Deserted Island, Dreamy Ex!

by Nicola Marsh

  He’d appeared unfazed by their past while she’d sat through their meeting mentally kicking herself all over again.

  Now she had to spend a week on a deserted island with him.

  Her humiliation was complete.

  The intercom buzzed and with one, last quick glance in the mirror she trudged across the room, grateful her platform T-bar metallic sandals only allowed her to move at a snail’s pace, and hit the button to let him in downstairs.

  She’d wondered if he’d call her at work to get the address, surprised when he hadn’t. It meant he remembered, leading to the next obvious question: what else did he remember?

  Much to her chagrin, she hadn’t forgotten a thing about him.

  Avery’s shoe size? Erased from her memory banks for ever.

  Barton’s preferred margarine? Gone.

  Yet she could recall in startling clarity how Jared liked his eggs—poached; his coffee—white with one; his side of the bed—right.

  Maybe that had been half the problem with both engagements? The guys had been fine, upstanding citizens with good jobs, good looks and good credentials, but they weren’t Jared.

  The thought had crossed her mind both times she’d broken off the engagements but she’d dismissed it as a young girl’s whimsical memory of a brief romance that had been too good to be true.

  She’d had genuine feelings for both fiancés, had gone through her version of grieving both times: intermittent crying jags, locked away at home for a week, consumed copious tubs of her favourite Turkish delight ice cream.

  She’d pondered their relationships at length, had tried to erase the final departure from both engagements each time: the shock, the bewilderment from the guys, the guilt, the sadness from her.

  It had taken her a while to recover from Avery, then Barton, and each time she’d started reminiscing about Jared and hated herself for it.

  The girls at work discussed their first loves all the time: the thrill, the newness, the heady sensation of being on heightened awareness every second of every day, how it all faded.

  That was the problem. The buzz between her and Jared hadn’t had a chance to fade. He’d absconded before the gloss had worn off, left her embarrassed she’d read so much into their relationship, furious how he’d ended it yet pathetically pining when he hadn’t looked back.

  The memory of their parting doused any simmer of sentimentality she might have felt towards this meeting, annoyance replacing her memories as she yanked open the door.

  ‘Good. You’re here. Let’s go.’

  Her brusqueness evaporated when she saw him leaning against the jamb, wearing a wicked grin that made her facial muscles twitch in eagerness to respond.

  ‘Wow.’

  She stiffened as his appreciative gaze roved over her freely, the naughty twinkle in his eyes undermining her as much as that damn smile.

  Ignoring the responding quiver in her knees, she dropped her gaze, discovering his designer loafers, dark denim, and cotton shirt the colour of her favourite butterscotch didn’t help re-establish her immunity.

  He’d always been a great dresser, could wear anything and make it look like haute couture. Yet another thing she’d loved about him. A love that meant jack considering how fast he’d run.

  ‘You ready to go?’

  Scanning her face for a reason behind her snippiness, he chuckled, held out his hand. ‘Shall we?’

  Ignoring his hand, she nodded, needing to wipe that twinkle from his eye, to establish she wouldn’t engage in whatever game he intended for tonight.

  ‘If you’re planning on flirting your way through dinner, forget it. I’m doing this so we get everything straight before we’re stuck on the island. Understand?’

  His mock salute and wide grin spoke volumes: he’d do as he damned well pleased tonight, regardless.

  ‘Perfectly.’

  She shook her head, frowned. ‘I mean it. I’m immune so don’t waste your breath—’

  ‘Did it ever strike you I’m uncomfortable about all this and flirting is the only way I know how to ease back into how we were before?’

  His honesty surprised her, for, while his tone was light-hearted, she saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

  A sliver of guilt penetrated her prickly armour. If she was feeling uncomfortable about this whole scenario, why shouldn’t he?

  ‘We can’t go back to how it was before.’

  His answering smile elicited a twinge of remembrance, a yearning to do just that.

