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The Blind Date Surprise
Barbara Hannay
Dear Ask Auntie,The loneliness of the Outback is driving me crazy. I'm two hundred kilometers from the nearest nightclub, and it's so hard to meet guys. The few dates I've had have been spectacularly forgettable, but now I've met a wonderfully warm, funny and clever man over the Internet and I'm in love. I want to dash off to the city to meet him, but all my life I've been accused of being too hasty and impulsive, so I'm seeking guidance. What do you advise?Marooned in MirrabrookAnnie McKinnon's agony aunt says, "Go for it!" Find out what happens when she does…


Dear Reader,
Welcome to Southern Cross, a vast Australian cattle property in the Star Valley and home to Reid, Kane and Annie McKinnon.
There really is a beautiful and remote Star Valley, and it’s situated to the north of Townsville, where I live. The Broken and Star Rivers flow through this district, and the cattle stations there have wonderful names like Starlight, Star bright and ZigZag. However, there are no towns in the valley, and although I have made Southern Cross station and the township of Mirrabrook as authentic as I can, they are entirely my creations.
I am thrilled to be bringing you three linked stories about the McKinnon family’s secrets. In this book, Annie leaves the Outback—for the bright city lights of Brisbane—to meet a man she’s met in an Internet chat group. Will she find her perfect man in the city?
Happy reading, and my warmest wishes,




Family secrets, Outback marriages!
Deep in the heart of the Outback, nestled in Star Valley, is the McKinnon family cattle station. Southern Cross Station is an oasis in the harsh Outback landscape, and a refuge to the McKinnon family—Kane, Reid and their sister, Annie. But it’s also full of secrets….
First is Kane’s story. He’s keeping a secret, but little does he know that by helping a friend he’ll also find a bride!
The Cattleman’s English Rose (#3841)
Then it’s Annie’s turn. How’s a young woman supposed to find love when the nearest eligible man lives miles away? Easy—she arranges a blind date on the Internet! But her date has a secret….
The Blind Date Surprise (#3845)
And lastly, Reid. He’s about to discover a secret that will change his whole life! Luckily his childhood sweetheart has just returned to Mirrabrook, and is happy to help him discover the mysteries of his past—and help him find love along the way.
The Mirrabrook Marriage (#3849)
The Blind Date Surprise
Barbara Hannay


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Special thanks to Andrea and Gordon Smith,
my eyes and ears in Brisbane.

CONTENTS
PROLOGUE (#u938d8613-2dac-51f0-aa96-6e65fe97e007)
CHAPTER ONE (#udf7de581-6784-52ae-aa57-c6c1485d5d9f)
CHAPTER TWO (#uf7cc0c50-3f17-5f40-924c-c2ea3151e6ce)
CHAPTER THREE (#u8e233550-7e36-562b-b233-a417d65d6c0b)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE
FROM the Ask Auntie page of the Mirrabrook Star. (Circulation 2,500, including Wallaby Flats):
Ask Auntie,
The loneliness of the outback is driving me crazy. I’m two hundred kilometres from the nearest cinema or nightclub and it’s so hard to meet guys. The few dates I’ve had have been spectacularly forgettable, but now I’ve met a wonderfully warm, funny and clever man over the Internet and I’m in love. I want to dash off to the city to meet him, but all my life I’ve been accused of being too hasty and impulsive, so I’m seeking guidance. What do you advise?
Marooned in Mirrabrook.
Dear Marooned in Mirrabrook,
If you’re as lonely as you sound and your cyber-romance is going well, why shouldn’t you meet this man? I suspect you’re afraid of disappointment—that you fear you’ve fallen in love with the idea of the man, but you’re worried about the reality. Some tension is understandable, but if you’re looking for a long-term relationship you need real interaction with a real man. You need to meet him.
Of course, a woman from the bush would be wise to approach an e-date in the city with some caution. Perhaps you could arrange for a double date with friends? If not, you should make sure you meet at a public venue and you should have a friend in the city who knows the time and location of your date and who can be reached at the touch of a button on your mobile phone.
However, once these details are organised, go for it. Don’t believe the old cliché that good things come to those who wait. Good things come to people who want them so badly they can’t sit still…
Good luck!
Ask Auntie.

CHAPTER ONE
CRIKEY, pink jeans!
Annie McKinnon hated to guess what her brothers would say if they could see her. Come to think of it, what would anyone from her outback home town, Mirrabrook, say? She’d lived in blue denim jeans since she was three years old—ever since her brother, Kane, first lifted her on to the back of a stock horse.
Never pink. And never teamed with stilettos.
And yet here she was in the heart of the city, sashaying into the foyer of one of Brisbane’s swankiest hotels in killer heels, the sweetest little white silk camisole top, and low-rise jeans so baby-pink and slim she felt like a pop-star wannabe.
So this was where following your friends’ advice got you.
‘You’d better listen to Victoria,’ Melissa had said. ‘She’s our in-house fashionista and everyone at work takes her word as gospel.’
Victoria had been definite. ‘Annie, when it’s an e-date, you have to be super careful. You need to hit exactly the right note.’
And because Annie had known Melissa since boarding school, and because Victoria was Mel’s flatmate, and because both the girls were city born and bred, Annie had deferred to their finely honed understanding of ‘How Things Work in the City’.
The trio had hit the shops with Victoria leading the fray, and Annie had quickly discovered how exceedingly lucky she was to have clued-up friends to advise her about clothes. On her own, she would have made so totally all the wrong choices.
She’d wanted to head straight for the stunning racks of sparkly after-five wear, but Victoria had dismissed them with a disdainful toss of the corkscrew curls she’d created that morning.
‘No way, Annie. You don’t want to look as if you’re trying too hard to impress Damien. If you look too dressed up or trendy you might scare him off.’
Oh.
After one last wistful glance towards the shimmering, ultra-feminine dresses, Annie allowed herself to be steered towards racks of jeans.
‘Never underestimate jeans,’ Victoria explained with impressive patience. ‘You can dress them up or down and they always look fab.’
‘But—um—I live in jeans. And Damien knows I’m a country girl. Don’t you think these might make me look a little too Annie Get Your Gun?’
Victoria blinked, then eyed Annie with just a tad more respect. ‘Point taken.’
But, seconds later, she was struck by her light bulb idea. ‘I’ve got it! Pink jeans would be perfect. Team them with a little camisole top.’ Grabbing a coat-hanger from a rack, she flourished something white and silky. ‘How heaven is this?’
Annie squashed the thought that a pink and white outfit would make her look like an ice cream. She tried the clothes on and decided that they were comfortable and rather gorgeous, actually.
But she put up a stronger fight over the high heels.
‘What if Damien’s really short?’
This time Mel chipped in. ‘He didn’t look short in the photo he sent you.’
‘Photos can be deceptive.’ Annie had spent many sleepless nights worrying about that possibility.
