From award-winning author Sarah Lahey, comes a lightly spiced second-chance romance that will captivate readers from the very first page. This enemies-to-lovers workplace story guarantees to leave you breathless.
After Kat and Liam meet in a bar, a life-changing favour sets her future in motion. Months later theyâre reunited on a building site. He is the property developer, and she is the heritage consultantâsparks fly as their conflicting roles collide⌠but she owes him a favour.
Loud, opinionated, and roguishly handsome, Liam is used to getting his way, but underneath his gruff exterior, he is surprisingly generous and protective. Soon attraction simmers beneath the surface. Their professional relationship suddenly becomes very personal.
When Liam decides to settle down and get married, he sets his sights on Kat. But twice divorced, Kat will never marry again. She might break his heart, but it might be worth it.
From award-winning author Sarah Lahey, comes a lightly spiced second-chance romance that will captivate readers from the very first page. This enemies-to-lovers workplace story guarantees to leave you breathless.
After Kat and Liam meet in a bar, a life-changing favour sets her future in motion. Months later theyâre reunited on a building site. He is the property developer, and she is the heritage consultantâsparks fly as their conflicting roles collide⌠but she owes him a favour.
Loud, opinionated, and roguishly handsome, Liam is used to getting his way, but underneath his gruff exterior, he is surprisingly generous and protective. Soon attraction simmers beneath the surface. Their professional relationship suddenly becomes very personal.
When Liam decides to settle down and get married, he sets his sights on Kat. But twice divorced, Kat will never marry again. She might break his heart, but it might be worth it.
Chapter 1: Project Homes
When the forecast for the first day of winter made the news headlines, Kat McDermott thought she might be in trouble. Terrible things happened to good people on sunny daysâshe knew this from experience. A blue sky was never blameless, and warm, heady days, like the one she was expecting, stockpiled years of grief. Something was amiss, and not just with the weather.Â
Anticipating the worst, Kat selected her favourite maroon suit from the antique armoire that served as her wardrobe. A cropped jacket and high-waisted pants over a striped business shirt. Comfortable suede loafers were her customary footwear for workâshe owned several pairs in various shades. She chose a storm-cloud grey colour that she hoped would offset the good weather.
In the kitchen, Kat made a cup of weak chamomile tea. She set it aside to let it cool while she put together her lunch; a selection of piecemeal items, including carrots, cheese sticks, and an apple. She added a container of nuts and a dark chocolate bar. After packing these into her satchel, she checked the items in her work kit: sketchbook, pencils, scale ruler, and a retractable tape measure. Everything was in order. Â
Resting her hip against the old Aga stove in the kitchen, she sipped her scented tea and considered her day. First, the executive board meeting, and the midyear financial report would be tabled. The company had made a reasonable profit, so the shareholders would be pleased. Following this, she would sit through a presentation on a new display home, which was called the Appaloosa. She didnât like the name any more than she liked the design (the house had no eaves). Later that afternoon she would visit the construction site, and then after that she would⌠her tasks list began to fade. She was getting ahead of herself. Â
She put down her cup of tea and wrung her hands. What would be, would be?Â
In the darkness, she took the bus to work.Â
The Volt Construction headquarters were northwest of Melbourneâs city centre, a short walk from Queen Victoria Markets and close to Flagstaff Gardens. Once inside the building, Kat headed for the boardroom on the top floor. The glass door pivoted on a single hinge, which, flagging under the weight of the laminated safety glass, moaned when she opened it.Â
It was an uninspiring room. The decor was black and chrome. The place smelt of cleaning fluids and artificial fibres. Kat was only there for privacy; the Volt offices were open-plan. The shared workspaces and communal desks made it difficult to hold a personal conversation without co-workers overhearing.Â
On the far wall hung the photographs of the companyâs project homes. The Mustang: face brickwork but for a little extra a rendered finish was available. The Friesian: cement render with a painted finish in a limited range of colours. The Clydesdale: open-plan living with integrated alfresco dining. The Morgan: timber-look feature cladding on the front façade and bi-folding windows. The Shetland: a new tiny house design.Â
Resting on the edge of the conference table, Kat gazed out the window. The sun was rising over the city. Glare sliced through the tall buildings, sending shafts of light in all directions. The sight, bright and optimistic, made her smile. Her mood lifted. Today might not be the soul-destroying defeat she was expecting. Catastrophising was in her nature, and her mind often went to the worst-case scenario. Maybe she had overreacted.Â
Then she remembered her adage about the weather. Soon, the sun moved higher, the optical illusion vanished, and the hard edges of the city buildings returned.Â
Thirty years ago, Kat and her twin brother Ryan had made high-rise buildings using recycled cardboard boxes. They had spent hours slotting pieces together, taping walls into place, and cutting roof sections to fit as they built their cardboard cities on the living room floor of their childhood home.
