The Honeymoon Prize

by Melissa McClone

  “We’re not in high school slow dancing at the prom,” she whispered.

  “If we were, I couldn’t do this.” He spun her then lowered her into a dip. He brushed his lips across hers. Short and sweet. Then raised Addie to her feet. “Your date would have gotten angry. Mine, too.”

  Addie shook her head. “You are too much, Nick Cahill.”

  “Enough for you. That’s what matters.” Holding her felt comfortable and natural. He’d never danced like this with Addie. “Our first dance.”

  “Not quite. We were partners and danced the Virginia Reel in third grade at an assembly.”

  “How do you remember that stuff?” he asked, amazed by the memory of hers.

  “Well, that was the first time I’d danced with a boy. A big deal when you’re an eight-year-old girl.”

  He winked. “I like the idea of being your first.”

  She swatted his arm. “You would.”

  Nick laughed. “Let’s see, I was your first fiancé, first dance, first guy friend, first husband.”

  “Fiancé and dance, yes. But my second guy friend.” She glanced at the camera, then back at Nick. “And let’s hope my first and only husband.”

  His breath caught in his throat. He knew she was talking to the camera, but her adoring tone made sucking in oxygen difficult. He cleared his throat. “So who was your first guy friend?”

  “Ricky Quintana.”

  Her hips moved against Nick’s while his hand remained at the small of her back. He forced himself not to touch her butt. “Don’t remember him.”

  “Dark hair, brown eyes, carried a soccer ball everywhere, and called people compadre.”

  “Oh, yeah. Chewed lots of bubble gum. Didn’t know you were friends.”

  “He stole things from his parent’s gift shop to give me until you told everyone we were getting married.”

  “What else was I going to say? You accepted my marriage proposal.”

  “I did,” she said. “More than once.”

  “Second time’s the charm.”

  “I think that’s supposed to be the third time?”

  “We’re in paradise,” he said. “We can make our own rules.”

  “Then let’s call it a night and see what rules we can break.”

  A thrill ran through him, even though this was about ditching the film crew than going back to the room to be alone together.

  “Best invitation I’ve had.” He nuzzled against Addie’s neck. Man, she smelled good. Her sweet scent intoxicated him. He took another sniff.

  She kissed his cheek. The non-sexual peck sent heat rushing through him. With his arm around Addie, he led her off the dance floor.

  Brad followed them. “Where are you going?”

  “To bed,” Addie said without missing a beat. “With my husband.”

  Pride filled Nick. This was the Addie he remembered, the one who made plans and didn’t need anyone to come to her rescue. Though Nick had always been there in case she needed backup. That was what friends did.

  Brad’s gaze pleaded with him. “It’s too early. There’s plenty of dancing left.”

  “We’ll be dancing.” Nick helped remove her microphone pack, then handed both to Dylan. “I promise you that.”

  Brad frowned. “You need to drink from the Kava bowl. Relax.”

  “I’m plenty relaxed. See you in the morning.” Nick gave a wave. “Though not too early. I have a feeling we’re going to sleep in.”

  She ran her fingertip along his jawline. “Who said anything about sleeping tonight?”

  If only . . . Nick grinned. “Not me.”

  “More Kava for us, I guess,” Brad mumbled.

  Nick didn’t turn around. He would much rather look at Addie. The two walked arm and arm along the path lit by lanterns. He hadn’t gone ten feet when he heard the sounds of soft footsteps, leaves rustling and breathing. Looked like Brad wasn’t admitting defeat so easily.

  No worries. Nick leaned in toward Addie, placing his mouth at her ear. “We’re not alone. Guessing cameras and a mic at our six.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t glance behind her.

  No worries. Like everything else, he had this. “Play along, okay?”

  Play along. Addie would, except the last place she expected to find herself was in Nick’s arms, her feet dangling in the air. “You carried me when we arrived. What gives tonight?”

  “I carried you over the threshold, but I haven’t carried you to bed.”

