Email from Kayla Everton-Blake to Sonia Blake:

I can't stand it. You're in Perth, Sonia, can't you gag Patrice? The closer it gets to the Goddesses' Getaway, the more Patrice gloats. She says Aunt Izzy will want to give her inheritance to someone young enough to enjoy it. You wouldn't believe how mad Mom was when she heard that comment.

Sonia smiled wryly. Knowing her Aunt Lynette, she could imagine; being classed as an old duck would not sit well with the dynamic Lyn, nor should it, as she was a glamorous 47. Sonia's smile faded, her attention diverted from her cousin Kayla's email to its subject: Aurora Island.

Aurora Island. Great Aunt Izzy sure had thrown the cat among the pigeons when she announced that at this, possibly her last, Goddesses' Getaway, she would decide who would inherit her paradise island on the Great Barrier Reef. Sonia hadn't paid much attention to the announcement as she wasn't married, and the famous —infamous?— women's weekend escapes of the Blake family were only for its married or been-there-done-that women. Aunt Izzy had started them 42 years ago because she believed every woman needed time away from home, husband, and responsibilities to pamper her inner goddess.

And what about us single girls? thought Sonia, drumming blunt cut fingernails against the desk. Don't we work just as hard? And it's not like we have husbands to give back rubs and remember to put out the garbage. But Aunt Izzy was adamant; her Goddesses' Getaways were for married women only, which was why Sonia had ignored the whole drama. Sonia's eyes narrowed. Perhaps she had been too hasty.

If her cousin, Patrice, thought she would inherit Aurora Island, then Sonia needed to pay attention. She shuddered to think what her cousin was capable of doing to paradise. Cut it up and sell it as a time-share resort complete with a casino, probably. The worst of it was that, if Patrice wanted the island, she would get it. That was the way life worked for Patrice. She was pretty and feminine and totally indulged.

Sonia glanced down at her own weekend working costume of oversized cotton shirt and baggy jeans. The ultra feminine Aunt Izzy would squawk with horror if she saw her now, not that she would be surprised. The whole family accepted that Sonia was the clever one while Patrice was the pretty one. Sonia tall and strong; Patrice petite and indulged. Sonia shrugged. She had long ago accepted the assessment. Her brown hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense plait, emphasising her strong cheekbones and square jaw, the masculinity of which was offset by Sonia's full, pouting, unpainted mouth and wide spaced, dark brown eyes.

Pity you're not married, Sonia, then you could go on the legendary Goddesses' Getaway— isn't Aunt Izzy a scream?—and give Patrice some competition. Dad would kill me if I got married before college graduation, but you're twenty-eight. Time to settle into sober respectability and marry. Can't you dig up some eligible, or ineligible, guy and get hitched, fast? Come on, cuz, get your act together.

"Sober respectability," Sonia repeated aloud. "My whole life is sober respectability." She reached for the keyboard to answer her American cousin's email, then stopped. Slowly, she spun in her chair until she stared out the window. In between architectural monstrosities and skyscrapers, there were glimpses of the wide, slow moving Swan River which wound through Perth, Western Australia's state capital. Sonia seldom noticed the view, and she didn't this time, her mind busy with other matters. It was rare, though, that the other matters weren't business related.

Aurora Island. Forget its natural, untouched beauty; it was the one place where Sonia could totally relax. Was she really going to stand idly by while it fell into Patrice's avaricious claws?

"Sober respectability." All her life, Sonia had done what was expected of her, and where had it gotten her? It hadn't even gotten her to the starting gate to win the island of her dreams. She reread Kayla's email. "Pity you're not married."

If ever there was a time for desperate action this was it, but how desperate was she? Marriage. Could she marry just to chance inheriting an island? It would be one wild, reckless throw of the dice.

Sonia jumped up from her chair and paced the office. Once Aunt Izzy made her decision, she wouldn't change her mind, even if Sonia divorced, which meant the marriage only had to be temporary.

