Chapter 2

Damien Black smiled at the intriguing woman in the next seat. That sexy teacher who

I was reviewing University of Sydney exams, but I didn't have an Australian accent. A

woman whose telephone conversation had given him a stressful headache.

The intellectualoid snob who thought her novels were superficial crap.

Not that he disagreed with that opinion, necessarily, but damn! he had fun

writing that superficial junk beyond profitable! He had the best job

universe, fuck: making up stories, playing with imaginary friends and getting paid well

for that.

That teacher intrigued him not just because she was hot, in a subtle, elegant way.

He wondered how she would react when she found out he was the guy whose books she had

belittled, but Damien preferred to contain his need to satisfy his curiosity. They

they had a long flight ahead of them and could turn the trip into something really fun. Like this,

he thought the chances would be better if that woman knew him before she knew his

identity.

"You were shaking your head and letting out one sigh after another," he said. - And without

give your sips.

She looked at the empty glass.

— I see that you do not suffer from this affliction.

Damien had to admit, a woman with a sharp tongue was quite attractive. A

joke was a good start. Maybe she'd soften and think of a friendlier use for

this language.

- Drink it. This will lessen your headache.

She frowned.

“I'm not with—” Then he made a face. “Well, maybe the beginning of one.

The stewardess arrived with the bottle of champagne and a big smile.

"I'm sorry, I didn't forget about you," and he filled his glass.

"Great, Carmen." That attractive brunette had said her name and recognized it as soon as she saw it.

Damien got on the plane.

She arched an eyebrow at the teacher:

"Do you want more, Miss Fallon?" Or would you rather I bring you something else?

- It is not alright. I was on the phone.” She held up her dead cell. - As already

hung up, I'm about to enjoy the champagne.

"Enjoy as you please," Carmen said, and gave her a wink before moving on.

Yes, Carmen had thrown herself at him when he'd come aboard. She made it clear that

was available for something else. She and about a hundred women in the two years since

his first book hit the bestseller lists and Damien became a familiar face in the

TV talk shows. Not to mention that he had been voted one of the ten most

country sexy.

The image of “coveted and sexy bachelor” had a prominent place in the publicity plan that

his agent and his marketing advisor had developed, a fact that at first he found

funny, but soon got worn out. This business of women throwing themselves at him had lost

the fun. The truth was, things weren't quite so flattering when women

they elbowed a guy just because he was famous and sexy. Being a celebrity had its

disadvantages.

The truth is that the teacher interested him more than Carmen. She looked hot, with

an attractive face that wasn't caked with makeup, a lean, shapely body, and

breasts that should be completely natural. Besides, she intrigued him. That woman

posed a challenge. While he clearly wasn't immune to the chemistry between them, he sure

she wasn't throwing herself at him.

Could he win her over before she found out who he was?

Damien held out the glass towards her:

"Have a safe trip and don't let the bugs knock you down!"

He would have said "motherfuckers" but he thought that might piss her off.

A light chuckle broke out and her eyes warmed. Those eyes reminded Damien

of the waters in a billabong: shades of reddish brown illuminated by flecks of blue and

green, like the reflections of red rocks and trees in blue water. As with

a billabong, a guy could look into its depths and get lost. Especially now when

his amusement made the pair of eyes gleam as if sunlight stained still water.

He tapped his glass:

— The bugs?

“Yes, or who made you sigh like a strong wind through the trees.

Her lips twitched, more in regret than amusement.

- My sister. My sisters actually.

The woman's eyes widened, and Damien felt the information slip out unintentionally.

smile creating a gap in his discretion. She looked away and raised the glass to her lips.

“Oh, family. You can't live with it, you can't shoot it. Easier to just avoid it

“That was your current strategy with your own family.

"It's true." She looked into her glass. “But it's not always possible.

- No?

She looked up, eyes narrowing.

“I really need to work.

Why was she so determined to keep him away? He was about to ask when

he felt the touch of a hand on his right forearm.

