He started to get in line at the desk to ask who’d paged Dylan when a woman walked up to him.
“You’re here!” she said.
Hunter tried to place the woman’s face. She looked vaguely familiar. “I am?” His mother claimed he’d been cursed with a sarcastic streak as wide as Farpoint since the day he was born. While his mum found it annoying, Hunter had never found a good reason to curb that personality trait.
The pretty woman smiled. “I was starting to worry.”
Before he could tell her she had the wrong bloke and should go ahead and hang on to her anxiety, she took a step closer and threw her arms around him.
The hard-on Hunter had managed to batten down as he’d walked away from his potential shower partner reemerged when her firm breasts brushed against his chest. Bloody hell. Who knew the airport was such a great place to pick up women? He might have to fly to Sydney International more often.
Never one to pass up an opportunity, he accepted the embrace, loosely wrapping his arms around her back. The lovely lady was just the right height for him and had some sexy curves. He liked a woman with meat on her bones.
She pulled away slightly and he started to release her, but she kept her arms wrapped around him and upped the ante, kissing him.
It started as a sweet, friendly kiss, but Hunter wasn’t having any of that shit. She smelled and tasted too good. He grasped her soft face and held her close. He turned his head and deepened the kiss, pressing her lips open so he could get an even better taste. He was thrilled when her tongue met his halfway. Jesus. This chick could kiss.
The flash of a camera distracted him and he felt the woman stiffen slightly. He ignored both, pressing his lips more firmly against hers. She relaxed—then another camera flashed. And another.
He thought he heard the woman mutter the word “fuck” as she stepped away.
“We need to get out of here,” she said.
With some distance between them, Hunter’s brain reengaged. It was clear she had the wrong guy, but it was going to be awkward to admit that, given the liberties he’d taken with her mouth.
“Listen, love—” he began.
She ignored him. Bending over, she retrieved her suitcases. Handing one to him, she briskly walked away from the service desk. He dragged her bag and tried to keep up.
“Where’s your car?” she asked.
“Don’t have one.”
That admission stalled her for a moment. “Dylan, the paparazzi have spotted me. We’ve gotta get out of here.”
Two words resonated in his brain. “Dylan” and “paparazzi”.
Who the bloody hell was this woman?
More flashes. Hunter glanced over his shoulder and saw three men with cameras following them. People turned to stare, curiously trying to determine which famous person was walking through Sydney airport.
Hunter grabbed her hand. “Here, this way.”
He led her toward the terminal where his helicopter awaited. He glanced at the time as they passed under a clock. The thing should be fueled up and ready by now. The cameramen continued to dog their steps. There were nearly a dozen people trailing them now as cameras continued to flash. He showed his ID at the terminal, they were ushered through a doorway and, at last, the paparazzi were shut out.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked as they paused in the small hallway that led to the tarmac and his helicopter.
She pulled her hand from his grip and frowned, clearly unhappy about his question. “I told you about my family, Dylan. I warned you this could happen.”
“Love, you didn’t warn me about a damn thing. Why don’t we start at the beginning? I’m Hunter Sullivan.” He stressed his first name. “Now, who are you?”
The woman paled slightly. Hunter was impressed when she recovered quickly. She looked like she’d been run through the wringer but she clearly wasn’t beaten yet.
“You’re Dylan’s brother.”
He nodded. “We’re twins. Obviously.”
Annie studied his face. “Identical.”
He didn’t respond. She clearly knew his brother’s face well enough to know there wasn’t much to distinguish one from the other. Apart from the fact Dylan shaved less than him, they were mirror images. “And now that we’ve determined who I am, who are—”
“Why did you kiss me back there?”
Shit. Hunter was hoping she’d forget that little tidbit. The answer was simple—pure, instant animal attraction. He’d been worked up and horny as shit after his encounter with the blonde in the bar.
What he told her was different, and he tried not to wince at his own cocky, arrogant tone. “When a pretty broad throws herself at me, I’m not likely to refuse.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t throw myself at you. If you were any sort of gentleman, you would have told me who you were right away.”
“Kind of hard to talk when someone’s got their tongue in your mouth.”
“You put your tongue in my mouth first.”
Hunter grinned and took a step closer, looking at her lips once more. He raised his eyebrows as if to say he’d do it again if given the chance.
She glanced at the door they’d just walked through. Hunter could read the indecisiveness on her face. He wondered if she’d subject herself to another dash through the airport with the paparazzi hot on her heels or if she’d tough it out with him. Given his current behavior, he’d choose the cameramen if he was her. He was being a right bloody arsehole.
“Listen, maybe if you told me who you were, I could help you get where you need to be. You’re obviously not from here. American, right?” But as soon as he asked the question, a horrifying reality crashed down on his head. “Annie?”
The woman nodded.
“You’re Dylan’s Annie? From New York?” The fact she was here wasn’t sinking into his thick skull as quickly as it should.
“Yes. Is he okay? Is there a reason why he sent you to pick me up? He’s not ill, is he?”
