The Wedding Fling (4 page)

The place was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Island-exotic but L.A.-stylish, peaceful, ordered, quiet...

Too quiet.

It was far too easy to get lost in one’s thoughts here, and Leigh was eager to get lost
outside
her head, at least until the stinging open wound of recent events scabbed over.

She made herself busy, unpacking straight away. To her surprise, she found a crumpled hundred dollar bill in her suitcase. She smoothed it, conjuring Will’s smirk. “Freak.”

She called Reception and gave instructions for how to field any calls.
Miss Bailey is enjoying her vacation, and does not wish to be disturbed. If you leave a message, we will be sure it reaches her.
Just the right mix of stern and casual, so hopefully, she’d be left alone, but not cause
too
huge a panic.

That first evening passed in beautifully appointed boredom. Leigh napped, waded in the surf, ordered a delicious dinner and admirably resisted both the TV and her phone. She was going through the motions of relaxation, but didn’t feel any of their effects.

This was surely the longest in years she’d gone without seeing a familiar face, and she hadn’t counted on how lonely she’d feel, how small and insecure. The solitude was supposed to clear her head, but her worries seemed to echo all the more loudly. Now and then she nearly missed Dan...but no. She merely missed her old life, that comfortable lie she’d grown so accustomed to living.

* * *

L
EIGH
SLEPT
POORLY
, reading on the couch until she fell into fitful dreams full of dress fittings and ocean waves.

The next morning, her doorbell chimed as she was brushing her teeth. She crossed the lounge, spotting Will Burgess’s truck through the window. Her stomach gave a funny flutter. She was clearly hard up for company, to feel a rush at the prospect of a conversation with the most abrasive man she’d met in ages. Sexy, sure, but undeniably tactless.

Toothbrush in hand, she opened the door.

Will’s eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and stacked atop his pair were another—Leigh’s. “Good morning, valued guest.”

“Good morning, sketchy pilot.”

He took off both sets of glasses and handed hers over. “You left those in my truck yesterday.”

“Thanks. You left your bribe in my bag.”

He grinned, and Leigh was tempted to don her shades to protect herself from his extraordinary eyes.

“Must have fallen out of my pocket.”

“And into my zipped suitcase.”

“The mysteries of physics. You’ve got a little...” Will gestured at the corner of his mouth.

Leigh wiped at her lips, at whatever toothpaste he saw.

“Other side.”

She tried again.

“That got it.” Will leaned against the door frame. “Must be hard not having your butler around to let you know when you’ve got stuff on your face.”

She rolled her eyes.

“How did you cope, brushing your own teeth?”

“Are you waiting for a tip, Captain? Because the more you talk, the crappier your chances are getting.”

“Just being friendly. Customer service and all that. Anything you need?”

Company was the only thing Leigh really craved, but she wouldn’t admit it to this man. “Only if you know how the coffeemaker works. It’s so high-tech I couldn’t figure it out.”

“I can operate a plane, so let’s hope it’s not beyond me.”

Leigh stepped aside and he strolled to the device.

“Damn, that is high-tech.”

She watched as he messed around with the digital features. His laid-back charisma seemed even more obvious amid the kitchen’s sleekness. What Leigh had felt in the terminal the previous afternoon hadn’t been a fluke, or a simple matter of revenge—she was attracted to him. But it was a purely physical attraction, signifying nothing more than the fact that he was
slightly
sexier than he was annoying.

After much poking, he got the machine hissing and gurgling and coffee began to fill the pot.

Will gestured between the machine and himself, making a great show of his accomplishment. “How about that? All it needed was a retinal scan and two forms of ID.”

“Thanks.”

“Just make sure you select a mode. I think that’s the only trick. Anything else you need?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks for bringing my sunglasses.”

“Anytime.”

She was on the verge of inviting him to stay for a coffee, but he spoke first, sparing her from sounding pathetic.

“I better head in for the morning flight.”

“Yes, you better.”

She walked him to the door, trying to ignore the shape of his shoulders beneath his shirt, the disarming, masculine rhythm of his easy gait.

“Thanks again.”

He gave her a salute and headed down the steps to his truck. “Enjoy your coffee,” he called, slamming his door.

“Enjoy your flight.”

He draped his tan arm along the open window as the engine groaned to life.

Leigh closed her door and listened until the truck was gone, then sank up to her neck in lonely silence. She poured a coffee and flipped through the resort’s activities guide, nothing sparking her interest. Nowhere in the many descriptions did it say, “Interact with other humans before you lose your mind! Don’t forget to bring a towel.”