  Her heart thudded. For the cameras. She repeated the words, but her tongue felt two sizes too big for her mouth.

  “If you were walking—” His gaze locked on hers. “—I couldn’t do this.”

  His mouth captured hers with lightning quickness. The touch of his lips sent sparks flying, like tiny firecrackers being set off at once.

  Not real.

  She tried to focus on what was happening reality TV-wise. The film crew was behind them, following and filming. Nick must know something she didn’t because he kept kissing her when she doubted the crew could see anything with lanterns lighting them. Night vision lens?

  No matter, she didn’t need to know the details. Kissing him was great. She tasted beer, a reminder of Cancun. Oh how she wished he had kissed her then.

  The man knew how to kiss. Each time got better. He moved his lips with expert precision, making her nerve endings dance though the only music was the beat of their hearts.

  The air temperature had dropped, but her body temperature spiraled into the red zone, her blood simmering, ready to bubble and boil through her veins.

  He increased the pressure against her mouth, deepening the kiss. She relished in the feel of him, of his arms holding her body, his lips caressing hers.

  A moan escaped. From her or him, she wasn’t sure. Nor did she care. All she wanted was more. More kisses. More Nick.

  Addie wriggled loose her right arm. She touched the back of his neck, his hair tickling her fingers. One kiss. Two kisses. She lost track.

  Muted footsteps gave way to louder ones, but she didn’t open her eyes. She wouldn’t as long as his lips kept doing what she wanted them to do . . . kiss her.

  A floral scent filled the air.

  The kisses continued.

  She felt herself being lowered, her body no longer pressed against him. Her back hit something soft, the scent of flowers stronger.

  Addie opened her eyes. Candles provided a soft lighting, more like a romantic glow. She lay on soft flower petals strewn across the king-sized bed. Mama Lani had set the stage for romance tonight.

  Nick kneeled over Addie, keeping his weight off her. He trailed kisses from the corner of her mouth along her jawline, making his way to her ear where he nibbled and kissed.

  Sensations shot through her, making her close her eyes and arch up to be closer to him. Her hands tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

  His breathing matched her own. The only other sound was the rhythmic whirl of the ceiling fan.

  The fan.

  They were inside. The crew was outside. They didn’t need to keep kissing, but did they have to stop?

  Nick made his way back to her mouth, showering more kisses. Maybe they could keep going . . .

  Lying on rose petals surrounded by candles and awareness humming through her, Addie wanted him. Did she dare? How could she not? She didn’t want to live with regret.

  “We could make this real, if we wanted to,” she said, half-joking, half-serious.

  Nick traced her lips with his fingertip. “How real?”

  Instinct told her to look away, but she kept her gaze on him. “All the way real.”

  His eyes widened. “We could.” He kissed her lips, then the tip of her nose. “As long as we agree our friendship won’t be affected.”

  She wiggled her toes in anticipation. “Our friendship wouldn’t be affected.”

  “Good to know.” He ran his finger along the side of her breast causing her to suck in a breath
. “But I thought you wouldn’t be into something so casual.”

  Casual. The word tasted like sand. She was missing something. “We’re married.”

  “Yeah, sort of.” He sounded the exact opposite from how he’d described being on a honeymoon. “So this would be spouses with benefits.”

  Unease trickled through her. She hadn’t thought through want wanting versus having him meant in the long-term. Or in Nick’s case, near-term. “So we enjoy each other until it’s time to move on?”

  “Exactly. We change the agreement for now.” He played with her hair. “You game?”

  Addie scooted away from him. “I’m sorry for bringing this up, but I . . . can’t.”

  He studied her, an unreadable expression on his face. “I thought you wanted—”

  “I do. Or did.” She struggled to explain herself without getting emotional. They were friends who were attracted to each other, not head over heels in love. She wanted—needed—love, not a vacation fling. “I wish I could tell you I’m cool with friends or spouses with benefits. That we could spend the next three days being passionate newlyweds, but I’m not some casual hookup you can forget about once we’re back in San Diego.”