Hunter shook his head. “No. He’s not sick. He’s on his way to see you.” Hunter glanced at his watch. “His plane will land at JFK in about eighteen hours.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. I’d say you two crossed wires somewhere. Ordinarily I’d suggest we head to the terminal, hit a bar and make a plan about where to go from here, but I suspect you don’t want to go back there with all those cameramen breathing down your neck.”
Annie shook her head.
“Is there anyone you can call?”
She repeated the headshake. “I dropped my phone in the toilet when I was texting Dylan to find out where he was. It’s officially dead.”
Hunter bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The poor woman was having a rough day.
“Is there somewhere more private we can hide out?” she asked. “Until I figure out what I’m supposed to do now.”
Hunter pointed down the corridor. “I guess we could sit in the chopper.”
“Chopper?”
He grasped the handles on both her suitcases and began dragging them as he walked toward the runway. He was pleased when Annie followed rather than run in the opposite direction.
“Dylan and I came to the airport in a helicopter.”
Annie gave him a funny look. “You have a thing against cars?”
“You have any idea how big Australia is? We live damn near in the middle of it, love. We could either fly the chopper to the airport in four or five hours or drive to Sydney in just under a dozen. I can’t afford to be away from work for so long, so it was a pretty easy decision. I flew Dylan here early this morning and intend to fly home later today.”
“This can’t be happening,” Annie muttered behind him. “How could this all get so fucked up?”
Hunter picked up the bags and carried them down the stairs to the tarmac, where his chopper sat waiting.
A flight mechanic approached. “You’ve got a full tank, Mr. Sullivan, and I gave everything a quick inspecti
on. It’s ready to roll. Just radio the air traffic control room when you’re ready for takeoff.”
“Thanks, mate. Will do.”
Hunter threw her luggage in the back. Annie paused when he opened the passenger door of the helicopter for her. “Who flies this?”
“I do.”
“Jesus. Are you serious?”
Hunter suppressed a grin. Her American accent was cute. “Yes, Annie. I’m a fully qualified helicopter pilot. Not that you need to worry. We’re just hiding out in here, right?”
Annie bit her lip as she looked up at the propellers nervously. Rather than reply, she tried to climb into the passenger seat. The devil prodded him forward and he gave her a boost, using her arse for leverage. It was firm, tight. It took all this strength not to give it a good squeeze.
She startled when he placed his hands on her rear end, but accepted the momentum he provided to claim her seat. “Thanks.” Her slightly narrowed eyes and sardonic tone almost made him laugh.
“My pleasure.” He crossed in front of the chopper and took his place behind the controls. “So I guess we need to figure out how you ended up here when Dylan said he was going there.”
“He didn’t say he was going to New York. We were chatting on IM and he said something like ‘put your money where your mouth is’. Then he said Qantas, Sydney Airport, November twentieth, and gave me a time. I booked the flight, even though the arrival time he listed was a bit off, but I figured that’s because airlines are constantly changing their schedules.”
Hunter frowned. “I was there when he sent that stupid— Ahem.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I saw him send you the flight details—his flight details—in an email about an hour after that. He forwarded you the information from the airline.”
Annie looked around the helicopter and he wondered what she was thinking. “I never got that email.”
“Well, he sent it.” Hunter didn’t want to mention that satellite reception on Farpoint Creek was sketchy at best. There was a very good chance Dylan’s email was still bouncing around somewhere in space.
Annie sighed. “I swear to you I never got it. I just said ‘challenge accepted’ or ‘game on’ or something in our chat.”
He nodded. “Yeah, Dylan took that to mean you were excited about his visit. Bloody dickhead.”
“But I meant I was coming here. I thought he’d invited me to Australia.”
“Well, I don’t mean to criticize, love, but what woman accepts an invitation to visit a bloke she’s never met in a foreign country and only gives herself four days to prepare? Didn’t your family and friends try to talk you out of this?”
Annie’s shoulders straightened and he could see she was pissed off. “I know Dylan.”
He rolled his eyes. “A few emails and IMs and—”
“We’ve been corresponding for months. Plus we’ve Skyped and talked on the phone and exchanged pictures. I feel like I do know him.”
“And I suppose from that kiss you gave me back in the terminal, you didn’t intend for this to be just a friendly visit.”
She bit her lip again. Hunter wished he didn’t find the gesture so cute. “That’s none of your business.”
He let her off the hook. Her blush answered his question just fine. “What’s the deal with the paparazzi? You an actress or something?”
“Dylan didn’t tell you about my family?”
Hunter shook his head. “Nope. Dylan didn’t share much about you at all. Showed me a photo of you a few weeks ago. Besides that and the fact you don’t read your emails carefully, I don’t know a thing about you.” Hunter didn’t mention the soul mate comment.
“I’m a journalist. I work for a magazine in New York.”
“Didn’t realize journalists were so popular in the States.”
She flashed him a dirty look. “It’s not my job that interests the press, it’s my name. I’m Annie Prince.”
He shook his head. “I’m still not following you.”
“Prince Incorporated?”
Hunter recognized that name even less. “Nope. Haven’t got a bloody clue what you’re talking about.”
