CHAPTER ONE
“You’re firing me? It’s Christmas in a couple of days.” Paris Richmond curled forward in her seat, her latest presentation folder in her lap, yet she kept staring at her boss in bewilderment. She’d worked her butt off for the past four years as he dangled the head-planner role in her face. Just this week alone, she’d stayed up most nights putting together the latest party that was this weekend, for Christ’s sakes, and he refused to even look at it.
Sure, Flynn ran Ziggy’s, Australia’s elite event planner company, but that didn’t give him the right to play God. “This must be a mistake,” she continued, leaning forward in her seat, refusing to beg or cry. “I’ve put in so many hours, gave you all my ideas, got you new clients. I ran those two celebrity functions flawlessly and—”
Flynn waved a hand, cutting her off, and slumped in his cushioned leather seat. “I’m sorry, Paris. Financially, we haven’t met our targets for the last two seasons, and the board is demanding cuts. This was not an easy decision. I’ll provide you with a reference letter.”
Paris stiffened, her muscles knotting as Flynn waffled on, but she wasn’t listening. As if a reference letter would help pay the bills or make up for losing her job. She’d heard rumours that the guy was a dick, though he’d always treated her well. Clearly, she was the fool, because he had no respect for her hard work. The clincher wasn’t that he made her redundant, but how much she loved her job, dealing with new clients, seeing their smiles when their parties and events went smoothly. There wasn’t a day she didn’t look forward to coming into the office.
Flynn pushed an envelope across the table, placing it next to the photo frame of his wife and young daughter. “Your severance package. Tod from Helpdesk has already collected your laptop. I’ll take your phone.” He stuck out his hand, his expression flat as if he were asking for a report. Except this was her life he was messing with.
Tears prickled the back of her eyes, and a hollowness swallowed her from the inside out. This was happening too fast. She had clients waiting for her to contact them. She handed her phone over, thankful she never used it for personal messaging.
“And you’ll need to leave the premises right away. I’ve got to get to a meeting. Tod will walk you out.” Flynn stood from his chair, patting down his polka-dot tie, and ran a hand through his slicked hair before marching out of the office. Did she mean that little to the business that he couldn’t say another word or at least wish her luck? Two seconds later, Tod from Helpdesk stood in the doorway in case she decided to sabotage the company or steal anything. As if she would.
Paris wiped away the tear threading down her cheek. Her stomach churned, and her hands shook. What was she supposed to do now? How could she enjoy Christmas holidays knowing she was jobless?
She picked up her envelope, unable to bring herself to look at the package—it wouldn’t make a difference anyway—and headed out into the open-plan office where everyone’s desk was decorated with plastic mistletoe. A skeletal Christmas tree sat in the far corner, sprinkled with a handful of baubles. Celebrating was the last thing on her mind, and she guessed that attending the work Christmas party was now out of the question. So much for the new red Santa-inspired dress she’d bought for the occasion. Wonder if she could return it for a refund at the store?
Every eye in the office was on her. They had to know she’d just been axed. Wonderful. With her chin tucked into her chest, she hurried left to her desk with Tod trailing behind her. She tossed the presentation folder into the trash can and took her handbag, stuffing inside her empty coffee cup, the half-eaten rice cracker pack, and her princess-decorated tissue box. Her cheeks burned, and she wanted to run, hide, and cry for a week straight. The tightness in her chest drilled a hole through her heart. How could this be happening? She’d been awarded highest achiever at Ziggy’s two years in a row. She had even turned down a job offer from a client, and that opportunity was filled with another candidate in no time. She huffed, unsure what to do next.
Someone touched her arm, and she flinched as she turned around.
Her co-worker, Nancy, sighed and took Paris into her arms, hugging her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “He’s such an ass,” she finally said. “You’re better off. Especially with Rachel now appointed as head-planner.”
“What? Since when?” Paris untangled herself from the gorilla hug. The room seemed to shift beneath her. She glanced around, finding no sign of Rachel, her supposed best friend.
Nancy nodded. “Happened this morning. Everyone is shocked, considering she’s the laziest person here. But no surprise in this place.”
Paris couldn’t string two words in response in fear she’d break out into a blubbering mess. This was beyond unfair. Yeah, she ought to scream in protest, demand her boss prove why Rachel deserved the job, but she couldn’t stop from trembling. And how could Rachel have done this to her after Paris worked so hard to get that promotion? She’d even shared her ideas with Rachel… Perhaps that was Paris’s mistake. Had her friend taken the ideas and claimed them as her own? Regardless, if that was the kind of company Flynn wanted to run by not rewarding people who worked hard, well then, she wanted no part. She picked up her overstuffed handbag and lifted her chin.
