by Annie Seaton
“Oh wow, we’ve landed! And I didn’t even have to worry. I hate landing…it’s not the flying. I usually put the music on and close my eyes and ignore it, but you took my mind off it. Thanks so much.” She looked up and caught a bemused look on his face. “Whoops, I’m prattling on again, aren’t I? I told you I talk too much. If you get sick of me babbling, tell me to put a sock in it.”
A slow smile spread across Tom’s face and she grinned up at him when he shook his head at her. Relief coursed through her. That was one less thing she had to worry about.
“Look, I’m sorry for being an asshole. It’s been a big week. I’m sure you’ll keep me entertained and the rest of the flight will pass very quickly.”
“How about you buy me a cup of tea to apologize for being rude? I’m sure we can get a decent cup in the airport somewhere.” She smiled up at him, and although the daunting stare had disappeared, she sensed his reluctance. “Don’t worry, no strings attached.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Leaning forward, she checked her money belt was secure and tightened it around her waist. She was not going to lose anything else, especially while they were in Singapore. They disembarked and strolled through the retail area of the airport, and Brianna looked around in appreciation at the huge gardens down the center of the concourse. Tropical orchids of every imaginable color cascaded in garlands from lush foliage and the perfume overlaid the usual sterile, artificial smell of most airports. As they walked on, a large display of tropical and temperate orchids hung into a pond filled with bright orange, red, and yellow koi.
“How amazing is that?” she exclaimed. “That’s one thing I’m looking forward to in Italy—the gardens. Are you a gardener, Tom?”
He gave her a reluctant smile. “No, I live in an apartment and any plants die from neglect.”
“Well, that’s another thing for your list.” She tipped her head to the side and wrinkled her nose at him. “No, scrub that. Not exciting enough. You can have a garden when you’re old.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the Starbucks at the edge of the orchid garden and slid onto the padded bench seat along the wall. “I hope Starbucks is up to your coffee tastes.”
“Starbucks in Singapore. Hmm…we’ll see. Okay, I’m buying. How do you like your coffee?”
“Tea, please,” she said and leaned back against the soft padded back of the seat. She was stiff and sore and they’d only traveled for eight hours. The second leg of the flight was another twelve hours and her body was telling her she’d spent too much time in planes in the last week.
Tom stood at the end of the long queue at the counter. Even as he waited in the crowd, his bearing showed what her adopted mother referred to as “good breeding.” When he stepped forward to be served, she had a clear view of him, and Brianna smiled to herself. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and held himself straight. His eyes were bright and his cheeks had the fresh glow of good health, of someone who looked after himself. Her gaze traveled down from his wide shoulders to his broad chest and his snug-fitting white business shirt. He’d shed the jacket on the jet bridge as the humidity had hit them and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Long legs ended in a nice butt. Even in the suit pants. She looked up and caught his cool glance before he turned back to the counter. The heat rose in her cheeks.
He might have a nice butt, but he needs to lighten up.
She wasn’t going to let him get away with the cool responses and grinned at him when he placed a tray loaded with a variety of food on the table. She’d get a laugh out of him if it took the whole damn trip.
What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. “Sprung. We’re even now.”
He raised his eyebrows without speaking, but it was clear he understood what she was referring to.
“Okay, thanks. I owe you a meal, or several meals by the look of this,” she said. He sat and reached for his coffee and leaned back, silently watching the hustle and bustle of Changi airport go past them as Brianna demolished most of the food.
“I won’t need to eat again till Italy.” She smothered a burp and giggled. “Oops. Sorry…bad manners. My mother would be horrified.”
He looked across at her and she held his gaze. Even though he didn’t smile much, when he did, the crinkly smile lines around his deep blue eyes softened his angular face. Even though she’d only met him eight hours ago, she still felt comfortable with him and sensed his grumpiness was a bit of a shield.
She tipped her head to the side and tapped her finger on her chin.
“Tell me a little about you, Tom. Where’s home for you? Do you live in the city or are you from the outback?”
“No, certainly not the outback. I grew up in small rural city, Armidale. It’s inland from the north coast. I went to Sydney to university and then back to the country after I graduated.” He looked at her. “What about you? How long were you in Australia?”
“Ach, my wee accent has given me away as a tourist, then?” she said, exaggerating her Scottish lilt.
“Just a little.”
Finally she’d gotten another smile out of him.
“Well, I’d only been in Australia a few days when I received—” She hesitated. Even though she could babble on like a brook, she was circumspect about giving personal details to strangers. And he was a stranger. For all she knew, he could be setting her up. Her family always told her she trusted too easily and wore her heart on her sleeve. “I received some sudden family news that meant an unexpected trip to Italy. So no, I have no idea where your city is. I visited Sydney and that was it.”
“What about your boyfriend? Weren’t you traveling together?”
“My boyfriend?”
“The guy at the airport…with…er…with the hair.”
“God, no. Phil’s my brother. He’s been over here for six months and he’d just flown back in from Bali. It was an absolute coincidence we were at the airport at the same time. We were going to travel around Australia together for a few months. No boyfriends or husbands in my life. I’m a career woman through and through.”
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-s
hirt. 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 she 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.”