The Wedding Fling (15 page)

“You took pictures of
me
with her. Pictures that could get me fired.” As if the fact that Will had spoken to the papers in the first place wasn’t enough.

“They was blurry, man. Nobody could tell it was you.”

“They know now.”

“I di’n tell them, I swear it.”

It was possible. If Will had never made himself a target, cussing out that editor, he maybe could have
stayed
an anonymous blur. He saw the regret in Rex’s eyes, pained and genuine.

“I’m sorry, Will, but come on. What else I got? You own your vehicle, man.” He nodded to the bobbing plane. “I got shit. A shack on the beach and a weekly check... I can’t lose this job, Will. I’ll split the money with you, if you keep quiet. Ten grand, they paid me. I can give you three, but the rest... I need it, Will. My sister needs it. My baby nephew.”

Will glanced at
The Passport,
his life’s savings, his ticket to elsewhere. He could have chosen to strand himself, sell the plane and bring his dad here.
Too high a price,
he thought. But was it? What was his precious freedom worth, when he stacked it against his father’s happiness, or the honor of the woman he’d come to love so fiercely in so little time?

“Please, man.” Rex was counting out bills on his thigh, slowly, carefully.

Will stood up straight. “Keep it. I don’t want any part of that money.” It burned that he’d ever given his friends reason to think he was the kind of man who might accept it. Soon enough, details of the interview would spread, and everything he was preaching in this parking lot would be outed as pure hypocrisy, anyhow. “But if anything else gets leaked about Leigh, I’ll be on you so fast...”

“I would never have done this if it wasn’t important,” Rex said. “I need this job.”

“Never again,” he warned.

“Nah, man. Never again. I swear.”

Will nodded. His mind was already drifting, his anger fading, only to be replaced by the horror of his own situation, of what Leigh must think of him, and how he’d hurt her. No good would come of incriminating Rex. It wouldn’t fix anything, wouldn’t undo what Will himself had done. Time to get off his high horse and drop to his knees.

He had a hell of a lot of forgiveness to beg for.

11

T
HE
FINAL
MOMENTS
of the interview came and went, but Leigh had no clue what she said, surely just a stream of cordial gibberish. When the satellite link was disconnected, she felt more alone than she ever had in her life.

She’d never experienced pain like this. Not even when she’d spoken to Dan the morning of her wedding. This hurt far more, because there was no relief to be found amid the rubble. One minute she’d been in love with a man, and the next that love was wrenched away, sudden as a slap. Early that afternoon she’d been reveling in the sweet soreness that lingered from the previous night’s lovemaking, and now... A different hurt. Different by light-years.

Her phone rang, the only number she wanted to see. If ever she’d needed her manager, it was now.

“Angela, hang on.” She took her phone to her bedroom, out of earshot of the people disassembling the video equipment. She closed the door and sat on her bed. “Did you watch?”

“Of course I did.” Angela’s tone belied her hectic job—she was always calm, always soothing. “Leigh, I wish you’d told me the extent of what’s going on. Why did you keep that from me, that you were having a fling? And a fling with a guy who’d agreed to report on you?”

The sobs she’d held in for the duration of the interview surged and erupted, leaving her voice broken and thick. “I didn’t know he had. I didn’t know he was the one who sold the stuff about the party until Jen Landis told me just now. And I didn’t think anybody would have pictures of us, together like that. I honestly thought it was a secret.”

“He obviously tipped someone off to get them.”

She remembered how he’d stepped in so smoothly with that idea to go fishing. How long had Will spent hatching that seemingly spontaneous idea, coordinating with some unknown photographer? How close might he have come to selling something far more intimate, in details or photos? Suddenly, Leigh’s heartbreak trickled away nearly to nothing, making room for more anger than she’d known herself capable of feeling.

Angela sighed. “Considering what a curveball that was, you did brilliantly.”

“No, I didn’t. I bet everybody watching could tell I had no clue about him selling that story.”

“I think you’re okay. I think it was clear, and rather charmingly so, that you didn’t want your affair to be public. And that’s good. We don’t want you coming off as having staged all this for attention. Not on top of you running off last weekend. And you didn’t lie about anything.”

“Except messing around with...” She trailed off.

“No one can blame you for omitting that, wanting to be discreet. And you handled the Dan questions perfectly. If he keeps returning the favor, I think all that unpleasantness can fade into obscurity in a few months. But what I want to talk to you about is how you’re going to confront this Burgess guy.
If
you’re going to confront him.”

Leigh considered that. “Part of me doesn’t want to see him ever again, but another part wants answers. I don’t know. And I don’t know what he might tell the press, depending on how I confront him.”

