The Wedding Fling

by Meg Maguire

  “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.

  The place was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Island-exotic but L.A.-stylish, peaceful, ordered, quiet...

  Too quiet.

  It was far too easy to get lost in one’s thoughts here, and Leigh was eager to get lost outside her head, at least until the stinging open wound of recent events scabbed over.

  She made herself busy, unpacking straight away. To her surprise, she found a crumpled hundred dollar bill in her suitcase. She smoothed it, conjuring Will’s smirk. “Freak.”

  She called Reception and gave instructions for how to field any calls. Miss Bailey is enjoying her vacation, and does not wish to be disturbed. If you leave a message, we will be sure it reaches her. Just the right mix of stern and casual, so hopefully, she’d be left alone, but not cause too huge a panic.

  That first evening passed in beautifully appointed boredom. Leigh napped, waded in the surf, ordered a delicious dinner and admirably resisted both the TV and her phone. She was going through the motions of relaxation, but didn’t feel any of their effects.

  This was surely the longest in years she’d gone without seeing a familiar face, and she hadn’t counted on how lonely she’d feel, how small and insecure. The solitude was supposed to clear her head, but her worries seemed to echo all the more loudly. Now and then she nearly missed Dan...but no. She merely missed her old life, that comfortable lie she’d grown so accustomed to living.

  * * *

  LEIGH SLEPT POORLY, reading on the couch until she fell into fitful dreams full of dress fittings and ocean waves.

  The next morning, her doorbell chimed as she was brushing her teeth. She crossed the lounge, spotting Will Burgess’s truck through the window. Her stomach gave a funny flutter. She was clearly hard up for company, to feel a rush at the prospect of a conversation with the most abrasive man she’d met in ages. Sexy, sure, but undeniably tactless.

  Toothbrush in hand, she opened the door.

  Will’s eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and stacked atop his pair were another—Leigh’s. “Good morning, valued guest.”

  “Good morning, sketchy pilot.”

  He took off both sets of glasses and handed hers over. “You left those in my truck yesterday.”

  “Thanks. You left your bribe in my bag.”

  He grinned, and Leigh was tempted to don her shades to protect herself from his extraordinary eyes.

  “Must have fallen out of my pocket.”

  “And into my zipped suitcase.”

  “The mysteries of physics. You’ve got a little...” Will gestured at the corner of his mouth.

  Leigh wiped at her lips, at whatever toothpaste he saw.

  “Other side.”

  She tried again.

  “That got it.” Will leaned against the door frame. “Must be hard not having your butler around to let you know when you’ve got stuff on your face.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “How did you cope, brushing your own teeth?”

  “Are you waiting for a tip, Captain? Because the more you talk, the crappier your chances are getting.”

  “Just being friendly. Customer service and all that. Anything you need?”

  Company was the only thing Leigh really craved, but she wouldn’t admit it to this man. “Only if you know how the coffeemaker works. It’s so high-tech I couldn’t figure it out.”

  “I can operate a plane, so let’s hope it’s not beyond me.”

  Leigh stepped aside and he strolled to the device.

  “Damn, that is high-tech.”

  She watched as he messed around with the digital features. His laid-back charisma seemed even more obvious amid the kitchen’s sleekness. What Leigh had felt in the terminal the previous afternoon hadn’t been a fluke, or a simple matter of revenge—she was attracted to him. But it was a purely physical attraction, signifying nothing more than the fact that he was slightly sexier than he was annoying.

  After much poking, he got the machine hissing and gurgling and coffee began to fill the pot.

  Will gestured between the machine and himself, making a great show of his accomplishment. “How about that? All it needed was a retinal scan and two forms of ID.”

  “Thanks.”

/>   “Just make sure you select a mode. I think that’s the only trick. Anything else you need?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks for bringing my sunglasses.”

  “Anytime.”

  She was on the verge of inviting him to stay for a coffee, but he spoke first, sparing her from sounding pathetic.

  “I better head in for the morning flight.”

  “Yes, you better.”

