A Sunset in Sydney Read online

  “In what way?”

  “Well, it’s expensive, even compared with Sydney.” He nodded, but I wondered if a man who was worth millions could truly understand what I meant. “We were lucky—we got work right away. I’d been teaching a couple of years, and Cat was a recent graduate, so we signed up with a teaching agency. But it took a while to get established, you know, to figure out where we wanted to live and to meet people.

  “The teaching paid quite well, even though the work was gruelling, so we were able to move out of our bedsit within a month—which was a good thing. I mean, I love my sister, but sharing a bedsit …” I let the thought hang in the air, smiling to myself at the younger Parsons sisters who’d bickered the whole time. “And then we moved into a flatshare with two other girls and it became more fun, less of a grind. I started touring not long after that.”

  Maria arrived at our table with two wine glasses and the bottle of Sancerre, interrupting our conversation. One-handed, she placed a glass in front of each of us, then showed the bottle to James. He gave a slight nod, and she nimbly removed the cork and poured a sip for him to taste.

  “I’m sure it’s fine, thank you, Maria. Please go ahead.” She poured a glass for me, then one for James and, without a word, disappeared with the rest of the bottle.

  “So, you said you toured? I’m not sure what that means.”

  “I worked in travel, leading tours in Europe. I started with Ventureseek a few months after we moved to the flatshare, but I kept my room, so I had a home base.”

  “So, you’ve seen quite a lot of Europe, then?”

  “Yes,” I laughed. “Lots of the touristy parts and I always had fifty other people to worry about, so there wasn’t a lot of time for real travel, to immerse myself. That’s why this trip to Greece was so important to me. It was the first time I’d been there by myself and it was kind of perfect, you know, the pace of it. Lots of time for contemplation.”

  I knew I was treading dangerously close to Josh and all our discussions about that bigger life. My delinquent wits finally showed up, telling me to steer the conversation in another direction, but James did it for me. “Did you enjoy it, the touring?” he asked.

  “Yes—mostly. And eventually, I wanted to move back to Australia.” I left it at that, and he didn’t press, which I appreciated. I could talk ad nauseum about my touring days, the places I’d been to, the people, the loneliness. Not exactly great date conversation, that last part.

  “So, where was the flatshare?”

  “Crouch End,” I replied. Then I added, “N8.”

  “Oh, Crouch End is terrific. Good coffee.”

  I was amused and a little dubious. “You’ve spent time in Crouch End?”

  “Of course. It has a wonderful arts scene. I have quite a few artists on my books that I found in boutique galleries in and around Crouch End.” Ahhh, of course.

  I took a sip from my neglected wine glass. The Sancerre was delicious.

  “To reunions,” said James, holding his glass aloft.

  “Oh, sorry. Here I am drinking without a toast. To reunions,” I said, smiling to cover my embarrassment. We clinked glasses and each took a sip. When James placed his glass back on the table, his mouth bore a hint of a smile and he seemed to drink me in with his eyes. My heart sped up under his gentle scrutiny, and I held his gaze unflinchingly.

  He truly was a magnificent-looking man.

  The night before, I’d told Cat that James reminded me of a salt-and-peppered Richard Armitage. Sitting opposite him, I was seeing hints of Gerard Butler too. That should give you an indication of the level of gorgeousness I was dealing with.

  “I didn’t tell you before how beautiful you look today,” he said, out of nowhere. Or maybe he had read my mind and wanted to return the compliment.

  Regardless, I blushed. And I don’t usually blush, but I felt the warmth creep up my chest and fill my cheeks. I hoped I didn’t look like I’d just downed a giant bowl of heavy-hitting Tandoori.

  “Thank you,” I replied, as graciously as I could. Where was the food?

  In a moment of truly perfect timing, two plates of crab cakes and grapefruit salad arrived at the table—exactly what I would have ordered for a starter.

  “Happy?” asked James. I knew he was talking about the food, but when I considered my reply it encompassed a whole lot more.