“I’ll call you tonight,” Nancy said. “Take care.”
“Thanks.” The world pressed down on Paris’s shoulders, and she chose to leave the building through the rear door to avoid bumping into anyone. Tod hadn’t said a word, but simply followed her. The walk of shame wasn’t something she’d ever imagined doing.
Quickening her pace, she headed down a narrow corridor, past the photocopier room, only to catch a glimpse inside of Flynn and Rachel in the far corner. For a moment, her feet were cemented in place, and all strength left her limbs as she watched them jump apart. Hell no. They were kissing!
“Paris,” Rachel faced her and called out, “it’s not what you think.”
But Paris was already running down the hall and burst out of the rear door, unable to stop the waterworks as betrayal flooded her.
***
Paris shifted in her cramped plane seat and sucked in a deep breath.
With no job and down a friend, flying across Australia to her outback hometown of Yalgoo on Christmas Eve seemed like the essential decision for her sanity. She had to leave the city. Everything reminded her of what she’d lost, and she couldn’t stand the constant phone calls from Rachel either. She’d go insane pretending all was fine over the festive season when in truth, she’d end up crying non-stop and overeating. Visiting her parents was way overdue, and her mum was so excited over the phone when Paris had told them she was coming home.
Still, her mind whirled with the lies behind Rachel’s betrayal. Paris had trusted her friend with her career plans at Ziggy. She cared for her, like the time Rachel partied all night with a new boyfriend, and Paris covered her workload the next day. And this was how Rachel repaid her? By sleeping her way into the promotion Paris deserved?
It made Paris sick to the stomach. She slumped and stared at the elderly woman sitting next to her near to the window, face deep in a book titled, He’s Watching You. Thrillers or horrors weren’t Paris’s cup of tea. Cozy mysteries she could do, but with her workload, time to read or anything else had been out of the question. Well, that was about to improve. Yet the thought of no longer going into the office, picking up her caramel latte at the corner cafe, or chatting with her colleagues left her cringing. Her chest squeezed tight.
Change. She’d embrace it. Not as if she had many other options. The last person to get retrenched from Ziggy’s ended up getting a job in Hong Kong and now ran the whole division. Maybe this was the push she needed to grow her career.
Movement along the aisle caught her attention. A skinny man in sweatpants was doing lunges, hands in the air. Okay, never seen someone doing yoga on a plane.
A sudden rattle shook her, and she gripped the seat handles. Her neighbour continued reading, not at all perturbed by the plane’s rocking.
Yoga man tumbled into another person’s lap, arms and legs all over the place. A flight attendant rushed to their aid. Paris smirked.
The speakers crackled. “The captain has switched on the seat belt sign. Could everyone please take their seats and fasten your seat belts.”
Outside, the storm clouds darkened, and turbulence struck harder, swaying Paris in every direction. The salmon bagel she ate earlier would be making a reappearance soon.
A warm hand rested on hers, and she glanced over at her seat neighbour. “It’s all right, dear. Did you know there’s a greater chance of getting eaten by a shark than dying on a flight?”
Paris nodded, her fingers digging into the armrest as another round of shudders left the aircraft groaning. Her heart hammered, but she kept a smile on her face without a hint of hesitation. “Lucky we’re flying overland then.”
The older lady laughed and patted Paris’s arm. “If it’s our time, who are we to stop fate?”
Paris forced a smile, not feeling comforted one bit. She’d counted the rows of seats between her and the exit—seven. And having read the instructions manual in case of an emergency three times over wasn’t helping keep her calm. She had read somewhere that the odds of dying in a plane crash were one in eleven million. The thought didn’t help her nerves one bit.
Pressed into her seat, she rode through the jostling, cursing her decision to fly.
A sudden dip.
Her stomach lurched, and she gasped. A few people squealed. A child wailed.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit.” The words flew from her mouth.
“Don’t fret. Everything will be fine,” her companion kept repeating, but it meant jack when Paris couldn’t stop imagining them nosediving to their death. They’d crash in the middle of the desert and explode on impact. Yep, her life would come to a crashing end. And the signs had been there all along.
Christmas hated her, so why did she think flying was a good idea? The festive season gave her nothing but ill fortune. Each December, something terrible happened, like being asked to move out of her apartment with a week’s notice. An ex-friend gossiping about her to the guy Paris was dating at the time. Her place getting broken into. And even her ex from her hometown had chosen an opportunity with the Australian Football League over her. And this year… well, she’d lost her job and was about to die in a crash. The curse was in full swing.
