The Mighty Quinns: Ryan (2 page)

While she’d been away shooting a movie, her entire wedding had been planned for her, and she’d passed the point of no return before she’d even had a chance to scream “Stop!” Breaking her engagement now would bring a riot of bad press at a time when her career and her reputation as an actress hung in the balance.

Serena had always wanted to be taken seriously as an actress. Yet most of her career to date had been built on popular and not critically acclaimed films. But her most recent film was different. It was her chance to show she was a capable actress.

She would no longer be the child of Will Sheridan and Cassandra Hightower-Fellowes, or the fiancée of Ben Thayer, or the beautiful face that graced the pages of fashion magazines. She wouldn’t be famous for being famous. Once this movie was released, she’d be Serena Hightower, a serious actress.

And then she’d finally be satisfied, finally be happy with her life. This had to be it. She’d tried everything else—meditation, yoga, Kabbalah, juicing—whatever trend had come along, Serena had tried it, hoping that she’d find the answers to her questions. One question, actually. With everything she’d achieved in life, everything she possessed, why couldn’t she be happy?

It was a simple question, yet one that seemed to plague her mind. There had to be something more to life than this. She had money. She had fame. She had every possession she could ever wish for. And if she went ahead with the wedding, she’d have a marriage.

Serena reached out and poured herself a glass of warm champagne. They’d opened the bottles hours ago as a celebration of the adventure they were about to have. But now, the taste of the flat champagne mirrored her feelings.

She pushed out of her seat and wandered to the front of the jet. Her four bridesmaids were sound asleep, exhausted from the excitement of the trip and too much champagne. Miles had his nose buried in his laptop. She glanced over at the passenger they’d taken aboard in Auckland.

Serena plopped down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

He turned away from the window and met her gaze. “I never sleep on planes.”

The urge to touch him again was overwhelming. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers through his thick dark hair. Why did she find him so fascinating? She’d known her share of handsome men. But Ryan Quinn wore his good looks like he wore his clothes, casually and comfortably. This was a man who never worried over wrinkles and Botox and the effect aging would have on his career. This was a real man.

“So, you’re the nanny Thom has sent along to watch over us,” Serena said, settling back into the leather seat and tucking her feet up under her.

“Nanny?”

“What do you prefer to be called?” she asked.

“Quinn,” he said. “You can call me Quinn.”

She fixed him with her most charming gaze. “What did he tell you, Quinn? Are you meant to keep us out of trouble?”

“I’m supposed to facilitate your travel and activities,” he said.

“If that’s your story,” she said with a shrug. “But you don’t have to pretend. I know why he sent you. He wants to make sure I’m safely delivered to the altar after Christmas.”

“Is that expected to be a problem?”

Serena sighed. “No. Of course not. I’m ready to get married.”

And yet even when she said the words out loud, Serena couldn’t make herself finish the thought—ready to get married
to Ben.
Was she really ready to marry him? Was she even in love with him? If she was, why was she trying to tease this handsome stranger into conversation when she ought to just go back to her seat and sleep?

“How did you get talked into taking this job?” she asked.

“I guided Thom on a climbing trip last year. He thought I was the right man for the job.”

She laughed softly. “I can imagine,” Serena murmured. Thom was a crafty sort, she mused. He could have sent some gruff, middle-aged security sort, but instead, he’d sent someone young and hot, the kind that her four single bridesmaids would find irresistible. “You’re going to be the hit of the party.”

Serena reached out and grabbed his glass from the table in front of him, draining the last bit of whiskey and water from the bottom. “I’ll get you another,” she said.

“I’m fine,” Ryan replied.

“I’m not,” Serena said.

She crawled out of her seat and made her way to the small galley near the cockpit door. After she filled two tumblers with ice, she grabbed the whiskey bottle and returned to her seat next to Ryan.

“So, why don’t you tell me all about yourself,” Serena said, pouring him a glass.

He pointed to the whiskey, filled to the brim. “Are you trying to get me pissed?”

“It’s a long flight. We have a lot of time to kill. And I’ll get bored if you don’t tell me some interesting stories. I’m just getting you relaxed.”