“I guess Monet was right. She said there had to be somewhere on the planet where I could live incognito. Go Australia.” She raised one fist in a cheer for his country.
“I don’t know who this Monet is, but that’s not exactly true. You’re in Sydney and there are cameramen following you.”
She blew out a long, frustrated breath. “Yeah. My family owns and operates a huge conglomeration of newspapers, magazines, hotels and other properties. Our net worth is in the billions. For some insane reason, this makes us interesting to people. Not to mention the fact my dad is a bit of a glory hound, constantly doing stuff to draw attention to himself. My two sisters have followed in his footsteps and now star on the most inane, idiotic reality series ever to air on television. And I suppose everyone expects me to be the same, to want the same spotlight cast on my life.”
“But you don’t?”
“God no. Did you see me pose for photos? Your ranch in the middle of the desert actually sounds like paradise.”
Hunter scoffed. “I think you’re the first woman, besides my mother, to ever feel that way. And it’s not a ranch. It’s a station.”
Annie ignored his correction. Maybe she was used to it. He’d heard Dylan tell her a time or two when he’d accidentally eavesdropped on their chats. She let out a wobbly sigh. “What the hell am I going to do now?”
Hunter studied her desolate face and was sorry Dylan hadn’t invited her for a visit. The idea of Annie spending a week or two on their family’s cattle station was very appealing.
Then he recalled Dylan’s comment. She could be my soul mate. He couldn’t poach on his brother’s girl.
“Seems to me your answer’s simple. Go back inside and catch the next flight out of Sydney. Chances are it won’t leave until tomorrow, so you could book a hotel in the city and take in a couple of the sights. No reason the trip has to be a total waste. You’ll only be a day or so behind Dylan. Once you get back, the two of you can take New York by storm. No harm, no foul.”
Annie didn’t respond for several moments. Finally she released another sigh, this one less wobbly. “I can’t go back to New York right away.”
Hunter frowned. “Why not? If you’re worried about those wankers with the cameras, I can talk to security, get you an escort.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. I’m here for work as well. On an assignment for the magazine. It was the only way I could miss two weeks of work. I haven’t been there long enough to build up any real vacation time.”
“What’s your assignment?”
“I’m writing a four-part series about life on a cattle station. And I’m supposed to interview a real live Aussie cowboy.”
She looked at him hopefully—and he knew he was in trouble.
“I’m a stockman, Annie. We’re called stockmen over here, or grazier, if we’re being more formal. Which we’re not.”
“Oh. Okay. Then I need to shadow a stockman.”
“Me?”
She lifted one shoulder as if to ask why not. “I’d intended to interview Dylan, but he’s not here and likely won’t be for a while. The first piece is due in three days and once I start, I sort of need to stick with the same cow…er, stockman.”
She really expected him to take her back to the cattle station? Let her follow him around for two weeks watching him work? How was he supposed to keep his hands off her if she was under his roof and his bloody brother was half a world away?
Dylan better get his arse back Down Under, and quick.
Otherwise, this was not going to end well.
Chapter Two
“You should have told me you were afraid of flying, love. This isn’t a short flight.”
Annie slowly lifted her eyelids and forced herself to take a steadying breath. Her eyes had been pressed firmly closed for at least half an hour. She wasn’t used to being ab
le to see so much while in the air. Typically she opted for an aisle seat on airplanes, careful to keep her eyes glued to the back of the seat in front of her. That way she could pretend she was on the ground instead of thousands of feet above. Between that and the drowsiness caused by the Dramamine she’d taken, she’d managed to remain somewhat calm during the long flight to Oz.
Unfortunately, the large windows in the helicopter didn’t afford her the luxury of forgetting where she was.
“I was afraid you’d make fun of me.”
From her peripheral vision, she could see him staring at her. She wanted to yell at him to keep his eyes on the road or the air or whatever.
“I don’t find other people’s fears funny. I hate snakes. Hate them. Dylan used to catch ’em and stick ’em in my bed all the time when we were kids. Do you think that’s funny?”
She shook her head. “No, but maybe that’s because I’m afraid of them too.”
He shook his head and snorted. “So who’s the arsehole who’s been giving you shit about your flying issues? Want me to beat him up?”
“It’s more like three arrrs-holes,” she mimicked. “Though I don’t suppose I should use that word when speaking of my dad and sisters.”
Hunter’s scowl grew. “Your family makes fun of you because you’re afraid of flying?”
“Maybe that’s the wrong expression. They just seem to find humor in my fear of flying because our father owns a private jet, and he would prefer to take it to the grocery store rather than drive if given the choice. My entire family is made up of jetsetters. And then you have me. The daughter who’s a bit out of place. Odd guy out. As always.”
He continued to look at her closely. “You don’t seem that odd to me. Although given the fact you’re lost in Oz at the moment, I’d agree with the misplaced part.”
“Would you mind watching where you’re going? I really can’t concentrate on what you’re saying when you’re looking at me instead of out there.” She waved her hand toward the front window, pointing at the sky before them.
Misplaced Princess (Foreign Affairs, Book One) Page 2