  She walked him to the door, trying to ignore the shape of his shoulders beneath his shirt, the disarming, masculine rhythm of his easy gait.

  “Thanks again.”

  He gave her a salute and headed down the steps to his truck. “Enjoy your coffee,” he called, slamming his door.

  “Enjoy your flight.”

  He draped his tan arm along the open window as the engine groaned to life.

  Leigh closed her door and listened until the truck was gone, then sank up to her neck in lonely silence. She poured a coffee and flipped through the resort’s activities guide, nothing sparking her interest. Nowhere in the many descriptions did it say, “Interact with other humans before you lose your mind! Don’t forget to bring a towel.”

  She shut the binder, more listless than ever. All she wanted was what Will had just offered—company. No pampering or butt-kissing, no star treatment. She wished he’d come back, but there was no good reason for him to. She’d just have to settle for a masseuse or horseback riding instructor.... But she was sick to death of things being done for her, services offered by supremely nice people who probably just gossiped about her once she’d gone.

  Then something occurred to Leigh. She didn’t have to wait for Will to come back to enjoy a taste of the candid, easy company she craved. She could go after what she wanted herself. After all, what had playing by the rules done for her lately?

  3

  AS THE SUN DIPPED LOWER, Leigh’s mood rose higher and higher.

  A shower washed away the salt from her afternoon swim, and her hastily acquired shorts and funky halter top enveloped her in a sense of blessed unfamiliarity. The smell of sunscreen had her craving a cold drink, perhaps one with an umbrella in it, served in half a pineapple or some other delightful cliché.

  When the clock chimed five-thirty she grabbed her new sandals, carrying them as she walked down the beach. Just as she’d hoped, after a twenty minutes’ stroll she spotted the workers’ settlement farther along the shore.

  Will’s clunky old truck was parked just off the road, and Leigh followed a wooden walkway through the grass and sand to a dwelling yards from the high tide’s edge. Tinny music played from an unseen radio, and she spotted its owner as she neared.

  He was straddling an upside-down canoe raised on blocks beside the building, sanding away a coat of peeling paint. It seemed there was no limit to how casual his wardrobe could get. He was dressed in khaki cutoffs, a plaid button-up shirt left completely open to flap about his arms in the warm breeze. He swept his shaggy hair from his eyes and Leigh had to admire the greater whole of him. Tan and lean, that mischievously handsome face looking placid for a change, his attention focused on his project. His well-past-five-o’clock shadow and bare feet made her envy his life with a fresh pang.

  She clapped the soles of her sandals together. “Knock knock.”

  Will glanced up from his task with a grin. “Well, look who’s here. You get lost on the way to a hot-rock massage?”

  “Is this where you live, Captain?” She nodded to the cottage on stilts. “It’s adorable.”

  Will glowered, faking insult.

  “Sorry. It’s butch. Really butch.”

  He set aside the sanding block and wiped his palms on his shorts. “What can I do for you, Miss Bailey? Need a lift to civilization?”

  “No.”

  “Thank goodness for that.” He reached to the windowsill and took a deep swig from a bottle of beer. “How was that coffee?”

  “Just fine, thank you.”

  “You walk all the way here?”

  “It’s only about a half mile.”

  “Didn’t know your kind walked.”

  She shot him a snobby look, meandering closer. “My kind?”

  His smile sharpened to a smirk, one that stirred Leigh’s pulse. “Yeah, your kind, little miss movie star.”

  “Well, you were misinformed. My kind does plenty more than walk. I came to ask you about the dancing you mentioned yesterday.”

  His brows rose. “That’s what you came here for? Dancing?”

  “Sure. It’s my favorite thing in the world. Or it used to be.”

  “And here I thought maybe you’d missed me.”

  “Again, you’re greatly misinformed.”

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking of, but the dancing here isn’t what you’re after. More like stand-up dry-humping.”

  Leigh pictured such a thing. “Sounds like a movie I starred in.”

  Another of those deadly, snarky smiles. “What happened in the movie?”