‘Annie, if Damien’s short, you’re going to be taller than him no matter what kind of shoes you wear.’
She tried another tack. ‘I can’t afford two hundred and fifty dollars for a couple of strips of sequinned leather.’
Victoria grinned. ‘Don’t worry, that’s why God invented credit cards.’
And so here she was in the foyer of the Pinnacle Hotel, dressed by Victoria and getting last-minute advice from both the girls before she took the lift to La Piastra on the twenty-seventh floor. To meet Damien.
Damien. Eeeeeee! Just thinking about him made her stomach play leap-frog with her heart. She knew it was foolish to have high hopes for this guy, but she couldn’t help it. She’d travelled over a thousand kilometres from her outback cattle station in Southern Cross, North Queensland, just to meet him and she really, really wanted their date to work out.
It was going to be fine. It was.
Everything she and Damien had chatted about over the Internet during the past six weeks indicated that they meshed. They both loved dogs, world music, books and thinking about deeper things—like destiny and fate, whether life was a wager, and the possibility that animals were happier than humans. Talking to him had been comfortable and inspiring, fun and—and well, to be honest—sexy.
To cap it off, she and Damien both adored everything Italian, especially linguini.
That was why they’d settled on La Piastra.
And when Damien had emailed her a photo of himself, she’d completely flipped. Head over heels. He looked so-o-o yummy—with sleepy blue eyes, sun-streaked surfer-boy hair, pash-me-now lips and a cute, crooked smile. She hoped to high heaven that he’d been as impressed with her photo as he’d claimed to be, because she could feel in her bones that he was her perfect match.
And now she was about to meet him.
She was six minutes late, which, according to Mel and Victoria, was perfect timing. Her heart thumped as the trio waited for the lift, and she drew several deep breaths while the girls pumped her with last-minute advice.
‘Remember, don’t be too serious. Try to relax and have fun.’
‘But don’t drink too much.’
‘You have to watch your date’s body language. If he’s mirroring your gestures, you’re on the right track.’
‘The danger sign is when he crosses his arms while you’re talking.’
‘Or if he starts to come on too heavy. He might just want sex.’
Annie shook her head to shush them. The girls meant well, but she wasn’t as clueless about men as they feared. Besides, there was a rather conservative, bespectacled fellow a few feet behind Victoria, who must have overheard them. He was looking rather stunned by their conversation and he—crikey—he almost walked smack into a marble pillar.
Annie was about to send him a sympathetic smile when the bell above the lift pinged.
The doors were about to open.
‘Remember there’s always the escape plan,’ Mel urged. ‘You’ve got your mobile phone handy, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right. You look gorgeous, Annie.’
‘Stunning!’
‘Thanks.’
‘So break a leg!’
‘Have a ball!’
‘Go get Damien, kiddo!’
Amidst a flurry of air kisses Annie stepped into the lift, sent the girls a quick wave, and pressed the button for Level twenty-seven. The doors swished closed, Mel and Victoria’s encouraging grins disappeared, and with a soft sigh the lift whisked her away from them…skywards.
And her stomach dropped. Oh, crumbs.
She made a last-minute check in the mirror at the back of the lift. No bra showing, no visible panty-line. Lipstick still holding. Hair okay.
Ping! Level twenty-seven.
Gulp.
This was it.
The lift doors swept apart and Annie looked out at an expanse of mega-trendy pale timber and stainless steel. So this was La Piastra. She felt a fleeting rush of nostalgia for Beryl’s friendly café in Mirrabrook with its gingham tablecloths, ruffled curtains and bright plastic flowers on every table.
How silly. She’d come to Brisbane to get away from all that. Somewhere in here Damien was waiting. Oh, please let him like me. Her legs shook. She was as nervous as she’d been on her first day at boarding school.
A tall, dark, very Italian-looking man in black was watching her from his post directly in front of the lift and as she approached him he bowed stiffly.
‘Good evening, madam.’
‘Good evening.’
‘Welcome to La Piastra.’ He looked down a very Roman nose at her.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled, but her smile faltered as the man waited for her to say something more. What was she supposed to say? She peered into the restaurant, searching for a streaked sandy head among the diners. ‘I’m—er—supposed to be meeting someone here.’
‘You have a reservation?’
‘No.’
He frowned and pursed his lips.
She hurried to explain. ‘I mean I don’t actually have a reservation, but I’ve come to meet someone—who made a reservation.’
Cringe! Was she a country hick making a complete fool of herself, or what?
He turned to a thick book on a timber and stainless steel lectern. ‘What name?’
‘You mean his name?’
Her question was met by a sigh that suggested the man in black was quite certain he was dealing with an airhead. ‘What name was given when the reservation was made?’
‘Grainger,’ she said with sudden dignity. ‘Mr Damien Grainger.’
Again he peered down his imperious Roman nose and slowly examined the list of names in his book. And Annie felt a moment’s panic. Could she have made a mistake? Was this the wrong restaurant…the wrong day, wrong time?
No, it couldn’t be. She’d checked and rechecked Damien’s email a thousand times.
She peered again into the restaurant. She’d been hoping that Damien would keep an eye out for her. She’d pictured him leaping to his feet when he saw her, hurrying through the restaurant to meet her, his face alight with a welcoming smile.
Perhaps his table was positioned behind a post?
‘Ah, yes,’ said the rich Italian voice at her side. ‘Table thirty-two.’
Phew.
‘But I’m afraid Mr Grainger hasn’t arrived yet.’
Oh.
Silly of her, but she’d been certain that Damien would be on time, even early.
‘Would you care to wait for him at the bar or at your table?’
She glanced at the bar. If she waited there, perched on a stool by herself, she would feel like a prize lemon. ‘At the table, please.’
‘Then come this way.’
Several heads turned as she followed him to a table set for two near a window. Back in Mirrabrook, people would have been smiling and calling out greetings. Here they merely stared without emotion. Was there something wrong with the way she looked? Were her jeans too pink?
A seat was drawn out for her.
Annie sat and looked at the bare, pale timber table top, set with two round black linen place mats and starched white napkins, solid shining cutlery, gleaming wineglasses and a single square black candle exactly in the middle of a square white saucer.
It was all very urban. Very minimalist.
If Damien had been here, she would have found it exciting.
‘Would you care for a drink while you’re waiting?’
She tried to remember the name of the trendy drink Mel had ordered for her at a bar the night before. Something with cranberry juice.
When she hesitated, the man in black asked, ‘Perhaps you would like to see our wine list?’
‘No, thank you. Um, would it be all right if I just have water for now?’
‘Certainly. Would you prefer still or sparkling?’
Good grief. At Beryl’s café in Mirrabrook, water was simple, uncomplicated H2O.
‘Still water, please.’
He left her then and Annie heaved a sigh of relief. But the relief was only momentary, because now she was very conscious of being alone. A swift glance around her showed that she was the only person in the restaurant sitting by herself.