A temporary marriage would get her in the game, then it would be up to her to convince Aunt Izzy that she was a feminine woman, a woman deserving of Aurora Island. Sonia's strong chin jutted forward. She could be feminine, even if it killed her. Marriage. Kayla was right. She could get married—if she outran her second and third thoughts, the ones already starting to scream, "Are you out of your mind?" Sonia paced a little faster. What she had to do was act before ingrained habits of playing it safe overcame this rare recklessness. She might be a strong businesswoman, capable of more than holding her own in the still-masculine world of engineering, but when it came to her personal life ... I am woman, hear me whimper, Sonia thought ironically. She could play the tough businessperson, but, somehow, being a woman was much harder. For a start, it meant being vulnerable: open to emotions and the possibility of being hurt. "But this is for Aurora Island."

A tall man, bent over a worktable in the far corner, straightened and turned slowly. He pushed up his safety goggles. One hand still held the carburettor he had been working on. "You're getting married?" asked Joel Maddigan. A childhood scar quirked his left eyebrow, giving him a quizzical look.

Sonia scowled at the skepticism in Joel's voice, his emphasis on the 'you'. Joel Maddigan was the very last person she wanted to see right now. Joel, with his infuriating habit of always being right. Joel, who had watched her grow into her current confidence and competence as a manager, observing her inevitable mistakes along the way with detached amusement. Sonia's right hand curled into a fist. Consciously, she relaxed her fingers, but her chin tilted.

"Is there any law which says I can't marry? Where's Emma?" —the friendly face she had been looking for to confide her decision.

Joel shrugged. "At home? Normal people don't work weekends."

"You're here."

He didn't bother to answer that, and Sonia's scowl deepened. Joel only worked for Blake Mining and Marine Manufacturing on a contract basis, but he borrowed their workroom any time he wanted. According to Terence Blake, Sonia's grandfather, Joel Maddigan was an engineering genius and entitled to special treatment. See, Sonia thought sourly. Life could be worse. Joel could work here full time, then she would be his manager. Sonia co-managed the company with Terence.

Joel placed the carburetor and safety goggles on the bench. "Who is the lucky man?"

"I don't know," Sonia collapsed onto a rolling chair, stilling its movement with one foot.

For once, she succeeded in startling Joel. He straightened to his full height; four inches taller than Sonia's five foot ten. "You don't know," Joel repeated slowly. Sonia flushed. She kicked at the floor. Telling someone of her decision to marry so she couldn't back out of it had seemed such a good idea. Surely fate had been unkind to make Joel her confidante? She let her gaze travel slowly up the lean length of him until she met the skeptical gleam in his blue eyes. Her gaze dropped again to the steel capped boots he wore.

"It's Aunt Izzy's fault. I have to be married to take part in her Goddesses' Getaway next month."

The corner of Joel's mouth turned up. He leaned against the workbench, prepared to hear a good story. "Goddesses' Getaway?"

Sonia smoothed her rumpled shirt. Some goddess she made. She slumped lower in the chair. "A weekend of pampering for the women of the family," Sonia explained briefly, wondering whether she should just leave. Joel had to be finding her situation amusing. He wouldn't laugh at Patrice, Sonia thought sourly. Then realised the twice married Patrice, with her arsenal of feminine tricks, would never be in this situation— contemplating marriage with an unknown groom and providing amusement for an intimidatingly masculine man as a kind of bonus.

"Because Aunt Izzy's Goddesses' Getaways are only for married Blake women. They're a family tradition. Aunt Izzy holds them every seven years. The last one was when I was twenty-one. I didn't care about missing that one, even though it was held in Hawaii, and Mum said the lava massages were out of this world." Joel frowned, and Sonia got back on track. "The Goddesses' Getaway next month coincides with Aunt Izzy's seventieth birthday. She's really my great aunt. So, Aunt Izzy's making this Goddesses' Getaway one to remember. She's going to give Aurora Island to one of the participants."

"Your aunt owns an island? No, scrub that," Joel held up one tanned, scarred hand in the air. "A Blake would own an island."

