by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
She looked down at her khaki shorts and T-shirt. “Even though I look like a tourist, I do have some work to do, and I was going to settle at my sister’s place after a wee trip around.”
“What sort of work?”
“Oh, a bit of work I can do anywhere. Now we were talking about you. Tell me why you’re going to Italy, seeing as you’re not the big financial businessman who travels in business class.” She sensed his hesitation and was interested to see if he would answer her question.
“I’m going over to help my aunt. My uncle died a few months ago and she has a business to run. I am going to help out for a while. See a bit of the country and have a bit of a holiday.”
“What do you do? No, don’t tell me, let me think about it and then we’ll play twenty questions on the plane to pass the time.” She looked down at her watch and slumped her shoulders. “Jeez, after all, we’ve got another twelve hours to fill in.”
…
Brianna shifted in the window seat and leaned her head against the recess around the window. It was pitch-dark outside and the only thing to look at was the light flashing on the end of the wing. Tom sat up in his aisle seat, his back straight and his arms crossed in front of him. He looked down at the vacant seat between them. Somehow Brianna had managed to fill it with magazines, food wrappers, and a calico belt. He reached over and rescued her passport, which was about to slip out of the belt onto the floor, and handed it to her.
“You might need this,” he said.
She tipped her head to the side and looked back at him for a long moment before speaking, her expression serious for once, and he took the opportunity to study her deep brown eyes. They were flecked with gold and her eyelashes were dark and lush, and he was sure it was all natural. She wore no other makeup. A sudden shaft of desire shot through him and he held her gaze. His eyes traveled down her face to her throat and to the soft swell of her breasts beneath her snug T-shirt. Brianna was the first to look away and bent down and slipped her passport back into the belt before leaning forward and slipping it over her head.
“Thanks, the belt was sticking into me and kept me awake. That’s the last thing I need to lose, isn’t it?”
“Yes, you will need your passport.”
“I’m hopeless. Always seem to lose things,” she said before pushing her long legs out as far as she could, then reaching her arms above her head and holding the back of the seat. “My family has given up on me. They know not to buy me anything expensive because I always lose it.”
Tom lifted his gaze from the T-shirt stretched tight against her small, firm breasts.
He changed the subject. “Sounds like you come from a big family? Happy childhood?”
“Happy enough.” Her voice was a little sad.
“Brothers and sisters?”
“One sister and two brothers, two married, and a tribe of nephews and nieces.”
Brianna put her head to the side and tapped her finger on her cheek, moving his attention from her family. “Now, my turn. Let me guess what you do. You said you went to university?”
He nodded.
“A lawyer?”
This time, Tom shook his head.
“Shame. Okay, your turn.”
…
Three hours later, a light meal had been served and cleared, and now the cabin was dim again. The movement in the plane had slowed as passengers slept and the cabin staff came through with the occasional offer of water. Tom’s body clock was out of sync and he was wide awake.
Neither he nor Brianna had been able to guess the other’s profession, and they had exhausted their twenty questions. Tom wouldn’t budge and was enjoying the frustration he could see building in Brianna as she ticked off careers.
She was getting ridiculous now and was whispering her way through the alphabet. When she got to zookeeper and he shook his head, she turned to him and took his face between her hands. Her fingers were warm against his skin, and he resisted the temptation to reach up and hold them there. “I’ve been guessing for three hours now and I am not going to be able to get to sleep until I know. So you tell me and I’ll tell you. Deal?”
“Deal, you go first.”
“No, you go first.”
“You go first…okay…rock, paper, scissors…”
Brianna raised her eyebrows as they put out their fists and fingers and Tom lost.
“Well, come on…spill.”
“I am”—he paused for a moment—“a bursar.”
“I knew it, I knew it,” she squealed and then looked around at the other passengers sleeping and put her hand over her mouth. “I was right then when I guessed accountant.” She put on a pout. “You didn’t play fair. I guessed that straight after lawyer.”
“Okay,” Tom said. “I’m sorry, but it wasn’t exactly what I do. A bursar is a financial administrator. I guess the difference is I don’t play with numbers anymore. I manage the staff. Now it’s your turn.” He was very interested to hear what she did. “I’ve exhausted every possible profession”—he widened his eyes in mock horror—“barring the oldest profession in the world.”
She made him wait for a full minute before she answered. “I’ve taken twelve months’ leave from my job.”
He tipped his head to the side waiting for her to continue. “And?”
“I’m a clinical psychologist. I work mainly with couples with relationship problems.”
Tom was cross with himself. That’d be right. Of all people to get chatty with, he had to pick a psychologist. He thought back over their conversation—he’d not mentioned anything private that he could remember. He didn’t have relationship problems, just preferred to keep his life private and not share his feelings with anyone. So much for the free-spirited Scottish lass he’d thought was interested in his family.
He picked up his sunglasses and fitted the headphones into his ears. She could go and find someone else to psychoanalyze. “I think I’ll sleep for the rest of the flight. Good night, Brianna.”