They must have been seven or eight years oldâand now, thirty years later, they were still building houses. Ryan was a successful architect working in Sydney. Kat, the CEOâacting CEOâof a residential construction company.
The conference room door moaned, and Archie, her personal assistant, entered. Tall and freshly shaved, Archie wore a deep blue suit. His dark hair was tucked neatly behind his ears. His aftershave, a combination of sandalwood and almond oil, always made him smell homely. Kat had a decade on Archie, but clients regularly confused their roles in the companyâArchie was a man.
Archie paced across the carpet. âMaggieâs right behind me. She found the evidence on the printer this morning. Looks like a coup,â he said.
The door opened, and Maggie, the receptionist, entered. Panting, her full chest heaved, her brow glistened with sweat, and her plump cheeks glowed. The woman had cut a brisk pace from the printer to the conference room.
Katâs heart sank. Maggie never ran anywhere.
In her arms, Maggie carried half a dozen folders. A stapler rested precariously on top, holding the folders steady.
After tugging a folder from her stack, Maggie handed it to Kat.
âI came in early to⌠to print out the new building codes,â Maggie stammered.
Maggie was not printing out building codes. She was printing out copies of the cosy mystery novel she was writing. Everyone in the office knew about her ambition to become an author. Chapters of her book were often left beside the printer and many team members had read her drafts. Staff offered unsolicited feedback on the eccentricities of her amateur sleuth, her small-town charactersâincluding a ghostâand her puzzle-solving clues, which led readers to the murder suspect. Maggie wouldnât be the first person to write a novel at work, and Kat thought it was a productive use of her time.
Kat opened the folder. Inside she found a Word document. She scanned the first paragraph. âAhh,â she said. âIt was the delivery man. He left the black marks at the murder scene.â
Kat closed the folder and handed it back to Maggie.Â
âIt was,â Maggie confirmed. âHe was reading the newspaper. He had newsprint on his gloves.âÂ
âI would never have guessed.â
âGood to know. You donât mind if I print out the occasional copy in my own time?â
âThatâs fine. Donât print it out every day. That would be an unreasonable use of office resources. Not workplace appropriate.â
Maggie nodded, indicating she agreed. After pulling another folder from her pile, she checked the contents before handing it to Kat.
Kat opened the folder. Inside was a diagram of the new management structure. A hierarchy of staff and their titles, the information spread like a family tree across the page.
Kat chewed her lip. âOn the printer, you say?â
âI checked the log. Printed at 12:15 last night. Thirty copies.â Maggie pointed to a name at the top of the page âCharlie Ames. âIt was Charlieâs PAâAislingâshe printed out the copies,â Maggie confirmed.
âAisling? Really? All this time Iâve been calling her Assing,â Kat said.
âThatâs a software company,â Archie said. âEither way, itâs a fucking mutiny.âÂ
Again, the door moaned. They turned.
Charlie Ames entered the room, a pinched expression on his face. His dark suit hung loose on his thin frameâhe had shed a few kilos overnight. Organising a mutiny was a time-consuming and stressful business. His shirt was crumpledâhad he spent the night in his office? The tip of his tie, as always, finished halfway down his fly, like an arrow pointing to the spot.
Digging his hands into his trouser pockets, Charlie ambled across the room toward them.
Archie stepped aside, and Maggie followed him to the far end of the room, where they pretended to examine a range of aluminium cladding samples, which were stacked on the sideboard.
Kat stood her ground.
Charlie pulled something from the pocket of his slack jacket. Perhaps it was a parley?
âThought you might like these,â he said, pressing two tickets toward her. âCorporate tickets for the Formula One next month. Admission to the pits. Get access to the driversâall sweaty, covered in grease. The tyres get so hot you can smell them burn.âÂ
She considered the coup leader standing before her. Charlieâs presence confirmed what she already knewâthere had been a rebellion. Soon blood would flow, heads would roll, and hers would be the first to go. The eave-less Appaloosa would be built without her.
She felt his betrayal in her chest, and her clavicle started to ache. After lifting her chin, she said, âBeware of Greeks bearing gifts.â
He laughed loud and generous, like the hypocrite he was. Leaning toward her he said, âYouâre too fucking pretty to be CEO anyway.â The tickets left his grasp and landed on her desk. After coughing into his fist, he turned and walked out the door.
The cladding samples in Archieâs hand landed with a thud on the sideboard.
Maggie rushed to Katâs side. âIâm so sorry this happened to you. Itâs so unfair.â
Just then, the glass door moaned again and Reynold, who was head of marketing entered the room. After searching the faces of his allies Reynold paused, realising they already knew the news he was about to deliver. They were on the wrong side of the coup. He turned to Kat. âI want to say cunââ
âNo!â Kat yelled. âYou canât. Itâs not workplace-appropriate language.â
Reynold kept his profanity to himself. But they all knew what he meant.