Shoulders back, Annie. You can’t let a little thing like that throw you.
A handsome young waiter approached her, bearing a tray with a frosted bottle of iced water. ‘How are you this evening?’ he asked, smiling.
She smiled back and the simple act of sharing a smile made her feel a little better. ‘Very well, thank you.’
‘I’m Roberto and I’ll be looking after your table.’
Her smile held. ‘I’m Annie and I’ll be looking forward to your service.’
His mouth stretched into a broad grin as he poured water into her glass. ‘Would you like to see our menu?’
‘No, I’ll wait for my—’ She indicated the empty seat opposite her.
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Actually, no—it’s a guy.’
He managed to look charmingly disappointed before moving away to take orders from a nearby table.
Annie took a sip of water and wished she could press the cool glass against her hot cheeks. She told herself that it didn’t matter that Damien was late. He was probably battling his way though a traffic jam, cursing fate. Any minute now he’d come bursting out of the lift, full of apologies.
She counted to a hundred and then took another sip. After reaching three hundred and taking more sips, she watched a couple on the other side of the room reach across their table to hold hands then gaze romantically into each other’s eyes.
Somewhere in the background a guitar was playing Beautiful Dreamer.
Sigh. How many hours had she spent dreaming about this date in the city? About what Damien would think of her, what she’d think of him.
She’d worried about saying the wrong things, or discovering that he had some terrible off-putting habit. She’d considered endless ways to suss out whether he was married. That was her biggest fear. But she’d never once imagined that she would be sitting here alone. Without him.
The worst thing was that on her own in the city, surrounded by people, she felt even lonelier than she did in the outback, when she was surrounded by nothing but gumtrees and wild mountains.
She turned to look out of the window at the lights in the tall buildings around her, at the flickering neon signs in the distance, at the street lights way below and the headlights and tail-lights of the traffic—red and white rivers flowing in opposite directions…
Where was Damien?
Perhaps she should have given him her mobile phone number, but she’d been playing it cautious until she met him. Now she was tempted to ring Mel and Victoria just for a little friendly reassurance, but she resisted the urge.
She didn’t want to look at her watch. Oh, well, perhaps a quick glimpse. Oh, God. Damien was twenty-five minutes late.
Maybe this was a guy thing. Damien was establishing the upper hand, making her wait. And wait…
Around her, people’s meals were arriving. The food was served on enormous white plates. Someone was having linguini drizzled with a pale green sauce and it looked divine.
Roberto came back and asked her if there was anything else he could bring her. Some bruschetta, perhaps? She shook her head, but she realised that other diners were casting curious glances her way. Again.
Oh, Damien. I know you probably can’t help it, but this is so disappointing.
How much longer would she have to wait?
When the waiter left, Annie fingered her cute new clutch handbag and reconsidered using her phone to have a quick chat with the girls. But as she flicked the clasp she saw the man who guarded the front of the restaurant walking towards her. What now? Was he going to ask her to order some food or leave?
‘Miss McKinnon?’ he said as he approached.
‘Yes?’ Her stomach lurched. How did he know her name?
‘We’ve received a phone call—a message from Mr Grainger.’
‘Yes?’ she said again and her heart jolted painfully.
‘He’s had to cancel this evening’s engagement.’
Cancel?
Whoosh! Slam! Annie felt as if she’d been tipped through the window and was falling to the pavement twenty-seven floors below.
Damien couldn’t cancel. Not like this. ‘No,’ she squeaked. ‘That’s not possible. There must be a mistake.’
The man in black’s jaw clenched.
Wrong thing to say.
She tried again. ‘Did—did Mr Grainger say why he has cancelled?’
She must have looked totally stricken because his face softened a fraction. ‘I’m afraid the person who rang didn’t offer an explanation. He asked me to apologise, Miss McKinnon. Apparently he’s been trying to ring for some time, but our line has been busy. He hopes you will understand.’
Understand? Of course she didn’t understand. She couldn’t possibly understand. Annie felt so suddenly awful she wondered if she was going to be sick right there in front of everyone. ‘Didn’t he tell you anything? Are you sure he didn’t—explain—?’
The man sighed and shook his head as if he found this situation tiresome.
‘What should I do?’ she asked. ‘Do—do I owe you any money?’
‘No. And you are still very welcome to dine here. The caller is happy to pay for your meal.’
The caller? Nothing made sense. ‘Damien Grainger called, didn’t he?’
‘No, it was Mr Grainger’s uncle.’
His uncle? This was really crazy. Where was Damien? Why hadn’t he rung? Was he sick? Oh, goodness, yes. That had to be the problem. Damien was suddenly, horribly, unavoidably, violently ill. From his sickbed he’d begged this uncle to phone her.
‘Shall I send for a menu?’ the man asked her.
Annie shook her head. Her throat was so choked she couldn’t speak and there was no way she could possibly think about eating. Not in the midst of tragedy. This was the single worst moment in her life.
Grabbing her bag, she managed to stand and then she took a deep breath and began to walk…past the other tables…conscious of the unbearable curiosity of the diners. Holding her head high and her shoulders back, she stared straight ahead, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye.
It wasn’t until she was safely out of the restaurant and behind the closed doors of the lift that she collapsed against the wall and covered her mouth with her hand and tried to hold back the horrible sobs that swelled in her throat and burned her. Was it possible to bear this disappointment, this horrible humiliation?
As the lift cruised downwards, she fumbled in her purse for her phone.
‘Mel,’ she sobbed as soon as there was an answer.
‘Annie, where are you?’
‘I’m in the lift at the Pinnacle.’
‘Why? Are you running away?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, my God, what happened?’
‘Nothing! Where are you?’
‘Just up the road,’ Mel shouted above a blast of loud background music. ‘At The Cactus Flower. It’s in the next block from where you are—on the left.’
‘Stay there, please. I’m coming.’
‘Honey, we won’t move.’
Theo Grainger waited in the foyer of the Pinnacle Hotel and watched the blinking lights in the panel beside the lift indicating its journey downward from the twenty-seventh floor. All too soon, those shiny lift doors would slide open and Annie McKinnon would burst out.
A kind of dread tightened his throat muscles as he anticipated the tears streaming down her face. The kid would be a mess. A heartbroken, disillusioned mess.
He cursed himself for handling the whole situation so badly. His cowardly, fickle nephew had caused enough trouble, but Theo had bungled his part in the evening too.
He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to make such a hash of things. He’d come to the hotel this evening with the best of intentions. He’d planned to meet the young Internet hopeful and to apologise to her on his nephew’s behalf and to explain that the date had been cancelled. To apologise in person—before she headed up to La Piastra.
Theo could pile on the charm when necessary and he’d been confident he could appease Damien’s date and send her on her way with her dignity intact, even if her tender young heart was broken. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to move into damage control after one of his nephew’s pranks.
But somehow Theo hadn’t been prepared for Annie McKinnon.
