The Wedding Fling (6 page)

Leigh frowned, but nodded. “I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in days. But I’m sure I can find my way back by myself. The moon’s nearly full.”

Will stood, helping her to her feet. “Can’t let guests wander around in the dark unchaperoned. I’ve broken enough rules for one night. I should at least pretend to be a decent escort.”

They bade the hosts and guests a good night, and slipped into their sandals at the road. Will was in a sober enough state to drive her, but the walk would do him good. Clear his head, maybe screw it on straight about who this girl was to him. Maybe make an overdue phone call to his tabloid contact and start earning the money he’d been promised. What he’d sold his last few scruples for. Again, a sharp pain stabbed in his chest. But it had to be done, to avoid the far deeper heartache of failing his father. Will wasn’t his mother.

He stopped at his place to ditch the cooler. He and Leigh went barefoot again for the long stroll along the shore, sandals swinging from their fingers. The rising moon was indeed nearly full, casting its blue-white glow on the sand, across Leigh’s face and the bare arms hugged over her chest.

“You cold?”

“I’m fine.”

“Here.” Will stopped and slipped his shirt off.

She smiled and accepted it, letting him hold her flip-flops as she buttoned it up her narrow frame, pulling her long hair from under the collar. Damn. What was it about a woman in a man’s shirt?

“Thanks.” She took her shoes back.

“Looking forward to another lazy day tomorrow?”

“Yeah. But first I need some real rest. I was so mixed up last night I just conked out on the couch. Now that I’m properly exhausted, eight hours’ sleep in a real bed is my first priority.”

“Big bed, too. One of those king-size football fields?”

“Yeah.”

Will pictured such a bed, its gauzy curtains draped from a canopy carved from some endangered South American tree. Sleepy dawn sunlight, sleepy woman. Bare, slim legs wrapped in cool, slippery sheets—

Bad chaperone.

He combed his messy hair with his fingers and wondered for the first time in ages what someone thought of him. What did Leigh think of him? That he was lazy, probably. Enviably lazy, but lazy nonetheless. He had six years on her, but no doubt she was eons beyond him in making something of her life. Then again, he wanted no part of that twisted Western notion of what success was. He didn’t want to wake up at sixty with any regrets. He didn’t want to turn out like his old man, as much as Will loved him. And if that made him unambitious or a layabout or a scoundrel, so be it.

You could only ever hurt the people who relied on you—by leaving them, by your actions. The best solution was to keep relationships simple, responsibilities few and impersonal. Make no promises, suffer no regrets. If not for his father’s tireless encouragement, Will never would have found the balls to move away and build his own life based on that motto. At first the guilt had eaten him alive, the shame of feeling he’d abandoned the only person he really, truly loved, and the one who’d sacrificed so Will could become whatever he dreamed of. That guilt had faded over the years, only to blaze vividly back to life when his father was shot. All those years Will had spent avoiding making ties, avoiding hurting anybody the way his mother had hurt him and his father... Here he was, a thousand miles away when his dad needed him most. All those good intentions, and he’d wound up the very thing he hated most—a deserter.

Now he had only one mission: to get his dad down here, to live out in paradise whatever time he had left. Will glanced at Leigh, hoping that perhaps her coming to him this evening might be a sign, proof that the deal he’d struck was meant to be, the right decision. He hadn’t even had to go out of his way to seek her. She’d come to him.

Her villa appeared in the distance, moonlight glinting off its windows. All at once, Leigh stopped short in the sand.

Will scanned for danger, finding everything as it should be. “What?”

She took a huge breath, her chest rising, then falling as she let it go. She stared at her accommodations. “It’s just so...empty. Especially looking at it from here. Like an aquarium or something. Like I might drown in there.”

Will stared at the water and listened as she took another deep breath, then another. Then her small hand cupped his elbow.

When he turned to glance down at her, her face was at once set and uncertain. There was a muted clap as her sandals dropped to the sand, his own sharp inhalation as her other hand went to his neck. Without thought he did as her touch commanded, leaning in to accept her mouth with his.

He tasted salt on her lips from the sea breeze. As he plunged the fingers of his free hand into her hair, she deepened the kiss. The rush of the waves seemed to fill his skull, drowning out all logic.

She didn’t kiss the way she looked—not sweet, not inexperienced. No girl-next-door. She kissed with ferocity, making Will light-headed. The fingers stroking his bare skin curled, her short nails scraping, and self-control abandoned him.