“Exactly. I think we ought to offer to buy his silence.”

Leigh imagined that moment, making that offer. She imagined Will agreeing with a stoic nod, confirming that all she’d ever been to him was a payday. Nearly two paydays, if she’d been idiotic enough to give him money for his stupid club. Was it even
for
a club? How much of a con man was Will Burgess, exactly?

“Leigh?”

“I’m thinking.”

“It’s the best solution, in my opinion. I know it sucks, that he lied to you—”

“I liked him so much, Angela. I feel like such a... I don’t know. I feel so stupid. I thought he liked me, too, just for who I am.”

“I hate to say it, but this sort of thing happens all the time.”

Leigh sighed. “I know.”

“It’s hard in this business, to know who your friends and lovers really are. It takes a long time to build trust with a person who’s from the outside.”

“It must. I was with Dan for two years and even then...” She stopped herself, not ready to suffer two open wounds at once.

“Honestly, as unfair as it feels, the tidiest thing is for us to pay him off in exchange for his word that he won’t communicate with anyone about any of this. I’m happy to get all of that in motion, if you have his number.”

“I don’t. I always just walked to his place.” She pictured that stretch of beach, where so many wonderful memories had been forged in so short a time. All the beauty had drained out of this place. “I need to come home. As soon as possible.”

“I’ll get you out on a flight tomorrow.”

A horrible thought struck her. “Oh, God, he’s the only person who can fly me to the mainland.”

“No, Leigh, I’ll figure something out with the resort. I’ll find another private charter to take you. And failing that, if you really can’t stand to see him, we’ll get you out on a boat, okay?”

She took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“For now I’m going to get in touch with the staff and hunt this guy’s number down. I’m also going to consult with the rest of the team and decide how we ought to spin this debacle, once you’re home. You’re probably going to need to do a follow-up interview or two, if only to solidify the fact that this thing with Burgess was just a fling. We don’t need him getting elevated to press-worthy himself.”

“No, definitely not.”

“So my advice to you is to lie low. Get yourself packed, try to stay calm, and don’t go after him, please. If he comes to you—which I’ll make plain you don’t want him to do—tell him you don’t want to talk to him. Do you think you need any protection? I’m sure I could have the resort send someone. Though if he’s going to lose his job, I’d prefer for all of that to go down after you’ve left.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“Good. I’m going to start on these calls, if you don’t need me for anything else immediately.”

“I’m still in shock. I don’t know what to think or feel yet.”

“Understandably. Just don’t do anything rash, okay? Just pack, and breathe, and don’t talk to anyone but me. And your folks, if you’re up to it.” Angela could appreciate that Leigh’s parents didn’t always make matters simpler. “I’ll call you as soon as I have updates.”

They said goodbye and the awful feelings returned, the echoing dread and hurt. The phone chimed, her mother’s tone, and Leigh ignored it. She’d stick solely with Angela’s guidance for now. She let the tears flow, hot streaks slipping down her burning cheeks.

She replayed her first meeting with Will, scanning it for signs of what was to come, his real intentions. He’d questioned her very little, just a couple cursory queries about why’d she’d run out on her wedding day. He’d insisted on taking her to her villa himself, but again, he hadn’t pried. But that was no exoneration—he was just gifted at playing the long game. He was a good-looking man, and charming in his own abrasive way. He’d probably been conning women for years, and had known she’d fall for him. The personal tidbits he’d gotten out of her she’d offered freely. She’d thought they’d traded those intimate details, about her heartbreak, his father’s illness. Was his dad even sick? Was he even a cab driver?

Leigh froze.

Will knew about Dan cheating on her. He was the only outsider who knew.

But did that really matter? He could command a steep fee—a bribe, no less—to keep his mouth shut on that topic, but even if it did get out, what was the worst outcome? Leigh was already humiliated. Dan was the one who stood to take the real heat, Leigh having proved she was content to keep the matter private. She’d be another sad celebrity on the receiving end of a high profile betrayal, and a fool for falling for a stranger hired to snoop on her. That’d make her gullible and naive, pitiable, but at least none of her crimes of character were malicious.

She sighed, letting a measure of her angst go. Looking around the room, she settled into what had to be done. Get packed, wait for any updates from Angela. Just like that, Leigh was back where she always had been, adrift in the momentum of her life.

* * *

A
N
HOUR
AND
A
HALF
AFTER
speaking with Rex, Will turned off his phone. He hadn’t made it past the parking lot, sitting on the open tailgate of his truck, fielding calls. Another from Jackie, in full panic mode. Then one call from L.A., from Leigh’s manager or publicist or someone. Thank goodness his father didn’t know yet...though it was only a matter of time before one of Will’s aunts or cousins heard the story and passed it along.