  “Absolutely.” I smiled at him and took a bite of crab cake. It was divine.

  *

  The rest of lunch was just as delicious. Paulie prepared pan-fried seabass for the main course and sent out a cheese board for dessert. I love sea bass—and cheese. Paulie was clearly a genius.

  Just as we were finishing the cheese course, I asked James where he grew up. I’d been listening closely to him all through lunch and even though I’m usually good at picking accents, I still hadn’t pinned his down. It seemed to be a hodgepodge of several western European accents.

  “I was born here in London—Surrey, actually—and we stayed until I was five, and then every year or so we moved to a new European country—Belgium, Germany, France, Spain, the Netherlands. I didn’t settle back in the UK until I went to university.” So, I had picked it. I skipped my usual self-congratulations, however, because James’s description of his childhood had left me cold.

  I couldn’t imagine moving around so much in my formative years. I’d gone to one primary school, which had fed into one high school, and I had friends I’d known since I was five.

  “But this is home now, right?” I asked, concerned. Everyone needs a home, somewhere to come back to after the whirlwind and excitement of travel.

  I took a tiny sip of wine as I waited for his reply. James was sitting on one glass, because he was driving, and I had limited myself to two, because I wanted to maintain the façade that I was a sophisticated woman, which tipsy Sarah is not.

  “London is, yes, although I’ve lived in various places. Paris was a favourite.” Paris was a favourite city of mine too, to visit. The longest I had stayed there was a week. Maybe James will take me to Paris. I put my inner voice back in her box. Wangling an invite to Paris was hardly good manners on a first date.

  “And what about you? Have you considered living outside of Australia again?” he asked, his sky-blue eyes staring into mine. Something was making my mind fuzzy. It was either the wine or those eyes, but my fuzzy mind was a millisecond away from saying, “with you?”

  I recovered in time to respond like a normal adult person. “To be honest, I haven’t really thought about it.”

  His smile was unreadable. Did it mean, “you’re adorable, you unsophisticated Aussie,” or, “I’ve got a villa in France I think you’d like?” Either way, I wanted to change the subject—again.

  “So, you said something about taking me to one of your favourite places?”

  “Yes, but I’m going to keep it as a surprise until we get there.” He winked at me again and, believe me, he could pull off a wink without being cheesy. In fact, such was its power, I felt a tingling warmth ignite between my legs. I wondered what the protocol was for inviting a silver fox back to my sister’s flatshare for mind-blowing sex. That would be okay, right?

  James signalled for the bill. Although I usually went Dutch on a first date—and second and third and fourth dates too—I knew James was not the sort of man who would expect that, or even want it, so I sat quietly while he settled it.

  “Thank you for lunch,” I said when Maria left the table.

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  “Paulie is something of a genius, I think.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Suddenly the big man was beside us. How was he so stealthy? James and I stood, and I collected my handbag from under my chair. Paulie shook James’s hand again while James thanked him for lunch.

  “And how did we do, Miss Sarah? Did you enjoy your lunch?”

  “Paulie, it was divine. Thank you.”

  “Excellent! I’m so pleased. We will have to have you and James back a
gain soon.” Before I could respond, Paulie leant down and kissed me on both cheeks.

  “I’d love that,” I said, laughing a little at his infectious ebullience. I would love to come back here with James sometime. The thought arrived unbidden, but I was starting to think I’d love to go anywhere with James. Uh oh.

  Chapter 3

  Riding through the streets of inner London in James’s car, I looked out of the passenger window as we passed pristine rows of terraced houses, lush gated gardens, and pubs that had been standing for centuries, their window boxes brimming with bright bouquets of flowers.

  London was putting on a spectacular show, and if I hadn’t known better—that she had dark corners where filth and poverty and loneliness dwelled—it was the sort of day that could make me fall in love with her again.

  “I’m taking the long way,” said James as he turned onto Bayswater Road. “I just adore Hyde Park.”