He hadn’t anticipated the blinding excitement shining in her face. She’d arrived at the Pinnacle looking so incredibly young and innocent, so unspeakably hopeful. So thrilled!
And he certainly hadn’t anticipated her cheer squad of friends.
The girlfriends had been his final stumbling block. One mere male couldn’t be expected to confront three overexcited, chattering females with the bad news that the big deal date was off.
In future, he would make sure that Damien was forced to face up to the consequences of his thoughtless pranks, even if he had to drag the wretch to the scene of his crime by the scruff of his neck.
But tonight the result of Theo’s bungling was that he’d felt a compunction to hang around for the aftermath—to make sure Annie McKinnon wasn’t too terribly heartbroken.
The light beside the lift indicated that it had reached the ground floor and he stood to one side of the foyer with his hands plunged deep in his trouser pockets. There was a clean handkerchief in his right pocket and it would come in handy if he needed to mop her tears before he called a taxi to send her safely homewards.
The doors opened and he held his breath and steeled himself for the sight of Annie’s flushed, tear-ravaged face.
But no.
Annie swept out of the lift with her golden head high, looking pale but dignified, almost haughty. No sign of tears. Her pretty blue eyes were dry and glass-clear and her mouth was composed, almost smiling.
Almost. If Theo hadn’t been watching her very closely, he might have missed the tremor of her chin and the exceedingly careful way she walked, as if she needed all her strength to hold herself together.
Her unexpected courage shook him. He felt a sudden lump in his throat and an absurd urge to applaud her.
And he remained stock-still as she sailed across the foyer. Even as the huge glass doors at the hotel’s entrance parted, he didn’t move. It made absolutely no sense but this devastated young woman seemed more composed than he felt.
She disappeared into the night before he came to his senses. By the time he dashed outside she was already hurrying along the footpath, ducking her way past pedestrians with athletic grace.
He called, ‘Annie!’
But she didn’t hear him and when people turned and stared at him he felt several versions of foolish. What on earth had he thought he was going to do if she’d heard him? Offer her coffee and consolation?
Clearly she needed neither.
He came to a halt in the middle of the footpath. Ahead of him, he saw a flash of pink jeans and white top as Annie turned to her left. Then she hurried up a short flight of steps and vanished inside a bar.
Theo Grainger couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so inadequate.
‘The guy’s a jerk!’
‘An A-grade jerk.’
Mel and Victoria were vehement in their anger.
And never had Annie been happier to see friends.
As the three girls drowned their sorrows in strawberry daiquiris, she found it comforting to listen to their united rant.
‘Annie, your Damien has reached an entirely new, utterly despicable level of jerkdom.’
‘How dare he behave so jerkily to such a lovely, trusting country mouse?’
But the horrible part was that in between moments of righteous anger Annie still wanted to love Damien. She couldn’t let go of her fantasy man in the blink of an eye. She needed to believe he was helpless and guiltless.
Perhaps he really couldn’t have helped missing the date. There was still a chance that he was sick, in pain and feeling as bitterly disappointed as she was.
‘He might be sick,’ she said wistfully.
Victoria sniffed. ‘Yeah, that’s about as likely as he’s fallen under a bus.’
‘Or he’s found an urgent need to flee the country,’ added Mel, rolling her eyes. ‘Face it, Annie. If Damien was halfway decent and he had a genuine excuse, he would have gone out of his way to make sure you understood what had kept him.’
Annie sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right…I guess I just don’t want to believe it.’
It was so hard to let go of her happy dreams. She wanted to crawl away and cry for a month.
‘The thing is,’ said Mel, stirring her icy daiquiri with a slim black straw. ‘He’s not just a base-level jerk, he’s a cowardly jerk. He had to pretend to be someone else.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I bet you any cocktail on this menu that the so-called uncle who relayed the message doesn’t exist.’
The thought that it might have actually been Damien on the phone, pretending to be someone else, made Annie feel ten times worse.
Victoria patted her shoulder. ‘I reckon you should forget about blind dates and concentrate on raising the cocktail drinking statistics for the Greater Brisbane Area.’
Annie nodded miserably. It wasn’t her style, but losing herself in an alcoholic fuzz had definite appeal. The problem was that it would only take the edge off her pain momentarily. There would still be tomorrow. And the rest of the week in Brisbane. A whole week in the city. Without Damien.
‘I’d rather go back to your place and borrow your computer to send The Jerk a blistering email,’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Mel. ‘Great idea. Besides, Victoria and I still have to go to work tomorrow morning. Let’s go home and send Damien a message he won’t forget. Let’s make sure he absolutely understands just how totally bottom-of-the-pits he’s been.’
‘If he’s a true jerk, it’ll be like water off a duck’s back,’ suggested Victoria gloomily.
But Mel’s mind was made up. ‘It doesn’t matter. Annie will feel a lot better once we’ve told him off.’

CHAPTER TWO
TOSSING and turning on the lumpy old couch in Mel’s lounge, Annie stared into the darkness. This was the worst night of her life. She was never going to sleep.
After helping her compose the email designed to set Damien back on his heels, Mel and Victoria had gone off to their bedrooms and were sound asleep now. Annie was left to get through the long night alone. And, to her dismay, the satisfaction she’d felt when she’d hit the button to shoot their message into cyber space was evaporating.
Rolling on to her side, she punched her pillow and gave vent to a loud groan. It echoed through the house, but no one stirred. That was the one good thing about loneliness; she didn’t have to be brave any more. She could finally wallow in her misery.
Now, in a cocoon of silence and darkness, she could tell herself that never in the history of dating had there been a bigger fiasco, and if there had been she didn’t want to know about it. Her experience at La Piastra was as bad as it got.
She could admit to herself that she was truly devastated. Devastated, hurt to the marrow, disappointed to the max! And angry. Yeah, bitter too.
Her glorious romance was over before it had begun.
How could Damien have done this to her?
How could he have spent so many weeks courting her in writing, just to leave her stranded at the Big Moment?
And why? What had gone wrong? Had she been too forward when she’d suggested they should meet? Should she have waited till he’d broached the subject? The thing was, he’d shown no sign of caution or of having cold feet. Once she’d mentioned the idea of a date he had seemed very keen.
His absence didn’t make sense and she couldn’t let go of the slim hope that something completely unavoidable had detained him. Problem was, if that was the case, he wouldn’t appreciate the savage email the girls had encouraged her to send.
Oh, hell!
It seemed like agonising hours later that she banged the pillow with another thump and flung herself on to her back, still too tense to sleep. Mel’s house was in the inner city, not far from a main road, and as she listened to the alien sounds of never-ending traffic, tears seeped beneath her stinging eyelids and she felt a rush of homesickness.
At home the day started when the sun peeped over the Seaview Range and she was nudged awake by her Border collie, Lavender. She would give anything to hear the reassuring thump of Lavender’s tail on her bedroom floor. And at Southern Cross she’d be greeted by the friendly laughter of kookaburras and the warbling of magpies, or perhaps the distant soft lowing of cattle.