  ‘We laughed a lot back then, were easy in each other’s company. Wouldn’t it be great to recapture some of that on the island, especially in front of the cameras?’

  Of course, that was what this was about: re-establishing some kind of rapport so they didn’t embarrass themselves on camera. She should’ve known, but for a split second she’d almost wished he were flirting with her because he wanted to recreate some of the other magic they’d shared back then.

  ‘I guess you’re right.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’

  She wasn’t, had never been really.

  Maybe Jared could ignore the past, could don his smooth, funny, adorable persona and hope she’d forget how things had ended between them, but she had as much hope of that as scaling the Opera House in her favourite four-inch Louboutin’s.

  Hurt faded but it wasn’t forgotten.

  Not when the man who’d broken her heart would be in her face for the next week.

  Grateful he hadn’t chosen any of their old haunts, Kristi stepped through the enormous glass door of Sydney’s newest East meets West fusion restaurant and nodded her thanks at Jared. Another thing that hadn’t changed about him: his impeccable manners.

  ‘Have you been here before?’

  She shook her head, tried not to look suitably impressed as she glanced around at the soaring ceilings, steel beams and enough chrome and glass to build an entire suburb.

  ‘Rumour has it you have to be the prime minister or an Oscar winner to get a booking for the next year.’

  She paused, quirked an eyebrow. ‘Or apparently a star tennis player?’

  Chuckling, he tapped the side of his nose. ‘It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  She swanned through the restaurant, aware of the not too subtle envious glances cast their way. Not that she could blame the women.

  Jared Malone, world-renowned playboy, was a serious babe.

  Voted number one sexiest sportsman for three years running in all the top women’s magazines.

  Not that she’d kept count. Flicking through glossies was a fabulous part of her job, keeping abreast of the latest PR strategies, and while she’d quickly flipped over pages wherever Jared appeared she’d still noticed.

  Any woman with a pulse would have to be half dead not to notice him.

  And she’d be stuck with him, on a deserted island, for a week. Gain a promotion out of it. Possibly win a hundred grand. So why the reservations?

  As they reached the table, his hand guiding her in the small of her back, his breath the barest whisper against her heated skin, she knew exactly why she wasn’t doing cartwheels over the next week.

  It would’ve been bad enough spending seven days on an island with some stranger, but a week with a guy she’d once loved, who knew her weaknesses, who knew her intimately?

  Heck.

  ‘You’re nervous.’

  She feigned ignorance as he held out her chair and she sat, grateful for the support when his hand grazed the back of her neck, a particularly sensitive spot as well he knew.

  ‘About our little island jaunt.’

  She winced. ‘It shows?’

  Chuckling, he ran a fingertip just above her top lip. ‘You get this little wrinkle right about here when you think too much.’

  Brushing his hand away, she gulped from the crystal water glass thankfully filled to the brim.

  ‘Aren’t you the slightest bit uncomfortable about all this?r />
  He sat back, folded his arms, that familiar cocky grin making her heart jive and jump and jitterbug.

  ‘No.’

  ‘So it doesn’t matter we had…’

  ‘A past?’

  His grin widened. ‘Surely you’d rather be stuck on Lorikeet Island with me than some stranger?’

  She’d debated the fact, hadn’t reached any conclusions yet. She could’ve been distantly polite with a stranger, could’ve faked enthusiasm for the documentary, could’ve been totally and utterly uninvolved.

  Spending a week with Jared, just the two of them, would render it impossible to stay distant.

  She knew so much about this man, remembered details she should’ve forgotten: how he bounced out of bed every morning and stretched five times, how he hated orange but loved mango juice, how he made adorable little snoring/snuffling sounds when asleep after an exhausting game.

  How he devoured sushi like a man starved, how he preferred swimming in the ocean to a swimming pool, how he liked sporting magazines over novels.

  So many memories, all of them good. Except the one where he walked away from her without a backward glance.