The turbulence vanished as quick as it hit, and the air hostess spoke through the speakers. “Our captain has left the seat belt light on. We have commenced descending toward our destination.”
Paris stared up at the overhead compartment, the silver duct tape curling away in one corner. A stupid passenger had insisted on stuffing his oversized bag into the bin so hard he broke the door, causing a two-hour delay to repair, which consisted of taping the old door in place. Would her uncle even wait for her at the airport? She hadn’t been home for five years, and what if he didn’t hang around? Yalgoo was close to three hours away by car. Maybe she’d track down a bus.
“Cabin crew, prepare the deck for landing,” a man’s voice said on the comm, and Paris couldn’t be happier to reach solid ground.
Half an hour later, Paris gripped the armrests as the captain landed the plane into the runway. She jumped in her seat the moment they hit the tarmac, the aircraft bouncing several times before smoothing out. She exhaled a sigh of relief to be on the ground. Several folks broke into a clap. Whether they were mocking the captain for his rough landing or not, who cared. They were no longer in the air.
“Welcome to Geraldton in Western Australia. It’s a balmy thirty-five degrees Celsius outside with a severe storm forecast for the evening. All passengers with connecting flights, planes have been grounded until the weather clears. Please approach the team waiting in the terminal for more details. And Merry Christmas to everyone.”
Paris unbuckled herself and was on her feet. She was grabbing her bag when someone tugged on her dress. Turning, she found an elderly man struggling to stand from his seat, his cheeks pale. “Miss, have we landed or were we shot down?”
Paris leaned over and took his arm, helping him stand. “We’ve landed, and we’re okay.”
The man laughed. “Good to know.”
With a line of people behind her, Paris took her bag and headed along the aisle. She hurried down the metal stairs and onto the tarmac as a warm wind pulled on her hair and fluttered her dress. Overhead, darkened clouds sprawled across the sky, draining the colour from the flattened land in the distance. Lightning struck across the horizon, and for a moment, everything fell silent. Then a booming grunt belched, shaking the ground beneath her. Paris raced toward the building.
Time to move, because even with her uncle picking her up, there was still a three-hour drive, and she doubted they’d make it to Yalgoo before the storm hit. If she could, she would have caught a flight straight to Yalgoo, but there were no flights available. Of course, if the passenger hadn’t broken the bag compartment on her plane from Perth, she would already be halfway home.
Quickening her steps, she entered the long terminal with a curved, metal roofing. The waiting area for passengers to board the next flight saw people on every seat and on the floor. Paris might be unlucky, but she was beyond ecstatic she didn’t have to wait like these people. Christmas decorations dotted the pathway, and a faint festive jingle played in the airport.
She tracked down the third terminal in the baggage collection hall to pick up her belongings, all the while scanning the area for her uncle. Dave was a perfect replica of Santa, which made sense since he used to play St. Nicholas in Yalgoo. He always wore suspenders, and the kids loved to play tricks on him by plucking them.
She searched dozens of heads as she slid past people to reach the carousel. Dave better not have left. Perhaps he was getting a coffee at a cafe. If she had a phone, she’d call him, but she hadn’t gotten a new one yet, figuring she’d wait until after Christmas as she might receive one from her next job.
Get the bag and go searching. Easy, though the niggling sensation he might have ditched her due to the encroaching downpour nagged her. Yalgoo was a remote town, and flooding wasn’t unheard of, even in summer. If that was the case, she’d find a hotel or somewhere to stay in Geraldton. There were ways around everything. When she moved to Melbourne on her own, she made it work. She had spent a week living on the streets and never told her parents, or they’d die with worry and demand to know why she didn’t ask them for money or help. But she’d been brought up to be resourceful and make the best of any situation.
Five years ago, she had taken her savings from working at the local corner store in Yalgoo and followed her ex, Jett, to the big city. Stupid idea as he ditched her for someone else, but she had survived on her own. So now, a small deluge and being alone in Geraldton wouldn’t stop her.
Her mauve duffel bag rolled down the carousel. She grabbed it and squeezed past two men to extract herself out of the gridlock of people standing in her way. She burst free from the crowd and stared out through the glass walls at the darkening clouds. But near a huge Christmas tree decorated with blue and white tinsel, she spotted a familiar face. Not Dave, but someone who left her shaking. She swore her feet had glued themselves to the floor, while her heart raced.
Jett Wayne. What is he doing here?
Her ex stood near the window, arms folded across his chest, surveying the masses. Shit! No way!