"Sorry to interrupt," Carmen's voice purred, not sounding much like an apology. —

We are preparing for takeoff. I need to fold your little tables. You can

hold your glasses and I'll be back with more champagne as soon as we're airborne.

He heard a quick sip on his other side, and the teacher held her glass past him.

Damien.

“I'm done. Take it, thanks,” she said coldly.

Damien could tell that she wasn't sympathetic to the flight attendant.

"I'll keep mine," he said.

When Carmen was gone, he turned to his traveling companion.

“You know what they say about all work and no play?

The woman pressed her lips together, folding them into a thin line. When he loosened them, they were

soft and with a deep pink, natural. Ripe to be kissed.

However, his voice was cold.

“Believe me, I know. They make Theresa look like a boring person. thing I

am. So you can keep to yourself and let me get on with my work. I'm sure that

Carmen will be more than happy if you talk to her.

Interesting. Damien was a great observer for a guy – a writer had to be – and

he realized that she had just delivered a smattering of information. Not only did you reveal your

name, but also the fact that the boys thought she was a very serious woman and that she didn't

cared to make that very clear. Now, what was that about Carmen? I wonder if he

detect a hint of jealousy?

This was going to be an interesting flight.

Damien decided to let Professor Theresa Fallon win this round. When they

were in the air, with drinks and snacks, she would be forced to put the evidence aside.

“Okay,” he replied. "Go on with your work, then."

Besides, it wasn't like he didn't have work to do. That wasn't a trip

on vacation. I had just finished a week-long promotional tour of Australia, spent a few

days at home in Sydney to catch my breath, and was now leaving for a month-long tour of the

United States and Canada. With him, he took the evidence from Gale Force, which had to be back.

with your editor in a week. And, of course, there was Scorched Earth, the book he was writing.

At least it was until it got stuck at a plot point.

Beside him, Theresa was grading the papers again. Absentmindedly, she raised her hand and

he rubbed his forehead down to the gleaming brown hair. The gesture made him focus on his

slender fingers, which, even with short, unpainted nails, showed a feminine grace

particular. Fingers he'd bet would be a lot nicer on his skin than claws

Carmen's pointed red eyes.

A disadvantage of business class was the width of the seats. In economics, the arm of

Theresa would have brushed against yours. The woman's bare arm against his, the constant murmur of flesh

against flesh acting like the friction of two sticks being rubbed together, in the way some

ancient aborigines made fire. Friction, heat, friction, spark, more friction – then flames.

Of course, if he and Theresa had touched like that, he would have had an erection. just being

that close to her was enough to tease all of his senses. He felt every move

her. Her scent—a fresh, country scent—made him think of outdoor sex.

Damien shifted his position, intending to adjust his swollen bundle. trying to get

distracted, he decided to work on his plot knot. He closed his eyes and reviewed everything he had

written until that day.

The book began with the lead detective being scolded by his superior. Although Kalti

Brown had solved his last case, he had refused to reveal exactly how he had identified the

bandit, and how this criminal had died in a suspicious gale. Kalti's secret was

that he had a special connection with his totem spirit and with the creator spirits of the Time of

Dream.4 When bad people went against natural laws, the spirits were so determined

to punish them as Kalti did, and they worked together in an often unbeneficial alliance.

he.

As Damien pondered with his eyes closed, he was faintly aware of the plane taxiing and then

taking off. And I could hear the elderly couple on the other side of the corridor in the distance, telling Carmen that

were heading to Vancouver to visit family, including a new great-grandchild.

Kalti, well, he was a loner for obvious reasons, but his boss had decided that someone

should keep an eye on him. Enter Marianna, his new partner. Woman, white, hard line,

policeman who did everything by strictly following the rules.

Beside him, Damien heard the teacher dig through his carry-on bag and pull out something that

it made noise. More proof, he decided, then went back to his musings.

Marianna was tough, career-focused, and resentful of being assigned to

working with a policeman with a reputation for being rejected. She didn't trust Kalti and he, who guarded

many secrets, could not trust anyone. However, partners should be a

team and able to trust each other.

