The Wedding Fling (3 page)

“No, thank you. Though I suspect I’ll be sitting in the cabin on the way back.”

“Probably wise. My old man was a cabbie in New York. My gifts of customer service are purely genetic.”

“A very rare and malicious disorder, I’m sure. Thank goodness you’re not contagious.”

He grinned, rather enjoying the dig.

“And since you’re so nosy, you may as well know there’s no settlement, because I didn’t get married.”

Will swallowed. “Duly noted.” He’d expected to feel some kind of triumph at such an informational coup, but he didn’t. It actually felt bad, a nauseous little twist in his gut.

“I was just teasing, you know.” Will met her eyes as much as was possible through two pairs of shades. “Taking the edge off?”

“More like sharpening it.”

“Not my intention.”

“I hope your landing approaches are smoother than your social ones.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t make an effort to sound especially sorry. Nausea notwithstanding, the tactless approach was working. “I’ve never had a runaway Hollywood bride in that seat before.”

She pursed her lips. “Do you know who I am?”

Enough to know some sleazebag back in L.A. will pay good money to hear what you’re up to.
“There’s only a few types who vacation at this place, and when they’re women coming from Los Angeles, I can usually narrow it to actress or model or Hollywood wife. And we’ve ruled out wife.”

Leigh held her tongue.

“Not that I need to know,” Will said with a theatrical sigh of disinterest. “I’m just the chauffeur.”

Leigh countered with a haughtiness that struck him as unpracticed. “I have a chauffeur, sometimes, and he’s far better at diplomacy than you.”

“I have no doubt.” Will gave her another searching look. She wasn’t the woman he’d been expecting, and fruitful though it was, she didn’t deserve the antagonism...but he couldn’t deny he liked the way his teasing made her cheeks go pink. Still, he softened his tone. “Don’t take this personally if you can help it, but I didn’t have you pegged as a woman scorned.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “More like an escapee. Thought maybe I was your getaway driver.”

Her lips parted, but no reply followed. Her look said he was right, that she had escaped. From what, Will couldn’t guess, but one thing seemed clear—her flight was no publicity stunt.

He felt another pang in his middle.

Will had designed his life as free from obligations and guilt as humanly possible, expressly to avoid the ugly emotions he felt now. He didn’t want to report on this woman anymore, but at the end of the day, she was nothing to him. He needed the money for things that mattered. Things that mattered far more than a few innocuous tidbits leaked to some slimeball editor thousands of miles away in Hollywood.

Leigh’s hackles seemed to lower. “You are,” she finally said. “You’re my getaway driver.”

She relaxed back into her seat and they were quiet for ten minutes or more.

Will pointed into the distance. “See that?”

Leigh squinted at a dot in the turquoise ocean. “Is that it?”

“Yup. That’s your hideout.”

“Wow. That
is
private.”

“Eleven square miles of paradise. Nothing but white sand and swaying palms and room service.”

“Sounds heavenly. Though it’s probably nothing exotic to you.”

Will laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve lived on that tiny speck for seven years now, and I still wake up every day pinching myself.” The second he abandoned the prying, the sourness in his stomach eased.

“You live there?”

He nodded. “Fly people back and forth twice a day for a passable stipend.”

“Wow.”

“You say that a lot, you know.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose I do.”

“You’re very easy to impress,” Will said as the plane began its descent. “I like that in a woman.”

“Yes. That would be a requisite for a man of your charms.”

He laughed again, then realized he might be in danger of actually liking Leigh Bailey, celebrity runaway bride or not. That didn’t bode well for his gig.

The island grew closer, and Will could make out two of the villas from this angle, two tiny blue swimming pools, two docks poking out into the waves.

“So you
are
famous, right?” he asked, banking the plane left.

“Not crazy-famous. B-list, I guess. Maybe B plus.”

“What are you famous for?” She’d been in some films he’d never heard of, but that was all he knew about her.

“When I was in high school, outside San Francisco, I was really into dance. And one summer I was fed up over not getting called back for theater auditions, so my mom drove me to L.A. to try out for a movie. And I got it.”

“What kind of movie?”

