mixture.

"Are you all right?" The tone of his voice was low, deep, and rich like the calm of a great sea gently tasting the pebbles on the shore.

She took a deep breath and was overcome with the scent of fresh spices floating on a spring breeze. Snapping back to reality, she stared in disbelief at the cold tea that had somehow transferred itself from her old jersey onto his expensive-looking jacket.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to," she said, her hands dabbing at his jacket. "I'm sorry." She glanced up at him.

It's him! It's Mr. Hot-Choc!

She spiraled away into the fathomless depths of his cobalt-blue eyes. The color reminded her of those lovely summer days years ago at the farm where she used to work as a fruit picker. The sky was huge, and the air hummed with the busy sounds of insects. Suddenly, she could smell the sweetness of ripe strawberries. She remembered the feel of the long, soft grasses and the cool sprinkling of water against her skin.

The intensity of his gaze disturbed her from her reverie, and she blushed as she lowered her head and said, "I'm sorry. It was my fault. Let me get something to clean it off." She picked up the empty cup from the floor and put it on the food conveyer belt. Then she grabbed a handful of napkins from a nearby table and started to pat his jacket dry.

"That's okay." He took hold of her hands again, softly but with insistence. The contact made her nerves jump, and excitement coursed through her body. It was a touch filled with intimacy and promise.

"It'll wash out." He noticed her discomfort and let go of her hands.

"I'm truly sorry," she said, realizing he had an accent—an American one. "I'm not usually this clumsy." She glanced up and saw him raise an eyebrow. "There. It's kind of dry now."

"Don't worry about it."

There it was again, that voice! A delicious shiver tickled its way along her spine. She cleared her throat. "Sorry," she said, walking over to the bin and tossing the wet napkins in. "You have a good day." She waved as she turned to the corridor.

He caught her before she had walked more than three steps. "Hey, you work here?"

She nodded. "Yeah, are you lost? Or has Peter deserted you? He sometimes does that."

"No, he didn't. I—um—what's your name? Are you a friend of Peter?"

"Yeah, he's a friend," she replied and then hesitated for a moment. "It's Alexandra, by the way. Look, I have to go back to work. To get out, just go this way and turn right and then down the stairs to the main reception."

Jay nodded.

"Sorry again about the tea. As I said, I'm not usually this clumsy. Bye now," she said, and then she was gone.

Jayden's grin stayed with him all the way to the bottom of the stairs.

Her eyes were such a deep brown, like the color of melted chocolate. And she seemed sweet and delicious too! Something about those eyes drew him in and left him slightly breathless.

Peter was waiting for him by the reception desk.

"What took you so long?"

"I couldn't find the bathroom after all," Jay replied.

As they walked through the door of the hospital, Jay thought, So she's not usually that clumsy, is she?