She shut the binder, more listless than ever. All she wanted was what Will had just offered—company. No pampering or butt-kissing, no star treatment. She wished he’d come back, but there was no good reason for him to. She’d just have to settle for a masseuse or horseback riding instructor.... But she was sick to death of things being done for her, services offered by supremely nice people who probably just gossiped about her once she’d gone.

Then something occurred to Leigh. She didn’t have to wait for Will to come back to enjoy a taste of the candid, easy company she craved. She could go after what she wanted herself. After all, what had playing by the rules done for her lately?

3

A
S
THE
SUN
DIPPED
LOWER
, Leigh’s mood rose higher and higher.

A shower washed away the salt from her afternoon swim, and her hastily acquired shorts and funky halter top enveloped her in a sense of blessed unfamiliarity. The smell of sunscreen had her craving a cold drink, perhaps one with an umbrella in it, served in half a pineapple or some other delightful cliché.

When the clock chimed five-thirty she grabbed her new sandals, carrying them as she walked down the beach. Just as she’d hoped, after a twenty minutes’ stroll she spotted the workers’ settlement farther along the shore.

Will’s clunky old truck was parked just off the road, and Leigh followed a wooden walkway through the grass and sand to a dwelling yards from the high tide’s edge. Tinny music played from an unseen radio, and she spotted its owner as she neared.

He was straddling an upside-down canoe raised on blocks beside the building, sanding away a coat of peeling paint. It seemed there was no limit to how casual his wardrobe could get. He was dressed in khaki cutoffs, a plaid button-up shirt left completely open to flap about his arms in the warm breeze. He swept his shaggy hair from his eyes and Leigh had to admire the greater whole of him. Tan and lean, that mischievously handsome face looking placid for a change, his attention focused on his project. His well-past-five-o’clock shadow and bare feet made her envy his life with a fresh pang.

She clapped the soles of her sandals together. “Knock knock.”

Will glanced up from his task with a grin. “Well, look who’s here. You get lost on the way to a hot-rock massage?”

“Is this where you live, Captain?” She nodded to the cottage on stilts. “It’s adorable.”

Will glowered, faking insult.

“Sorry. It’s butch. Really butch.”

He set aside the sanding block and wiped his palms on his shorts. “What can I do for you, Miss Bailey? Need a lift to civilization?”

“No.”

“Thank goodness for that.” He reached to the windowsill and took a deep swig from a bottle of beer. “How was that coffee?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

“You walk all the way here?”

“It’s only about a half mile.”

“Didn’t know your kind walked.”

She shot him a snobby look, meandering closer. “My kind?”

His smile sharpened to a smirk, one that stirred Leigh’s pulse. “Yeah, your kind, little miss movie star.”

“Well, you were misinformed. My kind does plenty more than walk. I came to ask you about the dancing you mentioned yesterday.”

His brows rose. “That’s what you came here for? Dancing?”

“Sure. It’s my favorite thing in the world. Or it used to be.”

“And here I thought maybe you’d missed me.”

“Again, you’re greatly misinformed.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking of, but the dancing here isn’t what you’re after. More like stand-up dry-humping.”

Leigh pictured such a thing. “Sounds like a movie I starred in.”

Another of those deadly, snarky smiles. “What happened in the movie?”

“The annoying pilot told the charming actress where to find a cold drink and a good beat.”

“Of course he did.” Damn, that dimple.

She kicked at the sand. “So, will you tell me?”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll take you.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure, what the hell.”

She smiled. “Thank you. It’s way too quiet back in my villa.”

“I’ll get chewed out if any managers think I invited you to fraternize with us lowly workers.”

“Then tell them the truth—that I forced myself on you.”

His lips twitched, as though he was holding back a remark, a flirtation. Just that tiny hesitation from this shameless man brought a warmth to Leigh’s skin, one that had nothing to do with the late afternoon sun.

“I’ll bribe you,” she offered.

“No more bribes. Plus I’ll get chewed out worse by management if they hear I failed to chaperone you, out among us uncivilized natives.” Will slid down from the canoe.

“Is this what you do with your free time? Fix up old boats?” Leigh ran a hand over the point where rough paint met smooth wood, and stole a glance at Will’s bare chest while he stowed tools.

“I do all sorts of stuff. And I work less than four hours a day, so I do a
lot
of all sorts of stuff.”

