The Wedding Fling

by Meg Maguire

  She shifted onto her back, smiling. He squinted at her in the dawn light, loving the sleepy look on her face, with no trace of the anxiety he so often detected there.

  “Your eyes are very blue,” she mumbled, the last word swallowed by a yawn.

  He smiled politely, though the compliment grated. “You’ve got your mother’s eyes,” was an observation he’d heard far too many times growing up. He had her eyes. Lovely. One thing she hadn’t remembered to pack when she’d disappeared with the rest of her possessions, never to return.

  “Yours are gray,” Will said. “I don’t think I’ve actually met anyone with gray eyes before.”

  She batted her lashes at him. “They were blue when I was a baby...and once a photographer used Photoshop to make them blue for a mascara ad. Which I thought was sort of insulting.”

  “Gray’s way more exotic.”

  “I like to think so.”

  He tried to picture her in an ad, in a magazine. On-screen. All that makeup would probably just wreck the perfection he saw right here before him. “Maybe I ought to watch one of your films.”

  “I doubt very much they’re your taste.”

  “Like you know my taste after five days,” he teased. “Though, actually, do you kiss other men in any of those movies?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, you’re right then—not my taste at all.” He pulled her close and pressed his lips to her temple. “Good morning, by the way.”

  “Morning.”

  He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “Save the real kissing until we’ve brushed out teeth?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ve got to leave by nine for the morning flight. Mind if I grab a shower? Yours is a hundred times nicer than what I’ve got rigged on the beach.”

  “Give me a minute to freshen up and it’s all yours. Though shout if anything exciting happens in the shower, anything you need me to spot for you,” she added, bobbing her brows lewdly.

  Will gave her butt a swat as she crawled from the covers. She shut herself in the ensuite and Will lay in the tangled sheets for an imaginative few minutes, replaying everything that had happened...and everything he wished had happened. Sliding inside her, that ultimate sensation of one body owning another. His cock roused, but he was relieved she’d asked that they hold back last night.

  He was as nuts about Leigh as a man could be after so little time, but there was something about actual sex, actual penetration, that might’ve felt wrong. An arbitrary delineation, but given how close he’d come to accepting money to violate her privacy, he would’ve felt like a cad.

  Goddamn, though—she knew how to tempt a weak man.

  Water ran and quieted in the bathroom, and Leigh emerged, winding her bed-messy hair into a bun and snapping an elastic around it. “All yours.”

  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

  ONCE WILL 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.

  * * *