The Wedding Fling (11 page)

As if he’d leave this bed, his front row seat, before she’d dressed. He watched her select panties and slide them up her legs, remembering that pale, smooth skin against his. Remembering the way she tasted and smelled, her heat when he’d slid his fingers inside to sample what they’d denied his cock.

Slipping a bright print dress over her shoulders, she put an end to Will’s free show. She departed with a smirk, leaving him and his hard-on to their shower. Warm water was nice, but Leigh’s hands were far nicer. Far nicer than he deserved, he reminded himself, forcing his mind off sex until he was showered and dried and dressed in his rumpled clothes. Sex rose to the forefront once more as he wondered when he might see Leigh next. And where. The big bathtub, perhaps. No, the hot tub—cool night air, steaming water, icy drinks.

He heard the television droning, already imagining how he’d flip it off, pull her onto the couch and remind her they had far better ways to entertain themselves for the next hour.

But when he trotted down the steps to the sunken lounge, her posture told him those wishes weren’t to be granted—not even close.

She was sitting on the coffee table, hugging her middle, her eyes glued to the TV. Will glanced in time to catch a photo fill the screen—a shot of Leigh standing by the counter for the airline that had taken her to Bridgetown from the States.

Real-life Leigh groaned.

The photo disappeared, replaced by the tabloid program’s anchor.
“Well, it confirms the rumors—Leigh Bailey’s gone on her honeymoon, but she forgot to pack her groom!”

“That’s not all she forgot,”
another anchor quipped, and a new photo went up, a grainy close-up of Leigh’s ringless left hand.

Will sat beside her, heart in his throat. “Oh shit.”

She shook her head miserably, though she looked more annoyed than traumatized.

“But that’s not all. Word is, Bailey’s been getting wild with the locals.”

She sat bolt upright.

“No photos yet to corroborate the gossip, but a little tropical bird tells us she spent the second night of her honeymoon dancing on the sand at her exclusive island resort. And with the staff, no less!”

Leigh swore, a pair of words Will hadn’t guessed her capable of. He felt cold as ice, guilt heavy, crushing his chest. It hadn’t been him who’d leaked the news, but he’d come awfully close. Far too close for comfort. And he’d been the one who’d let her tag along.

“Alcohol-fueled midnight beach parties,”
the second anchor said.
“Doesn’t sound like she’s regretting her disappearing act.”

“I had one beer and it was nine at night,” Leigh mumbled irritably.

“No way. And it’s been ‘no comment’ across the board from Dan Cosenza’s side.”
Another photo—Leigh dressed to the nines, arm-in-arm with a stylish young man in a smart suit. She snatched up the remote and shut off the TV. She tossed the clicker at the couch cushions and sat back down, rubbing her face.

“Yikes,” Will offered.

She took deep breaths before she met his eyes, her gray ones glossy with tears. “Yeah, yikes. But I shouldn’t be surprised.”

He held his tongue.

Leigh sighed again, a weary noise. “The pictures from the airport could have been anybody, but the party... It must be one of the staff.”

Invisible hands seized Will’s guts, anger welling up and driving away the guilt for a moment. “Yeah, it must.” Who, though, and why? This had never happened before. Who here needed easy money badly enough to compromise their job? Who needed this even worse than
Will
had? Could have been anyone. Half the staff had been at that party, and the other half would’ve heard soon enough through the gossip mill.

“I was stupid to think this wouldn’t happen.” She dropped her forehead to her hands, the picture of despair. Feeling like a shit for doing it, Will rubbed her back, trying to be supportive, though the notion felt woefully hypocritical.

“Are you going to report it?” he asked.

“No. It was my own fault, crashing that party. None of the staff deserve to get in trouble for my mistake. If anything else gets out, I will, but in the grand scheme of things, this is pretty innocuous. I’m just frustrated,” she said, sounding calmer. “And disappointed. And dumb.”