“I’m always relaxed,” he said.

“Lucky you,” she said. “I never am.”

He pushed the glass in her direction. “Why don’t you drink it, then?”

She’d already had too much champagne and was beginning to feel the effects of a hangover. But she picked up the glass and took a sip, then set it down. Serena’s gaze met his, and for a long moment, she couldn’t look away. Would she be so attracted to him if she loved Ben? Her heart said no, but there was so much riding on this wedding now, she had to be sure. Letting her impulsive nature take over, she leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss. Nor was it platonic. It existed in the strange space in between. She drew back, her face warming with embarrassment. Thankfully, Ryan didn’t seem to be offended by her brazen nature.

“Sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“I just...” she murmured. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be engaged?” he asked.

“Yes,” Serena said, frowning. “I am. Don’t you think it odd that I’d feel the urge to kiss you?”

“I can’t say. Do you usually kiss men you barely know?”

Serena nodded. “All the time. I mean, I do on-screen. That’s part of the job. But you’re not...” She sank back into the seat. She had her answer. She hadn’t just enjoyed the kiss, she was desperate to kiss him again. And she didn’t want to stop there. She imagined tearing off his shirt and touching his body, kissing him in places that only she could discover.

She reached for the whiskey and took a big gulp, wincing as the liquor burned a path down her throat.

“I always wondered how that worked,” Ryan said. “How do you kiss someone when it’s just for show?”

“Are you asking if I get turned on?”

He shrugged. “I would think that would be one of the dangers.”

“That’s why so many actors end up together after they’ve worked on a film. At some point, the kissing starts to feel real.”

“Is that what happened with you and...”

“Ben,” she said. “Ben Thayer.”

“Right. Ben.”

“I suppose that’s how it started. He was a really good kisser. And I got a bit swept away.” But she’d never felt quite so infatuated as she was feeling now, sitting next to Ryan Quinn and imagining the next kiss they might share.

“I don’t expect he’d be happy that you kissed me.”

“Hmm.” She smiled at him. “I suppose not. If you don’t tell, I won’t, either. We’ll just make it our little secret.” She needed time and space to be able to figure out what all this meant, and right now she had neither.

“Secrets can be very dangerous,” Ryan said.

Serena took another sip of the whiskey, then handed him the glass. “Tell me one of your secrets,” she said. “As an actor, I’ve become quite keen at observation. And I believe you’re the kind of man who keeps his secrets buried very deep.”

“What you see is what you get,” Ryan said with a shrug. He gave her a sideways glance, then shook his head. “I’m not here for your amusement.”

“Of course not,” she replied.

“And I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the glass, then got to her feet. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun this week. If I were you, Quinn, I’d get some sleep. I intend to keep you very busy.”

Serena wandered back to her seat. Miles gave her a suspicious look as she passed him, and she rolled her eyes. “I was just being friendly.”

But when she’d settled into her own spot, she closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t seem to put the memories of her kiss with Ryan Quinn out of her mind. Even now, her heart was still beating a bit faster than normal, and her breathing had grown shallow and short.

Her gaze dropped to the six-carat diamond ring that sparkled on her finger. She was due to walk down the aisle in just a few weeks. Everything was planned. Two hundred and fifty guests had all received their invitations. And yet she wasn’t thinking about the man waiting for her at home in Los Angeles. Instead, she was obsessing over the man sitting just a few feet away.

It was proof that she didn’t love Ben. But then, she’d never really believed in true love, anyway, so what had changed? When it came down to it, was one kiss reason enough to destroy her chance at happiness? “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself. Ryan was a distraction. Ben was the man she intended to marry.

* * *

A
BRIGHTLY
PAINTED
VAN
and a Peugeot sedan were waiting for them when the Learjet landed in Nadi, on the island of Viti Levu. They taxied to stop near a well-lit hangar, and Miles and Ryan helped the ladies gather their luggage and fill out their customs and immigration forms for the waiting official. When they were cleared, the girls stumbled into the van, still half-asleep.

“Please tell me we’re finally here,” one of the women cried.

“You’re here,” Ryan said.

He glanced at Serena, and she smiled warmly before disappearing into the van.