The two were assigned to solve some murders that could be the work of a serial.

The two were assigned to solve some murders that could be the work of a serial.

killer. There was a common thread in those deaths that made Kalti suspicious.

Beside him, Theresa was muttering to herself, breaking her concentration. he heard something

like, "For just six thousand dollars, you too can look like a strawberry parfait."

And then: "Or a mummy." His brain couldn't understand what he was hearing. When she

said, "It can't weigh more than forty kilos. If a man embraces her, she will break in two”,

he had to open his eyes and look over her.

What he saw made him laugh. She had a bridal magazine open in front of her.

"Wedding dresses?" What happened to all the work you had to do?

Her flushed cheeks matched her tank top.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"Hard to sleep with all that mumbling," Damien teased.

— Oh , damn it. Sorry. It's a bad habit.

- Don't worry. But I'm curious. Does a strawberry parfait cost six thousand dollars?

She flipped through the pages and he looked down at a milkshake-colored lace slip.

Of Strawberry. He let out a whistle.

"That's ridiculous." Her sagging lines made him think of melted ice cream, and yet

there was a big thing at the waist, which was probably a bow, but it looked like a bow.

giant softened strawberry. "But aren't wedding dresses supposed to be white?" I mean, the

unless you're asian or something.

— Pink is the latest trend. But, yes, most are white or cream. Look at this.

Another page turned, and he saw a pale, sad-looking woman whose thin body

it was wrapped several times in what looked like a gauze bandage. Or a mummy.

“She looks like a corpse, so I think it's only fair that she's wrapped like one.

Theresa laughed and, eyes shining, turned the page.

- What about this?

This one also had neither boobs nor ass. My God, she was more than skinny, she was

cadaveric.

"Wow, a stick woman," and Damien scowled. - Scary. How someone

could you find that attractive?

She shook her head firmly, her red hair bouncing and then stilling.

“I don't think so, I'm sure. ’ And he added, ‘What a horrible message that sends to people.

younger women.

- Yes. And trust me, if they stay like that, no guy will marry them.” He couldn't

imagine any man with blood running through his veins wanting to fuck a skeleton.

And speaking of sex... Damien used the excuse of unbuckling his seat belt, leaned over

and let his arm brush against hers, feeling a slight connection.

Then, quickly, he walked away. Shit, what was he doing? obviously the one

woman was engaged, despite those ringless fingers. It's about time to stop wanting

seduce the teacher.

That didn't mean they couldn't talk, though. He turned another page of

magazine, then another.

“Well, at least this girl has curves, below the waist, okay… Dude, look at this one.

her ass…” Then, he looked closer. "Or is it the dress that makes her look so

big like that?

"I found out it's called the mermaid court." Yes, it does accentuate the... er... the buttocks by curving it.

and then opening up, so that she can walk. Or at least limp...

"Yeah, she sure as hell couldn't waltz in one of those."

— Waltz? Theresa looked at him, puzzled. "You don't look like the waltz type."

— Hey, I'm from Oz,5 Waltzing Matilda?6 — Truth is, he was one hell of a

dancer.

"Oh yes, of course…" The corners of her eyes tightened in a smile. — This is not

a song about a swagman, a tramp, dancing with his bundle, i.e., his pack

withered of goods?

"These bloody academics," he lamented. “They take everything literally.

"How do you know I'm an academic?"

“Why, those end-of-semester university exams?

“Oh, of course!

Damien looked back at the magazine.

"I hate those dresses when the top is stiff and doesn't move when the woman wears it."

moves. And why do many of these models look so unhappy?

— Yeah, what a way to sell a dress... What's the myth they're selling? That

wasn't it supposed to be the happiest day of her life?

- Myth? — and Demian looked at her. "You mean you don't buy that idea?"

The teacher shrugged.

“I think it's good to start feeling this way. Even if it's reality, you have more

fifty percent chance of being unhappy.

Oops! A cynical bride? Of course, she must have thought her fiancé and she would get over it.

this probability.