“You’re not dumb.”

“Naive, then. I walked right into that, practically invited it. Frigging Hollywood. Even on a tiny key in the middle of the ocean, you’re still never free of those bloodsuckers.”

“What will you do?”

“I figured I’d lie low this whole trip and clear my head, but with that all over the TV, my mom’s going to have a stroke. I have to call her and try to explain.”

Will couldn’t help but picture that final photo, Leigh and her handsome ex. “What about your fiancé? Are you going to explain things to him?”

She shook her head. “I’m still too angry to even pretend I can be courteous to him.”

“Angry?”

She nodded. “There was some...dishonesty. Right before the wedding.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t owe him a thing. And I don’t want to talk to him until I can manage it without bursting into tears. Running off was drama enough. And if he’s upset that I’m having a great trip after I ran out and embarrassed him, he’s got a hell of a nerve.”

As a younger man, Will probably would’ve been relieved for the heat to be firmly directed at her ex, but he didn’t just now. He felt worse, sitting here beside her, knowing he’d come so close to being the cause of her tears. No amount of money would’ve been payment enough, yet it so nearly had been. It drove home how deeply he felt for this woman, and so quickly. The thought unnerved him nearly as much as the guilt. He ought to steer clear. He
ought
to steer clear, but would he?
Could
he, after what they’d shared last night? She’d promised him simplicity, no expectations, but Will’s heart and conscience felt tangled.

“I better head home to change,” he said, standing.

She stood, too, unmistakably calmer, though her cheeks and nose were bright pink. “No coffee?”

“I better not. You’ve got phone calls to contemplate.”

She nodded grimly. “Thank you, anyhow. For last night. For keeping me company.”

“You, too.”

She laughed, her heart clearly not in it. “Sorry about the drama. I swear I came here hoping to avoid all this, but...”

“It follows you?”

“It’s in the job description, sadly. If I can’t manage to hide here, I guess I’m just doomed. I um...” She bit her lip, staring out the window.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to...you know. Hang out again some night?”

No way to win—say yes and feel like more of a selfish shit than ever, or say no and hurt her feelings. His hesitation seemed answer enough to deflate her.

“Sorry,” she said. “That was probably inappropriate.”

If she only knew what inappropriate really was, and how close he’d come to it. But stronger than his unease was his attraction, and as intimidating as it felt, his
affection
for her. It scared him to think it, but he felt...attached. But that couldn’t be. Will Burgess didn’t do attachment. Must be a crossed wire, his lust-clouded brain confusing guilt or protectiveness for something far deeper.

“I’d like to hang out,” he admitted. “Maybe just slow things down.”

“Was it weird, seeing a picture of my ex?”

That’s part of it.
“It was weird. Plus you could probably use some simplicity right now.”

“I could. Thanks.”

“Anyhow, you know where to find me.”

Finally, a smile. “That I do.” She stepped close and he gave her a hug, one that took a great effort to break.

“I’ll let you tackle those phone calls.”

She walked him to the patio door and Will slipped into his sandals.

“Thanks again,” she said.

Will managed to say, “You’re welcome.” The second the words left his lips, his stomach dropped. Those tears drying on her cheeks could so easily have been his doing.

Only one thing for it. If he couldn’t undo the mystery informant’s damage, he’d just have to figure out who it was and make sure it never happened again.

The trouble was, it could be damn near anybody.

8

O
NCE
W
ILL
DISAPPEARED
down the beach, Leigh’s favorite diversion was gone and dread rushed in to fill the void. She wished he’d stuck around, but it wasn’t her fling’s job to comfort her when things got complicated. That rather ruined the whole point of a fling, in fact.

He’d changed when he saw the footage, no doubt intimidated by the reality of her ex or the drama of her life back home. She’d barely been able to look at that shot of Dan, especially seeing herself, smiling at his side. That event had happened the previous fall. Had he already been cheating on her then?