Sonia frowned. She resented references to her family's wealth. She had worked hard for what she had, and it wasn't her fault if others in her extended, not to say rambling, family tree were content to live off the wealth of earlier generations. "For your information, Aurora Island is a seven hectare island in the northern tip of the Great Barrier Reef," Sonia's expression softened, and her gaze lost focus. "It's beautiful. White sand, water clearer than crystal, and peace, perfect peace. I love it." Sonia's gaze regained its normal sharpness, rising to skewer Joel and cover her lapse into sentiment. "And that's why I'm getting married next Saturday. I have to be part of Aunt Izzy's weekend to win Aurora Island, and I'll do whatever it takes, including marriage. If my cousin Patrice gets hold of Aurora Island, she'll sell it to developers, or worse," Sonia ended passionately, convinced all over again of the necessity to engage in that rashest of actions: marriage.

"Hmm. Well, you don't need me to tell you you're crazy. So who is your intended victim?"

Reluctantly, Sonia decided not to take issue with Joel's less than flattering description of her future, temporary husband. "I'll ask a friend. It'll only be for a couple of months, say three." Sonia tapped her hand against her thigh, thinking. "It'll have to be someone Aunt Izzy will believe I might be romantically interested in." "The only men you meet are those you work with," Joel pointed out.

"Like you," said Sonia, then looked horrified.

Joel's smile was evil. "I'd meet the requirements. Single, straight, gainfully employed. You've known me for years."

"Long enough to know better," muttered Sonia.

"And I'm taller than you. You'd hate a short husband. Nor would I let you bully me." Sonia snorted.

"I think it would work," said Joel. "After all, I understand it's only temporary, and your grandfather and I are good friends. I'd be willing to oblige his crazy granddaughter."

Aunt Izzy would approve, thought Sonia, ignoring her own dry mouth, which suggested her body, also approved of Joel.

"Consider yourself engaged," said Sonia, and had the satisfaction of seeing Joel's mouth snap shut.

"No way."

"Uh uh. You offered."

"I was kidding."

"Tough," said Sonia. She stood, knowing when to make a strategic retreat. "I'll buy the engagement ring on Monday."

Three steps and Joel caught her arm. "No."

Sonia turned, looking up at the scowl that transformed his face. No easy humour now. Good, thought Sonia, satisfied. She shrugged off Joel's hold. "All right, so I'll find someone else."

Joel's frown deepened. "You're not being logical, Sonia. Even if you get married to attend this Goddesses' Getaway," he rolled his eyes, "there are no guarantees you'll gain your aunt's approval and the island."

Sonia resisted the temptation to stamp her foot. How dare Joel appeal to logic? She had been logical and ‘soberly respectable’ all her life, and where had that gotten her? To a place where men treated her more as an honorary male than an intelligent, attractive woman. Joel wouldn't tell Patrice to be logical.

"You don't understand," said Sonia. "I have to try. All my life I've let Patrice have whatever she's wanted. My whole family has. Her mum, Aunt Elizabeth, is Granddad's spoiled daughter, and when Uncle Vince died when Patrice was three, Granddad passed the spoiling on to Patrice. Everyone did the same, and Patrice learned she could have everything she wanted. We went to the same high school. I learned that any boy I had an interest in soon became Patrice's boyfriend."

Sonia crossed her arms defensively. "Patrice is six months younger than me. She announced her engagement at my twenty first birthday party. She got married a month after her twenty first birthday, and had parties for both. Two years later, she filed for divorce at the time I graduated engineering."

"Top of your class," said Joel. Sonia stared at him. "Your grandfather told me." "Yeah?" said Sonia. "Did he tell you that I worked my butt off for four years just to graduate? I don't have a natural flair for engineering. Everything I achieved I worked for. No social life, just study and more study. Granddad didn't even attend my graduation. He was holding Patrice's hand. Two days later, she flew to Europe on an all expenses paid trip, courtesy of Granddad. I started to work full time for the firm." Sonia was on a roll, listing her grievances, all the little and big hurts of her life. "Do you remember the Dunbar Contract? When I won it, Patrice got in the paper as a hell raiser. It was all the family could talk about. When I received my MBA, Patrice got married," Sonia sighed. "I sound petty and irrational."