Not only had he cast her aside so he could join the AFL, but when she followed him into the city barely a week later, she found him at a pub in the arms of another woman. Paris promised herself to never cry a tear over him again, never give him a second of her time, never acknowledge he existed. That was the only way she could get over his betrayal. The bastard had even tried to contact her several times. She didn’t answer his calls. What for? To have him remind her of his back-stabbing? Nope, she was over him.
Yet, for those few seconds, she let herself gawk, feeling as if she was sixteen again, drooling for the guy candy. His short dark hair sat across the back, and the longer strands at the front were swept across his brow. Stubble coated his square jaw, and his blue chequered shirt lay open at his throat. His waist tapered in, emphasising his broad shoulders. Hell in a handbasket. Who wore jeans so delectably well? They should be illegal. All he was missing was a cowboy hat to paint the strapping outback image. She didn’t remember him being so buff either. Then again, five years had passed. But none of that mattered when she stared at the person who broke her heart and ripped it to smithereens.
The moment he turned in her direction, their eyes locked, and she shuddered. Without a thought, she hauled her duffel bag over her shoulder and shot into the crowds to her left, as far from Jett as possible. Nope, he didn’t see her. Couldn’t have. He wouldn’t recognise her anyway. Back in Yalgoo, her hair had been cropped short, and she used to wear shorts all the time. She’d discovered incredible fashion in Melbourne, and with her job, her wardrobe overflowed.
What the hell was Jett doing at the airport, anyway? Hopefully leaving town.
Paris pressed in-between a group of people, but she was wrenched backward and found her bag had snarled with theirs, the straps intertwined. Her gaze lifted and landed on Jett, several feet away, hands deep in his pockets, staring at her with a grin. Why was he laughing at her?
Tugging on the bags wasn’t helping get her untangled.
“Miss, wait a sec, our bags are caught,” a silver-haired man said.
She stared down to find her strap hook had somehow latched onto their lock. A quick look at Jett revealed he approached, strutting his stuff, and his piercing green eyes held her. Hell no… don’t fall for his charm.
She fiddled with the straps, yanking on the locks, but the other man’s fingers were getting in the way, pulling in the opposite direction.
“Let me help.” Jett’s deep voice cut through her thoughts, her panic, her everything. Just hearing him speak undid her, which was unfair. He had no right using his sexiness to weaken her resolve.
“We’re okay,” she replied. “Don’t need your assistance.”
“No, we are not okay,” the man said. “I have no idea how your bag strap hooked with mine.”
Paris yanked the duffel toward her and out of Jett’s reach. “I’ve got this.” Not as if she was clueless. In two seconds of tracing the metal lock with her fingers, she found the section that clicked open and separated herself. “Done. Sorry about that.” She turned to the white-haired man, who offered her a smile.
She spun, with bag in hand, and hoofed it down the room, dodging people left and right. She had to get away from him and fast.
“Paris!” Jett called out. “Wait up.”
Oh geez, because clearly the curse hadn’t finished with her, now it threw Jett in her face? What next? He’d invite her to his wedding and announce his wife-to-be was pregnant with twins. God, she shouldn’t care, but that might kill her. She had no boyfriend to gloat about, no job, and was returning to her parents’ place to hide from the world. Yep, her armoury was empty to battle against Jett. But it was more than just gloating or acting as if she was better than him. He was her first boyfriend, her first lover, her first true love. And she accepted long ago that he would always have a piece of her heart, but she sure as hell didn’t want him flaunting his awesome life in front of her. Bad enough everyone in Yalgoo would ask her a million questions, but Jett was a problem on a whole different plane of existence. She planned to stay in her parents’ house the whole visit to avoid bumping into him in town.
Footfalls closed in, and she glanced behind her to find him marching after her with determination, his brows pinched. With a huff, she stopped and whirled to face him. “What do you want?”
“Where are you off to in such a rush? Last time I saw you run this fast was when Ned’s bull escaped the yard and chased you down the street.” Those crystal eyes, crowned with thick brows, could have melted her on the spot, but she wouldn’t let him affect her. He’d done enough of that to last a lifetime.
“If I remember right, it was you who released the animal.”
He laughed, the sound a feather across her skin. How dare he make her feel good in his company? After what he did, he didn’t deserve a second of her time. “Well, it was great to reminisce with you,” she said. “I’ve got to go.”
“And where are you going exactly?”
Paris stormed off and responded without turning around. “Looking for my lift.”
“You’ve just found him.”
Wait! What? She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around, meeting his devilish grin. Oh, great. Thank you, universe, for topping my wonderful Christmas homecoming.