But speculation didn’t help her situation, so Leigh resigned herself to tackling some of the fallout. She filled a cappuccino mug with black coffee and fetched her phone, settling on the couch. As she woke the device for the first time in four days, she prayed there was no signal on Harrier Key. No such luck. Her message alerts exploded from forty-eight to over three hundred.

“Holy crap.” She didn’t dare check how many voice mails she had.

The thought of wading through all those messages was too daunting, so she speed-dialed her mother. As it rang, she realized her error—it was barely 5:00 a.m. in L.A.

“Leigh!”

“Mom. Sorry. I forgot the time difference—”

“What is going
on?”
She sounded far more awake than Leigh.

“I’m on my honeymoon.”

“I know that! Why? Why did you run off? Why haven’t you been returning anyone’s calls? Everyone’s worried sick!”

“Even Dan?”

“Of course, Dan! Don’t tell me you called me before you called him?”

Leigh wanted to blurt out the truth, tell her mother she’d been cheated on and that Dan loved someone else...but perhaps the saddest fact of this whole scandal was, she couldn’t. She couldn’t trust her mother not to tell her manager, Angela, or even the press. Not for profit, but because her mom saw any drama—or at least any that didn’t paint Leigh as the bad guy—as a wise PR move, a chance for more exposure. Leigh might hate Dan for the foreseeable future, but she wouldn’t sensationalize their private issues.

“I can’t talk to Dan right now,” she said simply.

“You have to, Leigh. You’ve got no idea how upset he is. He calls at least three times a day to see if I’ve heard from you.” To find out how much she knew, no doubt. He had to suspect that Leigh had learned about his affair by now.

Leigh managed to steer the topic off Dan, asking if her mother had heard the stuff about the beach party. She hadn’t yet, so Leigh summarized it. “So now it looks like I’m having the time of my life after I skipped town.”

“Are you?”

The image of Will’s naked body had Leigh questioning her answer. “No, I’m not. But it’s good for me to be here, away from everything. Though everyone’s going to think I ran off as a stunt, for the attention.”

“Well, whose fault is that?”

“Wow, thanks for your support.”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat this for you. But listen, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s not a crime to have a good time, as long as you’re behaving yourself. You are, aren’t you?”

Again, naked Will. “I had one beer, and I danced with a couple of the workers. Fully dressed, and I left by nine o’clock.” And then proceeded to sexually assault a pilot, but no need to share that—mercifully, the informant didn’t seem to have known about
that
doozy.

“The first night of your honeymoon and you’re out dancing with strange men, Dan back in California a nervous wreck.”

“The second night. And can we leave Dan out of this, please?”

“No, of course we can’t!”

Leigh paced in slow laps around the lounge. “It’s not even much of a story, though of course they made me sound like a party girl.”

“Photos?”

“No, none from the party. Just the usual lame shots at the airport.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

Leigh stopped by the windows, staring off beyond the palms to the ocean. If only she could stay here forever, surrounded by simple beauty, thousands of miles from the chaos of Hollywood.

“Leigh, we’ve had dozens of offers for interviews.”

“I’ll bet.”

“You ought to consider taking at least one of them, to clear all this up.”

She rubbed at the knot in her chest. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it, honey. It’s got to be better than letting the tabloids run wild, speculating.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll have Angela forward you the best offers. Give it some thought. And for heaven’s sake, call poor Dan.”

Oh yes,
poor
Dan. But it was true. She couldn’t avoid it forever, and she’d probably enjoy this trip far more with that task behind her.

After she hung up with her mother, Leigh chugged her coffee. She’d take a shower and eat breakfast, and when the clocks struck nine in Los Angeles, she’d get to work, pick an interview and remind the people back home just how dull she really was, shut down the rumors before they mushroomed any further. Worst inevitability, she’d have to call Dan before her interview was announced. She didn’t need him attacking her, anticipating she’d be outing him as a cheater on national TV or in print. She’d do her damnedest to be civil, though it burned to think he might walk away from this seemingly forgiven.