  “I’m not going to forget about you.”

  “You can’t. Being your wife complicates the situation.” She scooted back. “You’re used to keeping things casual with women, but I’m not like that. Things would be different between us. Our agreement would have to change. I’m certain I couldn’t handle you going out with other women, even discretely. I’m not wired that way. I’d be hurt.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m not into complicated. Let’s keep things the way they are.”

  She nodded, but couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

  “Hey.” He cupped her face so she had to look at him. “You are more important to me than sex. I’m not going to let anything screw up our friendship.”

  “You’re not upset with me.”

  “I’ll need a cold shower, but not upset,” he said. “You know I don’t do serious relationships. If Carrie hadn’t lied about being pregnant, I would have never proposed. You deserve someone better than me, a guy who can give you everything I can’t.”

  What he said gave Addie courage. She lifted her chin. “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Does it matter? I’m the wrong guy for you. We both know it or we’d be having sex right now.”

  The truth felt like a slap. A part of her still wanted to believe . . .

  Don’t go there.

  He’d said the words himself. He was the wrong guy.

  She might want to be a blushing bride to Nick’s adoring groom, but there wouldn’t be a wedding night. The marriage would remain unconsummated and end in divorce. Fourth of July firework kisses aside, this was no fairy-tale romance. This was a business arrangement. Addie couldn’t let herself forget that.

  But was this how she wanted to spend the next five years?

  Chapter 8

  The days passed in a flurry of activity, swimming and sun, and plenty of fun, but Nick noticed a change in Addie. She sought out Mama Lani, other guests, the film crew, rather than spend time alone with him.

  Nick preferred having her to himself, but he understood she wanted space. Better for Addie if they didn’t spend every minute together. Once they returned to San Diego, she would be on her own when he left for his new job assignment.

  At least he kept telling himself that.

  But the truth was more complicated. Carrying her to bed and wanting to have sex had been a mistake. Nick blamed himself, and his actions proved what he’d known his entire life. He wasn’t good enough for Addie Sinclair. She deserved more than a roll between the sheets. A good thing she knew she needed a commitment, not casual sex, and hasn’t been afraid to tell him.

  Dinner turned out to be a quiet affair—crab legs and fresh vegetables—under a white tent on the beach. Dessert was peanut butter chocolate fondue with fruit, pound cake, and cookie dough to dip. Delicious food, but the conversation seemed forced, adding to the tension in the air. Now back at the bure, he felt the same discomfort, as if Addie was trying to distance herself from him further. She sat on the couch, more interested in her cell phone than him.

  What happened the night of the lovo dinner had changed things between them, but he’d be damned if he allowed their friendship to continue being affected by his mistake. Time to get things back on track. “Put your phone away and talk to me.”

  She stared at the screen as if the plastic held the secrets of the universe. “Emily is calling me tonight.”

  “Her job okay?”

  Addie shrugged. “She didn’t say. Just mentioned some stuff going on.”

  “Maybe she met a guy.” Nick half-laughed, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Forget that with her eighty-hour workweeks.”

  “She’ll have a change of heart when she meets Mr. Right.” The phone rang. Addie jumped up. “I’m taking this outside to save you from listening to girl talk.”

  “Okay.” Something felt off. Emily had never been one to be in close contact. She was too busy to do anything, but send a text every now and then. He hoped nothing was wrong . . .

  Something was wrong.

  The next morning, Nick watched Addie from behind a rock. He couldn’t believe he’d resorted to spying on her, but something was going on.

  Addie had come in after her call and gone to bed without saying goodnight. Unlike her. This morning she’d woken up early—not normal—and left with Brad, none of the other crew in sight.

  One thought kept running through Nick’s mind—Carrie.