But thinking about home and her twin brothers, Reid and Kane, brought an added twinge of guilt. The guys had been away mustering cattle when she’d left for her adventure in the city. She’d left them a note, but because she’d been afraid they’d jump right in and put a stop to her plans, she hadn’t told them any details.
In her own mind she’d justified her dash to the city. Apart from the compulsion to meet her e-date, she’d felt a strong need for a holiday. But she knew that people usually planned their holidays. They didn’t dash away, leaving a note telling family members to look after themselves.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so secretive. Surely she should have been able to tell at least one of her brothers about the man she’d met over the Internet. But they were so protective of her. Which was why she’d resorted to writing a letter to the Mirrabrook Star.
If only her mother wasn’t so far away in Scotland…
But thinking about her family only made her feel lonelier than ever. As she waited for morning and for Damien’s reply to her email, she almost reached the point where she wished that her brothers had stopped her from coming to the city.
‘You got a reply.’
At breakfast, Mel came into the kitchen waving a sheet of A4 paper at Annie. ‘Here, I printed it out.’
Pain jabbed hard in Annie’s chest. There was no escaping the truth now. Very soon she would know Damien’s reason for avoiding her.
‘It’s from the uncle,’ Mel said as Annie snatched up the page.
‘The uncle?’ Annie clasped the paper to her chest, too disappointed to read it. ‘It’s not from Damien?’
‘’Fraid not.’
Victoria turned from the microwave where she was heating coffee. ‘So there really is an uncle?’
‘Looks like it,’ said Mel, reaching for milk to pour on her cereal.
Annie groaned. ‘You mean an uncle read that email we sent last night?’
‘Seems so.’
‘But we were so—’ Annie gulped. ‘So—’
‘Tipsy,’ supplied Mel, looking sheepish.
‘And rude,’ added Annie. ‘I had no idea his uncle would read it. Heck, we should have toned it down.’
‘Hey, don’t sweat,’ said Victoria. ‘We were relatively sober and we were merely being honest. We told it like it was.’
‘Yeah…but to some old uncle!’ Annie cringed at the thought of a sweet, elderly uncle reading their message. It had sounded so forceful and feminist last night. But when she thought about it now…
Oh, crumbs…
Fearing the worst, she looked down at the page…
From: T. G. Grainger
To: anniem@mymail.com
Date: Monday, November 14th 6: 05a.m.
Subject: Re: You’d better have a brilliant excuse,
you jerk!
Dear Annie M,
I hope you don’t mind my replying to your message, but my nephew is out of town this week and he’s asked me to respond to any important emails. I consider your communication to be of the utmost importance. I regret having to intrude into such a personal exchange but I believe you deserve the courtesy of a quick response.
Please accept my sincerest apology for the unpleasant experience you suffered last night as a consequence of my nephew’s inexcusable thoughtlessness.
Damien was called away at short notice and I contacted La Piastra restaurant on his behalf. However, I understand your deep distress and I am saddened by my nephew’s bad manners. You’re absolutely right; you deserved an explanation from him and I will make sure that he contacts you immediately on his return.
In the meantime, I trust that you are still able to enjoy the remainder of your stay in Brisbane.
Yours sincerely,
Dr Theo Grainger.
Annie dropped the page on to the tabletop. ‘Oh, my God. Damien was called away at short notice.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ scoffed Mel. ‘And we all came down in the last shower.’
‘You don’t believe him?’
This question was greeted by a significant silence while Annie watched Mel and Victoria exchange knowing glances that snuffed out her final glimmer of hope. After a bit, Victoria leaned across the table, grabbed the page and scanned the printed message.
‘The uncle’s a bit of a wordsmith, isn’t he?’
Annie nodded sadly. ‘I guess “inexcusable thoughtlessness” is a refined way of saying that his nephew’s a bottom-of-the-pit jerk.’
Mel grinned. ‘I rather liked the way we described his rotten nephew in our email.’
‘Yeah,’ said Victoria. ‘There’s nothing wrong with short, shoot-from-the-hip language.’
Annie managed a small smile.
‘Anyway.’ Victoria tapped a French tipped fingernail against the email printout. ‘This uncle’s a doctor, so you’d expect fancy words.’
‘He’s not a medical doctor,’ said Mel.
Annie and Victoria stared at her. ‘How do you know?’ they both asked simultaneously.
‘Because a Dr Theo Grainger was my philosophy lecturer at university and it’s not a common name. I’m sure this must be the same guy.’
Annie’s mouth fell open. ‘You studied philosophy?’
‘In my first year. I didn’t keep it up because I wanted to major in urban planning, but Dr Grainger was a pretty cool lecturer. He had quite a following.’
To Annie the very word philosophy sounded lofty and unbelievably clever, and she found it hard to imagine an ordinary girlfriend like Mel studying the subject.
Suddenly Victoria looked at the clock. ‘Hey, look at the time. We’d better get moving or we’ll be late for work, Mel.’
The two girls jumped to their feet.
‘Don’t worry about the kitchen. I’ll tidy up,’ Annie called after them, but they’d already disappeared into their rooms. It occurred to her that if she stayed in their house much longer the girls would soon treat her the way her brothers did.
At home, Kane and Reid ran around doing important outside work like mustering the cattle, fencing, servicing the bores and machinery, and they left her behind to cook and clean and keep the books, as if she were some outback version of Cinderella.
It was a big part of the reason she’d wanted to get away and it wasn’t very comforting to think that in no time at all she was becoming a City Girl Cinders.
A broken-hearted, disillusioned City Girl Cinders.
One thing was sure; she didn’t want to spend this week keeping Mel and Victoria’s flat clean and tidy. But what were her options? She could reply to Dr Grainger’s email and press the issue about Damien by demanding to know when he’d be back. But she was fast losing confidence in the Internet as a form of honest communication.
She lifted the printout from the table and read the uncle’s email again. Philosophers were fantastically brilliant and thoughtful and wise, weren’t they? Pity some of it hadn’t rubbed off on his nephew.
Actually, it was a wonder this philosopher uncle hadn’t lectured her on her own lack of wisdom. No doubt he took a rather dim view of any girl who dashed recklessly into the city from the far reaches of the out-back and expected a blind date to fulfil her silly romantic fantasies.
She was halfway across the kitchen with cereal packets in hand when she paused. Come to think of it, Uncle Theo hadn’t expressed any negative opinions about her. He’d been surprisingly sympathetic.
Perhaps there was something deeper behind this—something the uncle understood. A direct approach to Dr Grainger might sort this whole mess out. Rather than mucking around with email, it would be better to deal with him face-to-face. That was the McKinnon way. It was what her brothers would do.
Look the enemy in the eye so you knew what you were dealing with.
But how the heck did you confront a philosopher?
Dropping the dishcloth, she dashed into the bathroom, where Mel was applying mascara.
