Picture Perfect (The Wilsons) (3 page)

"Fine, I'll delete them."

He stepped around so that she could see the LCD viewer on his camera, and he started deleting all the photos of her, one by one. It was a shame, too - they were incredibly nice photos.

She leaned over slightly to check that he really was deleting them, and he caught a whiff of her jasminey-citrusy scent again. Who was she?

"I'm Adam, by the way," he offered as he continued deleting the photos.

"And you obviously know who I am," she responded snidely, as he deleted the last one. "Thanks for that."

She sounded dubious, as if he hadn't really deleted the photos.

"What now?"
he asked, slightly exasperated.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head, and walking away, "Just stay away from me, ok?"

"Sure thing." A note of doubt had crept into his voice.

They looked at each other warily, and then she walked away. He tried not to stare after her, but he did notice that she went into the car park and climbed into a jeep and drove away.

Well, that was that. It was a strange, puzzling encounter, but this was St Martin's, the hangout of the rich and pretentious. What else had he expected?

***

The first day of his holiday had gotten off to a strange start. What was it with beautiful women, were they getting crazier with each passing year? Adam shook his head and decided to forget about that encounter - he busied himself by asking a friendly-looking family of four to keep an eye on his camera and went for a vigorous swim.

Was there a gym at this tiny hotel? He might hit it up later. His leg hurt as powered through the water, trying to rely mainly on his arms and his one good leg. But the exercise was probably useful - the sooner his leg healed, the sooner he'd be out on the field.

A while later, when his leg began to hurt quite badly, he made his way back to the shore, toweled off, and lay on the warm sand to give his muscles the chance to recover. The sun had gotten pretty high, so he headed over to one of the open beach-side cafes and ordered a plate of fish and chips. It was fast food, beach-style, and hit the spot. Maybe tonight he'd visit a bar or two and find someone who was beautiful and
not
crazy, he thought, trying to forget Crazy Girl and her beautiful hazel eyes.

The hotel was a short
car ride from The Rocks, and after Adam parked his cheap rental car and wandered into the lobby, he wanted to pinch himself.

What was Crazy Girl doing here?

And from the looks of it, she didn't seem pleased to see him this time, either. He groaned inside as she walked towards him with pursed lips.

Her eyes were icy. "What're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied lightly.

The brown eyes narrowed. "No, you couldn't. Since you already knew I was staying here."

She said it in a pointed, matter-of-fact way, and Adam sighed and rolled his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Really. I'm staying here. I'm a
guest
at this hotel."

He was tired, the swim had been exhausting, and he realized they were both walking towards the elevator.

"You're wasting your time."

The elevator doors closed behind them, and suddenly Adam realized they were trapped together in a tiny space. She was looking up at him now, standing surprisingly close. "You won't get any interesting
photos of me again, so you might as well stop wasting your time."

What was she talking about? He had no idea, but as the elevator moved up
, her feminine scent wafted towards him and he imagined the lights going out, getting stuck in this tiny space with her, maybe pulling her close and …
Snap out of it
.

He blinked, hoping his desire hadn't been apparent and tried to say something intelligent. "I'm confused," he managed to say, "Who are you, why d'you think I want your photos?"

The doors opened and she made an exasperated noise. "I'm Lea Wilson," she said, "As if you didn't know that already."

He stepped out and watched her walk gracefully down the corridor towards her room. She really did have a nice ass… Just before she turned to her door, she glanced back at him and Adam tried not to look guilty as he quickly turned around and walked in the opposite direction towards his room.

Lea
Wilson
.

As soon as he'd taken a shower, he looked her up online, and after a bit of reading up on her, he wasn't surprised that she was so paranoid about paparazzi. Hmm, she wasn't such a crazy girl after all. Of course, she sounded spoilt, pretentious and was - or at least used to be
, until six years ago, at which points the tabloids stopped mentioning her - an airheaded party girl who was interested in drugs, drinking and going out with male models and pop stars. Not someone he'd ever share a coffee with, no matter how sexy her ass was.

***

"Lea, Lea… wait!"

Lea turned around and saw that annoying photographer limping towards her rapidly. She suppressed a smile - he looked so earnest and almost comical, but why should she be happy to see him? Sure, he had a cute smile and muscles that rippled under his clothes. And yes, he did smell like cedar and peppermint
and the way he ran his hand through his long hair was cute. But she didn't have to smile back at him - oh wait, it was too late.

His limp was quite pronounced - she'd never before met a paparazzo with a limp. It obviously hindered their ability to run after their subjects, and she wondered why she was waiting for him in the lobby after he'd called out. She should probably turn and walk out to her car. But he said her name in a strange, lilting way, and she found it hard to be annoyed by the time he caught up with her.

But she still tried to inject some annoyance into her voice as she crossed her arms and said, "What it is?"

"I need to apologize."

Now she was really surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't realize who you were, I'm not a paparazzo, I work for
World News Wire
." He pulled out his wallet and fished out his press ID card, which he handed to her. "See?"

"Adam Brenner." She shrugged and made a cynical face. "Photojournalist, WWN. Sure, but you could've just made up these cards."

"Really? You think someone would go to all that trouble just to pretend to be a journalist?" It was his turn to look skeptical.

She stared at him,
taking in the disheveled hair and stubble, the camera bag slung around his shoulder. He sure didn't
look
like a paparazzo. But then again, he didn't look much like anyone she'd ever met before - who went around St Martin's looking like they were a well-dressed bum? Well, a cute bum maybe, but still… "What's with the limp?"