“Where did you get that depressing statistic?”

— About half of marriages end in divorce. And many of the spouses are unhappy,

but they don't get divorced. Ergo, only something like a quarter of marriages are actually

happy.

Ergo? What kind of woman speaks ergo? As for his stats… Damien shook his head,

confused. He was thirty-three years old and had never met a woman who made him want to.

settle down, but he kind of wanted to get married one day. Really being married, in the way

traditional, that of “growing old together”. The way the teacher had presented the facts,

it seemed crazy to think so.

Absentmindedly, he turned a few more pages. Hmm, some dresses were really

beautiful, dressed by models who really looked like real smiling women, very

attractive. If he were Theresa, this would be the style he would choose.

When he started to turn the page again, her hand caught his.

- Hang on.

The touch was delicious, but she didn't even seem aware of the contact. Instead, the woman looked

to the magazine, paralyzed.

“That one. It's beautiful.” His finger brushed the page in reverence.

The ivory colored dress was simple, and more beautiful than the fancy ones. the part of

The strapless top was delicate without being stiff, and was decorated with pearls or glittering beads. One

pearly sash with a bow ran along the top and below the bust line, and then the

dress fell to the floor in a thin wave of fabric. A woman could waltz dressed in it and he

would glide softly and romantically drifting seductively around the legs of a

individual. And under his hands, the woman's back would be bare, soft, warm...

Not that he was up for marriage or anything like that.

But for some reason, he felt a strange pang as he imagined Theresa looking like that.

dressed, twirling around the dance floor with another man. Then later in the moon suite

of honey from a luxury hotel, her dress being unzipped. Or does the back have

buttons? The dress would slide down her body and pool on the floor, leaving her fully dressed.

with something white and lacy, very short, showing off her slim but defined curves.

Wow, twice wow! He shouldn't be thinking like that about another man's bride.

Damien cleared his throat and tried to sound more objective.

"It's a very pretty dress and you would look good in it." Would show your neck and your arms,

that are beautiful. The model has this long hair that falls over her shoulders, but I think

that the dress looks better with short hair like yours.

Or why would he let his skin show?

Theresa looked at him in a daze. Shit, he sounded kind of gay.

- I? she hissed.

“It's the prettiest wedding dress you've ever looked at.

"Oohh, are you getting married, Miss Fallon?" Carmen was back, resting her hand on

Damien's shoulder so she could lean over and peer into the magazine. “Let's see. oh those are

very simple—she discarded the page he and Theresa were studying and turned a few pages.

others — Look at this one! Isn't it stunning?

He looked at the photo.

"Why is everything stuck in those frilly things?" It looks like a mosquito net!

Carmen's hand tightened on her shoulder. Rolling her eyes, she said to Theresa:

"Men... They don't have good taste in that sort of thing." Using Damien's shoulder

for support, and giving another squeeze, the flight attendant straightened. “That calls for champagne. I will be back in a moment.

“I don't—” Theresa started to say, but Carmen was already gone. The teacher turned to

Damien with a mischievous smile. - I'm with you. That dress looks like a mosquito net.

'Unless your fiancé wanted to spend his honeymoon on safari, I'd take the other one.'

“I'm not the one getting married. It's my little sister.

— Ahhhhh...

The single syllable came out of him slowly, as if in a sigh of…relief? No, it had to be pure

sexual pleasure that woman had not yet been taken. Does that mean that she still

it was prey, still in the safari analogy.

“I'm flying to Vancouver, where my parents and Merilee live, to organize the

marriage.

"And you, aren't you married?"

"No," and those billabong eyes studied him for a long moment. - Divorced. AND

unwilling to take a second chance.

So she had personal experience with these divorce statistics.

“I'm sorry it didn't work out.

She shrugged nonchalantly, but some shadows clouded her eyes.

“It was a learning experience. And you?

“Not even close.

"You seem to have more common sense than I do."