‘Which university does this Dr Grainger teach at?’
Mel frowned at her reflection in the mirror. ‘UQ at St Lucia. Why?’
‘I—I’ve always been curious about philosophy and I was thinking that, as I have time on my hands, it might be interesting to sneak into the back of one of his lectures. Is that allowed?’
‘Well…yes.’ Mel gave her eyelashes a final flick with the mascara wand and turned to face Annie. ‘But don’t you think you should just let this Damien thing die a natural death? You know what they say about other fish in the sea. There are some okay guys at my work—’
‘This isn’t just about Damien,’ Annie said quickly. ‘It’s about me. I want to sort it out. I don’t want to be left up in the air until Damien eventually decides to turn up.’
Mel gave a puzzled shrug.
From near the front door Victoria called, ‘You ready, Mel?’
‘Yeah, coming.’ To Annie, she said, ‘You do what you like, Annie, but I think you might be out of luck. The university year will be winding down now. Lectures will have finished and the students will be on swot vacation getting ready for exams.’
‘Oh.’
As Mel hurried for the door she called over her shoulder, ‘If I were you, I’d stick to shopping.’
‘No, thank you,’ Annie said quietly.
When a knock sounded on his office door Theo Grainger was deep in a mire of student assignments and he grunted a greeting without looking up from the papers on his desk.
‘Dr Grainger?’
He’d assumed that Lillian, the philosophy department’s receptionist, was dropping off the day’s mail. But this voice wasn’t Lillian’s; it was younger, no doubt a student panicking about forthcoming exams.
He didn’t bother to raise his head. ‘Do you have an appointment?’ he asked just a little too gruffly.
‘No.’
His aggrieved sigh drifted downwards to the pile of papers on his desk. ‘You must know by now that all students have to make an appointment to see me. Put your name against a time slot on the notice board.’
‘All right.’
He returned to the assignment he was grading—a rather badly constructed analysis of utilitarianism.
‘One problem,’ the voice at the door said. ‘Could you please tell me where the notice board is?’
Theo’s head snapped up and he glared at the caller. ‘How long have you been a student here?’
‘No time at all.’ Her mouth twisted into an apologetic smile and she pushed a wing of blonde hair back behind her ear. ‘You see, I’m not a student.’
The surprise of recognition startled him like a bolt from the blue.
Annie McKinnon.
Just in time, he stopped himself from saying her name aloud. The last thing he wanted was for her to realise that he’d seen her before—that he’d been watching her—virtually spying on her yesterday evening.
He rose slowly to his feet. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘I didn’t actually get my name out. I must be nervous.’ She gave a self-conscious roll of her eyes. ‘I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but I’m Annie McKinnon.’ She winced. ‘You answered an email I sent to your nephew, Damien.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Theo knew it was unkind, but he couldn’t resist tipping his head forward to appraise Annie with a searching look over the top of his spectacles.
Not surprisingly, she squirmed.
‘So,’ he said. ‘I have the pleasure of meeting the forthright Miss McKinnon.’
‘I’m sorry, Dr Grainger. If my friends and I had known you were going to read that email we wouldn’t have been so—so forthright.’
‘I can well believe that.’ Theo was still holding the pen he’d been using to mark the students’ assignments. Now, he replaced its lid and set it carefully back on his desk. When he looked at Annie again he felt as if she’d been staring at him intensely. He offered her a cautious smile. ‘So why did you want to see me?’
She returned his slow smile measure for cautious measure. ‘I wanted to apologise to you.’
‘I’m not sure that you need to apologise.’
‘Well, I also wanted to find out the truth.’
‘The truth?’
‘About Damien.’
Her gaze locked with his and she stopped smiling. Her eyes were clear blue—the kind of blue that made Theo think of summer sky reflected in spring water, and it occurred to him that their astonishing candour must be an Annie McKinnon trademark.
Standing straight as a soldier, she said, ‘I need to know if Damien was really called away on urgent business, or if he simply didn’t want to meet me.’
Theo cleared his throat. After observing this young woman last night, he should have known that she wouldn’t simply turn tail and give up. ‘Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere else,’ he said and he glanced at his watch. Best to get her safely away from the curious eyes and ears of his colleagues and departmental secretaries. ‘Let me buy you coffee.’
‘Thank you,’ she said warmly. ‘That would be wonderful.’
Seeing the sudden animated brightness in her face, Theo wasn’t so sure. He lifted a navy-blue blazer from the back of his chair and shrugged his shoulders into it, then he gestured for her to accompany him down the hallway. It was a warm November day and the formality of the blazer was unnecessary, but it gave Theo a sense of protection and, for some peculiar reason, a glowing, excited Annie McKinnon at his side called for protection.
Their journey took them through the Philosophy department’s reception area and Lillian looked up from her desk.
Annie smiled and waved to her. ‘I found him,’ she called gleefully.
Lillian returned Annie’s wave, and then her amused eyes met Theo’s. They glimmered with undeniable curiosity and one eyebrow rose, but Theo hurried forward, eager to get his nephew’s jilted girlfriend out of the building.
Wow.
As she walked with Theo Grainger through the Great Court of the University of Queensland, Annie was seriously impressed.
Talk about hallowed halls. With its stretch of green lawn encircled by graceful columns and arches, the courtyard was as dignified and atmospheric as any place she’d ever seen. And all the surrounding buildings were made out of beautiful sandstone, too. As she looked around at their impressive façades she felt a sense of awe.
She could almost smell knowledge in the air. How could anyone not become earnest and clever in this inspiring environment?
‘Do these people have any idea how lucky they are to be here?’ she said, casting an envious eye over the students strolling casually past.
Theo smiled. ‘Not enough of them, I’m afraid.’ He turned to her. ‘So you didn’t have the chance to go to university?’
‘I was planning to go straight after boarding school, but then my father died and things kind of fell apart at home. I live on a cattle station up in North Queensland—so I stayed home for a year, and after that it was just assumed that I would stay on indefinitely.’
‘But that wasn’t your plan?’
‘I didn’t mind at first, but in the past few years I’ve been champing at the bit.’
‘It’s never too late to start at university.’
‘That’s what I’ve been thinking. Twenty-four’s still quite young really, isn’t it?’
‘Very young,’ he said in an ambiguous tone that puzzled her.
They reached a café in a leafy garden setting and Theo collected two white coffees and carried them to a secluded table, away from chattering students.
They both opened slim paper sachets of sugar, used half, then twisted the unused halves and set them on their saucers. Annie laughed. ‘We could have shared a sugar if we’d known we only wanted half each.’
Theo looked surprised, then smiled and shook his head as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her.
Well, that made two of them. She was certainly feeling shocked and unsure about Damien’s Uncle Theo. He wasn’t anything like she’d expected.
She’d had an image in her mind of an absent-minded professor type—a badly groomed academic, aged fifty plus, carelessly dressed in a wrinkled shirt and rumpled trousers. She’d expected untidy hair, a beard perhaps, and most definitely a scowl.