Dropping to his knees, he pulled her down with him. A groan rose from his throat as he felt her weight, her thighs straddling his as he took her mouth. He tossed his shoes aside and pulled her close by her hips. Her tiny gasp warmed his mouth, and he angled his jaw to taste her. Words flashed across his mind—
rebound, tabloid, unforgivable assholery.
Abstract collections of letters, no match for the fascinating shapes of her body, the slide of her tongue against his.

He gathered her hair in his hands and took her deeper, suppressing a moan as her legs tensed around his, hips seeking friction. He gave her more than she asked for, tugging her hard against him, so close there’d be no mistaking that this lapse in judgment was mutual. She sucked her breath in sharply and went still in his arms.

He swallowed. “Now’d be the perfect time for one of your
wows,
Miss Bailey.”

She bit her lip, not hiding her smile. “Call me Leigh.”

“Call me Captain Burgess.”

She shook her head, but her grin only deepened. There was something in her expression, something warm and easy that Will hadn’t seen in years. He felt his loyalties growing foggy.

She cleared her throat. “I really shouldn’t be on your lap.”

“No, you really shouldn’t. Especially since I’m so clearly trying to fight you off.”

“This probably entails an exceedingly generous tip.”

“Thirty percent.” His heart wasn’t in the teasing. It was in his throat, choking him, and in her hands, its resolve torn to shreds. It was also between his legs, blood pounding so hard he couldn’t think straight.

She brought her face back to his. It became a far different kiss, deep and slow and hungry. It filled his head with smoke, his body with terrible, brilliant ideas. Leigh didn’t protest as he cupped her breast. Her hips locked tight to his, moving in tiny thrusts that set his cock on fire. Curious hands stroked his chest, his stomach. Fingers flirted with the waist of his shorts and with a strangled moan Will managed to pull away, easy as gnawing off a limb. He relocated her hand to his side, catching his breath.

There was regret on Leigh’s face as she fumbled to her feet. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He stood, dusting sand from his shins.

“I’m... I didn’t plan that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. If you had, you’d have picked a far more deserving victim than me.”

That brought a nervous smile to her lips.

“But you’ve been single for what? A couple days?”

“Yeah, basically.” She bent for her sandals, not looking at him when she straightened.

“Hey, trust me, I’m flattered. But I’m sure you’re feeling... Hell, I have no idea what you’re feeling. But I don’t want to be a part of anything you might want to take back, tomorrow or next week or when you land back in L.A.”
Liar. It’s your own regrets you’re worried about.

She nodded, still avoiding his eyes.

He went to touch her shoulder, but she dodged him, starting toward her villa. Will hurried after her. “Hey.”

She stopped, unbuttoning the borrowed shirt and thrusting it at him. “Here. Thank you.”

He tucked it under his arm, jogging to catch up. He grabbed her wrist and she finally turned to face him.

“I’m not angry or anything,” he said. “I’m flattered beyond belief.”

“You’re trying to protect me, then?”

“I guess. But I bet you’re going to tell me you don’t need protecting.”

Her mouth closed on its ready reply.

“I just don’t want you to look at me the next time I fly you to the mainland, and see some impulsive regret standing there, overdue for a haircut.”

She took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. “Did you want to kiss me?”

“You don’t need me to tell you that. Did you want to kiss me? Or did you just want to kiss somebody who wasn’t your ex?”

“I’m not sure.” She stared at the sand. “I think I wanted to make a mistake. I’ve spent ten years terrified of screwing up, and you...you have nothing to do with my life back home. I guess you seemed like the right person to finally screw up with.”

Will rubbed his hands over the bumps rising along her arms, then draped the shirt around her shoulders. “Why’d you run away, Leigh? Did he bore you, or hurt you?”

She didn’t reply.

“Fine. It’s none of my business. And I’m not such an upstanding guy that I’m hurt by the idea of being somebody’s reckless rebound.”

Leigh shook her head, her smile full of annoyance.

“But some withered little chivalry gland in me’s screaming that I need to jump in that ocean and cool off. And for some reason I’m going to listen to it.”

Leigh nodded. “Your gland is probably wise.”

“So you okay? You gonna be able to get a lift to Bridgetown from me without flinching?”

“We’ll see. I’m sure you could find a way to make me flinch regardless.” She smiled again, this time looking sheepish and soft. “You know, you’re a nicer man than you give yourself credit for.”

And you’re an adorable, wonderful fool to think it, and far too kind for the likes of me.
“You’re the first person who’s ever suggested that, but go ahead. Enjoy that delusion. Feel free to log it in the guest book.”

She looked toward her lodgings. “Walk me to my door?”