  “The annoying pilot told the charming actress where to find a cold drink and a good beat.”

  “Of course he did.” Damn, that dimple.

  She kicked at the sand. “So, will you tell me?”

  “I’ll do better than that. I’ll take you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure, what the hell.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. It’s way too quiet back in my villa.”

  “I’ll get chewed out if any managers think I invited you to fraternize with us lowly workers.”

  “Then tell them the truth—that I forced myself on you.”

  His lips twitched, as though he was holding back a remark, a flirtation. Just that tiny hesitation from this shameless man brought a warmth to Leigh’s skin, one that had nothing to do with the late afternoon sun.

  “I’ll bribe you,” she offered.

  “No more bribes. Plus I’ll get chewed out worse by management if they hear I failed to chaperone you, out among us uncivilized natives.” Will slid down from the canoe.

  “Is this what you do with your free time? Fix up old boats?” Leigh ran a hand over the point where rough paint met smooth wood, and stole a glance at Will’s bare chest while he stowed tools.

  “I do all sorts of stuff. And I work less than four hours a day, so I do a lot of all sorts of stuff.”

  “No TV?”

  “I don’t have one. Very little worth watching.”

  “That’s for sure.” Leigh imagined what would have happened if she’d stayed in her villa—check room service for peanut butter availability, then scour the channels for news about herself. Pathetic, toxic habit. Tomorrow she’d phone and see if the satellite could be disconnected for the duration of her stay.

  She waited while Will disappeared inside his house. The radio went silent and he emerged carrying a cooler, with a pair of sandals on top of it.

  “What’s in there?”

  “Essentials.” He headed up the walkway, dropping his sandals to the ground as they reached the rough gravel road and slipping them on. Leigh did the same.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Will shrugged, setting ice inside the cooler rattling. “I would have ended up there eventually anyhow, with or without you.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Bethany and Oscar’s place.”

  “And they work here, too?”

  “That’s a given. Bethany’s a chef, Oscar manages the drivers.”

  “They throw lots of parties?”

  “It’s not that organized around here. People finish work, take a nap or smoke a joint—”

  “Or sand a boat.”

  “Or that. Then you wander toward wherever the ruckus is coming from. But I know it’ll be there tonight, since it
’s Monday. Always something happening at their place on a Monday.”

  A girl ran past them, followed by a smaller one, both shrieking with laughter.

  “That little one was theirs,” Will said.

  “Cute.” Leigh craned her neck to watch the kids disappear between the trees. “How often do us guests turn up at your get-togethers?”

  “Rarely. Especially ones like you,” Will said with a tight, self-satisfied smile.

  “Ones like me? Go on, tell me what that means, since I know you’re dying to.”

  “Just that you’re a girl. Most of the guests who party-crash are older men, looking to escape their wives’ idea of a vacation. But they’re rare, as well. You’re just extra rare. Like how I like my steak.”

  She laughed. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  She nodded, not sure what she’d been expecting. He lived a life she’d normally have ascribed to either a younger man, not yet compelled to shape up and find a “real” job, or an older one sick of the rat race. “What’s it like, living in a postcard?”

  Will stared over the water for a moment, and Leigh studied his eyes in the dying sun, bright as a blue glass pendant she’d admired in the shopping district the previous morning. She wondered who had raised this man and given him those eyes, and what they thought of the life he’d made for himself, so far from New York City.

  “It’s lovely,” he finally said.

  “What’s the least lovely thing about it?”

  “Hurricanes.”

  “I mean, like, from day to day.”

  “Honestly, there’s not much. Bit of a pain getting hold of certain things. Costs an arm and a leg to have stuff shipped from the States. Hence all the bribes you’ll see going down around here.”

  “What sorts of things? What do you miss?”

  “Aren’t you just brimming with questions?”

  She smiled at him. “I’m desperate for human contact.”

  “You must be, if you came to me. So much for your dreams of seclusion.”

  “So what do you miss?”

  He pondered it. “I miss watching the Knicks play. Can’t buy that off a guy in Bridgetown.”