  Okay, he and Addie didn’t have a real marriage. But her sneaking around and hiding things bothered him. If she was involved with Brad, she was taking a huge risk given Emily’s job was on the line. Nick’s, too.

  Addie said something to Brad, who drew closer, not seeming to understand the meaning of personal space, at least the American definition. His hand rested on her shoulder. She didn’t move, let alone back away.

  Not good. Nick’s fingertips dug into the rock, scratching the tips.

  Brad raised his other arm, bringing his hand toward Addie. She leaned into his chest. He put his arm around her in an embrace.

  Nick’s muscles hardened like granite. His temperature rose twenty degrees. Addie was his. Brad shouldn’t be touching her.

  Addie looked up and smiled at Brad.

  Nick couldn’t watch any longer. He jumped out from the rock. “Isn’t this cozy?”

  Brad released her, then stepped back.

  “What the hell is going on?” The hard edge to Nick’s voice sounded strange to his own ears.

  Addie shook her head. “Nothing is going on.”

  Brad raised his hands, palms facing outward. “Not what you think, dude.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

  “Stop it.” The anger in Addie’s voice matched the flames in her eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not Carrie. I’ve never been anything like her. You said so yourself.”

  He had. Addie was honest, trustworthy, loyal. Shame burned in his throat. Except . . . “Brad was holding you.”

  “Offering sympathy. A comfort hug,” Brad said. “Not trying to make a move on your wife. I’d be so fired, dude.”

  Nick’s gaze flew to Addie. Her eyes were red, her lashes spiked. He was at her side in an instant. “You’ve been crying.”

  “Do you want me to tell him?” Brad asked.

  “No, but could I talk to Nick alone.”

  “Sure. I’ll get everything set-up to tape your statement.” With that, Brad walked away.

  Nick tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What is going on?”

  Addie took a deep breath. “Emily saw me on the news. She sent me the clip from the broadcast so I could see for myself.”

  “Why were you on the news?”

  “My aunt accused me of stealing my grandmother’s engagement ring and wen
t to the media with the story. Reality TV Honeymoon Bride Steals from Dead Grandma.”

  “What the . . .” Nick tried to make sense of what he was hearing. “Your grandmother gave you the ring for your birthday. You sold it to pay for her funeral expenses.”

  “That’s what I told my aunt when she asked for the ring months ago, but I guess she didn’t believe me. Or maybe she heard about the reality TV show and wants to cash in.”

  He had proof Addie had sold the ring. Emily knew that, so why hadn’t she called him? “I’ll fix this in two seconds.”

  “I need to take care of this.”

  “But—”

  “No.”

  The force in Addie’s voice silenced a reply. He’d never heard her sound so adamant.

  “It’s time I stand up for myself,” she continued.

  “Okay.”

  “It’s not okay.” She raised her chin, a determination in her eyes he didn’t recognize. “I’ve let my family walk all over me for too long. I need to do something or they’ll keep coming after me. Getting the house wasn’t enough. Now they want Grammy’s engagement. Who knows what they’ll want or say I did next? I’m not going to sit back and take their lies any longer.”

  “I understand. But let me help.” Nick reached for her, cupping her face. A touch wasn’t enough. He wanted to hold her. “I’m here. You’re not in this alone.”

  “But I was. For the past nine years I was alone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. Mine.” She hung her head for a moment, then straightened. “I could have pursued relationships, difficult as things were. I could have asked for help. I could have taken charge of my future by making sure everything was in order with Grammy’s will and finances. But I didn’t. I was so wrapped up in the day-to-day activities, so overwhelmed and exhausted, I couldn’t think about tomorrow let alone next week. I gave up on living my own life. But no longer.”

  “You’re so brave to do what you did, quitting college to care for your grandmother. You were there when no one else was. That takes guts and strength.” He ran the side of his finger along her jawline, wishing he could kiss away her troubles. “You’ve been there for me the same way. I don’t know what I would have done without your emails, letters, and care packages during deployments. You were—are—a lifesaver.”