“No TV?”

“I don’t have one. Very little worth watching.”

“That’s for sure.” Leigh imagined what would have happened if she’d stayed in her villa—check room service for peanut butter availability, then scour the channels for news about herself. Pathetic, toxic habit. Tomorrow she’d phone and see if the satellite could be disconnected for the duration of her stay.

She waited while Will disappeared inside his house. The radio went silent and he emerged carrying a cooler, with a pair of sandals on top of it.

“What’s in there?”

“Essentials.” He headed up the walkway, dropping his sandals to the ground as they reached the rough gravel road and slipping them on. Leigh did the same.

“Thanks,” she said.

Will shrugged, setting ice inside the cooler rattling. “I would have ended up there eventually anyhow, with or without you.”

“Where are we going?”

“To Bethany and Oscar’s place.”

“And they work here, too?”

“That’s a given. Bethany’s a chef, Oscar manages the drivers.”

“They throw lots of parties?”

“It’s not that organized around here. People finish work, take a nap or smoke a joint—”

“Or sand a boat.”

“Or that. Then you wander toward wherever the ruckus is coming from. But I know it’ll be there tonight, since it’s Monday. Always something happening at their place on a Monday.”

A girl ran past them, followed by a smaller one, both shrieking with laughter.

“That little one was theirs,” Will said.

“Cute.” Leigh craned her neck to watch the kids disappear between the trees. “How often do us guests turn up at your get-togethers?”

“Rarely. Especially ones like you,” Will said with a tight, self-satisfied smile.

“Ones like me? Go on, tell me what that means, since I know you’re dying to.”

“Just that you’re a girl. Most of the guests who party-crash are older men, looking to escape their wives’ idea of a vacation. But they’re rare, as well. You’re just extra rare. Like how I like my steak.”

She laughed. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Thirty-three.”

She nodded, not sure what she’d been expecting. He lived a life she’d normally have ascribed to either a younger man, not yet compelled to shape up and find a “real” job, or an older one sick of the rat race. “What’s it like, living in a postcard?”

Will stared over the water for a moment, and Leigh studied his eyes in the dying sun, bright as a blue glass pendant she’d admired in the shopping district the previous morning. She wondered who had raised this man and given him those eyes, and what they thought of the life he’d made for himself, so far from New York City.

“It’s lovely,” he finally said.

“What’s the least lovely thing about it?”

“Hurricanes.”

“I mean, like, from day to day.”

“Honestly, there’s not much. Bit of a pain getting hold of certain things. Costs an arm and a leg to have stuff shipped from the States. Hence all the bribes you’ll see going down around here.”

“What sorts of things? What do you miss?”

“Aren’t you just brimming with questions?”

She smiled at him. “I’m desperate for human contact.”

“You must be, if you came to me. So much for your dreams of seclusion.”

“So what do you miss?”

He pondered it. “I miss watching the Knicks play. Can’t buy that off a guy in Bridgetown.”

“Well, I’m sure I get that channel at my place. Feel free to come watch a game, in exchange for tonight’s party.”

He met her gaze squarely for a breath. “I may just take you up on that.”

“You’ll have to make it worth my while, of course.” She rubbed her fingers together and bobbed her eyebrows at him, as silly as she’d been with anyone in weeks.

“You’ll fit in just fine here, Miss Bailey.”

Their gazes lingered longer than was casual before they turned back to the road. Leigh felt that heat again, the one she wished was as simple as sunburn. This time it had nothing to do with revenge, a shift that felt at once joyous and dangerous.

“That’s it.” Will nodded to the farthest house in the settlement, bigger than his own but also on stilts, with rounded lavender shingles like fish scales. Tiki torches were lit along the beach, a grill smoking and a dozen people milling around it, cups and beer bottles waving as arms gestured. The breeze carried their laughter, and the aromas of sizzling meat and ocean breeze and that distinctive Caribbean scent, of flowers and sand and the vastness of the sky here. Leigh breathed it in, drank in the color of the clouds as dusk approached. She filled herself with this place, so full there’d be no room for a single bad thought.

Will kicked off his sandals at the roadside as they headed for the beach. He glanced at her. “Ready?”

She looked at the people. “Sure. Seems calm enough to me.”

He grinned. “Wait till the sun goes down.”

“You guys can’t be crazier than the nutjobs back in L.A.”

They rounded the house to the beach, and a few partygoers cheered as they spotted Will.