She didn’t forgive him, not yet. She’d make that very clear, and pray he’d pay in his conscience for hurting her, if not in the press. It was a limp consolation, but she reminded herself it didn’t matter what the world thought of her, whether they saw her as betrayed or victimized or used, or an out-of-control B-list drama queen.

The only thing that mattered was freedom from this circus, or the possibility of it, someday soon.

All in small, manageable steps. Shower. Dress. Call her manager. Call Dan, and find out where he stood. And the sooner she got her butt in the bathroom, the sooner she’d be a step closer to escaping this bullshit before the industry really did change her irreparably, as it had so many others. A hundred phone calls, one last interview...her final act of obedience before she shed the burden of being Hollywood’s so-called good girl, once and for all.

* * *

L
EIGH
’
S
MANAGER
OUGHT
to be crowned the cell phone quick-draw champion of Los Angeles. By midafternoon nearly everything had fallen into place, thanks to Angela’s efficiency. An interview offer had been selected and confirmed, lawyers consulted, contracts forwarded.

In three days Leigh would be appearing on one of the major networks’ more respected talk shows for a live satellite interview. Angela already had Leigh’s personal assistant arranging the technical details with the resort. Between now and then, all she needed to do was find an appropriate outfit and get her story straight.

Oh, and call Dan. Yes, how could she forget?

But her to-do list was finite, miraculously, and she no longer feared her phone. She glanced at it, sitting innocently on the counter next to her fourth cup of coffee.

With a deep breath, she picked it up and held the 2 button.

“Leigh.” Dan sounded breathless. He sounded like a stranger somehow, after only a week’s separation.

Leigh kept her own voice casual, though she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it for long. “Hi, Dan.”

“Oh my God, what’s going on?”

“My mother hasn’t talked to you?”

“She did, but she didn’t have any answers. Why did you take off?”

Leigh wandered to the couch, feeling more tired than anything. “I sort of think you know why I took off. Do you want me to spell it out? She starts with an A, if I’m not mistaken.”

A long silence. “Leigh. Don’t jump to conclusions about anything you might have heard.”

“Do you even know what I heard, Dan? Do you even know that after you ended your conversation with me that morning, I was still connected when you thought you’d switched back to the other line? Which, incidentally, was not a call with your brother.”

More silence.

“I don’t need any details. I don’t want any. I know you’re in love with somebody else, and I don’t know if you were marrying me for the exposure or the money or what, but I don’t care. It’s over. Go be with her. But we need to talk about the press.”

“I haven’t told them anything.”

Any chance of an apology?
“That’s good. I don’t plan on telling them anything about it, either. I want this to blow over, as quick as possible. I’m going on the
Jen Landis Show
in three days to explain my runaway bride act.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know exactly what Angela’s going to suggest I say, but nobody knows why I really ditched you. Only you and I know that.”
Plus a pilot I slept with last night.
“I’m probably going to say we’ve been having problems for a few months, and I realized that morning that I couldn’t do it. Not a meltdown, not some horrible secret. Not even a lie. Since we
were
having problems.”

“Okay.”

“Is that the only word you’re capable of?”

“I’m sorry, Leigh.”

Ah, there it was—the sting in her eyes.

“I’m sorry about what I did, and the way you found out. I never meant for it to happen, and I thought... I thought it’d be less embarrassing for everyone to deal with it after the wedding. So something like this wouldn’t happen.”

So I’d spend our honeymoon still hoping that we were finally going to reconnect?
That hurt far too much, so Leigh steered them to practical, manageable concerns, and they hashed out a plan. Dan could deal with the condo—keep or sell it, just get Leigh’s name off the deed and send her her half of the money, get her things moved to her parents’ house. As for the press, they’d tell everyone the rift had been growing for some time. She’d keep Dan’s indiscretions secret and he’d tell anyone who asked that he understood her decision.

