By Invitation Only

by Wilde, Lori; Etherington, Wendy; Burns, Jillian

  But he dithered too long.

  The moment for escape passed when Wendy took the card from his hand, slipped it into his breast pocket and whispered, “I can’t wait for our date.”

  2

  OLIVIA HAD BEEN CAMPED outside the private airport since she’d learned Holly Addison was expected to touch down in Austin sometime on Thursday to pick up J. D. Maynard Jr. before they jetted off to Rapture Island together for their weekend nuptials.

  But clearly she wasn’t the only one who’d done a bit of snooping. Journalists, bloggers and paparazzi, along with fans and Lookie Lous lined the airport fence. Heavy security patrolled the airport grounds. For hours, her mind had been racing as she tried to figure out how she could get past the guards and the other clamoring reporters.

  Bupkis.

  It was almost noon and she had nothing. She was just about to drive over to the coffee shop a mile down the road and get a refill on her monster-size cup of java when she spotted a sleek late-model red Corvette turn off the highway and take a side road leading to the airport. The car inched along, but didn’t attempt to go up to the main gate as everyone else had done upon arrival. Instead, it turned down a side road and parked in the grass far on the opposite side of the airfield from the other vehicles.

  Her reporter’s antenna went up. Who was this?

  As unobtrusively as she could, she broke away from the pack and slipped behind one of the big metal hangers. When she was out of view of the throng, she stopped beside a large oak tree and peeked around for another look at the Corvette. A twelve-foot security fence circled the runway stretching between Olivia and the vehicle.

  A man got out. He cast a glance both left and right.

  Olivia pulled out a pair of opera glasses from her purse that she kept on hand for times like these and homed them in on the guy.

  Nicholas Greer.

  Olivia caught her breath. What she had not told Ross—why complicate things, right?—was that she knew Greer personally. Her best friend Mica had once dated him. He’d wined her, dined her and discarded her like a banana peel. And then he’d had the bad manners to blog about it. He hadn’t named names, of course, but Olivia and Mica had known he was talking about her.

  Mica hadn’t been hurt about the breakup, but what had crushed her was the way Greer had portrayed her in the column—a spoiled, high-society party girl who worried too much about what she looked like instead of how she treated people.

  Ha! That was like the pizza pan calling the petri dish shallow.

  Olivia gritted her teeth. Yes, Mica could be a bit self-absorbed at times, but Olivia was loyal to the bone and she hated anyone who could treat her friend so cavalierly. Yes, okay, maybe she shouldn’t have confronted him on Mica’s behalf and told him off. He’d pretty much taken her rage with a wry grin. That damnable grin pushed all her buttons and he’d come off looking like a cool customer, while she’d been the nutcase thrown out of McGulicutty’s Bar.

  The memory of the moment washed over her as she watched him swagger toward a small side entrance where earlier a security guard had been posted. Where had the guard gone?

  Better question, what was Greer up to?

  A plane circled the airport and the now-distant crowd let out a collective whoop. Was it Holly Addison’s plane? A glance over her shoulder told Olivia all eyes were on the plane. This was her chance. Quickly she skirted around to the side entrance that was wedged between two metal buildings.

  Nick rounded the side of the building on the left just as she cornered from the right. Instantly Olivia dived into a choke of red-tipped photinia bushes for cover.

  She cocked her head, held her breath, listened. Had he seen her?

  Whistling. He was whistling.

  What was he so happy about?

  Scowling, Olivia risked peeping from the bushes, anxious to see just what the man was up to. He was so confident—the cocky bastard—that he didn’t even look around to see if he was being watched. He took a key card from the front pocket of his shirt and swiped it through the electronic gizmo.

  Presto, the wrought-iron gate slid open.

  How had he gotten a key card?

  Dumb question. The man could charm butter from a cow. Well, she wasn’t going to let him best her. Immediately she started moving as swiftly and stealthily as she could, rushing the gate before it could slide closed behind him. She made it through with only inches to spare.

  Just as the gate clanged shut, the airplane touched down. At the same moment, three helicopters appeared in the sky, hovering at the edge of the airport’s boundaries. Paparazzi, she supposed, trying to get aerial photographs of the Oscar winner and her überrich fiancé.

