‘Siena,’ he said, his voice thick with emotion, no longer able to hold back from going to her.
Siena looked up. And she couldn’t believe her bloodshot eyes.
‘James?’
She’d been sitting there, thinking of nothing but him, wondering if he might find her letter one day, if he ever braved his blog again after her confession that she had read it all, and then there he was. Real. There. Hers.
She rose from her seat, staring into his face—his breathing was ragged, his clothes askew, his eyes bright and vivid and warm and willing.
He stood before her dressed almost the same as he had been that first day, in an old T-shirt, soft jeans clinging to lean hips, heavy scuffed work boots, short ash-brown hair just a little ragged from running his hands across it as he always seemed to do when she was acting a little nuts, which was often enough.
He was absolutely the sexiest, sweetest, most gorgeous man she had ever known. Sexier even than Action James of the photos on top of the piano. She didn’t know that man. But this man she knew. This man she loved.
Without another word, she rushed to him, wrapping her arms about his neck as he enveloped her completely in his inviolable embrace. Her whole body shook as she let go, let go of all her hurt and pain and happiness and love in one great gushing stream of tears.
Only once her racking sobs had subsided did James pull slowly away, sliding his arms from around her so he could run soft fingers down her damp cheeks.
‘What’s with all the tears?’ he asked, a true smile lighting his beautiful eyes.
Siena sniffed and did her best to take a proper breath. But she couldn’t. His very presence had stolen her breath fair away. ‘I can’t … I can’t believe you’re really here.’
‘Ye of little faith,’ he chastised.
‘I hoped. I wished. I sent out as many happy thoughts as I could. But I never really thought it would happen.’
‘Tell me about it,’ he said, now running his hands lovingly over her hair. ‘I’ve spent months thinking those very same thoughts, all but convincing myself I could never possibly hope to feel this way about someone. Now it just pains me to think that if I hadn’t got here in time …’
Siena could feel the pain in his voice as he contemplated her leaving and not coming back.
‘What?’ she said. ‘Are you some sort of quitter?’
He raised an eloquent eyebrow, a hint of a sparkle in his eyes.
‘Would you not have chased me all the way to Melbourne?’ she asked.
He thought about it and then smiled. ‘Actually, I would.’
‘Well, it’s your lucky day. It wouldn’t have come to that. I’ve booked myself on a flight back here tomorrow afternoon as it is.’
‘A working flight?’ he asked, and she knew he still hadn’t realised that she had really gone ahead and chosen him over Rome.
‘As a passenger, of course! Because, now that I will be working here, I was thinking I might try to find myself a cute little apartment somewhere up this way. Something with air-conditioning, for sure.’
‘Don’t tell me you quit,’ he said and the sparkle had turned into the beginnings of a smile and Siena knew she was home.
She saw the wheels and cogs turn in his head as he computed what she was telling him.
‘Nah,’ she said. ‘I made Max an offer he couldn’t refuse. I was going to tell all when I turned up at your place as a surprise tomorrow night but now you’ve saved me the trip … I suggested that if he thinks I’m that fabulous at my job that I should stay here training all his new recruits to be just like me, making sure they know what MaxAir service is all about if they want to fly the grand overseas routes. Telling them the truth of it, preparing them for the joy and the sacrifices both. And he thought it a great idea!’
‘Of course I believe it. He would have been stupid not to think so. Though they couldn’t be just like you if they tried. Not one of them. Unless of course you did build an army of Siena-shaped robots to do the job—’
She glared at him and slapped him on the back. Then, before she knew what he was about to do, he grabbed her tight and twirled her in his arms.
Siena laughed out loud. She felt giddy, loved and wondrous, like someone in one of those romantic ads for telephone companies that made every girl on the planet cry.
He brought her back to the ground, hugging her tight, whispering against her ear. ‘Don’t get an apartment,’ he said, his voice insistent, strong and determined. ‘Don’t?’
‘I meant it when I told you that you should stay. I was just too struck dumb by the image of you in those sexy-as-hell pyjamas to be able to find the words to tell you properly. But since this get-up does nothing at all for me …’