“About a shy, bookworm girl who goes away for a summer to Miami and meets all these hot-blooded ballroom dancers, and falls in love with this boy. Just another star-crossed teen romance with a dance-off at the end. That’s what I’m most known for. And I did a few romantic comedies and a couple indie films, and got talked into a cosmetics campaign. But nothing hugely amazing.”

“Looking to be the next big thing?”

“Quite the opposite.”

Will’s brow furrowed in surprise, and he hoped she didn’t notice.

“I’d happily wake up tomorrow as a complete nobody.”

“I hate to break it to you, but running away from your wedding’s not gonna do much to keep you out of the spotlight.”

“No kidding.”

“But if you’re looking to be a nobody, you’ve picked the best place on earth to do it.”

“Actually... You let me bribe you into taking me this far. Any chance I can bribe you into keeping your mouth shut to any other passengers or resort staff?”

“Discretion comes standard. In fact, I’ve already forgotten your name, Miss...?”

She smiled grimly, and Will tried to ignore the fresh stab of guilt his lie triggered.

* * *

A
FTER
A
SHAKY
LANDING
, Will climbed out and secured the craft to a long aluminum dock, then offered Leigh a hand as she disembarked.

“Thanks.”

He fetched her suitcase and made a beeline for a huge stucco building with terra-cotta roof tiles and a grand arched entryway. She followed, breathing in the sea-scented island air as the plane’s diesel smell faded. She took in the white sand, blue sky, her pilot’s backside...the latter merely to spite Dan. Not because she still had
any
lingering curiosity about kissing this galling man. Certainly not. Though Will did retain some appeal. She’d gotten so used to everyone telling her what they thought she wanted to hear, Will’s tactlessness had a strange allure.

He held the door as they reached the reception building, the lobby equal parts posh and primitive with its huge windows and fountain and exotic plants.

He set her suitcase before the unmanned reception counter and tapped a silver bell.

“Thank you,” Leigh said.

Will didn’t leave, and she bit her lip. His proximity made her feel funny. Naked. “Sorry.
Am
I supposed to tip you?”

He smiled. “I’m driving you to your villa, once you’ve checked in.”

“You do that, too?”

“I do for that unit. It’s not far from my place.”

“Okay.”

“And you may tip me for that, incidentally.”

Leigh’s retort was cut off as a harried young Caribbean woman appeared.

“So sorry to keep you waitin’. Mrs. Cosenza?” Ah, another dagger in the breast.

“Miss Bailey,” Will corrected, tucking his hands in his pockets.

The woman looked to Leigh. “Oh?”

“Yes, just me. It’s under Cosenza, but I... Well, anyhow. Change of plans.” She ought to have that printed on a T-shirt.

The woman got busy typing. “So only one key, then. No problem at all. You’re in the Shearwater Villa.” She procured a plastic card and swiped it across a device before handing it to Leigh. “Let me jus’ get a driver ’round for you.”

“I’m on it,” Will said.

The woman frowned first at him, then Leigh. “You really want this bum escortin’ you?”

Leigh looked from one to the other.

The woman laughed. “Just kiddin’—you’re in good hands. Terrible vehicle, but very good hands. Now anything you need, you’ll find the phone numbers in the binder waitin’ on your coffee table. You have a lovely visit, miss.”

Leigh followed Will outside to a small parking lot.

He held up her suitcase. “Anything delicate in here?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

They walked past several shiny white SUVs to a rusty old pickup. Will put her bag in the bed. He opened the passenger side and once again Leigh buckled herself in as copilot.

Will slid behind the wheel. Just to test him, she tapped the dashboard provocatively.

“Go nuts. It’s only the plane I’m a fascist about.” The truck started with a mournful noise. He drove them onto a smooth gravel road, heading inland. Leigh unrolled her window to hear the birds and welcome the sun on her arm.

“Final leg of your great escape,” Will said.

She nodded.

“How long do you get to play fugitive, before you turn yourself in?”

“Two weeks.”

“Very nice.”

Already this place had her pain fading to a dull throb. Reality could shove it, as long as she was in paradise. She smiled at the decadence of the idea and shut her eyes, angling her face to catch the sunshine.