  ‘If you have to think that long, maybe I’ve lost my charm.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Nothing wrong with your charm and you darn well know it.’

  He wiped his brow. ‘Phew, for a second there you had me worried.’

  When he’d left, she’d missed many things, his sense of humour being one of them. They’d always sparred like this, swapping banter along with huge chunks of their lives. She’d loved it, loved him.

  Which brought her full circle back to her original dilemma: how dangerous would it be being stuck on an island with Jared?

  Her sorrow at their break-up and any residual humiliation should ensure immunity to him after all this time. She’d moved on since, had two engagements to prove it.

  Broken engagements, her insidiously annoying voice of reason whispered.

  Guys she’d fallen for enough to think she wanted to marry, just not enough to take that final step and actually say, ‘I do.’ She’d loved both Avery and Barton, loved their gentleness and patience and understanding. They’d reminded her of her high-school boyfriends, the nice guys who’d carry her books and write corny love letters and give her a lift on the handlebars of their bikes.

  She’d been horrid to those boys, demanding and snooty and condescending, thrilled to have their attention yet secretly craving the Prince Charmings she read about in her mum’s romance novels.

  Thankfully, she’d grown up enough to treat her men better, but a small part of her wondered if she didn’t end up treating her fiancés as badly in the end.

  Yes, she’d definitely moved on from Jared, couldn’t have loved those men if deep down in her heart she secretly pined for her first love. Besides, he’d shattered her grand illusions of loving him by choosing his career over her, by not being willing to work out a compromise.

  She’d worked through the stages of grief after he’d left: anger, denial, reaching acceptance months later.

  Simply, he hadn’t loved her.

  Yet sitting across from him, in all his confident, laid-back, gorgeous glory, she had a hard time shaking the memories of how it had once been.

  Ignoring the nervous churning in her gut, she grabbed a menu and stuck it up, using it as a barrier to hide her readable face, not willing to let him know the turmoil within.

  ‘Shall we order? I’m famished.’

  ‘I took the liberty of ordering the eight-course degustation menu.’

  He signalled to a waiter, who instantly bore down on them brandishing an expensive bottle of champagne. ‘That way we get to sample a bit of everything. Hope you don’t mind?’

  Normally she wouldn’t but seeing him assume the old role of ‘man of the world’, a guy who’d been around the block a time or two in comparison to her naivety back then, grated. But what was the point of stirring up trouble? Once their week together was over, she’d go her way, he’d go his. He was an expert at that.

  ‘Fine.’

  As the waiter poured the champagne she took the opportunity to glance around. Not surprisingly, every woman within a few feet cast surreptitious peeks at Jared when their partners weren’t watching, their eyes predatory until they slid to her, when their gleam became curious, envious.

  She’d never had to deal with that before, would’ve hated it. Working in PR, she’d mingled with the rich and famous, had seen high-profile relationships up close and personal, and had never figured out how the women put up with their partners being fawned over by other women; or, worse, blatantly propositioned.

  She would never tolerate it. Thankfully, she would never have to.

  ‘What are you looking at?’

  She picked up her champagne flute, raised it in a silent toast.

  ‘All the women around us are making goo eyes at you.’

  ‘Where?’

  He looked over his shoulder, caught a woman’s eye, winked and smiled as she ducked her head and blushed.

  ‘Oh, you mean her.’

  ‘And her.’

  She nodded to the left. ‘And her.’

  She jerked her head to the right. ‘And her.’

  ‘That one’s behind you. How can you tell?’

  With a wry grin, she raised her glass again. ‘Because she’s human and female and as smitten as the rest of this room with your presence.’

  A corner of his mouth kicked up in that quirky smile she loved as he folded his hands on the table, leaned forward.

  ‘Does that include you?’

  She made a loud scoffing noise that descended into an embarrassing snort.

  ‘Do I look like I’m smitten?’