Chapter Four
“Pompous prick,” thought Brianna. She’d sat there stewing over his reaction for the three hours he’d slept, or pretended to sleep, because he’d fidgeted the whole time and she knew he was awake and was avoiding talking to her. Unable to sleep, she was now cross and tired, and she let her thoughts go back to her mother’s grave in Sydney. Instead of wasting time exchanging pleasantries with Tomas, she should have been planning how she was going to sort out her problems when she got to the island.
“Just water, please.” Tom smiled at the flight attendant as he poured chilled water into a cup and placed it onto the tray in front of him.
Brianna took a sip of her red wine and looked out the window. She was so angry he’d turned from her when she had revealed her profession. She’d had a glass of wine hoping it would put her to sleep, but it had the opposite reaction and now the thoughts were scurrying around in her head again. Her throat tightened and she gripped the wineglass as she stared into the dark. According to the flight screen on the back of the seat, they were flying over the Himalayas, but it was pitch-dark outside.
Bloody stuffed shirt. She settled down into her seat and sipped on her wine, determined to ignore him. God, if she told him her book was about sex therapy he’d probably have a conniption and request another seat. The disappointing thing was that she’d thought they’d hit it off. For someone in her profession, she was such a lousy judge of character. She’d been enjoying their playful conversation and the flight had passed quickly. As soon as he found out she was a psychologist, he’d turned away from her and pretended to sleep. At least she’d managed to forget about her mother and the inheritance and all the other problems looming in front of her. Thank God she hadn’t prattled on about that. One thing to be grateful for, at least.
She glanced at her watch and did the time conversion. They were still four hours from Rome. She put her wineglass on the tray and tucked the pillow under her head, determined to get some sleep. It seemed like minutes later and s
he woke as the captain’s voice came over the announcement system. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are making our final approach to Rome.”
Her eyes flew open and she sat up straight in her seat, clenching her fingers together in her lap. “Oh, shit, I’ve left it too late. Inhale, exhale. Simplicity of breath. Inhale, exhale,” she muttered under her breath. She closed her eyes again, ready to meditate her way through her fear and ignore the actual landing.
Inner peace and enlightenment. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.
A tentative hand tapped on her shoulder and she opened her eyes. Tom’s nose was about an inch away from hers.
“Are you all right?” He was frowning and those blue eyes were full of concern.
“No, I’m not bloody all right. We’re about to land.”
“Oh, that’s all right then. I thought you were still angry with me.”
Brianna turned to him as the anger burned back up from her stomach. He might have taken the time to get to know her a little bit on this flight, he might have seen her with Phil in carefree mode, and he might have played word games with her, but this uptight eejit had no idea about her temper.
Tipping her head to one side, she allowed a sweet smile to cross her face and unclenched her fingers and placed her hand on his arm. She gripped it and allowed her nails to bite into his skin.
“Cross with you? Now why would I be cross with a perfect human being like you? Tom, I’m so glad I met you on this flight. I will strive to be like you for the rest of my days. And I will also start making a list so that I don’t upset stuffy guys who sit next to me and think I am psychoanalyzing them when I’m just trying to be friendly.” She waited for him to turn away and ignore her.
I’ve overdone it this time, but by God, I am so sick of being judged.
All her life, she’d tried to be the daughter her adopted mother had expected her to be, and she’d failed miserably. The hope of meeting her birth mother had finally died in a lonely cemetery, and the events of the last few days had overwhelmed her. This poor guy had been the one to wear her temper. Before she could apologize, Tom reached into the seat pocket and pulled out his computer. His face was without expression and he didn’t speak.
Shit, I’ve pushed his buttons this time. The sooner I get off this plane, the better.
Tom tapped away at the keys for a few seconds and turned the screen to face her so she could read it. He had added number twelve to his list. She read it and she shook her head and smiled at him.
#12. Don’t insult beautiful clinical psychologists on planes. Sorry for being a jerk.
A row of little smiley emoticons was at the end of the typed words.
Brianna burst out laughing. “Put the computer away. The seat belt sign just came on.”
The intercom crackled and the captain’s voice announced the imminent landing. “Cabin crew, prepare for descent.”
Tom closed his computer and slid it into the seat pocket before reaching over and taking her hand. “I really am sorry. Apology accepted?”
“Okay. I’m sorry, too.” She squeezed his hand, grateful for the comfort he was giving her. “I’ve had a pretty emotional week and you wore it. And I was nervous about the landing.”
Tom smiled and pointed out the window. “Benvenuto all’Aeroporto Internazionale Leonardo da Vinci di Fiumicin,” he said in perfect Italian.
She looked out the window just as the wheels hit the tarmac.
“Hey, two landings and I missed both of them.” She looked down at his hand, which was squeezing hers back. “Thanks to you. And I’ll take back that stuffy guy comment. You’re forgiven.”
Brianna was amazed at his perfect Italian, or it had sounded perfect to her. “Where did you learn to speak such perfect Italian?” She turned and looked earnestly at him. “And I am interested as a friend. I’m not in psychoanalysis mode.”
“My mother was born on Lipari Island…it’s off Sicily. That’s where my aunt still lives. She was already married when their parents emigrated to Australia, so she stayed there. She’s a lot older than my mother, and now she’s widowed. She needed some help, so I volunteered.” He laughed and shook his head. “I might add, to the great amazement of my entire family. You picked me well. I am a boring balloon. So to answer your original question, we all learned to speak Italian at our mother’s knee. She wanted us to speak both languages.”