“Two weeks of surf and sand and rum,” Will said, giving voice to her thoughts.

“And silence.”

“My mistake.”

“We have plenty of surf and sand and rum in Los Angeles, anyway. I picked this place for the seclusion.” She turned to smirk at him. “How did you end up down here, anyhow?”

He made a face as though he’d never considered it before. “Got my pilot’s license when I was nineteen, moved to Cancún. Moved to Nassau. San Juan. Woke up here seven years ago.”

Sounded a bit like Leigh’s life, waking up somewhere unexpected...only this man had flown himself to his destination, whereas she’d merely let herself be shuttled. She was done being swept. She might not know where she ultimately wanted to end up, but she’d brought herself this far, and against everyone’s wishes. Felt awfully good. She eyed Will’s hands on the wheel, wishing she was driving.

The truck trundled out of a small palm forest and past a tiny settlement of colorful houses on stilts, all of the milling residents unmistakably island people. Will raised his hand at everyone who greeted him, and engaged in a playful fake argument with one of the men, laughing as he turned his attention back to the road. How weird it must be to live someplace where friends were the vast majority of the people one encountered, strangers the oddities. Weird and comforting.

“What is that...area?”

“The shanty town? That’s where all us commoners hang out when we’re not fluffing your pillows or spit-shining your bidets.”

“A whole town, just to make the visitors at four measly villas happy...”

“Easier said than done.”

She got stuck staring at his arm for a moment, tanned skin and trim muscle beside cream-colored linen. “Which came first, the town or the resort?”

“Resort. This place was human-free until it got developed fifteen years ago.”

“What’s there to do in town?”

Will laughed. “For you? Nothing. Just a bunch of rowdy resort rats drinking and dancing and saying all the stuff we’re not allowed to when guests are within earshot.”

“Dancing?”

“Stick with the spa treatments. Your villa’s got everything you’ll need, a speed-dial for your every whim.”

“Maybe my whims don’t come on silver platters,” Leigh said, and the skeptical, bawdy glance Will shot her made heat bloom unbidden in her middle. She took her shades off to glare at him properly. “Not like that, Captain Pervert. Just, I don’t know. Maybe I’d like to get out and explore. Meet the locals.”

“If you wanted that, you wouldn’t have come to this place. But if you need a lift to Bridgetown I leave here at ten and two, seven days a week. Plus special trips for a steep fee. Can’t fly after dark, so book a place to stay on the mainland if you’re looking to party.”

She nodded, committing the times to memory.

“Here we are,” Will announced, driving them up to a stately yet modern stucco building with vast windows—so vast Leigh could see the ocean clear through the other side. “Wow.”

“
Wow...
” Will echoed, pulling around the circular drive. They exited and he carried her suitcase up a set of wide stone steps.

“Thank you.” Leigh checked that her key card worked, setting her bag inside before rooting through her purse.

Will shook his head. “Don’t.”

“No tip?”

“Your earlier gratuity was more than generous.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for the lift.”

“Enjoy your stay. See you when you’re ready to head back to the mainland.”

She put out her hand and he accepted it. That sure shake, his skin as warm as his dangerous smile. A curious,
vengeful
part of Leigh imagined that confident touch elsewhere on her body. A new man’s unfamiliar palms on her bare skin, for the first time in two years... Realizing their shake had gone on too long, she released his hand.

“See you around,” she said lamely.

“I suspect you will. Enjoy your escape.”

“I’ll try.”

He offered a polite smile, then trotted down the steps, not looking back as he climbed into his truck and drove away.

The second he disappeared past a stand of palms, Leigh missed him. Not Will, the person, but the sort of person he was—one who didn’t give half a damn who
she
was.

She carried her bag through the entryway and into a sunken living room that opened to a solarium at one end, overlooked by the mosaic-paneled counter of a gleaming kitchen on the other. The villa was only one story, but the cathedral ceiling and tall windows made it feel doubly spacious. Plush furniture, massive television mounted on one wall, cut lilies filling the air with the heady smell of the tropics.

She wandered through the living room and found the master bedroom. Its far wall was nothing but glass, looking out onto her patio with its pool and hot tub, pristine white beach and aquamarine ocean beyond.