  I did too and on that day, Londoners were out in full force sunning themselves and revealing a vast array of flesh. Mums and dads with small children pushed prams with fat little feet poking out; business people walked barefoot on the grass with their shoes in their hands; young women wearing swimsuits sunned themselves on towels; and older men and women sat on benches, fanning themselves with newspapers and tossing chunks of bread to the swans.

  Everyone in Hyde Park seemed to be making the most of the early autumn sun.

  “Are you really not telling me where we’re going?” I asked.

  “Don’t you like surprises?” James asked, flicking me an amused look.

  “Not really,” I replied honestly. I didn’t like surprises. I liked to know what to expect so I wouldn’t be blindsided. Sure, some surprises were good, but in my experience, most of them were awful, like finding out your boyfriend is sleeping with your yoga bestie. That was Neil the cheating bastard, by the way.

  Still, I didn’t want to appear ungrateful. “Sorry,” I said, glancing at James.

  He gave me an understanding smile. “Not at all. We’re going to the British Museum. I have a friend who works there and she’s going to give us a private tour of the Parthenon Sculptures.”

  Oh, so it was a good surprise. “That sounds amazing, James.” I meant it, but it sounded feeble to my contrite ears.

  “Have you been before, to the museum?”

  “Oh, for sure. It’s a favourite of mine too.” When I’d lived in London, the British Museum was one of the places I’d retreat to when I was having a hard time. I’d wander slowly around the Great Court or visit the Marbles from the Parthenon. Mostly, though, I went to the Reading Room, sometimes to read, sometimes just to sit quietly. It was the closest I came to meditation.

  “I thought it was fitting, since we met in Greece. Did you get to the Acropolis?” James asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Oh, no, not on this trip, unfortunately. The only time I had in Athens was a rather harrowing taxi ride to the airport. I’ve been before, though. I’m guessing not much has changed in only a decade. You know, it being an ancient ruin and all.”

  He smiled. “They have made a bit of progress on the restoration, but they also have the most incredible museum now. It’s definitely worth going next time you’re there.” Or you and I could go together. See how my mind gets ahead of itself?

  “That museum, do they have many original artefacts? Aren’t most of them here?” I asked.

  “About half and half, so there are a lot of replicas in Athens, I’m afraid, but I know Greece is actively campaigning to take ownership again. Valentina will likely know how they’re progressing.”

  Ah, Greece. Glorious, beautiful, heart-filling Greece.

  It was only days before that I’d been eating horiatiki and basking under the Greek sun. I was already missing it. And Josh, I realised with a jolt. But I didn’t want to think about Josh, especially as James chose that moment to cover my hand with his and give it a gentle squeeze.

  Was holding hands cheating? Could you cheat on someone who wasn’t really your boyfriend, someone who had called you his “travel buddy”? The whole situation was too confusing for words and I wanted Josh out of my head immediately.

  Thankfully, the familiar cupola of the museum appeared ahead of us and thoughts of Josh receded into the background where they belonged. James pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine, then turned towards me.

  “Sarah,” he said, a glint in his eye. God, he was sexy. I tried not to hyperventilate.

  “I thought I could wait until later, but that is not going to happen.” He reached over and cupped my chin in his hand and pulled me towards him. His mouth was warm and soft against mine, and he tasted faintly of the wine. I responded to the kiss as though we were somewhere private and not in the middle of London. How far away was Paddington, anyway? Perhaps the Marbles could wait.

  We broke the kiss with shy smiles, and he rested his forehead against mine. “Sarah, you take my breath away.” I do? There I was having to steady my breath every time he merely glanced at me and, apparently, I was having the same effect on him. Me!

  “And as much as I’d like to skip out on Valentina, she’s a good friend and she’s promised us something special.”

  I was siding with skipping out, but then again, I do hate to be rude. “Then we shouldn’t keep her waiting,” I replied before giving him a quick smack on the lips and climbing out of the car. I didn’t know who this super-confident Sarah was, but James seemed to like her. I didn’t mind her either.

