Meg Maguire – The Wedding Fling (страница 6)

Will laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve lived on that tiny speck for seven years now, and I still wake up every day pinching myself.” The second he abandoned the prying, the sourness in his stomach eased.

“You live there?”

He nodded. “Fly people back and forth twice a day for a passable stipend.”

“Wow.”

“You say that a lot, you know.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose I do.”

“You’re very easy to impress,” Will said as the plane began its descent. “I like that in a woman.”

“Yes. That would be a requisite for a man of your charms.”

He laughed again, then realized he might be in danger of actually liking Leigh Bailey, celebrity runaway bride or not. That didn’t bode well for his gig.

The island grew closer, and Will could make out two of the villas from this angle, two tiny blue swimming pools, two docks poking out into the waves.

“So you are famous, right?” he asked, banking the plane left.

“Not crazy-famous. B-list, I guess. Maybe B plus.”

“What are you famous for?” She’d been in some films he’d never heard of, but that was all he knew about her.

“When I was in high school, outside San Francisco, I was really into dance. And one summer I was fed up over not getting called back for theater auditions, so my mom drove me to L.A. to try out for a movie. And I got it.”

“What kind of movie?”

“About a shy, bookworm girl who goes away for a summer to Miami and meets all these hot-blooded ballroom dancers, and falls in love with this boy. Just another star-crossed teen romance with a dance-off at the end. That’s what I’m most known for. And I did a few romantic comedies and a couple indie films, and got talked into a cosmetics campaign. But nothing hugely amazing.”

“Looking to be the next big thing?”

“Quite the opposite.”

Will’s brow furrowed in surprise, and he hoped she didn’t notice.

“I’d happily wake up tomorrow as a complete nobody.”

“I hate to break it to you, but running away from your wedding’s not gonna do much to keep you out of the spotlight.”

“No kidding.”

“But if you’re looking to be a nobody, you’ve picked the best place on earth to do it.”

“Actually… You let me bribe you into taking me this far. Any chance I can bribe you into keeping your mouth shut to any other passengers or resort staff?”

“Discretion comes standard. In fact, I’ve already forgotten your name, Miss…?”

She smiled grimly, and Will tried to ignore the fresh stab of guilt his lie triggered.

AFTER A SHAKY LANDING, Will climbed out and secured the craft to a long aluminum dock, then offered Leigh a hand as she disembarked.

“Thanks.”

He fetched her suitcase and made a beeline for a huge stucco building with terra-cotta roof tiles and a grand arched entryway. She followed, breathing in the sea-scented island air as the plane’s diesel smell faded. She took in the white sand, blue sky, her pilot’s backside… the latter merely to spite Dan. Not because she still had any lingering curiosity about kissing this galling man. Certainly not. Though Will did retain some appeal. She’d gotten so used to everyone telling her what they thought she wanted to hear, Will’s tactlessness had a strange allure.

He held the door as they reached the reception building, the lobby equal parts posh and primitive with its huge windows and fountain and exotic plants.

He set her suitcase before the unmanned reception counter and tapped a silver bell.

“Thank you,” Leigh said.

Will didn’t leave, and she bit her lip. His proximity made her feel funny. Naked. “Sorry. Am I supposed to tip you?”

He smiled. “I’m driving you to your villa, once you’ve checked in.”

“You do that, too?”

“I do for that unit. It’s not far from my place.”

“Okay.”

“And you may tip me for that, incidentally.”

Leigh’s retort was cut off as a harried young Caribbean woman appeared.

“So sorry to keep you waitin’. Mrs. Cosenza?” Ah, another dagger in the breast.

“Miss Bailey,” Will corrected, tucking his hands in his pockets.

The woman looked to Leigh. “Oh?”

“Yes, just me. It’s under Cosenza, but I… Well, anyhow. Change of plans.” She ought to have that printed on a T-shirt.

The woman got busy typing. “So only one key, then. No problem at all. You’re in the Shearwater Villa.” She procured a plastic card and swiped it across a device before handing it to Leigh. “Let me jus’ get a driver ‘round for you.”

“I’m on it,” Will said.

The woman frowned first at him, then Leigh. “You really want this bum escortin’ you?”

Leigh looked from one to the other.

The woman laughed. “Just kiddin’—you’re in good hands. Terrible vehicle, but very good hands. Now anything you need, you’ll find the phone numbers in the binder waitin’ on your coffee table. You have a lovely visit, miss.”

Leigh followed Will outside to a small parking lot.

He held up her suitcase. “Anything delicate in here?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

They walked past several shiny white SUVs to a rusty old pickup. Will put her bag in the bed. He opened the passenger side and once again Leigh buckled herself in as copilot.

Will slid behind the wheel. Just to test him, she tapped the dashboard provocatively.

“Go nuts. It’s only the plane I’m a fascist about.” The truck started with a mournful noise. He drove them onto a smooth gravel road, heading inland. Leigh unrolled her window to hear the birds and welcome the sun on her arm.

“Final leg of your great escape,” Will said.

She nodded.

“How long do you get to play fugitive, before you turn yourself in?”

“Two weeks.”

“Very nice.”

Already this place had her pain fading to a dull throb. Reality could shove it, as long as she was in paradise. She smiled at the decadence of the idea and shut her eyes, angling her face to catch the sunshine.

“Two weeks of surf and sand and rum,” Will said, giving voice to her thoughts.

“And silence.”

“My mistake.”

“We have plenty of surf and sand and rum in Los Angeles, anyway. I picked this place for the seclusion.” She turned to smirk at him. “How did you end up down here, anyhow?”