“I'm not so sure it's common sense. I have nothing

against the idea. At first.” And he gave her a quick smile. "Or at least it didn't until you did."

cite those statistics. I just haven't found a woman who doesn't annoy me — at the same

By the time he said those words, he was already regretting having let them out. no that no

were true, but they would make him look like one.

"Not very fond of yourself, is that it?" she teased.

"It's not that," he chuckled. “Well, more or less. You have to like yourself. I want

say, who else is going to do it?

She laughed. Man, the woman had a beautiful laugh, soft and husky, like a whispering breeze.

among the leaves of the gum tree.

“Okay, but how can you suggest that all women are boring?

“That's not what I said.” He paused, fixing his gaze on her. "I just haven't found one."

woman I wanted to marry.

Another laugh.

— I don't know, you don't look gay to me, I don't know.

- You think?

Oh yes, he liked her smile, her laugh, the sun-over-water gleam in her eyes.

They were indeed things he was beginning to admire.

He didn't even care when Carmen arrived with the champagne. at least until

she leaned towards Theresa to hand her a flute glass and pushed her left breast

on his face.

Not that he had anything against women's breasts. He preferred the ones that were

soft and one hundred percent natural, which he doubted Carmen's were, but at the same time

he might have accepted the offer if he'd been sitting next to someone other than Theresa.

But now there was Theresa – whose lit face had turned into a frown.

sullen – and Damien preferred her company. She was sexier, prettier, more interesting, and

there was still that challenge factor. The time constraint too, he only had ten hours to

charm her.

However, something had to be done about Carmen. and the magazine

Theresa gave him an idea. Could he persuade her to accompany him?

When Carmen came to get the empty glass, he asked:

"Could you bring me a clean glass, please?"

"With pleasure." She did a pirouette and headed down the hall, the curves of her buttocks

squirming.

Quickly, Damien turned to Theresa.

- Do me a favor. Pretend we're engaged.

- What? What are you talking about?

"Save me from that woman's clutches."

“Da… Carmen?” But you are flirting with her.

— Unconscious reflex. It was stupidity that I regret. Will you help me?

A raised eyebrow answered the question.

"You know, she'd give you pretty much anything you asked for, don't you?"

“She has nothing I want.” He looked up to see Carmen returning from the kitchen.

- Please?

- Are you sure?

Damien grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers. Warm and soft skin; the fingers

intertwined making him think of intertwined bodies. Ah, yes, his plan already had benefits...

“Holy shit, love,” he said to Theresa when the flight attendant reached his side. —

We let the secret slip. You just couldn't resist going to look at the dresses

wedding.

"I, um..." she stammered.

He lifted both of their clasped hands and kissed the back of Theresa's hand. Hmmm, he

I could definitely do a lot more than that, but I was on a mission right now, so

he lifted his head and turned to Carmen.

“I know Theresa and I said we weren't together, but that was a lie. Us

we just got engaged and it's a secret. I don't want the news to get out before I tell the

her family.

His explanation might not make much sense to Theresa, but it would to Carmen. She

would have known that the engagement of one of the ten sexiest bachelors in Oz would be big news for

tabloids. The kind of gossip that would make your publicist and publicist furious, talking

in this, because it would make one of the main axes of its publicity campaign unfeasible. Shit. Tell

that to Carmen hadn't actually been one of her best ideas. Especially taking into account the

kind of look she was throwing.

- But I thought...

"I'm sorry," Theresa cut her off, "I asked the... uh..." Her eyes widened.

when, no doubt, she realized that she did not know his name. Quickly, she continued — I asked

to my fiance to pretend we weren't together. I hope he doesn't overdo it by making you

to think that... uh...

The flight attendant let her eyes narrow.

"No, no, of course not!"

Quickly, she poured her champagne, without offering them congratulations, and then

he shot her a nasty look as he left.

“Very well, thank you,” he said to Theresa, squeezing the hand he still held.

Funny how that seemed natural to her. - You saved me.

She pulled her hand free of the grip and rolled her eyes.

