Too Good to Be True Read online

  “I Want What Everyone Wants.

  To Meet the Right Person, to Marry

  Her, to Live Happily Ever After.”

  Carey broke away from him but Ben kept his arms linked behind her back. His blue eyes looked darker in the subdued lighting of the balcony.

  “My God,” he continued. “I never realized it could be like this.”

  “What?” Her own voice was shaky.

  “A kiss.”

  She smiled slightly. “I’m sure you’ve had much better kisses.”

  “No,” Ben said. “I’ve had longer kisses. And kisses with girls I’ve known for ages. But I’ve never kissed anyone like you before.”

  She didn’t want him to say things like this. Things he couldn’t possibly mean. She didn’t want her one-night stand to be infused with a whole heap of sentiment that wouldn’t mean anything in the cold light of day.

  He held her tightly. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  Too Good To Be True

  “O’Flanagan’s best one yet!”

  — Irish Independent

  “A love story that sparkles like a Tiffany’s window.”

  — Escape

  “[A] page-turner, a curl-up-by-the-fire or lie-by-the-pool read.”

  — Evening Herald (U.K.)

  …And Praise for Sheila O’Flanagan’s Previous Novel, He’s Got to Go

  “A fun, snappy tale of three likable sisters and the men who give them so much heartache.”

  — Booklist

  “Worth packing in your suitcase!”

  — Express & Star

  “O’Flanagan puts her [characters] through so much good conversation — both sharp repartee and introspective soul-searching — that they come to life.”

  — Publishers Weekly

  AVAILABLE FROM DOWNTOWN PRESS

  Also by Sheila O’Flanagan

  He’s Got to Go

  DOWNTOWN PRESS, published by Pocket Books

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2003 by Sheila O’Flanagan

  First published in Great Britain in 2003 by Headline Book Publishing

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  O’Flanagan, Sheila.

  Too good to be true / Sheila O’Flanagan.— 1st Downtown Press trade pbk. ed.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 1-4165-1001-X

  I. Title.

  PR6115.F53T66 2005

  823’.914 — dc22

  2004052169

  First Downtown Press trade paperback edition December 2004

  DOWNTOWN PRESS and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Designed by Jaime Putorti

  Visit us on the World Wide Web:

  http://www.SimonSays.com

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Up Close and Personal with the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Many, many thanks to:

  Agent, friend and shoe-freak, Carole Blake

  My family and friends

  The Downtown team

  Colm — my all-time high

  Very special thanks to Lilian Cassin of the Irish Aviation Authority, who was so helpful throughout. Any air traffic control mistakes are definitely mine and not hers! My gratitude also to the teams of controllers in Dublin and Shannon who took the time to explain it all to me.

  And to everyone who reads my books — a million thanks as always.

  Chapter One

  CLARY SAGE

  An essential oil with a warm, nutty scent, it has euphoric properties which promote a sense of well-being

  When Carey Browne stepped out onto West 34th Street she stopped in surprise. Not that she should have been surprised, she said to Ben, who was standing beside her holding at least half-a-dozen Macy’s bags thanks to her indulgence in a sudden frenzy of last-minute shopping; last night’s report from the Weather Channel had shown a shocking weather system heading in from the Midwest and they’d said there was a likelihood of snow on the East Coast. It was just that despite the bitingly cold morning air which had caused their breath to hang in little puffs in front of them when they left the hotel, there hadn’t been any signs of snow as they walked into the store over an hour earlier. Now it was falling in a slow-motion frenzy of heavy white flakes and was at least an inch thick on the sidewalk.

  “Sorry,” said Ben, who’d told her that the Weather Channel wasn’t always accurate and that January snowstorms often blew themselves out. “I wanted to be optimistic.”

  She linked her arm through his and snuggled closer to his fur-lined leather jacket. “It doesn’t matter,” she told him. But she frowned because if the snow continued falling at this rate their flight was sure to be delayed. She did some mental calculations and hoped that even if they were delayed, she’d still manage to get back to Dublin in time for her shift the following day. If worse comes to worst she could always phone, let them know she’d be late and get someone to cover for her. But she didn’t want to phone Ireland because, if she did, she’d have to tell them everything that had happened in the last few days, and she wasn’t ready to do that yet. She’d hardly got her head around it herself. Besides, she wanted to tell them face to face.

  “We’d better leave ourselves a little extra time to get to the airport,” she told Ben as they walked down the street, carrier bags bumping against their legs. “I’ve never been here in a snowstorm before, but whenever it snows at Dublin there’s always problems with people getting delayed.”