He should be feeling something. Shock or horror. He should be doing something, but he had no idea what that something was.

He’d just been offered thousands of dollars by Leigh’s management agency. He’d cobbled together the gist of the TV interview from all the calls. There were photos of them, on the beach. Leigh had pretended to know he’d been in bed with the tabloids, to save face, and now, of course, she really did know. She thought he’d only ever been after the money, and her PR team seemed positive he was planning to sell juicier details about their affair.

He had repeated the same thing, over and over. He didn’t want the money. He’d backed out of the deal. He’d never meant for things to go this far. But all he got in return were assurances of a payoff, one that had ballooned from five grand to fifteen and well beyond, the longer he refused it.

“It’s best for everyone involved that you leave Miss Bailey alone,” had been the last word from her side.

But he couldn’t do that. He’d heard everyone’s feelings except Leigh’s, and hers were the only ones that mattered to him.

No need to ditch his truck at home this time—their involvement was far from private now. He parked in the driveway, shaking and dry-mouthed as he mounted her front steps and pressed the bell. How many times had he stood here in the last few days, filled with excitement? The dread and shame that filled him now were leaden, threatening to sink him straight through the sand and bury him alive.

He caught sight of her through the window, across the living room at the threshold of her bedroom, a shopping bag in her hand. She was still dressed in her interview clothes. They locked eyes, then she promptly closed the door. Will jogged around to the back patio. She spotted him through the glass wall as she set her bag on the bed, and crossed her arms over her chest. As he neared, she shook her head, her face stony.

“Leigh, I need to talk to you.”

She turned away and left the bedroom. Will tried the door, but found it predictably locked. “Leigh, please!”

He’d just humiliated her on television, maybe even broken her heart, if their feelings were as mutual as he’d hoped only this morning. Intentional or not, he’d done all that, and he couldn’t harass her on top of it...but neither could he give up. He banged on the glass, shouting a last-ditch plea.

“Leigh! We have to talk. I’ll be on the beach when you’re ready.”

He walked down to the shore and sat facing the water. He’d wait as long as he had to. As long as it took for her to come out, or to call Reception and have him physically removed. He owed her far more than patience, and he’d sit out here until the sun was bleaching his bare bones, if that’s what it took.

* * *

L
EIGH
CHECKED
HER
PHONE
. Ten o’clock, and Will was still sitting on her beach. From the dark bedroom, she could just make him out in the moonlight, and she shook her head at his tenacity. Then again, she could have called and asked to have him escorted away hours ago.

Did she want to talk to him, or merely to know he was out there, suffering? The former, she finally admitted to herself. She didn’t want assurances he cared about her—she’d never be able to believe him, anyhow. But she did want the truth. She wanted to know why he’d hurt her.

Just before eleven, she slid the patio door open and shivered in the cool night air. She crossed the sand silently, and before she announced her presence, she studied him. His strong arms were wrapped around his bent knees, his eyes fixed on the dark sea. That capable body looked broken, his energy gone from vibrant to despairing.

Yes, Will Burgess was a very good actor. Better than Leigh could ever hope to be.

She kicked sand at his leg and he snapped into action, scrambling to his feet.

“Leigh.”

“Sit,” she said, and took a seat herself, hugging her legs.

Will sat and his mouth opened and closed two or three times. He smiled weakly, clearly at a loss. “I don’t know what to say to—”

“You don’t know what to say?” She laughed. “You better figure something out, because I only came out to hear whatever pathetic justifications you might have for lying to me.”

Again his lips parted, but nothing emerged.

“You’ve been sitting here for five hours and didn’t rehearse a grand speech? A farewell performance?”

“I never lied to you, Leigh.”

“No? You kept a pretty straight face when that first story broke. No clue who leaked that to the press, huh? Then the photos?” It hurt to even look at him, this handsome man who’d gone from heady crush to gigantic mistake so quickly. So publicly.

“I didn’t tell them a thing. And I didn’t take those pictures. How could I have?”

“But you told someone else to. You knew you’d take me fishing that morning. You could have easily tipped someone off.”

“I didn’t have a thing to do with it, I swear.” He drew a deep breath before looking her square in the eyes. “But I did talk to the press, before you came here. I agreed to help them, but I never did. I backed out.”

For a long moment, neither spoke, then he said, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

The words stung. She didn’t want him knowing he’d hurt her, that she cared. But anyone could’ve seen the affection she’d beamed at him those fleeting, blissful nights. Anyone could guess what a moron she felt like now.

“How could you have let things go as far as they did, knowing I felt something for you?”

“I felt it, too.”