Leigh stood by the plan, as much as it burned. “You are so freaking lucky I’m not there right now. I could strangle you, this is so unfair—that people are going to think I was the asshole in all this.”

“I can only say I’m sorry, Leigh.”

“Keep saying it, then. Just don’t make me sound like a crazy person.”

“I can do that.” After a pause, he added, “I
am
sorry, Leigh.”

“I believe you. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

“Of course not.”

“Anyhow. I’ll probably be in touch, for one thing or another.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

Leigh hung up. She lay on the couch, crying and deep breathing, forcing herself to feel everything. That call had gone as well as she could have hoped. She’d been afraid that he’d deny it, tell her it was a misunderstanding, or that he’d grovel and want her back and confirm her fears that he’d only ever loved her for her fame.

What he’d told her would make it easier to forgive him. Someday.

* * *

W
ILL
WAS
NAUSEOUS
all that afternoon and the following morning over the state he’d left Leigh in. He’d never cheated on anyone, never caused a breakup that was anything beyond the ordinary, the excusable.

But this.

He hadn’t been the one who’d wrecked her sense of security, tattling to the press, but he could’ve been, so, so easily. And he felt helpless, with no hope of figuring out who’d told the tabloid about the party. He’d even called his erstwhile contact at the paper and demanded a name, but of course the man refused. All Will got was a sore throat from cussing the jerk out a second time.

Will was sitting on the edge of the dock in the afternoon, waiting for any passengers who might show for the two o’clock flight to Bridgetown. A perfect, gorgeous day worthy of a postcard, but all he could see were clouds. Somewhere nearby, Leigh was hurting, and his hopes for getting the bar open and his dad down here were back to square one. The view from square one was awfully bleak.

He’d been staring off over the water, and the vibrations of footsteps on the dock snapped him to attention. His heart stopped as he spotted Leigh, but strangely, it had nothing to do with the residual guilt. All at once he could feel the sunshine on his back, smell island blossoms on the breeze. Goddamn.

She offered a wave, a small but warm smile. She’d be okay, he realized. His heart eased, making room for those perplexing, pleasurable feelings she let loose in him.

He got to his feet. “Heading to civilization?”

“Yeah, if you’ve got room.”

“Got nothing but.”

She walked with him to the plane and took the copilot seat in the cockpit. Will got them in the air and halfway to Bridgetown before either spoke.

“I’m hoping I could charter a special flight, for this evening,” she said over the engine’s drone. “Around seven, if that’s not too late.”

“That’s absolutely fine. What are you up to, in town? How did it go, talking to everyone back home?”

The longest sigh he’d ever heard answered him. “Well, I made a bunch of phone calls, and decided it’s probably best that I do a TV interview, to put an end to all the rumors. So I need an appropriate outfit.”

“Well, you seem very calm, considering.”

She shrugged. “Actress.”

They fell silent, not speaking until Will helped her down from the plane in Bridgetown.

“I’ll see you at seven?” she asked.

“You will, but be punctual—sun sets around eight. Jackie usually locks up at five, so don’t bother with the terminal. Just come around to the plane and I’ll be waiting.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be early, if I can. Enjoy your afternoon.”

“You, too.” He watched her walk down the dock, plainly on a mission.

He spent an hour cleaning and refueling
The Passport,
then dawdled, chatting with Jackie until it was clear no one was flying back with him. No sense wasting the fuel to head home, when he had to be back for Leigh’s special trip at seven. He told Jackie to head out to get ready for a date, and did all the tidying and locking up around the terminal.

What to do for the next couple hours? Grab dinner at one of his usual haunts, maybe. But no. Nothing would taste good in this mood. He knew where he had to go, the only place that could screw his head on straight, get him focused on finding a new solution, and dispel the fog that these feelings for Leigh had created in his brain.