They crossed the sand in silence, and Will followed her up the steps to her patio, past the pool to the sliding doors. He spotted her bed through the glass and quickly looked elsewhere.

Leigh fished her key card from her shorts. With a tap, the lock beeped and a tiny light turned green with approval. She met Will’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“I promise I won’t come bugging you again, asking for stuff that’s not listed in the brochure.”

“My loss.”

She stood on her tiptoes and touched his shoulder, kissed his jaw. As she pulled away she made her posture ramrod straight and offered him a curt, hyperprofessional salute. “Good night, Captain Burgess.”

He returned the gesture, then slipped his hands into his pockets. “Sleep well, Leigh. And sleep in.”

She slid the door open and waved as she closed it, then disappeared into the darkness of her suite.

By the time he descended the patio steps to the beach, Will was shaking. Tiny tremors, from the adrenaline. Lust and surprise and guilt all poured in a blender and zapped into a cocktail that would knock any rational man on his ass. He rubbed at a knot forming in his chest, and aimed himself home, gulping deep breaths until his heartbeat slowed.

As he rounded the curve of the shore, he slipped his phone from his pocket, checking the time.

Late, but not too late. And no matter the hour, there was a phone call that needed making, to a man back in L.A. who’d pay good money to hear what Will had to report about Leigh Bailey.

5

“I
T
’
S
NOT
A
HURRICANE
, is it?” Leigh watched the two maintenance workers folding her lounge chairs two days later at lunchtime, stowing stray furniture in a storage bay set into the patio. She’d been awakened by a call that morning saying the staff would be by to secure things ahead of an approaching storm.

“No,” one of them said, fastening the canvas cover on her hot tub. “But very windy. You’ll be fine. Just don’ want these things flying all ’round when it get gusty. But no need to panic. Should be over by tomorrow mornin’.”

“That’s good.”

“An’ these villas are built like rocks, miss. Best you stay indoors, of course.”

She pictured the cottages perched on stilts at the workers’ beach and wondered how well they would fare.

She thanked the men when they finished the preparations, feeling excited about the coming storm. She hadn’t made any plans for the day, had no activities she’d been hoping to try out. Staying inside with a glass of wine in her hand and watching the sea thrash sounded lovely. Simple and lovely. And it’d keep her away from Will Burgess for another day, which was surely for the best. Leigh shook her head, lamenting what a fool she’d made of herself that second evening. She’d blush pink as a grapefruit the next time she needed a lift to shore.

Just as she was finishing dinner, the winds arrived. She noticed it in the ocean first, a quickening of the waves lapping the beach, a rising of the tide. Then the sky grew heavy with fast-moving clouds, gleaming gray as gunmetal.

Leigh settled on the couch with a glass of chardonnay to watch nature’s show. No commercials, no gossip, no reminders of the mess she’d left back home. Simple, elemental. Not unlike those few passionate minutes in the sand with Will. She gave herself a little mental shake for remembering it with such idiotic fondness. She was just another rich, bored tourist to him, surely, some laughable caricature of the jet set. It had stung to realize those facts, the morning after their...collision. Though the embarrassment didn’t do much to take the edge off the giddiness still wriggling in her middle. Her actions had been foolish, but her crush was as real as ever.

By seven it was dark as midnight, with wind and sea spray whipping the villa’s picture windows. There hadn’t been any lightning, but Leigh’s skin felt fevery, her senses heightened as though something electric charged the air. She rose to go to the fridge, and as she refilled her glass, a great crash shattered her calm, and the bottle slipped from her hands, exploding across the tile. She whipped around to find one of the solarium’s tall panes all but obliterated, wind and spray gusting in to send the magazines and papers on the coffee table flying. She tiptoed around the bottle shards and hurried to the phone by the door to dial zero.

“Reception,” chimed a friendly islander voice.

“This is Leigh Bailey, in Shearwater Villa. I think something just crashed through my living room window. There’s wind coming in and stuff flying everywhere.”

“Will you be all right for ten minutes, miss?”

“Yes.”

“Please shut yourself in a different room and collect anything you’ll need for an overnight stay. I’m sending a car right now, and we’ll get you to a room here in the main complex.”

“Thank you.”

They hung up and Leigh picked her way along the edge of the living room, collecting her phone from the table and her sandals from the floor beside it. She could see what had happened; lying amid the solarium glass was a heavy terra-cotta roof tile.

Her ride arrived before she had finished tossing a change of clothes into a bag. To her surprise, it was Will, standing on her stoop with his messy hair whipping around his face, his truck parked behind him. He looked comforting and familiar, solid in the midst of the chaos. Her middle gave a funny wriggle.