Miles and Ryan decided to ride in the sedan, chauffeured by a smiling Fijian. He held out his hand as they approached. “I am Arthur Cawaru. I manage the house at Bellavista.”

Ryan shook his hand. “I’m Ryan Quinn. Thom said you’d be able to help me out with the arrangements.”

“I am at your service, Mr. Quinn.”

Miles introduced himself to Arthur and they got into the rear seat of the car. Though the sun wasn’t up yet, the eastern sky had begun to change from black to a deep blue, and the stars had started to fade. They drove on narrow, winding roads that hugged the coast, the South Pacific on one side and lush, tropical vegetation on the other.

Ryan chuckled softly. “This is bloody brilliant.”

“Brilliant?”

“Look at us. Someone is paying us to hang out in this tropical paradise with five beautiful women. It’s like we won the lottery.”

“I wouldn’t jump the gun on that,” Miles said.

Ryan glanced over at him. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know Serena. She can be...a handful. She’s gorgeous and talented. But she’s also mercurial and stubborn. And moody and demanding. One moment she seems smarter than any woman you’ve ever met, and then she’ll do something that defies common sense, and you wonder how she can be so clueless. If she weren’t so damn beautiful and good at what she does, she wouldn’t get work.”

“She can’t be that bad,” Ryan said.

“She’s got lots of baggage,” Miles murmured. “Just don’t get caught up in the fantasy. She’s nothing like she is on the screen.”

“I’ve never seen her movies.”

Miles stared at him in disbelief. “Never?”

“Was that part of the job?”

“No. Maybe it’s for the best. You won’t be captivated by her.”

Ryan chuckled softly. It was too late for that, he mused. “Hey, I’m always a professional, and I made a promise to Mr. Perry. No worries there.”

“She’s a professional, too,” Miles said. “She’s an actress and a good one. So take everything she says with a grain of salt.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. Ryan found it difficult to reconcile the woman Miles was talking about with the woman he’d met on the plane. He’d found Serena sweet and charming and vulnerable. And yet to hear Miles tell it, Serena Hightower was trouble. For Miles, anything that interfered with the box office profits of Thom Perry’s latest movie would be cause for concern. To both Miles and Thom, Serena was a commodity, an investment that would pay off only if she behaved to their standards.

The sedan turned off the main road, and after a few minutes, they drove through a tall gate. A moment later, a sprawling mansion appeared out of the dark, the white exterior lit by floodlights. “Crikey,” Ryan murmured. “This is a bit more posh than the tents I usually sleep in.”

“We thought it might be better if Ms. Hightower and her party stayed at a private villa instead of a resort,” Miles explained. “That way we can control the environment.”

“What do you expect they’ll be doing? Pillaging the villages? Stealing cars and raping the menfolk?”

“It’s always best to expect the worst,” Miles said.

The vehicles pulled around the large circular drive and stopped at the grand entrance to the house. Ryan hopped out and Miles followed him. A Fijian woman appeared at the door with a tray of drinks, each decorated with a fresh flower.

“Welcome to Bellavista,” Arthur said in his booming voice. “This is my wife, Juni. House cook. She will bring you anything you would like to eat.”

Juni handed them each a glass. “Wonderful,” Miles muttered. “More alcohol.”

“Fruit juice,” Juni whispered, “with ginseng. Good for jet lag.”

The girls walked into the house, one by one, sipping at their drinks. When they were all inside, Ryan followed. He introduced himself to Juni, then trailed after Miles, slowly turning as he took in the luxurious interior. “Nice crib,” he murmured to himself.

“Thom bought it five years ago,” Miles commented.

“Thom owns this?”

“Yeah. He’s got a château in France, a condo in New York, a beach house in L.A., a mansion in Beverly Hills and a place in Aspen. And this. Strange thing is, he hardly has time to vacation. I don’t think he’s been here in two or three years. But it’s a handy place to stash the occasional detoxing actor or actress. Very private. Virtually no media presence on the island.”

“Mr. Quinn, your room is this way,” Arthur said. “Mr. DuMont, please follow Juni. You’re in the other wing.”