Kat rubbed her forehead. âI might need a drink.âÂ
âThereâs a bar across the road,â Archie said.
âLevel six,â Maggie confirmed.
âIs it open?â Kat asked.
âTwenty-four hours,â Reynold said. He pointed out the window. They turned and stared at the historic sandstone building on the opposite side of the street. A flamboyant structure with gargoyles and stained-glass windows, it had been built in 1880. Originally the headquarters of a prominent English bank, it was also the bank managerâs residence.  It had since been converted into an office block.Â
Kat stepped toward the window and squinted. âIs it a secret bar?âÂ
âNo.â Archie collected her handbag from the table and handed it to her. âYou have thirty-two minutes.â
Taking the hierarchy document out of the folder, Kat slipped it into her pocket and headed out the door.
The lift doors opened on level six. Kat stepped out and glanced around the room. High ceilings, glossy timber floors, deep chairs covered in plush velvet. The benches were upholstered in leather and the fittings were brass. The place smelt like coffee, and it was empty except for a man seated at a nearby table.
Feeling lost, Kat crossed her arms over her chest and stepped back toward the lift.
âYou need help?â the man asked, rising from his chair. Dressed in a tailored business suit, minus the tie, his dark hair was cut short. He had a crooked nose and interesting grey eyes.
âI need a drink,â Kat said.
To his credit, he didnât check the time. He slipped behind the bar.
âWhisky.â Kat followed him and perched on a bar stool. âThe good stuff.â
After placing his hand on a bottle, he turned and caught her eye, confirming it was the brand she wanted.
She waved a finger. âThe one on the rightâthe really good stuff.â
He grabbed the bottle. âAre you going to need a shoulder to cry on?â
She considered his shoulders. They were square. âNo. Itâs a career crisis, not a relationship crisis.â
He poured a neat shot into a wide glass and offered her the ice bucket. She declined. He slid the glass across the bar. A napkin followed.
She sipped the drink. It burnt, and she winced. Whisky was her drink, but the brand was heady. It was early in the day and she hadnât eaten breakfast.
He pointed at the ice bucket.
She nodded.
He dropped an ice cube into her glass. After considering her for a moment, he decided she needed another, and a second cube was added to her drink. He returned her glass.
She sipped her whiskyâit was better over ice. âYou want one? My shout,â she offered.
âTempting, very tempting.â His eyes sparkled. âBut Iâve got a busy day.â He had a solid timbre voice.
The company hierarchy document was in her pocket, she retrieved it,  dropped it on the bar and smoothed out the crease with both hands. âJust in case Iâm losing my mind, could you take a look at this?â She spun the page around and slid it toward him.
He placed his hands on either side of the paper. Rough, masculine hands, a scar down the side of his thumb, another across his knuckles.
âOkay, what am I looking at?â he asked.
âCan you see the name, Kathleen McDermott? Anywhere, anywhere at all on this page?â she asked.
He shook his head. âNope. There are no women at allâ unless Charlie Ares is a woman? Sometimesââ
âCharlie Ares is not a woman. Charlie Ares is a misogynistic arsehole who should be fired for sexual misconduct.â She sipped her drink, then she raised her forefinger. âI take that back. He should be in jail for sexual misconduct.â
âThen I guess you just got fired.â
âI have a contract. They canât fire me. Theyâve moved me sideways, off the page.â Her hand skated across the bar. Scanning the room, she asked, âIs there a cigarette machine around here?â
He chuckled. âNot for about two decades. Let me see what I can do.â
He left the room. Returning a short time, he handed her a cigarette and a lighter.
Looking around the bar, she asked, âIs there somewhere⌠?â
He pointed to an outdoor terrace. After opening the door for her, he followed her outside.
She placed the cigarette between her lips.
âHere, let me.â He held out his hand for the lighter.
She hesitated; she could light her own cigarette. But he insisted, so she conceded and passed him the lighter.
He flicked the wheel and shielded the spark with his hand.
She leaned into the flame. Cupping her hand around his, she grazed the back of his knuckles with her fingers. When she looked up, his grey eyes were staring into hers. She turned away.
After lighting her cigarette, she took a drag. A coughing fit followed. âOh my god, this is disgusting.â
He chuckled. âYou want some advice?â
Counsel from a bartenderâhe was qualified. âOkay,â she said. âBut donât tell me to stop smoking. I did that twenty years ago.â She took another drag and another fit of coughing followed.