“No shit! That is amazing.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I don’t mean amazing you speak Italian. I mean…it’s amazing you’re going to Lipari.” She ran her hand through her loose hair. “So am I…I mean…Lipari Island. That where I’m going, too.”
Tom smiled at her. “Are you catching the ferry across from Naples?”
“Yes, I’m catching the train to Naples tomorrow and then getting the midday ferry across on Tuesday.”
Lipari Island was a very small place. She’d looked it up on Google Earth. It would be great to know someone there who could speak Italian, because she had a feeling the inheritance situation may become a little messy, and if she was honest, she was pleased she wouldn’t be saying good-bye to Tom when they got off the plane. “What about you?”
“I’m flying to Naples tonight and then catching the Tuesday ferry. Looks like we’ll catch up then. Where are you staying in Naples?”
Oh. My. God. Brianna stared at him and let her mouth drop open as a crazy idea hit her. She shut it and covered it with her hand as she stared at him.
Maybe…just maybe…the answer to her problem had been sitting next to her all the way to Italy. An over-six-foot perfectly believable answer who should be able to convince anyone he was her husband-to-be. All she had to do was get him to agree to it. Thoughts scurried around in her head.
“Brianna?” He looked at her quizzically.
She gave him the name of the hotel she was staying at in Naples as questions flew around her mind. “Sorry, I don’t know where it is. I’ve lost the address, but I am sure the taxi drivers will know where to go.” She closed her eyes. Yet another thing in her rucksack, although Phil would have retrieved it by now.
They made arrangements to share a taxi to the port on Tuesday morning and he added the name of her hotel into his schedule on his laptop.
“Tom?” Her heart was in her throat. She was about to make a huge fool of herself.
He turned to her and frowned as she chewed her lip nervously.
“Yes?”
Bloody hell, could she do this?
She reached up and kissed him lightly, and as her lips brushed his stubbled cheek a tingle shot down her spine and she shivered.
Yes, it was about her only solution.
“Tom? Ah…Tom, would you consider marrying me?”
“What?” He looked at her for a moment. If it hadn’t been so serious, the look on his face would have been enough to make her burst out laughing.
“You’re quite serious, aren’t you, Brianna?”
“Yes, I’m serious.” The passengers around them began to stand and make their way down the aisle. He frowned and kept looking at her as though she were crazy.
“Look, just forget it for the time being. I’ll tell you all about it when we catch the ferry on Tuesday. Okay? I’m not crazy. I’ll have a proposition for you then.”
Brianna stood and pushed past him, past caring that her butt was in his face as she stepped into the aisle.
“Just think about it. I’ll see you later.” She hurried down the aisle to where her laptop was stowed, anxious to get away from him before he could say no.
Problem number two. If Tom did say yes—and it was a long shot—if he did say yes, the next problem would be finding some way to repay him.
Chapter Five
Tom had booked a taxi through the concierge when he checked out from the hotel and now he gave the driver the address of Brianna’s hotel. Unexpected anticipation curled in his stomach. He’d enjoyed exploring Naples and visiting Pompeii, and now he was looking forward to Lipari. He wondered how Brianna
had spent the past couple of days. No doubt he would hear about it all the way to the island. And hear more about her crazy proposal.
He shook his head. This trip was far removed from his expectations. He was used to things going exactly as he’d planned. Maybe that’s where he’d been going wrong? Once he found out why she needed a husband, he would decide if she was plain crazy or if it was her ideas made her seem that way.
He’d slept soundly on Sunday night when he’d arrived on the flight from Rome, and stepped out early on Monday to explore. No time to succumb to jet lag. Tomas was determined to enjoy every moment. Being able to speak the language had eased his way in Naples considerably, and he’d taken to the city like a native and had the strangest feeling of coming home. Their mother had encouraged them to appreciate their Italian heritage throughout their childhood, but apart from learning the language at home and then polishing it at university, he’d never been much interested in Italian culture. He enjoyed his mother’s Italian cooking and he made sure he ate at home as often as he could, but now he was giving some thought to her belief that genetic memory played a big part in a person’s cultural makeup. He could get to like this place. He’d even become accustomed to the aroma of fish and garlic that pervaded every street.
It was less than a week since he’d left his office, and already it felt like a different life. He hadn’t planned his day and had wandered around Naples as the mood had caught him and experienced the colors, flavors, and delights of this amazing city, visiting the Norman Castle, Nuovo and the Castel dell’Ovo. He’d taken the whole afternoon to spend time in the famous Duomo and the Gesù Nuovo church. Even if he’d had to turn around and go home today, the richness of his experience in Naples had satisfied him already, and he was looking forward to getting to Lipari Island.
Being alone in Italy had been most conducive to thinking, and as he’d explored, he’d given a lot of thought to what he was really doing here. The only downside had been the call from Nick.
“Hey, how’s Italy?” he’d asked.
“Great,” Tom said. “As much as I’ve seen in one day. I just got here.”
