Page 9

He might as well have said he couldn’t sleep ever, because Hannah’s mouth dropped open, and then she started frantically rummaging in her bag and pulled out a medicine packet as they shuffled closer to their gate. She was about to hand him one of the blister packs when she hesitated. ‘Any history of liver problems? And, are you taking any other kinds of medication, prescribed or otherwise?’

He shook his head with a chuckle. ‘No. Nothing. Why? What are you trying to give me?’

‘It’s a sleeping aid – herbal, so it should be fine anyway. Take one after the meal service, and it should help you sleep.’

He took the packet from her. ‘Thanks, I’ll try it.’

She turned away from him with a quick, approving nod, just in time to show her passport and boarding pass at the gate.

When they walked onto the plane, he helped her put her backpack in the overhead locker. She tried to argue with him, but he insisted. ‘After you’ve given me drugs, it’s the least I can do.’

She blushed and glanced around at the other passengers, who had evidently overheard. ‘It’s a sleeping aid! Herbal. Doesn’t even require a prescription. I was just being cautious.’

‘Very wise,’ he said with a teasing nod of agreement as she hurried into her seat with a bad-tempered scowl and the faint but intoxicating scent of lemons.

‘Sweet dreams, Hannah!’ he called out to her, unwilling to let her go so soon, but knowing he had to. ‘Hope I see you when we land!’

Chapter Five

Caleb’s breakfast view would have been the epitome of luxurious tranquillity for any tourist visiting the city. The restaurant of his five-star hotel sat on a small peninsula in the heart of Sydney, and across the water, the white sails of the Opera House gleamed in the morning light.

An impressive view in an equally impressive hotel. Paid for by the studio, of course, but Caleb was more than a little proud to be meeting Hannah here, even if he wasn’t footing the bill.

Would she be impressed? Astonished to discover that the kid who couldn’t sit a single exam had somehow still made it?

Or would she think him a fraud, or obnoxiously lucky?

Hannah had always been so diligent and hard-working. He remembered when he’d approached her about helping him study. Even though she was reluctant at first, she later admitted it was mostly due to her worrying about letting him down, which was silly. Her achievements had all been hard won, and, even better, she was never boastful or snooty towards him, so he’d learned a lot – at least for him.

Perhaps that was why he’d been so unkind in the end? Hannah’s consistently good grades had made him feel lazy and inadequate in comparison. Which, thinking back, he probably was. He’d fallen into his career through luck and Paul’s desire to get rid of his young wife’s excess baggage.

Caleb owed Baz everything, but he hadn’t been able to protect him when it really mattered. His mother was right. Caleb was ultimately a self-centred asshole, just like her. Although she preferred the term free spirited, of course.

Would this life impress Hannah now? After all, his success would only last for so long – Baz was proof of that in more ways than one. Caleb was relying on the strength of his body and the successful career of another performer to pay his bills and fund his lifestyle. But he knew it wouldn’t last forever; nothing ever did – especially in Hollywood.

The tears rolling down Baz’s wife’s cheeks would haunt him forever, as would the way Cathy gripped his hands tightly and thanked him for coming to see her husband. As if Caleb visiting his badly hurt friend and mentor were a kindness.

Strangely, the memory reminded him of a much older one. Teenage Hannah staring up at him hopefully. ‘You will come, won’t you? Promise me you will.’

He’d let her down too.

His stomach rumbled and he checked his watch. Hannah would be due any moment. He hoped she didn’t change her mind. Part of him was still shocked she’d messaged him for more details about the job, and much sooner than he’d hoped.

The last time he’d seen her was late last night after they’d landed, and he’d been stuck in customs with all his gear. She’d squeaked past him with a battered suitcase and given him a polite nod.

He’d thought that would be it. That he’d never see her again and that his business card would languish in that giant purse she carried for eternity.

Then, the early morning text had arrived. Hi, it’s me, Hannah. From the flight. Is that job still available?

Eager to fix a time, he’d immediately suggested breakfast together at his hotel’s restaurant. He’d half expected her to move it to later or suggest another meeting place. There’d even been a pause, the three dots flashing as she typed her reply for almost two full minutes.

He’d been in the middle of beating himself up for being too full-on, when her breezy reply arrived. Sure. Which hotel and I’ll give you an ETA.

Forty minutes later he was sat at his breakfast table, staring at the entrance rather than the magnificent view. When she entered the foyer and stopped at a mirror to fluff her messy hair, she scowled at her reflection as if unimpressed, and then hurried towards the maître d’, who took one look at her and seemed to come to the same opinion.

Hannah’s cheeks flushed pink and the grip on her huge purse tightened. She was still wearing the same clothes from the flight, which surprised him. Hadn’t her advice been to sleep a few hours once she arrived home and then start the day on Sydney time?

Standing up, he waved at her to get her attention, and with visible relief, she pointed him out to the maître d’, who reluctantly stepped aside to let her in.