He seemed taken aback by the directness of her question, but she didn't feel like wasting time, and that limp made her curious.

"I got injured on the job."

"Oh, r
eally? Pop star kick you when you were following too close?"

Adam
grinned, revealing even, white teeth. There was something about his smile that took her breath away. "No," he said, "I was shot by Libyan rebels, if you must know."

Her heart sank. He said it like it was a joke, and he grinned as if he'd just said something funny, but she knew it was the truth. "I'm so sorry."

Lea felt like an idiot and knew she must look stricken, but Adam just laughed.

"Don't worry, it's no biggie. Just means I have to take time off and get better." He shrugged his shoulders and made a silly face. "Stupid editor with his stupid sick leave rules."

It was Lea's turn to laugh, but it was a polite and nervous one. She'd never been around anyone shot by Libyan rebels before. Now that she knew, she could easily imagine him in the African desert, with his stubble and unkempt hair and expensive camera. And for some reason, that image made her feel a bit sad.

"Anyway," he smiled again, "I just wanted to say, I didn't realize who you were but now I do, I understand
why you're paranoid about guys with cameras taking snaps of you. I'll stay away from now on."

"Uh, sure. Ok. Thanks."

Lea stared after him uncertainly, as he turned around and limped back towards the hotel's breakfast bar. She had a strange sinking feeling in her stomach, as if someone had just given her a magnificent present and then taken it away immediately.

The next morning
Lea decided to try out the hotel's breakfast bar and settled down with a late breakfast - a chocolate croissant and a cup of black coffee. Just as she bit into the chocolate croissant, she saw Adam enter the room.

The croissant was delicious, rich and
chocolaty, but Lea swallowed her mouthful in a rush, trying her best not to choke. She stared at Adam wide-eyed, wondering if she should raise her arm and wave, or would that make her look stupid?

Adam was looking away from her, checking out the foods arranged on the
breakfast buffet. What if he didn't notice her and went and sat somewhere else? Should she call out to him? Wait, why did she even care, he could go sit somewhere else and maybe they'd never talk again and that was completely fine with her.

Stop acting like a silly teenager with a crush,
she told herself. And it wasn't like she was remotely interested in him - he was the last man she'd ever be interested in.

After the accident, she'd moved on from the kind of men she dated - no more musicians and actors, only intelligent, well-educated men with stable careers who wanted to start a family. There was no way she'd be more than politely interested in a war-zone photojournalist who had didn't even know what a good haircut looked like.

And just when she thought he'd never look her way - he did.

Lea smiled and waved at him instinctively, forgetting about looking silly. He smiled back and limped towards her, ignoring the breakfast buffet.

"Would you like to join me?"

Immediately she cursed herself - she must sound so lame. But Adam didn't seem to notice. He shrugged and pulled out a chair for himself. "Sure, why not."

She sipped her coffee intently, feeling a bit awkward while he went through the menu and then finally ordered a trifle muesli when a waitress appeared.

"So," he said, leaning back in his chair, "Do you come here often?"

They both laughed, and the ice between them melted. "Actually, this is my first day breakfasting here,” said Lea. “I was considering just having some cereal in my room."

His dark eyes twinkled and he
raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like a 'cereal in my room' kind of girl. I didn't know Park Avenue Princesses ever ate alone."

J
ust like that, any sympathy she'd ever felt for him, and any guilt for calling him a paparazzo melted away and was replaced by a quick, sharp anger.

"I'm not a
Park Avenue Princess," she said, "I'll have you know that I own and manage a successful hedge fund."

Adam threw his head back and laughed, as though she'd said the funniest thing in the world.

"What's so funny?"

He managed to control his laughter and looked at her. "I think you are."

Huh. He got shot in the African desert and thought she was funny.

"You have a strange sense of humor," Lea said coldly, trying to be polite.
She'd be happy when the breakfast was over and she could get away from him. She regretted waving to him, or wanting him to join her. There was an animal sexuality about him, and something about his annoying, confident manner made her a bit nervous.

"You want to know why you're so funny?"

She turned back to her food. "Not particularly." Her chocolate croissant was so much more interesting than this man's conversation. Although even when she wasn't looking at him, his sharp, cedar and peppermint scent was a bit distracting.

"I'll tell you anyway." He leaned forward and lowered his voice as though he was telling her a massive secret. "You get annoyed really easily. Your face gets
all flushed and your eyes narrow and you look really cute."

He leaned back again, smug and satisfied and Lea tried not to blush.
He called me cute!
But the way he spoke made her nervous, or was it the way he leaned back in his chair, or just… she looked up and smiled at him. He really did look amused.

"Well, whatever." She tilted her head, trying not to let her nervousness show, "You've obviously had your fun, but I'm not getting mad again."

Adam laughed again and winked at her. “Well, we’ll see how that goes.”

His wink was strangely sexual in a completely casual way. Unlike all the other men she’d met, Adam wasn’t trying to be anything – he wasn’t trying to impress her, or sound smart or even be particularly nice to her. It was an unfamiliar situation for her, but his suave confidence and carelessness did turn her.

His food arrived - what looked like bircher muesli served in a sundae glass, topped with whipped cream and sliced mango. While he shifted his attention to his breakfast, Lea took another long look at him. He might have a strange sense of humor, but he was certainly good-looking. His skin was tanned a dark brown - probably from all those days under the desert sun. His jaw was square and despite his messy hair and stubble, he was getting quite a few glances from the other women in the room. Not that she was really interested in him of course, just curious about his work.