  Olivia felt at once triumphant and sleazy. Instinctively her fingers caressed the Pulitzer charm on her bracelet. She’d made it onto the airport grounds where the other reporters had not, but did that put her in the same bottom-feeding category as Nick Greer?

  She didn’t have much time to ponder the question because Greer stopped and spun around, facing off with her like a six-gun cowboy.

  They stared at each other. Nemeses.

  The second their gazes met, a bullet of pure, unwanted sexual awareness shot through her, the same way it had when she’d had it out with him at McGulicutty’s. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, hated even acknowledging it to herself, but in a warped way, Greer turned her on.

  “Carmichael,” he spat out her name as if it was a dirty word.

  “Greer,” she countered in the same teeth-grinding tone of voice.

  He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you. My job.”

  One eyebrow shot up on his forehead. “Chasing celebrities? My, how the mighty have fallen.”

  “Yeah, well…” She trailed off, unable to think of a smart comeback and angry with herself for her inability to quip on her feet. She needed time and a keyboard to devise rapier retorts.

  “Tut, tut.” He shook his head. “And you’re breaking the law. Trespassing on private property.”

  Olivia stewed. Fisted her hands. Fumed. “No more so than you.”

  “Nuh-uh.” He held up the key card. “I have legitimate access.”

  “My ass.” She snorted. “I’d bet my grandfather’s Pulitzer prize that your name and face are not on that card.”

  “You’ve always got to do that, don’t you? Show off your pedigree. Well, you know what? It’s your grandfather’s Pulitzer, not yours.”

  Ouch. She squinted, deflecting the blow. “I’m no more of a fraud than you are.”

  “I never said you were a fraud.” His voice softened.

  “How’d you get the card?” she asked. “Steal it off the bureau of your latest sexual conquest?”

  “You’re still mad about what happened between me and your friend.”

  “She has a name.”

  “That was six months ago.”

  “Doesn’t make you any less of a slimeball.”

  “You don’t even know me, Carmichael, and yet you’re so quick to make snap judgments. No objectivity. Do you think that maybe that could be the reason you don’t have a Pulitzer of your own?” He nodded at her charm bracelet.

  She would not rise to the bait. She had a job to do and she was not going to let this irritating man derail her from it, even though her hand itched to reach out and slap his smug face. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

  “Or maybe it’s because you’re so elitist that you can’t relate to the average working class Joe,” he said.

  Don’t do it, don’t do it. Calm, cool, in control. “You are the most egotistical, arrogant, self-serving son of a—”

  “Honey! Is that you?” A woman’s voice cut through Olivia’s tirade.

  In unison Olivia and Nick turned to see Holly Addison rushing across the tarmac toward them, arms outspread, a cadre of bodyguards hurrying to keep up.

  “Honey!” the actress exclaimed again and wrapped Olivia in a bear hug.

  Her mouth dropp
ed open as Holly’s exotic perfume enveloped her. Over Holly’s shoulder she saw Nick looking simultaneously startled and bemused.

  Olivia was so stunned that she couldn’t speak.

  “Finally, finally, let me get a good look at you.” Holly stepped back and eyed Olivia.

  The actress was twenty-seven but looked at least five years younger. She wore her natural blond hair—the same shade as Olivia’s—in a thick sheaf that fell almost to her waist. Her eyes rivaled sapphires, sharp and blue and dazzling. She wore a simple pink-and-white wrap dress with a flirty hem that hit her midthigh, white sandals and diamond earrings. Olivia could see why people idolized her. Holly had a way of looking at you as if you were the only person in the world.

  “I can’t believe it’s been twenty years. You look stupendous. And you’ve got the Addison cheekbones.” Holly gestured with one hand at Olivia’s face and touched her own high cheekbone with the other. “How was your flight?”

  “Um…”

  “Long, I know.” Holly rolled her eyes. “Don’t you just hate long trips? I’ve so been meaning to visit you, but my filming schedule has been brutal, brutal, brutal. But I can’t complain about having work. Enough about me, what have you been up to?”