But although this man had scowled at her when she first knocked on his door, he’d quickly become polite. And heck, he couldn’t be older than her brothers, who were in their mid-thirties.
As for his appearance—his grooming was impeccable. Neat, dark hair, crisp blue shirt and stone-coloured trousers. Tall, trim physique. His dark-rimmed glasses gave his hazel eyes a scholarly air, but in no way did they detract from his appearance.
But he was a philosopher, for heaven’s sake.
Somehow she hadn’t expected someone so painfully thoughtful and clever to look quite so—so worldly. He was actually very attractive. But in a way that was refreshingly different from the tough ringers and jackaroos she was used to in the outback.
Then again, perhaps Theo’s appearance shouldn’t really surprise her since he was related by blood to Damien.
Thinking of Damien, she felt suddenly subdued, and she picked up her coffee and took a sip while she considered the best way to ask this man about his nephew.
‘It’s very kind of you to take time out to see me,’ she said as she placed the cup back in its saucer. ‘You must think I’m very foolish really, trying to arrange a date over the Internet.’
‘If you’re foolish, then so are thousands of other people.’ He sent her a reassuring smile. ‘Dating on the Internet is becoming more popular every day.’
‘Well, thanks. That makes me feel a bit better.’
‘But I’m sorry you’ve come such a long way. And it’s a pity you feel let down by Damien.’
‘I have a right to feel let down, don’t I?’
‘Everyone has a right to their feelings.’
Annie frowned at him. ‘I have a horrible feeling right now that you’re going to start philosophising and I’ll get lost. Can you just tell me straight? Is Damien avoiding me?’
He sighed and dropped his gaze to stare hard at his coffee. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘You must have a fair idea.’
At that he looked up and the glimmer of a smile sparked in his eyes. ‘Have you ever thought of becoming a prosecuting attorney, Miss McKinnon?’
‘Why?’
‘You have a disturbingly direct manner. I defy anyone to lie to you.’
‘Good,’ she said quickly. Their gazes met across the table and for a moment she almost lost her train of thought. Drawing a quick breath, she said, ‘Does that mean you’re going to drop the Miss McKinnon and call me Annie and tell me the truth? Damien’s a jerk, isn’t he?’
‘If you’ve already made up your mind, I don’t need to answer that.’ Theo paused, then added softly, ‘Annie.’
When he pronounced her name in his lovely deep, educated voice the strangest shiver ran through her. She felt as if she’d been tapped on the shoulder, as if an unheard voice had whispered something important in her ear.
The feeling was so distinct that for a moment she had to close her eyes. When she opened them again, Theo Grainger was watching her and she saw a puzzling tension in his expression.
‘Please,’ she said softly, feeling strangely shaken. ‘Don’t play mind games with me. Just tell me, so I can put this whole mess behind me.’
He sighed and pushed his half-empty coffee cup to one side so that he could rest his clasped hands on the table in front of him. ‘I honestly don’t know Damien’s exact reasons for getting out of the city this week, but I’m afraid he was anxious to avoid your date. I’m sorry. My nephew doesn’t have a very good track record. He’s prone to pranks and he’s managed to upset quite a few people one way or another.’
‘I see.’ She drank some more of her coffee.
‘I hope you’re not too heartbroken.’
Strange, but she wasn’t nearly as upset as she thought she’d be. The news that she was the victim of some kind of prank no longer surprised her. It was more like receiving confirmation of something she’d suspected in theory, but hadn’t tested in practice. Yes, Annie, fire will burn you.
Damien’s uncle was expecting a response from her. She looked at him. ‘I can assure you, Dr Grainger, it will take something much worse than being stood up on a blind date before I allow my heart to be broken.’
For a moment he looked startled. ‘That’s a relief,’ he said.
But he didn’t look particularly relieved and they both turned quickly to stare over to the distant Brisbane River. Annie watched the slow drift of the water as she finished her coffee.
‘Actually, there is something I’m very upset about,’ she said.
‘What’s that?’
‘I won’t get to meet Basil.’
‘Basil?’
She turned back to him. ‘Damien’s dog. His Dalmatian.’
‘Is that what he told you? That he has a Dalmatian called Basil?’
‘Yes.’ She leaned towards him, eager to make her point. ‘It was part of the reason we clicked. I’m mad about dogs. Damien and I used to joke about how fabulous it would be if my Border collie, Lavender, fell in love with his Basil. I know it sounds childish, but it was fun. We used to say that if Basil and Lavender mated we would have a pot-pourri of puppies.’
Theo smiled briefly, then frowned and shook his head.
Annie slumped in her chair. ‘Don’t tell me that’s a lie, too. I couldn’t bear it if Basil doesn’t exist.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, Basil most certainly exists,’ he said quietly. ‘But he’s my dog.’

CHAPTER THREE
‘HOW long would it take me to walk from here to the Goodwill Bridge?’ Annie asked Mel, who was in the middle of brushing her teeth before bed.
To her relief, Mel and Victoria had opted for an early night this evening.
Mel turned from the sink. ‘Oh, I’d say about half an hour. Why?’
‘I want to set my alarm.’
Lowering her toothbrush, Mel frowned at her. ‘You’re going to walk to the Goodwill Bridge tomorrow morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’
‘I want to go for an early morning walk and that bridge will take me over the river to the South Bank, won’t it?’
‘Yes, Annie, but I thought you came to Brisbane for fun, not exercise.’
Annie shrugged. ‘A little exercise won’t hurt me.’ She turned to leave the bathroom. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Hang on,’ Mel called, making a hurried effort to rinse her mouth.
With some reluctance, Annie paused in the hallway. She’d been hoping to avoid an inquisition about this.
Mel came through the doorway, still wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Okay, confession time! You didn’t come to the city for a health kick, so who are you going to meet on the bridge?’
Annie sighed extravagantly. ‘A dog. A Dalmatian dog called Basil.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Mel let her eyes roll towards the ceiling. ‘And will Basil be waiting for you all by himself? He doesn’t, by any chance, come attached to some yummy guy you’ve met today, does he?’
‘Theo will be there,’ Annie mumbled.
‘Who?’
‘Theo.’
‘Theo?’ Mel’s voice rose an octave. ‘Theo as in Dr Theo Grainger?’
‘Yes.’ In defence Annie added, ‘I told you I spoke to him this morning. And he’s invited me to meet his dog.’
Mel collapsed against the wall in helpless laughter.
‘What’s the big joke? You know I’m nuts about dogs.’
‘Oh, yeah, sure, Annie. You’re fascinated by Theo Grainger’s dog. But hello—half the UQ philosophy undergraduates are nuts about Dr Theo.’
Annie couldn’t hide her surprise.
‘The female half, that is,’ Mel amended. ‘Not that it gets them anywhere. Apparently, he has a policy of never dating students.’
