equally well-dressed young woman pushed a covered luggage trolley.
Kelsie blinked. It wasn’t luggage on the trolley. It was furniture.
The hostess directed her junior to unroll a plush, deep red carpet stamped with a blue and gold insignia and then… magic.
Kelsie blinked again as within seconds a large circular waiting area sprang up in an empty space on the grey concrete. The beautiful oak reception desk, also sporting insignias, two potted palms in four-legged oak pots, also on wheels, a gold-edged name plate on the desk and a bowl of roses. Kelsie thought they looked suspiciously real.
The young hostess snapped open a box of labels and turned to the bemused crowd. ‘Who is first?’ She smiled and then disappeared from view for a moment behind the surge of patrons.
‘I can see why you travel with him,’ Kelsie whispered to Winsome as they stayed seated to allow the crowd to thin, and Winsome nodded complacently.
At that moment the unmistakable sound of a diesel engine and rattle of wheels on rails heralded the arrival of the world’s most famous train and everyone paused to look.
Shiny blue carriages, with burnished gold edges and gold lettering, and gleaming panes of glass all came closer until the brakes screeched as the wheels locked on the rails and inched to a stop.
The anticipation in the air rose like the smell of diesel from the train.
Thank goodness for the distraction, Kelsie thought with relief. It was the perfect excuse to put some distance between her and Connor. She turned to Winsome. ‘May I leave my bag here while I go and have a closer look?’
Winsome patted her leg. ‘Of course.’
Kelsie stood hastily and without glancing at the man looming over her she carried her disposable coffee cup to the platform and began to wander up the length of the train.
Such shiny gold trim around the windows and gorgeous lettering proclaiming ‘Express Eurpeen’ above the glass, but it was that chance to peer in, that glimpse into a bygone era that attracted her. Each cabin held an ornate bench seat with tiny lace-covered tables and a dainty pink lamp next to a delicate orchid that danced in a slender crystal vase, and everywhere rich, dark panelling glowed in the dim light with exquisite parquetry. She couldn’t wait to see which tiny cabin was hers.
Not to mention the relief of being able to hide her face from the steely glance of the man she’d jilted more than a decade ago.
Back on the bench Winsome Black raised her brows quizzically. ‘She’s very striking.’
‘Hmm.’ Connor didn’t want to think about Kelsie Summers and he certainly didn’t want to talk about her. He tried not to glance up the platform but his gaze strayed disobediently before he whipped it back. She still had the whippet thinness he remembered but had gained subtle womanly curves that beckoned anyone with a spoonful of testosterone without her even trying. Typical.
He snapped his teeth together. ‘If you give me your ticket I’ll check your baggage in. I imagine it will take a while before all these people are checked in and the luggage loaded.’
His grandmother had declined to allow him to care for the tickets. He wasn’t used to it. the whole ‘not being in command’ thing. And he knew she regularly lost things so he’d be glad when he’d secured the damn things and they were on the train.
His mind drifted unexpectedly. Kelsie used to lose things all the time too.
He snapped back to the present and the frown he sent his grandmother must have been more ferocious than he thought because she burst out laughing.
‘And will you cut off my head if I don’t?’
‘What?’
‘Give you the tickets. You have serious control issues.’ She shot him a penetrating glance. ‘Thinking of other things, were you?’
Lord, he’d forgotten how easily she read him. ‘No.’ He took the tickets she offered. ‘And thank you,’ he added, his voice dry. This journey could prove very tiresome if Winsome decided to tease him for most of it.
He moved into line behind a young woman buried in what looked like a 1940s ankle-length trench coat two sizes too large for her, and the fur of the collar was pulled up around her ears. When she darted a look at him all he could see was the bridge of her nose under her dark glasses and the thick black hair scraped back off her high forehead.
‘Buon giorno,’ he said.
‘Buon giorno,’ she whispered back, and turned away.
Maybe she was a very young secret agent? This trip had the makings of a farce already, he thought sardonically, and glanced ahead to another older lady around his grandmother’s age, though not as well looking come to think of it, accompanied by a younger woman.
He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. That could be an answer. Distract Gran with a kindred spirit. Maybe arrange to have them sit together at dinner. He glanced at the girl. She had a nice smile so even if Gran tried to pair him off with someone else, it wouldn’t be too bad. Anywhere away from Kelsie Summers.
Truth be told, he didn’t understand why he was dwelling on such a chance encounter with a woman he’d once fancied in his youth. Well, maybe a little more than that but it wasn’t like he’d carried her with him for all these years—or been celibate. Far from it.
Neither had he found anyone else he could think of joining his life with, a sardonic voice inside suggested, and he impatiently brushed that thought away. A full-time relationship was the last thing he required. He seriously didn’t have time.
The line moved forward and he wondered idly where the luggage for the woman in front was.
Which made him shoot a glance back at where Kelsie’s Suitcase-asaurus Rex was, and decided it was the biggest damn thing he’d ever seen and even she’d have trouble losing that. He wondered if she knew she couldn’t have it in the cabin with her and then shrugged.
And why was that his problem? What was wrong with his brain today? Thankfully the line moved forward and he directed his thoughts to move on too.
His eyes drifted back when the line stopped again. Her suitcase was still there. Might have been a stretch to think that someone would steal it anyway but…
She was back. Sitting next to his grandmother, and they looked like they were having a lovely conversation. He groaned and tried not to crush the tickets in his clenched hand. Kelsie had always been a great listener. He turned back to the line.
Insidiously, while he stared at the back of the head of the woman in front, his mind drifted to all those plans they’d had when he’d been young and stupid. Plans he’d built in his head during those impressionable teenage years that you never seemed to forget. No matter how hard you tried. The only one he had ever shared them with had been Kelsie because she’d been so much a part of his life then.
The first plan had always been—marry Kelsie. Keep her safe.
Then—become a doctor.
The third—take her to Venice on the Orient Express when they could afford it, because it was the one thing she really did have a fantasy about.