  Olivia waved a helpless hand. Clearly Holly had mistaken her for a long-lost relative who apparently had been stuck with the god-awful name Honey. Olivia needed to set her straight before things got any worse than they already were, but the little devil on her shoulder whispered, Why not just roll with it for a while, see if you can get her to agree to an interview.

  Holly turned to Nick. “And who is this handsome devil you’ve got with you?”

  Nick didn’t miss a beat. He stepped right up, extended his hand and said, “It’s an honor to meet you Miss Addison. I’m Honey’s fiancé, Nick.”

  If looks could kill, Olivia would have crucified him on the wall of the airplane hangar. She glared, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. The coward.

  “Honey, you sly thing!” Holly exclaimed. The woman was as exuberant as a first grader on a field trip to Hershey, Pennsylvania. “Why didn’t you tell me you were engaged?”

  Without waiting for an answer—which was a good thing, since Olivia didn’t have one—Holly hugged Nick with the same intensity. “You’ve got to be in the wedding party,” she enthused. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “He’s got other plans,” Olivia said, glowering darkly at Nick, who continued to evade her gaze.

  “Nonsense,” Holly said and slipped her arm through Nick’s. “What’s more important than escorting your fiancée to my wedding?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Nick said.

  “He’s adorable, Honey, just adorable. Why have you been keeping him a secret?”

  “Yeah, Honey,” Nick asked, “how come you didn’t tell Holly about me?”

  “I didn’t want to tell anyone about our engagement until I was sure you weren’t going to back out on me.” Olivia glowered at him again.

  “Sweetheart,” Nick said, “there’s no reason to feel insecure.” He lowered his voice and to Holly he whispered, “She’s been stood up at the altar four times. She’s terrified I’m going to do the same thing.”

  “Aww, Honey, that’s so sad,” Holly said. “No wonder you’re gun-shy.”

  Olivia gritted her teeth. Things were spiraling out of control and Greer was painting her as an unlovable shrew. She had to put a stop to this mess right now. “Listen Holly, there’s something I have to tell you. Obviously there’s—”

  “But,” Nick interrupted, and moved away from Holly to throw an arm around Olivia’s shoulder. He pulled her up tight against him. “I love her so much I’m going to prove to her that I’m sticking around no matter what.”

  “He’s a gem, Honey, a pure gem,” Holly enthused. “Now c’mon. J.D. will be here any minute and I know he’s going to be thrilled to meet you both.” She linked her arms through Nick’s and Olivia’s and escorted them toward her awaiting plane.

  “Um…we’re not going with you, are we?” Olivia asked. Dammit, why couldn’t she think on her feet? This turn of events didn’t give her enough time to evaluate what she was getting herself into.

  “Of course. You’re here. We’re here. There’s plenty of room on the plane. It’s been twenty years since we’ve seen each other face-to-face, and I can’t wait to catch up on everything. Where’s your luggage?”

  “That’s just it, we don’t have any.” Anxiety twisted tight inside her and she grabbed at any excuse.

  “Airline lost it,” Nick supplied.

  Olivia threw another eye dagger at him, but it just bounced off his glib hide.

  “Oh, no worries,” Holly said. “We’re about the same size and I have plenty of extra clothes. You can borrow mine and I’m sure we can find something of J.D.’s for Nick to wear. We’ve got you covered.”

  THE FLIGHT TO RAPTURE ISLAND from Austin took four-and-a-half hours. Nick would have enjoyed himself immensely on J. D. Maynard’s luxurious Gulfstream G450—in fact he made copious mental notes so he could adequately rhapsodize about the state-of-the-art airplane for his blog—if it hadn’t been for Olivia Carmichael digging her fingernails into the flesh of his arm for the duration of the trip, and it wasn’t because she was afraid of flying.

  He knew the woman was punishing him for getting her into this situation, even as she smiled at Holly and simpered that she was a nervous flier and needed Nick to hold her hand.

  He took the nail digging like a man, never letting on that he was the least bit uncomfortable. Once they were alone, he’d have a talk with her about her bad attitude. It wasn’t as if she was completely innocent in all this. She could have blurted at any moment that this was a mistake. She might like to kid herself that she was better than the paparazzi they’d left back on the ground in Austin, but she wasn’t. He took satisfaction in knowing that the Pulitzer Princess was as lowbrow as the rest of them.