âIâm going to tell you to quit your jobâfuck âem. They donât want you.â
Brutally honest, his words hurt. But the bartender was right. Charlie Ares had convinced more than half the executive committee to remove her as CEO. He wanted the top job more than she did. Not because he was a better candidate; Kat knew more about the construction industry and people management than he did. He was a pretentious, argumentative, and ineffective leader. His decision-making process was ego-driven and erratic. But the job aligned with his mission in life to be king. Top of the hill. Lord of the Manor. The man in charge. He wouldnât settle for anything less.Â
An enemy at the top level of the company was not ideal. She wasnât afraid of Charlie or his buddies, but she didnât care enough about the company to fight for change. She fought for the things she believed in, but Volt wasnât one of them.  Unnecessary conflict wasnât part of Katâs nature, she wouldnât mount a battle to regain control. From this day forward, Charlie would rule the three levels of office space that were Volt Construction.
âYou should get yourself a lawyer,â the bartender continued. âSomeone who deals in employment contracts. You know what Iâm saying?â
She did. But she disagreed. Lawyers had a reputation for making life more complicated than it already was. Her future would not be in court. She still had a job; they hadnât fired her. They had moved her sideways. A state-based portfolio, she imagined. She would insist on keeping Archie.
Another drag of her cigarette, and another fit of coughing followed.
âHere, give that thing to me.âÂ
She handed over the cigarette. He plucked it from her fingers, pressing it into a nearby ashtray. âItâs bad for your health.â
She smiled. His bossiness was endearing.Â
âI need to get back to the bear pit,â she said. âThe board meeting is about to start.â
Opening the door for her, he followed her inside. From her handbag, she pulled out her wallet, eager to pay for the drink.
âItâs on me,â he said.
She paused. âThen I owe you.â
Together, they strolled toward the lift. âI donât know your name,â she said.
âLiam.â
âWell, Liam, thank you for the drink and the advice. It was nice meeting you.â
âLikewise. Good luck.â
It was too late for luck. Her mood had shifted, and she offered him a nervous, half-hearted smile. Under her shirt, she rubbed her collarbone.
âHey,â he said. âYouâre going to be fine. Itâs their loss.âÂ
She held his gaze. âOf course.â
As she approached the lift, the doors opened. A young woman with messy brown hair, wearing a T-shirt with a strawberry cupcake printed on the front, stepped out. Her eyes were fixed on her phone, but she looked up and caught Katâs eye as she passed.Â
Two older men, wearing three-piece suits, trailed after the young woman. They dipped their hats at Kat. Liam escorted the men and the young girl into the bar.Â
Inside the lift, Kat searched for the company hierarchy outline in her pockets, but it wasnât there. She had left it on the bar. No matter, she could visualise the diagram. Twelve men in senior positions. Some were good at their jobs. Some were not so good. Not one womanâgood or bad. Initially, as part of a male work culture, her female status in the company was celebrated. She was a valued novelty. Until she wasnât.
On the way down in the lift, her stomach turned and a wave of nausea hit her. The whisky, the cigarette, no food, and the impending career crisis. By the time she reached her office, her face was as green as her eyes. She headed for the bathroom and threw up. Then she threw up again.
I love second-chance romance books and this one is a solid read. It has the perfect level of romantic sizzle. The sex scenes were well-written and hot, yet still concise enough not to feel overpowering.
I couldn't quite put my finger on what was up with Kat but I get the vibe that she might be neuro-divergent in the way that Christopher from The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time appears neuro-divergent but no specific diagnosis is presented. Sometimes Kat reads social situations differently. She is also very levelheaded emotionally, emotionally and physically capable of being independent and alone, and thinks through situations in a way that is often detailed and literal. Her perspective is fascinating. She's also working in a male-dominated industry but never appears to be intimated by her surroundings or peers. She is not overly confident or overly anxious. She is analytical and precise with specific opinions and preferences. I adore her and the way her tea must only be brewed for 20 seconds. She feels like a real person with a complete personality and childhood.
Liam is also a character I love. I appreciated the gender role reversal with Liam and Kat and that both these romantic leads were fully fleshed characters with their hopes, dreams, and past baggage. Liam was equally as interesting as Kat, equally as real, and full of personality. I wanted both of them to be successful but also to stop being so stubborn! Because they are unique persons, they don't always see eye-to-eye with each other and that's where tension blooms. There is some miscommunication but it feels organic.
The level of detail for construction, business, buildings, and history was oftentimes over my level of knowledge but I appreciated the depth it added to the world-building of this book. I wouldn't know any better but it felt genuine and like the author and characters knew what they were talking about.
I don't always read books set in Australia and have never been to Australia, but I didn't feel like this was a different place than any town in my own country where you can have a meet-cute in a bar, lose your job to the boy's club takeover, or take a weekend to get away to the country.