She had to nearly yell to be heard over the gusting. “Hello again, Captain.” She shut the door at her back and Will took her bag.

“What happened?”

“A roof tile got blown through one of the windows. What are you doing here?”

“I was the only one left in the vicinity, still battening down my hatches after I got the plane secured.” He opened Leigh’s side of the truck, the courtesy seeming surreal in such violent weather. She climbed inside and he joined her shortly in the cab.

“Where are the other workers?” she asked.

“I suspect the slumber party’s already begun,” he said, starting the engine. “This happens a few times a year. The workers’ village is on the quietest inlet, but they still evacuate us, set us up with cots and amenities in the main complex, around the pool. But don’t worry. You’ll be treated very well.” His tone was warm, but a touch false. He sounded as though he was speaking to any old guest, not the one whose body he’d held tight two nights before. She missed the real Will, the shameless one, and worried she’d scared him away.

“Sorry about the inconvenience,” he added politely as he got them onto the road.

She found the balls to turn and stare until he met her eyes during a straight stretch. “I sort of liked you better when you were a jerk, Captain.”

Will faced forward and his smile arrived slowly, lit by the light of dashboard gauges. “Apologies. What about the other night? Is that off-limits or do I get to harangue you for trying to take advantage of me?”

She relaxed, pleased she hadn’t ruined their rapport. “Just don’t treat me like some delicate visitor flower. That’s all I ask.”

“Never been sexually assaulted by a guest before,” Will said, facing forward. “Just trying to be polite, lest you manhandle me again.”

“Womanhandle, you mean.”

Another grin.

“You can get away with a lot,” Leigh said, “since you’re the only man who can get me off this island.”

“If we’re being indiscreet again, I’m going to go ahead and delete the last two words of that sentence.”

She replayed her remark and rolled her eyes at him. “That sounds more like the Will Burgess I know.”

“First class, all the way.”

“Indeed.”

“But never fear, we shan’t cross paths tonight. You’ll be put up in the emergency suite, away from us commoners.”

“Emergency suite?”

“It’s nicer than it sounds. It’s on hand to placate guests when there’s a malfunction, or if they’re feeling ill and need to be near the medical staff. Or most often, if their marriage breaks down and the husband gets the boot from the love nest. The workers call it ‘the doghouse.’”

“Oh dear.”

Will steered around a trash bin that had been blown into the road. “Doghouse or not, it’s lovely. You’ll be spoiled rotten. They always bend over backward when anything goes wrong.”

“I don’t need spoiling. Just shelter.”

They lapsed into silence for the rest of the trip, and Will got them safely to the parking lot outside the reception building. “I’d hold an umbrella for you, but I’d rather not get swept out to sea.” He opened his door and pulled her case from behind the seat. Leigh saved him the trouble of opening her side, and hurried behind him through the punishing wind and into the warm, dry calm of the lobby.

The manager hurried forward with a broad smile. “So sorry about this, Miss Bailey.”

Leigh smoothed her wind-whipped hair and offered a smile of her own. “I don’t mind. I just hope the room isn’t wrecked.”

“Shall I show her the temporary suite?” Will asked. He took the key card and led her to the left, past the fountain.

“If there’s anything you need,” the manager called after them.

“I’ll ring, thank you,” Leigh said.

“No charge!”

Will showed her up a flight of stairs and down a hall to a beautiful suite that overlooked the dock and
The Passport
. It was nowhere near as spacious as her villa, but just as tastefully decorated, hardly an afterthought. She wondered exactly how often this space did get used for the crises Will had mentioned, both medical and marital.

He set her suitcase beside a desk.

“Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.” He paused before adding, “Sorry this trip’s not going quite according to plan.”

She shrugged. “When does anything ever go according to plan? Or if it does, what fun is it, anyhow?”

He grinned at that, the last of his formality melting away to reveal the man she’d developed a speed-crush on during that party. “Well put.”

Leigh glanced at her feet, vaguely noting that her shoes were plastered with wet sand. “While I have the chance, I want to apologize for the other night. For being such a freak when you were nice enough to walk me back.”

“Already forgotten about it.”

She knew it was a fib, meant to lessen her embarrassment, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. She wouldn’t be forgetting
his
kisses anytime soon. “It’s been a weird time for me. I lost track of my head. And I could have gotten you in trouble for it, so I’m sorry.”

His smile turned tight, his expression melancholy. “I don’t want your apology, Leigh. And I don’t need it. I shouldn’t have lost my mind right back.”