"No," said Joel slowly. He studied Sonia and her defensive posture. "Actually, it sounds as if Patrice steals the glitter from your life. You want to win some of it back." Sonia's mouth dropped open. Joel had stated her motives more clearly than she could. "But getting married is pretty drastic."

"Sniping at each other in the workplace hardly counts as romance." Sonia waved aside the objection. "I amuse you. You irritate the hell out of me. But we're perfect for a temporary marriage. Neither of us wants to get married, at least, not right now. You don't, do you? Please, Joel. Three months. Then a divorce or annulment, whichever is quicker, and it'll all be forgotten."

She stared at Joel, her brown eyes glowing with determination, willing him to agree. Joel rubbed his hand over his jaw.

"If I don't accept, will you ask someone else?"

"Until someone says yes."

Josh sighed like a man unfairly put upon. "Then let's get married."

Sonia glared at Joel, and he stopped fidgeting with the ghastly mustard yellow tie he wore with his grey suit.

"I can leave, if you prefer," Joel said under his breath.

Sonia grimaced at the reminder that they were at this cocktail party cum nightmare only because she had insisted. It wasn't Joel's scene, and it wasn't Sonia's either. They were here because Sonia wanted to check that Aunt Izzy didn't find Joel repulsive. "Because if she does, it's no use me marrying you. I won't get the island."

"Aunt Izzy," breathed Sonia, and clutched Joel's hand. He followed the direction of Sonia's nervous gaze.

Isadora Duncan Blake. Five foot nothing. One hundred and ten percent attitude. Her cocktail dress was red and fringed; sequins dazzled across the bodice. She balanced on red stilettos, which made Sonia's feet ache just to look at them. Fire opals dangled from Aunt Izzy's ears and flashed fire around her neck as they plunged toward her cleavage.

Sonia nodded. She released her death clutch of Joel's hand to tug at her crumpled navy jacket, suddenly reminded that she hadn't thought to change, but had gone straight from the office to the cocktail party. She grimaced at her own stupidity. She was worried about Joel's appearance too.

"Sonia, my dear," Aunt Izzy didn't miss an iota of Sonia's crumpled, un-chic appearance. No earrings, no scarf to jazz up the dull ensemble, flat shoes. Sonia bent obediently for the obligatory air kiss, thinking wildly: Makeup, I should have worn makeup. She jumped as Joel's arm encircled her waist.

"Are you going to introduce us, Sonia?"

"What? Um. Joel Maddigan, Aunt Izzy. Joel's a contract designer with the firm." "Mmm," Aunt Izzy shook hands, her hazel eyes shrewd as they assessed Joel. His hand crept to adjust the mustard tie. "I see you share a wardrobe consultant."

"Aunt Izzy!"

"Sorry," said Aunt Izzy perfunctorily to Joel. She turned on Sonia. "Your suit is a size too big, thirty years too old for you, and totally out of place at a cocktail party."

"I came straight from the office."

Aunt Izzy sniffed. Clearly the suit didn't pass muster for the office either. She turned away in search of more exciting company.

Sonia let out a sigh of relief and wriggled her shoulders in protest against Joel's enveloping arm. "You passed."

"You're kidding?"

"No. Aunt Izzy would never have been so critical of me if she didn't think you were worth making an effort for."

"Dandy," said Joel. Sonia had forgotten to dislodge his arm, and now, as she sagged with relief at Aunt Izzy's qualified approval and departure, Sonia leaned into him. It was nice to find a man not intimidated by her height. I could even wear heels, thought Sonia idly. And he smells good. A couple of butterflies fluttered in her tummy.

"Looks like we're stuck with each other," said Joel.

Sonia smiled.

"Hello Sonia." A blonde kitten replaced Aunt Izzy, and Sonia stiffened, her smile vanishing.

"Hi Patrice," Sonia made no effort to inject enthusiasm into her voice. She studied her cousin. Patrice's gown would have met with Aunt Izzy's approval. It screamed designer label; the vivid jade colour played up Patrice's green eyes, while the bodice barely covered her extravagant breasts. Men's heads turned, and stayed turned, as she passed.