  Nick had dropped out of the University of Texas when the blog he’d started began to make a little extra cash, back in the day when blogging was new and cutting-edge. He’d taken off and never looked back. He had a talent for storytelling and people just naturally gravitated to him, women in particular.

  His way with women had been shaped by his three older sisters. The truth was, he honestly enjoyed women, to the point where he was certain he could never settle on just one.

  Well, he liked most women. The nail-digging, arm-gouging female at his side was an exception. Okay, yes, she was sexy even in that buttoned-up business suit. And he admired how she didn’t use her feminine wiles to try to get what she wanted. He certainly didn’t have that strength of character.

  Which was ultimately why Olivia hated him.

  He cringed thinking of the incident over her friend Mica. He’d been a shit. He knew it and he felt badly about it. But hell, he hadn’t even slept with the woman. Mica had backed off, but then the next thing he knew Warrior Woman here had shown up at McGulicutty’s, reading him the riot act. As unexpected as her tirade had been, Nick couldn’t help respecting her loyalty.

  And the whole time Olivia had been chewing him out for his gadabout lifestyle—her words—he’d been wondering what her lips would taste like if he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her to his chest and kissed her silly.

  Ever after, when he ran across her at media events, he had thought the same thing about those lips. Inappropriately, he wondered about it again.

  They were sitting at the back of the plane, behind where the bride-and groom-to-be and their entourage lounged on dual couches facing each other. Nick and Olivia sat side by side on plush leather seats the color and texture of freshly creamed butter.

  His gaze lingered along Olivia’s tapered ankles to her lush thigh where the hem of her pencil-thin skirt had ridden up during the plane ride to reveal a sweet stretch of skin. Legs like a Rockette. Slim, trim and as long as daylight during an Alaskan summer.

  Olivia yanked at her skirt hem. “Creti
n,” she whispered savagely.

  He chuckled.

  “Neanderthal, caveman, sex junkie.”

  He raised both palms. “I was simply enjoying the gorgeous view.”

  “Knuckle-dragger, missing link, ignoranus.”

  “Ignoranus?” He quirked a smile.

  “Part ignoramus, part asshole.”

  “I’ll have to remember that one for my blog.”

  “Are you sure that it’s not too subtle for your readers?”

  “Don’t get upset. My admiration of your legs is a compliment.” He shouldn’t tease, but damn, she made it too easy—all huffy and high-and-mighty. The woman was begging for a takedown.

  “Oh, yes, what every woman dreams of. Being eye-groped by an overly hormonal, over-the-hill adolescent.”

  He laughed again. “I have to hand it to you, Honey. You do have a way with words.”

  At the sound of his laughter, Holly broke from her conversation, turned her head, smiled and stretched out long over the arm of the couch to touch Olivia’s knee. “I’m so happy to see you so happy, Honey.”

  “Yeah, happy, that’s me,” Olivia said and forced a smile so fake Nick feared her face would crack. “Happy, happy, happy.”

  But Holly didn’t pick up on her true sentiment. “We’re almost there. We’ll be landing in just a few minutes and there’s a limo waiting to whisk us to the resort. We’re going to have so much fun! Tonight’s the bachelor and bachelorette parties, but you and Nick will have some alone time before then.” Holly winked.

  “Can’t wait,” Olivia muttered as if Holly had suggested she walk barefoot over glass shards, and she dug her fingernails into the flesh of Nick’s inner arm one last time.

  He got the message loud and clear. Just wait until I get you alone, buster. You’re going to pay for this and pay big.

  But for some strange reason, her unspoken threat just made him grin.

  3

  THE PRIVATE RESORT BOASTED long stretches of white sand beaches, brilliant blue ocean, numerous pools and cabanas—complete with good-looking cabana boys—three restaurants, twenty-four-hour room service, a spa, a sauna and a fitness facility. Olivia experienced a twinge of conscience over what she was doing—pretending to be Holly’s long-lost friend or relative or whoever this “Honey” person was.