“Don't hint at women. And by the way, what's your name again? I almost

I screwed it up when I realized I didn't know the name of my would-be “fiancé”.

Good thinking, but she had heard Carmen address him as Mr. Black. if

If he told her his first name, Damien, she would probably recognize him. And he still doesn't

felt ready for it. Not now, when he'd gotten her to pretend they were.

involved, which meant that she would at least act amicably.

"Day," he replied, giving him the nickname some of his friends used.

—Day? What an unusual name. She studied his face. — Are you Asian? In fact, is there any

thing in your skin tone, your physical features.

He took advantage of the opening Theresa offered him.

"My paternal grandmother was Chinese." He pulled up his left sleeve to

reveal the tattoo of a Chinese dragon that wrapped around his bicep. Then he took the

champagne glass. "Let's make a toast to..." and was about to end the sentence with

“getting rid of Carmen” when a voice, male this time, spoke over her shoulder.

"Did I hear you tell the stewardess that you're getting married?"

Startled, Damien almost dropped his glass. He turned to see the older man in the

across the hall – who looked too young to be a great-grandfather, with his thick silver hair

and bright blue eyes – standing next to him.

“Er, yes, that's true.

At least, that's what he'd told the girl.

“Congratulations.” The bright eyes softened, a little cloudy. - O

Best day of my life was when I married Delia . Each day has been a blessing.

A growl came from behind him.

"I'll remember that line, Trev, the next time I complain about the way I cook."

the eggs.

The man turned and Damien could see his wife, with a crochet hook in her hand and a

roll of yellow wool next to the glass of champagne on her tray. His eyes were blue too and

gleamed above the wire-rimmed reading glasses she pushed up on the bridge of her nose.

"Better than having to cook my own eggs, isn't it?" replied the man

with a smile and continued on her way down the hall towards the restrooms.

- Do you want an advice? the woman, Delia , asked Damien.

— Er...

Theresa leaned forward, her arm brushing against his, a hint of mischief in her expression.

voice when he said:

- Yes please.

“Don't hold a grudge and don't go to bed angry. It contaminates. even if you are

mad at the other person, ask yourself if your life would be better without him. If the answer is

yeah, better get out of that bed and go. If the answer is no, then give him a big kiss.

Talk through what's wrong, try to fix it and get over it, and move on.

Damien smiled at her.

"Sounds like wise advice."

- And yes.

Theresa's voice sounded a little sad, and he wondered if she was thinking about the

marriage itself. Was it she or her husband who had gotten out of bed? Does she

did you regret what you had done? She said she had no intention of remarrying. That

because she was disillusioned with men, skeptical about marriage, or still in love with her ex?

"How long have you been married?" Theresa asked the older woman. — If

you have a great-grandson, you must be on your way to your golden wedding anniversary.

— Oh! Trev and I are almost newlyweds. We got married two years ago. The family in

Vancouver is mine, from my first marriage.

“Well, congratulations,” Theresa said. “For the new member of the family and for finding the

happiness a second time.

- Thanks. And good luck to you both.

She pushed her glasses up and went back to crocheting, making something so small it only

could be for the baby.

Damien turned to Theresa and raised his glass again.

"For a happy marriage and a happy life together," he said aloud. Then

murmured, "For your sister."

"Clink-Clink." She tapped her glass to his.

They both took a sip, then she said quietly:

“I want to ask you something.

Had she realized his name? Cautiously, Damien replied:

- Yes?

She looked past the man.

"Will anyone hear us?"

He shook his head, denying it.

"Not if we speak in low voices." The seats are too far apart, and this cocoon kind of

isolate everyone. What is your question?

“What did Carmen do wrong?”

- There is?

“You were flirting with her, winding her up. Then you decided you weren't

interested. What did she do?

- She? No, she didn't do anything. It was you, Theresa.

Damn it, why not be honest for once?

- I? I don't understand. And how do you know my name anyway?

“Working so hard makes Theresa a dull girl. You said that, remember? In

Anyway, I don't think you're a boring girl. The truth is that I'm more

interested in you than her.