Patrice's attention, after one comprehensive, dismissive sweep of Sonia's appearance, was all for Joel, totaling height and breadth of shoulder, subtracting the mustard tie. Automatically, Patrice pushed out her chest, angled her hips like a model, and looked up at Joel through sweeping black lashes. Just the fact he had appeared with Sonia made Joel worthy of her interest, but Sonia knew her cousin would suspend final judgement until she learned Joel's net worth. The fact Patrice was married wouldn't inhibit her one bit.

"Patrice Rekhov, Joel Maddigan. Joel, my cousin Patrice."

Patrice wet her glistening lips. Joel dropped his arm from Sonia's shoulders and wrapped it around her waist, drawing her closer. "Pleased to meet you," he said, his hand tracing a pattern on Sonia's flat stomach.

"A cocktail party isn't your natural habitat, Sonia, and you're hardly dressed for it. Should I guess why you're here?"

"I'm sure there are more interesting activities."

"Oh, I don't know," Patrice ran one finger around the rim of her cocktail glass, her green gaze on Joel. "It depends on the company."

Joel's hand stilled.

Blatant, blatant, blatant. Sonia glanced up at Joel, and he winked. Sonia heaved a sigh of relief. That was the second test, the one she wouldn't put into words; Joel had to be Patrice-immune before Sonia could risk marrying him, however temporarily.

"The company's important," Joel agreed, answering Patrice, but speaking to Sonia. "I'm pretty selective, myself."

Patrice's eyes narrowed. Could this mustard-tie-wearing man really prefer Sonia to her?

Sonia smiled, amazed and relieved to realise Joel was reassuring her that he didn't find Patrice attractive. Maybe it said something about her self confidence that she needed that reassurance, but Sonia didn't care. Unconsciously she shifted so that Joel's arm slid more comfortably around her waist. To anyone watching, his light hold looked possessive.

"I know how you feel about Aurora Island, Sonia, always going on about it as a kid, choosing to go there rather than overseas when you can tear yourself away from the boardroom. Give it up. Attending one cocktail party won't win Aunt Izzy's approval. Look at how you're dressed," Patrice ran her gaze scornfully over Sonia. "You don't even try to make something of yourself. Besides, you're not married. Aunt Izzy wouldn't give you the island in a pink fit, but she likes me. We both enjoy being women."

Patrice smiled sweetly. "I'll enjoy Aurora Island. Tropical resorts are such fun." She turned and sashayed back into the crowd.

"What a poisonous woman," Joel stared after her.

"Now do you understand why it's important I beat Patrice?"

"Yeah," Joel looked down at Sonia, seeing the skin drawn taut with strain at the corners of her eyes and mouth. "Let's get out of here."

Outside the bar, Sonia took a deep breath of exhaust fumes and felt better. City traffic was slowing for the night, but still fairly heavy. Joel rattled the keys in his pocket. He had driven them, insisting that arriving in separate cars would make their charade ridiculous.

"Are you hungry?"

The question took Sonia by surprise. She had to stop and think. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Good," said Joel. "So am I." He indicated the restaurants lining the street. "Which do you prefer? Japanese? Thai? Italian? Fusion?"

"Steak," said Sonia. Having considered the matter, she realised she wasn't just hungry, she was ravenous. Pre-cocktail party nerves had limited her lunch.

Joel gave an approving nod. "Steak it is."

The steak was excellent, the salad crisp, the side order of fries golden. "I give you fair warning," Sonia looked up with a smile, more comfortable in the relaxed, country style restaurant than in the cocktail bar. She had even shed the ugly, all concealing, navy jacket. Her white blouse was strictly utilitarian, but, unlike the jacket, it failed to hide her curves. "I intend to have dessert, too."

Sonia had chocolate mousse. Joel chose blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream. His tongue and teeth turned purple. Sonia laughed and felt the last of the day's tension drop away. "Dinner was a good idea."

Joel's response sobered Sonia. She realised they were both accustomed to solitary lives. Did Joel, like her, use his work to fill the empty spaces? And since when had she considered her life to have empty spaces?

"Coffee?" Joel suggested, and when Sonia hesitated, scared by her own thoughts, he added, "There are a few things we need to discuss."