‘Good for him.’
‘But that’s why I’m so gobsmacked. How did you wangle this date with him?’
‘For crying out loud, Mel. Walking a dog is not a date.’
‘Yeah?’ Smiling, Mel shook her head. ‘That’s like saying a foot massage has nothing to do with sex.’
To her dismay, Annie found it difficult to meet her friend’s gaze.
There was an awkward silence while she stared at the floor and then Mel said more gently, ‘Well, don’t worry. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed that jerkishness doesn’t run in Damien’s family.’
Impulsive decisions often had unpleasant repercussions, Theo reminded himself the next morning as he waited at the northern end of the Goodwill Bridge and watched the blue and white City Cats ferrying passengers up and down the Brisbane River.
He suspected that the impulse to invite Annie McKinnon to join him on a walk with his dog had been foolish. But she’d been badly misled by his nephew and he consoled himself that his sense of obligation to her was a worthy motivation.
After spending almost a decade as a university lecturer, he was well aware of the pitfalls of offering even the most casual friendship to an attractive young woman. But in Annie’s case it should be quite a simple matter to guard against repercussions.
He’d kept the invitation very low-key. He’d even been ungallant enough to let her find her own way to the bridge, but now he wondered if she might get lost.
He switched his attention from the river to the traffic speeding to join the network of concrete ribbons that formed the freeway system and in his peripheral vision he caught sight of a hand waving.
Annie.
She was waiting at the pedestrian crossing on the other side of the road. The lights changed and within less than a minute she came hurrying up to him.
‘I hope I’m not too late,’ she said, panting slightly, as if she’d been running.
‘Not at all.’
She dropped to her knees, and focused her attention entirely on the dog. ‘Oh, Basil, you’re beautiful. I could recognise your gorgeous black and white spots when I was still a block away.’
She ruffled Basil’s ears and made a great fuss of him and Theo tried not to notice the way her hair shone in the sun, or how slim and lithe she looked in her black shorts and sleeveless pale blue top. He turned quickly to study the clusters of apartment block towers built close to the river.
‘So which way are we going?’ she asked, jumping to her feet.
‘Over the bridge. Ready?’
‘Sure.’
The Goodwill Bridge was restricted to pedestrians and cyclists and as they set off across its gentle arc the city buzzed around them. At this early hour the air was still and cool, the sky clear, and the parks and gardens green. Brisbane looked clean and at its best.
‘Hey, Theo, is that Italian writing on your T-shirt?’
Annie had the most disturbing way of asking unexpected questions. ‘Yes,’ he admitted, looking down at the slogan on his chest. ‘It’s an ad for coffee.’
‘Can you read Italian? Do you know what it says?’
‘It’s something like…For people who really care about the coffee they drink.’
She looked excessively impressed. ‘Have you ever been to Italy?’
‘Yes, many times.’
‘Wow, I’d give anything to see Rome or Venice or Florence. I’ve read all I can about them and I drool over the pictures.’
‘Italy’s beautiful. I think it’s my favourite European country.’
‘Really?’
To his surprise she looked puzzled.
‘You have a problem with that?’
‘No, it’s just that it’s Damien’s favourite country too.’
‘But he’s never been to Italy.’
She came to a sudden halt and Theo tugged on Basil’s lead. ‘Hang on, boy.’
‘This is weird,’ she said. ‘Do you think Damien has been pretending to be someone like you?’
‘I can’t think why. What makes you think so? Because of the dog and Italy?’
‘Not only that.’ She turned to look out at the river where an old wooden ferry was chugging from one side to the other. ‘He used to tell me things about philosophy, too.’
Theo laughed. ‘Philosophy? Damien doesn’t know the first thing about philosophy.’
‘Well, he sounded knowledgeable to me.’ She turned back and offered him a sheepish smile. ‘But then I wouldn’t have a clue. I’m more of an old movie fan. As far as I know, Scarlett O’Hara’s “Tomorrow is another day” could be philosophy.’
‘And you wouldn’t be too far off the mark.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m beginning to feel so stupid about this. I can’t believe all the things I lov—liked about Damien were all make-believe.’
Not make-believe, Theo thought. They were me.
Annie’s china-blue eyes were round with worry and when their gazes met she chewed her lip and colour stained her neck and cheeks. Had the same idea occurred to her?
When Damien came back he would strangle him.
She let out a long sigh, then shrugged. ‘I’ve got to stop talking about Damien. I’m over him. Let’s keep walking. I didn’t mean to hold you up.’
They walked on and Annie’s gaze darted everywhere, her hungry eyes taking in the towering buildings, the busy traffic on the freeway and the boats on the river. She looked as if she’d never seen anything quite so exciting.
He’d noticed the same sense of delighted engagement with her surroundings at the university yesterday, and now he tried unsuccessfully to suppress the thought that the clever, academic women he’d dated in recent years were a bunch of jaded cynics.
They reached the other side of the bridge and he looked below to the dry dock where volunteers were restoring an ancient tugboat. He’d been taking a keen interest in their progress.
‘Oh, look at that.’ Annie was pointing ahead to a forest of very modern unit buildings surrounded by landscaped gardens and restaurants.
‘What are you looking at?’
‘That dear little clock tower peeping over the fig trees.’
‘Oh, yes. It’s part of the old South Brisbane Town Hall. It’s very Victorian, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it’s all red-bricked and old-fashioned and out of place, but it’s gorgeous,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it disapproves of all these modern aluminium and glass buildings.’
‘Just like the old Queen would have.’
‘Exactly!’ Annie laughed and her hair glinted pale gold in the sunlight and, without warning, she flung her arms skywards and executed a three hundred and sixty degree spin. ‘Oh, I lo-o-o-ve this city!’
And bang went Theo’s resolve to remain aloof.
‘Would you like to stop for breakfast?’ he asked.
Breakfast? Annie bit back a cry of surprise. Come to think of it, Theo was looking surprised too. Perhaps he’d realised that adding breakfast to a walk along the river turned the occasion into something that was almost a date. Maybe he was having second thoughts.
She wondered if she should let him off the hook.
But she didn’t want to. Something happened to her whenever she was with him. Something deep. Elusive. Nagging.
And it had nothing to do with his dog, and only a little to do with how great he looked in athletic shorts.
‘What about our casual clothes?’
‘Don’t worry. Most of the eateries along here cater to walkers and joggers.’
‘What about Basil, then? He won’t be allowed in a restaurant, will he?’
‘A friend of mine owns one of the cafés on the riverfront and on special occasions he’s happy to keep him out the back for me, away from the kitchen and the diners.’
‘Does this count as a special occasion?’
He smiled slowly. ‘If I say so.
His smile made her chest grow tight. She bent down and scratched Basil’s spotty head. ‘Do you mind being tied up, beautiful boy?’
Basil’s tail wagged madly and Theo said, ‘Giovanni spoils him so much he never minds.’

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