“Everyone!” he bellowed. “There is royalty among us peasants this evening.”

More cheers and a few whistles sounded, and a couple of bottles raised in Leigh’s direction.

“Her highness wants a taste of how the real islanders live,” Will went on with an indulgent grin. “So do be on your worst behavior.”

He led Leigh across the warm sand and set his cooler near the grill. A tall, big-bellied man greeted him with a hand clasp and a slap on the back before turning his smile on the party’s newcomer.

“Oscar, this is Leigh, staying at Shearwater. Leigh, this is Oscar, your host for this evening.”

She shook Oscar’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you.” His attention shifted as Will pulled two shining blue fish from the cooler. “Ah, beauties! Bethany will be pleased.”

Will handed off the gift and rinsed his hands in the ice. Oscar left them to deliver the fish to the immensely pregnant woman manning the grill.

“You caught those?” Leigh asked Will.

He nodded. “I go out most mornings. Motorboat, not canoe.”

“Wow.” She caught it this time, mocking herself before Will got the chance.
“Wow....”

He smiled. “Get you a drink? Cocktail? Beer?”

Not sure she was ready for whatever filled people’s plastic tumblers, she opted for a beer. Following Will inside to a bustling kitchen, she smiled nervously at the other guests as he found her a bottle. She was introduced in warmly teasing tones, a flurry of names and faces. Leigh’s nerves returned, seeing how intimately they all knew one another, how laughter seemed to quiet when her guest status was announced.

She leaned close to Will. “Is it making people uncomfortable, my being here?”

“Uncomfortable is too strong. Not like the boss is in the room. But you do change the atmosphere. You’ve got the power to complain.”

“I don’t want to spoil anyone’s good time.” And she certainly didn’t want to be anyplace where’d she feel once again like an outsider.

Will nudged her with his elbow. “Give them a few more drinks, an hour or so to get used to you. Just be yourself.”

“Be myself.” Whoever that was. Leigh straightened, sipping her beer and deciding to do just what he’d said. She
did
know who she was. It was her family and Dan and all those strangers in Hollywood who’d tricked her into believing she was someone else, someone different, some face off a screen or magazine spread.

Outside, a drum sounded. Will nodded to the exit and she preceded him into the cooler air, the darkening evening. She met a few more people, all polite but unmistakably distant once they learned she was a paying guest. She and Will wandered to the water’s edge, until they were wading in the sea, sipping their drinks, watching the torchlight bouncing off the dark waves that lapped at their shins. They’d both gone quiet, and Leigh wondered how much of a damper she was putting on
his
evening.

Will cleared his throat before asking, “So, do you regret it? Leaving him?”

She met his gaze, shocked. Shocked he’d been wondering something so personal, so sentimental, and equally surprised to realize the question hadn’t yet crossed her mind. But the answer needed no speculation. It would be ages before she could feel anything good about Dan. Though she hoped she could eventually forgive him, she knew he was now a figment purely of the past. “No, I don’t regret it.”

Will nodded, expression neutral as he turned his attention back to shore.

Leigh exhaled a long and melancholy sigh, and in its wake she felt relief unknotting her muscles. “It would’ve been a huge mistake if I’d gone through with it. The way I realized I couldn’t marry him... It hurts, anyhow. It’s humiliating and complicated, but once all that fades, I’ll be happy with my decision.”

“You seem like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“For a celebrity,” Leigh said wryly.

“For anybody.” He sipped his drink, not meeting her eyes. “How could you end up at the altar with any doubt in your mind?”

“It’s hard to explain. You have to think of fame as a drug. It does stuff to your head. It gets you sort of drunk or high, and reality’s modified. Especially when everyone around you seems to see things the same way.” She watched the quavering reflection of her calves in the water. “Like you’re all seeing the world in a funhouse mirror, but everyone agrees that it looks the same, so you just... You get used to the warp, I guess.”

“Enough to marry the wrong man?”

“Nearly. I know, it sounds awful.”

“Sounds typical, though. The Hollywood crowd aren’t known for their stellar marital track record.”

Leigh nodded. “My fiancé—the guy he used to be, anyhow—I would’ve married him, no hesitation. But by the time the big day arrived, he was different. And it’s so easy in that world to tell yourself, ‘things will be normal again, after X happens.’ Your movie wraps or the ink dries on your next contract. But X happens and things
don’t
just go back to normal. Normal is something you opt out of when you sign up to be part of the entertainment business.”