  “I do my best to be optimistic because you always look on the worst side.” He grinned at her. “I bet you anything we get away on time.”

  “You think?” There was amusement and challenge in her voice.

  “Absolutely.”

  “How much?”

  “Five dollars,” he told her. “It’s all the cash that I’ve left since you cleaned me out in the store.”

  She looked at him penitently, but her brown eyes twinkled. “I couldn’t help it. The discounts were so utterly brilliant that those clothes just begged to be bought.”

  “I know,” he s
aid. “But to max out both your credit cards and all of your cash…”

  “Give me a break!” she cried. “I didn’t do it all today.”

  He laughed. “I know, I know. New York, Las Vegas, New York — what’s a girl to do? And,” he added, “there were some unexpected expenses.”

  She flung her arms round him and kissed him on the lips. “I loved the unexpected expenses,” she murmured. “And I love, love, love you.”

  “I love you too,” he said.

  “Sure?” she whispered.

  “Sure I’m sure.”

  “Certain?”

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” He brushed melting snowflakes from the mass of nut-brown corkscrew curls that framed her face and from the pair of tiny, dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. “You’re a wonderful woman, and you’ll certainly be the best dressed woman in town when we get home if today’s spree is anything to go by — what’s not to love?”

  “I don’t want you to think that we’ve made a terrible mistake,” she told him. “And I’m sorry about the shopping. Really I am.”

  He grinned. “I don’t think that I’ve made a terrible mistake — at least I managed to keep my credit card number to myself!”

  “You think?”

  “I hope so.”

  “ ’Cos if you really loved me you’d definitely give me your credit card number.” She smiled teasingly at him.

  “I’m hoping our love transcends mere money,” he told her sternly. “All the same, I’d better take you away from the temptation of the stores. Besides, we should get a move on if you want to pack and leave earlier than we planned.”

  He put his arm round her waist and they hurried back towards Penn Station and their hotel. A whirlpool of people and their luggage took up most of the lobby, getting bigger all the time as more and more of them hurried in from the snow-filled streets, brushing the huge white flakes from their shoulders and stamping their feet with the cold.

  Carey looked at the throng. “Our car had better turn up,” she remarked. “We haven’t a hope in hell of getting a cab with that lot lurking round.”

  “You’re being pessimistic again,” said Ben cheerfully. “You don’t have to worry — I’ve got it under control.”

  “My hero.” She looked at him in mock-adoration.

  “What I haven’t got under control is the packing,” he informed her. “Everything has to be crammed into the cases, and it seems to me that we have finite space but infinite purchases to put in it.”

  She made another face at him and followed him to the bank of elevators. He pressed the button for the thirty-sixth floor and she leaned against his shoulder as the elevator moved upwards.

  “I still can’t believe it,” she murmured. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I believed it when we were in Vegas and when it was all happening, but now, getting ready to go home, it doesn’t seem real.”

  “It’s real all right,” said Ben. “Don’t for one minute think you can get out of it.”

  “I don’t.” She turned to him and kissed him again. “I don’t want to get out of it.”

  The elevator stopped on the twenty-first floor, but the couple who were waiting decided not to interrupt the pair who were already occupying it. Carey and Ben were too engrossed in their kiss to notice them anyway.

  “Have you ever done it in an elevator?” he asked as the doors closed again.

  “Nope.”

  “Would you like to?”

  She giggled. “Of course I would. But I rather have the feeling we’ll be at the thirty-sixth floor before we can really get down to it. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “Though I can be very quick, you know.”

  “I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not!” Her chuckle was warm and happy as she nuzzled against his neck.

  The elevator stopped and the chime told them that they were at their floor.

  “Oh well.” Carey straightened her jacket. “Another time perhaps.”

  “On the plane,” suggested Ben. “That Mile-High Club thing. Have you ever done that?”

  “What kind of sex-life d’you think I’ve had?” she demanded. “I went to a convent school, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Convent girls.” He sighed. “Always looking so demure in those uniforms. But we all knew what little vixens you were really.”

  She shoved him in the small of the back, then followed him down the narrow corridor to their room. Ben opened the door and both of them groaned as they looked at their already full luggage.

  “We’ll never manage to pack this lot in as well,” she wailed as she peered into the Macy’s bags. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

  “I tried. I tried. But you were like a woman possessed.”

  “Rubbish,” she said robustly, and stretched out across the bed.

  “Don’t do that,” said Ben.

  “What?”

  “Disport yourself like that,” he told her. “You’re taking my mind off the task in hand.”