  Leaning even closer, so close she could smell his clean lime aftershave, see the familiar green flecks in his hazel eyes, he touched her hand.

  ‘You look incredible, more beautiful than you were eight years ago if that’s possible.’

  ‘Been working on those lines?’

  Unperturbed, he sat back, resumed his casual relaxed pose, one hand slung across the back of his chair.

  ‘According to you, I don’t need lines. Apparently women are smitten just sitting here.’

  She made a rude noise that had him laughing as he picked up his champagne flute, touched it to hers.

  ‘To us. And making the most of our island jaunt.’

  ‘To us.’

  As she echoed his toast her reservations took a serious hit as a sliver of anticipation lodged where she feared it most.

  Her heart.

  He took a long sip of his champagne, his eyes not leaving hers, the intensity of his stare making her increasingly uncomfortable.

  Lowering his glass, he placed it on the table, leaned forward. ‘You know, I was once crazy about you.’

  ‘Yeah, so crazy you moved to the other side of the world to get away from me.’

  The heat faded, his eyes instantly guarded.

  ‘My career was taking off. You know that.’

  The old familiar resentment bubbled to the surface, obliterating the unexpected joy she’d experienced just by being here, sharing a meal with him.

  She had known it but had let herself get caught up in their whirlwind romance anyway. Jared had lived in the moment, wanted instant gratification, didn’t want to look too far ahead, whereas she’d had enough dreams for the both of them.

  Not that it had mattered. Nothing she could’ve said or done back then would’ve changed the outcome.

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  When she wouldn’t meet his gaze, he captured her hand, reluctantly releasing it when she tugged hard.

  ‘You sound bitter.’

  ‘You don’t think I have a right to be?’

  ‘You knew the score. I never made any promises.’

  ‘Beyond a few months of fun?’

  She snapped her fingers. ‘Silly me for reading more into us spending every spare second together.’

 
He shook his head. ‘You really want to rehash all this now? Right before we spend a week together in front of the cameras?’

  What she wanted was an apology.

  What she wanted was some small indication she’d meant half as much to him as he’d meant to her.

  What she wanted was to annihilate the crazy, excited buzz deep in her belly that made a mockery of her indignation.

  Blowing out an exasperated puff of air, she shook her head.

  ‘No point. Let’s leave the past in the past.’

  His crooked smile, so familiar, so heart-rending, made a serious dent in her residual animosity.

  ‘Look, I know this is awkward. We were great together ’til that last week, when we both acted a little crazy.’

  ‘You think?’

  He laughed and she managed a tight smile. She didn’t want to discuss her humiliating ultimatum, how she’d shrieked at him, filled with hurt and anger and resentment. Crazy? She’d acted like a certified lunatic so yeah, this was beyond awkward.

  ‘We were both young, we had different agendas. How about we put all that behind us and try to be friends for the next week?’

  Friends. Yeah, she could do friends at a pinch.

  Think of the money…think of Meg and Prue…

  Unfortunately, all she could think about was exactly how friendly Jared wanted to get on the island.

  ‘Friends,’ she said, gulping at her champagne, though it did little to quell her nerves as he held out his hand and, this time, she had no option but to place her hand in his and shake on it.

  A simple arrangement, friends for a week.

  Pity complication was her middle name.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Stranded Survival Tip #5

  When asked, ‘Do you like me?’ don’t answer, ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

  FOOTFALLS scuffing the corridor outside his door grabbed Jared’s attention as he wrapped up final negotiations for a popular rock band to play at Activate’s official opening.

  A few local kids had been dropping by since he’d opened the doors a month ago, but not enough for his liking. He still saw them loitering in small gangs on the streets, in the parks, bored, on edge, looking for trouble.

  While the original idea for the centre had come to him in rehab, surrounded by partially disabled kids who needed a place to hang out, once he’d investigated sites and discovered the startling number of kids loitering on Sydney’s streets he’d known his dream needed expanding.