Embarrassed, she glanced away. ‘Um, my main reason for coming tonight was to practise my Japanese,’ she said. ‘So I’d better go and mingle.’

‘It was good to meet you. I’m Chase, by the way.’ He held out a hand. ‘Chase Mattner.’

She shook hands with men all the time; it was a necessary part of her business, and she’d experienced all sorts of handshakes from the bone-crunching squeeze to the wet lettuce leaf effect. Sliding her hand into Chase Mattner’s, however, was…different.

For a split second she enjoyed the warm strength of his hand enfolding hers. Enjoyed the strange mixture of comfort and excitement that filled her.

But that was a ridiculous reaction. She didn’t have time to go around enjoying handshakes and, besides, someone so attractive couldn’t possibly be unattached.

Not that she wanted to know.

‘Regan Jantz,’ she said.

‘Maybe we’ll bump into each other again later.’ The gleam in his eyes told her he hoped they would.

With a nod, she walked away from him. It was only then that she registered he’d said something about a lack of adult conversation. So he had children. She’d known someone so attractive couldn’t be unattached. Not that it mattered. She recognised a local hotel owner and crossed the room to talk to her.

Chase watched Regan’s graceful progress across the room, then looked for a waiter. There was a time when he’d have been a sucker for a blue-eyed brunette, especially one as tall and striking as Regan Jantz. But that time had long gone. He’d stopped noticing women of any type once he’d married Larissa. And since then, with everything he’d been through—losing Larissa and learning through trial and error how to raise their child alone—he’d lost the urge to notice.

Regan was lovely, though. He swapped his empty glass for a fresh one and glanced across the room to where she’d settled into a discussion with one of the overseas guests. Her beauty was in her bone structure and she’d never lose it. She was one of those women who’d become even more beautiful as she aged.

As she dipped her head to hear what the man was saying, her straight dark hair hid her face but he clearly remembered the curve of her cheek, her bright, intelligent eyes. So bright and so blue he’d thought she must be wearing coloured contacts.

Women did that nowadays, he’d heard. But once he’d started talking to her, he’d decided there was nothing fake about Regan Jantz—not the hint of auburn in her dark brown hair, not the length of her eyelashes, not even the soft pink of her lips. She was as straightforward as they came and for a moment there…

No. Not attracted. He couldn’t have been attracted to her. It had been a slight tug of recognition, that was all. Recognition of the fact that she was the type of woman he could have been attracted to, if things had been different. Very different. In another life.

It was too soon to even say he liked Regan but instinct told him he could like her given the chance. She reminded him of Jan in an obscure way and he valued Jan’s friendship. Jan and her husband Mike were the reason he was here tonight. In a suit.

With a shrug, he shoved his free hand into the pocket of his trousers, pushing back the jacket. He wasn’t just out of practice at small talk, he was out of the habit of wearing suits and didn’t even know why he kept them. They’d be out of style by the time he needed them for work again. He couldn’t see himself returning to working life while Phoebe was still young enough to need him and, as she was about to turn four, that day wasn’t even close.

Dragging his gaze away from Regan but reluctant to join in the general chatter, he turned to the window. The function room overlooked the Port Lincoln foreshore and, as it was still early evening, he had a panoramic view of the spectacular blue waters of Boston Bay, from the tip of Port Lincoln National Park to Point Boston. The island-dotted bay was more than three times the size of Sydney Harbour but without the big city on its shores—a fact that he guessed suited the fifteen thousand inhabitants of Australia’s richest town just fine.

Port Lincoln had more millionaires per capita than any other town or city in Australia. Many of the local tuna farmers had made a packet from selling sashimi to the Japanese. He wondered if Regan was one of them.

She didn’t look like a millionaire, but then he, more than anyone, should know that looks could be deceptive. His own parents were rich but they spent most of their time dressed as a pair of backpackers and avoiding the luxuries they could well afford.

They’d made it clear he was welcome to their money but could expect nothing else from them, not even their time. He didn’t need their money; he had enough of his own. But he could have done with their support after Larissa’s death, would have been grateful for their help with Phoebe. They’d been somewhere in Africa at the time and he hadn’t seen them since.

Stifling a sigh, he warned himself not to let his thoughts go there now. He drained his glass and forced himself to face the room again. He really should follow Regan’s example and mingle. Having made the trip, he owed it to Jan and Mike to represent them well.

An hour or so later, Regan found herself in the same group as Chase although they were involved in separate conversations. She wondered whether he’d engineered the coincidence. When the speeches started and all heads turned towards the small stage, he moved to her side and she tried not to feel pleased, but her nerve-endings twitched and took note of his presence.

‘I think I’ve spoken to everybody in the room,’ he said in a low voice. ‘What about you? Did you get plenty of practice?’

She turned to look into his face. Hunger gripped her stomach as she did so. At least, she hoped it was hunger. If not, it was a completely inappropriate reaction. ‘Practice?’

She’d meant to whisper, but she hadn’t meant to sound breathless. She took in a deep breath—which didn’t help since all it did was fill her nose with the clean masculine scent of Chase Mattner.

There was something about this man that threw her off her game and she didn’t like it. Well, maybe she did like it, but she shouldn’t.

The volume of the crowd noise had dropped further and his warm breath brushed her ear as he leaned close to whisper. ‘Japanese.’

‘Oh, yes. I did,’ she whispered back.

He nodded, then looked towards the front of the room while she continued to study his profile, his tanned cheek, the strong line of his jaw. His lips parted slightly as he gave all his attention to the speaker. And then he laughed.

Vaguely aware of the sound of general laughter around her, she was still watching as he turned to share the joke with her, his eyes sparkling, deep creases around them…

He frowned. ‘Are you okay?’

His face blurred. She tried to nod but, instead of her head, it was the room that moved. It spun one way, then the other. ‘I feel…a bit…dizzy.’

Within minutes she was sitting at a table in the bar sipping iced water. She’d been aware—all too aware—of his arm supporting her on the way there, but she’d been too woozy to object. Not that she’d wanted to. Which confused her.

‘Feeling better?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m fine. I don’t know what happened.’

‘You’re not the fainting type, then?’

‘God, no!’ She was as far from the fainting type as it was possible to be. ‘I’ve never done that before.’

‘Well, it was pretty warm in there. Lots of bodies.’

‘Yes.’ And she’d only been aware of one. The one standing next to her. She took another sip from her glass and felt the cool water slide down her throat. She was warm, but not warm enough to explain what had just happened.

‘You’re not…’

She looked up when he hesitated. ‘Not what?’