Dreaming Of... Australia: Mr Right at the Wrong Time / Imprisoned by a Vow / The Millionaire and the Maid

Sam winced. ‘Aimee, I’m sorry. I probably said a lot of careless stuff that night. I was just trying to keep you awake.’

‘You were absolutely right. But I’d been too uncertain of myself before to do anything to change that.’

‘Before?’

‘That’s how I’ve come to think of things. Before the accident and after the accident.’ Actually it was before-Sam and after-Sam, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. He’d bolt from the café before his spoon even hit the floor. She pressed her hands to the table, leaned forward, lowered her voice. ‘I’m going to write a book.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’

‘Really. I’m going to pull together all the stories I’ve collected about people who grabbed their futures by the throat and took a crazy chance. People like Dorothy. And how that paid off … or didn’t. But the important thing is that they were the navigators of their own destiny one way or another. Oh! That could be the title … Navigators!’

He stared at her, bright interest in his eyes as her brain galloped ahead. ‘Good for you, Aimee.’

Her lungs struggled to reinflate as the full impact of all that focus hit her. She pushed them to co-operate, and it was almost harder speaking now than back in her squished Honda. ‘And it’s not because you made me feel like what I do isn’t complete … It’s because it’s not complete. These particular stories always resonated for me. I just never recognised it.’

Sam smiled. ‘I love the idea, Aimee. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.’

She straightened, took a deep breath and held his eyes. ‘Let me do you.’

His whole body jerked back.

‘Your story!’ she rushed on. ‘Oh, my God … Let me interview you for your story.’ Heat surged up her throat and she knew there was nothing she could do to change that. Intense Sam was only half as gorgeous as Sam in a full belly-laugh, but he treated her to one now, as she stumbled out of the awkward moment. ‘I want to include some more contemporary stories as well, and you’re about the most proficient navigator I’ve ever met. I’d love to include you.’

‘My story’s not really all that interesting, Aimee.’

‘Everyone’s story is interesting, Sam. Just not to them.’

He stared at her. ‘You’re serious? You want to put me into your book?’

‘I want to thank you—’ She held up her hand as he went to interrupt. ‘In a way more meaningful than just an award nomination or a couple of cups of coffee. You were present at the moment that redefined my life and I want to reflect that importance.’ She sat up straighter. ‘So, yes, I want the man that saved my life in my book.’ Such naked insistence still didn’t come naturally to her, but she squashed down her instinctual discomfort.

‘Can I think about it?’

She took a fast breath. ‘No. You’ll refuse if you think about it.’

His smile then warmed her heart. ‘Look at you, getting all take-charge.’

Her laugh burbled up into an excited squeak. ‘I know!’

‘Maybe you know my story already.’

‘You’re a modest man, Sam. It’s part of your charm. I understand that you won’t want this story to be some kind of reflection of how important you think the work you do is, but I really want it to reflect how important that work is—was—to me.’ She forced herself to keep her stare locked on him, even while every cell of Old Aimee demurred, whispered that her insistence was ungracious. Not feminine. Scandalous. ‘Please say yes.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s involved?’

‘You’ll hate it,’ she said without the tiniest pause. ‘It involves more coffee.’

A hint of a twitch in his left eye was the only clue that he was smiling on the inside. But it was enough. ‘If we’re going to have more coffee I need some food to soak it up,’ he said. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Ravenous.’

Suddenly she was. After months of barely picking at even the most delectable meals. Sam was going to be in her book. Sam was going to share a little bit of himself with her.

And an entire afternoon.

All of a sudden her chest didn’t feel large enough for the organs in it as she squeezed out speech. ‘What time’s your flight?’

He stared at her, his eyes carefully neutral. ‘Late enough.’

It was beyond refreshing to see a woman inhale her lunch the way Aimee did, despite their plates being piled high with home-cooked Italian food and herbed bread. He was so used to Melissa and her friends either fussing about the dressing on the tiny salad they were expecting their bodies to function on, or getting stuck into something more substantial and then punishing themselves endlessly for enjoying it.

The kind of unabashed feeding frenzy he was witness to now reminded him of home. Of his family.

They’d taken their meals to a more comfortable booth, and chatted about other rescues he’d worked on in the past year, and about her heritage work, and whether either of them had been in Canberra before, and then, before he’d even looked away from her, a waitress had materialised from nowhere and was clearing their empty plates and bringing more coffee.

‘I may never sleep again,’ Aimee joked as she blew the steam off her fourth latte.

But there was something about this afternoon: something blindly indulgent that made a bottomless cup of coffee and pasta carb-loading seem as reasonable as his almost gluttonous need for conversation.

Aimee’s conversation.

He knew she was intelligent from their hours in the car, but back then she’d been suppressed by pain and medication and—if her epiphany was to be believed—by her own personal demons. But this Aimee had a lightness and an optimism so untrained and raw it was almost captivating. Like a newly emerged butterfly testing out its wings. Definitely engaging. And thoroughly contagious. So much so that by the time she slid a little digital recorder from her handbag into the centre of the cleared table and set it to record he was no longer dreading his decision to help her out.

‘You carry that with you everywhere?’

‘Yup.’

Her eagerness touched him almost as much as her innocence prickled at his senses. Taunted him. Drew him. ‘You really are excited by this book, aren’t you?’ he said.

Her green eyes sparkled. ‘Beyond words. This idea is one hundred percent mine—sink or swim, for better or worse.’

He twitched, but only slightly. Was the mention of marriage vows intentional? A reminder to both of them to keep things professional? If so, it was it was well timed.

‘So …’ She adjusted the recorder and pointed one end towards him. ‘Tell me about your family. You’re the oldest of … what was it? … seven?’

‘Eight. Second oldest.’

‘Big family.’

‘Lots of love to go around.’

‘That’s nice. So no one went wanting?’

He reeled a little. ‘Uh …?’

She smiled so serenely it took the edge off his anxiety about where this was going. ‘Don’t worry—this isn’t some kind of exposé. I just want to get to the heart of your background. I like to leap right in. It saves lots of preliminary warm-up.’

Plus, they’d been warming up all afternoon, technically speaking. ‘Okay, uh … no … No one went wanting.’