  The private tour of the museum was incredible and so was Valentina. If James hadn’t been explicit about fancying me, she was the kind of woman who could induce some heavy-hitting jealousy. She was Italian, tall, slim, and blonde. She was also one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen in person. She greeted me with two cheek kisses—James’s friends were so affectionate—and a warm smile.

  “Buongiorno, Sarah. A pleasure to meet you.”

  It was a pleasure to meet her too and I hoped I could get through the tour without drooling on her shoes, especially as they were suede. I was forming a serious girl crush.

  And I needn’t have worried about James fancying her. Valentina was married to his closest friend from university, Marcus. She also treated James like a brother, teasing him good-naturedly about me.

  “James must think very highly of you, Sarah. The last time he introduced me to someone he was dating was two popes ago.” She raised her eyebrows at me and James shook his head, smiling.

  Valentina was the fourth of James’s friends I’d met—if you counted Duncan, which I did—and they all obviously adored him. I took it as a sign that he was one of the good guys. Armando, his friend in Greece, had alluded to him playing the field, but Valentina was saying the opposite. And based on the embarrassed look on his face, she seemed to be right. That was both flattering and terrifying. It certainly didn’t play into my “just have some fun” approach to our date. I’d have to unpack it later.

  As well as giving us a tour, Valentina snuck us behind the scenes to see a collection of artefacts that had just been uncovered on Crete. She was leading the curation of the collection and it was fascinating to gain some insight into the laborious process of identifying and cataloguing dozens, if not hundreds, of pieces.

  She also gave us an update on Greece’s claim on the remaining pieces from the Acropolis, which was that there was no update. Greece still wanted them back and the Brits were still holding onto them. Such an odd, and somewhat heart-breaking, situation.

  Eventually, we said reluctant goodbyes to Valentina, who was due at a mid-afternoon meeting. James promised to see her and Marcus soon and asked her to send his love to her oafish husband. She laughed at that.

  I truly hoped I would see her again.

  As we made our way back through the Great Court, I walked slowly so I could stare up at the glass ceiling and its mesmerising geometric shapes. James took my hand and leant down. “I love watching you take it all in,” he said. And I was enjoying t
aking it all in. The Great Court is an incredible space. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel small and vulnerable, and grand and capable of anything, all at once.

  I pointed at the Reading Room. “I used to spend a lot of time in there after I first moved here,” I said.

  “Oh yes?”

  “It was a sanctuary of sorts—a good place to collect my thoughts.”

  “I can understand that. Would you like to go up?”

  I smiled. “I’d love that.”

  He led me up the left staircase, still holding my hand. We stepped into the large, round room and without saying anything, we both headed off in a different direction, me to the left and James to the right.

  We circled the perimeter of the room slowly, connected only by our eyes.

  The room smelled of leather and paper, of humanity, history, and contemplation. Snippets of whispers filled the air, but mostly there was the stillness. It felt familiar, like home. As I embarked on the bigger life I’d promised myself, I knew I would need to find somewhere like it in Sydney, somewhere I could just be.

  I kept my eyes on James as we walked, first away from each other, then ever closer. We met on the opposite side of the room, oblivious to the other people in the space. When we were toe to toe, we shared a smile. “Hello,” he whispered.

  “Hello,” I whispered back, a tingling sensation rushing through me.

  He took my hand again and led me from the room. When we stepped outside, he stopped on the top of the staircase and kissed me fervently and quickly. It lasted just long enough to elicit an, “Ahem!” from someone nearby, but I didn’t care about propriety.

  It had been a magical afternoon. Even going to a place I knew, somewhere I’d been dozens of times before, was a new experience with James. As he drove us through London, heading east towards Cat’s flat, I thought about that bigger life I wanted. That afternoon had been a great start.

  And maybe I did like surprises, especially when they came in the package of a six-foot-something, blue-eyed silver fox. I hadn’t wanted to meet anyone in Greece, yet here was a man who was bright and exciting and sexy.