"Okay."

"First, do you really want to continue with this fake marriage?"

"I bullied you into it, didn't I?" Sonia sighed. "Look, I'll find someone else. You're free."

Joel grimaced. "Well, that answers that question. You're going ahead with it." He finished his pie. "And that being the case, I'll continue as the husband."

"Why?"

"You couldn't just say thank you and finish your dessert?" grumbled Joel.

"No," but Sonia spooned up some mousse and ate it slowly, her eyes on Joel's face. He stared back, his gaze dropping from her eyes to her mouth. He cleared his throat.

"I gave my word and, despite what you think, you didn't coerce me into it. I told you—you can't bully me."

"Hmmph," Sonia finished her chocolate mousse, a little disconcerted by Joel's intense scrutiny. She rescued a smear of chocolate on her lips with the tip of her tongue. Joel swallowed, hard. "What else did you want to discuss?"

"Where are we getting married?"

Sonia looked blank. "Don't marriage celebrants have an office?"

"I'm sure that'll impress Aunt Izzy."

"Oh," Sonia chewed her bottom lip and absently accepted her coffee. She stirred the swirl of cream that topped it. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Fortunately for you, yes. It happens that my parents are on an archaeological dig in Peru."

"Your parents are archaeologists?"

"No, it's a dream of theirs. The dig is their idea of a holiday. But their absence gives you a good excuse for a quiet wedding. You can say we're saving the hoopla for when my parents and the rambling branches of your family can attend. You'll just have to admit part of the truth and say we rushed the marriage ceremony because you want to attend your Aunt Izzy's Goddesses' Getaway."

Sonia nodded. She watched Joel swallow his coffee. Given how hot it was, he had to have a cast iron throat. It was a nice throat, though. Horrified by that little thought, Sonia hurried into speech. "So we can have a quiet registry wedding."

"Your parents. Your grandparents. I know Terence, remember? If we get married without your grandfather present, Krakatoa will have nothing on his explosion."

Sonia sighed. Drat. Joel was right. "This is way more complicated than I thought it would be, but I'm not giving up." She frowned down at her coffee. "I've got it! An evening wedding. We'll get married in King's Park, with the city lights shining behind us, then have a celebratory dinner in the restaurant. Aunt Izzy will consider it minimally romantic. My parents and grandparents will be our guests. And no one can complain."

Joel considered the plan and found no glaring fault. "Okay, but what about after the wedding?"

"A honeymoon?" Sonia choked, torn between horror and a sneaking appreciation of the possibilities.

"No, a honeymoon wasn't part of our agreement," Joel teased. "It'd cost you extra." "I don't want..." Sonia began, then caught the smile twitching Joel's mouth. She stopped and drew a deep breath. "If you didn't mean a honeymoon, what did you mean?"

"Where are we going to live? Your Aunt Izzy will smell a rat if we continue separate lives and residences."

Sonia whimpered. "Do they sell brandy here?"

"You'll have to move in with me."

"What?"

"I have a house in Cottesloe. You'll like it. It's a nice place. It has a spare bedroom," Joel dropped the teasing. "Marrying you temporarily is one thing, but disrupting my work is another. Sonia, you know I only work on a consultant basis with Blake Manufacturing. Most of my invention and design work is done at home. I've an office and lab all set up. I can't afford to move in with you."

"I understand," and Sonia did, but she realised there was a whole lot more to this marriage business than she had anticipated. She had jumped in blindly, which wasn't like her. Crazy, crazy, but maybe she could minimise the damage. "Joel, I never meant to be such an inconvenience. Let's call it off. I've got a friend who would appreciate free rent and board for a few months. Andrew's an artist. I'll contact him. I don't want to disrupt your whole life."

Too late, thought Joel, then said it aloud. "Your Aunt Izzy already approves of me."

"It doesn't matter," Sonia waved her hand agitatedly. Joel caught it.

"Calm down, Sonia. I shared a house as a student. I can share again. Three months is hardly a life sentence." He pulled her out of the seat and toward the counter where he paid their bill. "Of course, you'll have to share with Bella."