  “Sorry,” she said, though her tone belied her words. “I suppose I shouldn’t take your mind off the task because if we do miss the damned plane, I’ll be fired when we eventually get home.”

  “We won’t miss it. It’ll leave on time and you won’t be fired,” said Ben. “Anyway, you told me that there’s always someone to cover for you.”

  “There is,” she told him. “But I don’t want to let them down. It’s a team, you know?”

  “I know.” He kissed her on the nose. “It’s nice to know that underneath that ditzy exterior is a responsible adult.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Well…” Ben laughed and then groaned as she caught him by the waistband of his jeans. “Even still, we probably don’t have time to —”

  “Of course we do,” she interrupted him. “I’m on a roll right now. I don’t want it to end.”

  “It won’t,” he promised her. “You know it’s only just beginning.”

  The driver of the limousine which Ben had booked to take them to the airport was making better time than they’d expected. But the snowfall was now even heavier, and deep white drifts had piled up at the side of the roads. The driver left the freeway and took a route through the suburbs which, he told them, would get them there faster, though Ben looked skeptical.

  “I’m not sure I want to get there faster,” murmured Carey. “This is probably the first and last time I’ll ever travel in a limo. The least I can do is enjoy the experience.” She stretched out across the rear seat and put her feet on Ben’s lap. “Thank you for surprising me with this. I thought it was just going to be an ordinary car.” She smiled at him. “And I know that we should probably be doing all sorts of sexy things back here, but you have me utterly worn out. What would be nice would be a little foot massage. I’m wrecked from all the walking around this morning.”

  Ben eased her tan leather boots from her feet and began to rub her soles.

  “I just might keep you.” She sighed with pleasure. “I really might.”

  They arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare. Ben tipped the limo driver lavishly and then followed Carey to check in. According to the clerk, flights were still departing on schedule.

  “Haven’t heard of any delays yet,” he said cheerfully as he handed them their boarding cards.

  “You see?” said Ben. “No need for all that pessimism earlier. I think that secretly you want to stay a little longer. That’s why you’re hoping the weather will get worse.”

  “Sod off,” she said amiably. “It’s still a five-dollar bet.”

  They had coffee and doughnuts, then strolled to the gate, where a knot of people were already waiting. They sat side by side, Carey skimming through a copy of Vanity Fair while Ben read USA Today. They both looked up when a small squadron of stewards and stewardesses walked through the gate.

  “Hand over the money,” said Ben.

  “It has to depart on time,” Carey told
him. “The crew arriving means nothing.”

  “That means within fifteen minutes of the time on our ticket, doesn’t it?”

  She laughed. “Oh, OK.”

  “I’m in the money,” he said, looking at his watch.

  Five minutes later they announced the flight. Carey asked the stewardess who was collecting the boarding cards if it was really possible they’d make an on-time departure.

  “Of course,” said the woman confidently.

  Carey shrugged and followed Ben along the airbridge. Her teeth worried at her lower lip. She really didn’t want to miss her shift the following day. The original flight time had scheduled them to arrive at Dublin Airport at six o’clock in the morning. Plenty of time, she’d thought, for her to get home, grab some extra sleep and arrive at the air traffic control center, where she worked as a controller, by two o’clock. She knew that she could sleep during the flight, but it wasn’t the same thing. She followed Ben down the aisle and decided that if they were badly delayed she’d get the captain to let Dublin know. He wouldn’t mind.

  They found their seats on the aircraft and stowed their cabin bag in the overhead bin (plus a stuffed Macy’s carrier, the contents of which would simply not fit in the rest of the luggage). Then they settled into their seats and Ben peered out of the window.

  A Delta plane had just touched down and was rolling along the runway.

  “You see?” said Ben smugly. “Bet he’s on time, no problem.”

  Carey shrugged. “They’ll have to de-ice us,” she said. “That’ll take twenty minutes.”

  “De-icing time doesn’t count,” said Ben. “Once we’ve moved from the stand, that counts.”

  Carey pursed her lips. “OK, OK,” she said. “But only because you blew all your money on that limo.” She made a face at him. “I loved it, I really did.”

  He smiled but then looked at her seriously. “And I love you.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I love you too.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain.”

  They both sat up straight.

  “Bad news, I’m afraid. The weather is getting worse, and we have to allow additional time for some aircraft to land before we obtain clearance for departure. We’re third in the queue for de-icing at the moment, so it looks like we’ll be on the stand for a little while longer. Apologies for the delay — we’ll keep it as brief as we can.”