“At least you found yours.”

“Barely... But if anyone was suspicious about my walking you home, my going missing with you now won’t help matters.”

“True.”

“I’ll leave you to get settled in. Milk that free room service for all it’s worth.”

He headed for the hall and they exchanged sheepish waves.

She felt better as the door closed behind him. Good to know their romantic collision seemed to have left Will feeling foolish, too. At least that meant it had gone both ways, not just her throwing herself at him, some deluded crazy woman.

Crap, she really ought to have tipped him, just now. She’d have to
over
tip him the next time she flew to the mainland, take a page out of his book and hide a crumpled bill in the plane’s cabin.

Still, Leigh couldn’t settle down. The formerly fascinating storm had lost its appeal the second it sent that tile smashing through her window, and the gusts rattling the panes here were far from soothing. Flipping channels only made it worse, as her old anxiety over stumbling across gossip about herself churned her stomach. She wished she had a jar of peanut butter.

She checked the room service menu, but nothing fit the bill. She didn’t want something fancy delivered on a silver platter. Maybe there was a vending machine downstairs, with candy bars or cookies. She dug her wallet from her purse and pocketed her key card.

The building was bustling, the staff rushing around to get displaced workers set up with cots and food and towels.

Leigh was cast cursory, anxious smiles as she wandered around the ground floor. She walked through a large rear recreation area, with a big pool, a sauna, deck chairs. A place for people to congregate, she guessed, if they were renting the villas as part of a destination wedding or other well-heeled occasion. She recognized faces from the barbecue among the workers getting themselves set up with clusters of cots. People were delivering blankets and pillows, looking as though this was no new drill. Only Rex, the shameless flirt she’d danced with, paid her any special attention, though he was too preoccupied to offer her much more than a mischievous glance. Will strode past, a heavy jug of bottled water hugged to his chest and a package of paper cups tucked under one arm. Oscar and Bethany were there as well, Bethany rubbing her huge belly as her husband set up cots for the two of them, sleeping pads for their children. Leigh frowned. She wandered over, mission forgotten.

“Hello again, miss.” The woman wore a cooler, more professional smile now than she had while manning the grill. “Heard your villa had a little mishap.”

“It’s no big deal. They set me up in the emergency suite.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Oh, it’s fine. But I can’t help but wonder if maybe you’d like to swap with me for the night?” She nodded toward her belly. “I can’t imagine a cot’s going to be comfortable for you.”

“Don’t you worry about me,” Bethany said with a wave. “Don’t be silly.”

Leigh didn’t think she was being silly, she thought she was being logical. But she realized now that maybe her idea would’ve gotten the woman in trouble, so she didn’t push it.

“It’s a very kind offer,” Bethany said. “Very kind. Thank you. But I’ll be jus’ fine.”

Will reappeared with a blanket in his hands, which he tossed onto a cot not far from the couple. “Looking to crash another party?” he teased.

“I was just asking if Bethany wanted to switch with me for the night.”

“Ah.”

“’Course I said no.” She shook her head. “Sweet of you,” she added to Leigh.

“Very sweet,” Will agreed, and he gave Leigh a calculating glance.

She didn’t know what to make of that look, so she changed the subject. “Is there a vending machine anywhere?”

“Sure. It’s called room service.”

“I don’t need room service, not when all this is going on. I just wanted a candy bar or something.” Something distracting and decadent, though now that she was close to Will once more, his distracting and decadent kisses sprang vividly to mind, eclipsing her sugar craving.

“Never mind. I’m not actually hungry.” She felt dumb. Her naive offer had clearly made Bethany and Oscar uncomfortable, and now Will thought she was even sillier than before, totally out of touch with the guest-worker dynamic, some ridiculous cartoon of a dippy Hollywood actress. She bade them a good night with burning cheeks.

* * *

W
ILL
WATCHED
L
EIGH
WALK
away, more confused than ever. But one thing was for sure—he’d made the right decision after their passionate mishap on the beach, backing out of that deal with the tabloid bottom-feeder. The second he’d told that asshole where to shove his money, it was as though Will had finally remembered how to take a deep breath.

Obscene paycheck or not, she wasn’t some generic celebrity to him anymore. She was kind and lost and vulnerable, and she didn’t deserve to be spied on, much less be written about by an opportunistic creep. Will had called the editor, planning to tell him a few harmless facts, but had wound up cussing the guy out. So much for a quick fix to his money problems. So much for pretending he didn’t have an ethical bone in his body.