Free The Wedding Fling by Meg Maguire

“Here. Thank you.”
    He tucked it under his arm, jogging to catch up. He grabbed her wrist and she finally turned to face him.
    “I’m not angry or anything,” he said. “I’m flattered beyond belief.”
    “You’re trying to protect me, then?”
    “I guess. But I bet you’re going to tell me you don’t need protecting.”
    Her mouth closed on its ready reply.
    “I just don’t want you to look at me the next time I fly you to the mainland, and see some impulsive regret standing there, overdue for a haircut.”
    She took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. “Did you want to kiss me?”
    “You don’t need me to tell you that. Did you want to kiss me? Or did you just want to kiss somebody who wasn’t your ex?”
    “I’m not sure.” She stared at the sand. “I think I wanted to make a mistake. I’ve spent ten years terrified of screwing up, and you...you have nothing to do with my life back home. I guess you seemed like the right person to finally screw up with.”
    Will rubbed his hands over the bumps rising along her arms, then draped the shirt around her shoulders. “Why’d you run away, Leigh? Did he bore you, or hurt you?”
    She didn’t reply.
    “Fine. It’s none of my business. And I’m not such an upstanding guy that I’m hurt by the idea of being somebody’s reckless rebound.”
    Leigh shook her head, her smile full of annoyance.
    “But some withered little chivalry gland in me’s screaming that I need to jump in that ocean and cool off. And for some reason I’m going to listen to it.”
    Leigh nodded. “Your gland is probably wise.”
    “So you okay? You gonna be able to get a lift to Bridgetown from me without flinching?”
    “We’ll see. I’m sure you could find a way to make me flinch regardless.” She smiled again, this time looking sheepish and soft. “You know, you’re a nicer man than you give yourself credit for.”
    And you’re an adorable, wonderful fool to think it, and far too kind for the likes of me. “You’re the first person who’s ever suggested that, but go ahead. Enjoy that delusion. Feel free to log it in the guest book.”
    She looked toward her lodgings. “Walk me to my door?”
    They crossed the sand in silence, and Will followed her up the steps to her patio, past the pool to the sliding doors. He spotted her bed through the glass and quickly looked elsewhere.
    Leigh fished her key card from her shorts. With a tap, the lock beeped and a tiny light turned green with approval. She met Will’s eyes. “Thank you.”
    “No problem.”
    “I promise I won’t come bugging you again, asking for stuff that’s not listed in the brochure.”
    “My loss.”
    She stood on her tiptoes and touched his shoulder, kissed his jaw. As she pulled away she made her posture ramrod straight and offered him a curt, hyperprofessional salute. “Good night, Captain Burgess.”
    He returned the gesture, then slipped his hands into his pockets. “Sleep well, Leigh. And sleep in.”
    She slid the door open and waved as she closed it, then disappeared into the darkness of her suite.
    By the time he descended the patio steps to the beach, Will was shaking. Tiny tremors, from the adrenaline. Lust and surprise and guilt all poured in a blender and zapped into a cocktail that would knock any rational man on his ass. He rubbed at a knot forming in his chest, and aimed himself home, gulping deep breaths until his heartbeat slowed.
    As he rounded the curve of the shore, he slipped his phone from his pocket, checking the time.
    Late, but not too late. And no matter the hour, there was a phone call that needed making, to a man back in L.A. who’d pay good money to hear what Will had to report about Leigh Bailey.

5
    “I T ’ S NOT A HURRICANE , is it?” Leigh watched the two maintenance workers folding her lounge chairs two days later at lunchtime, stowing stray furniture in a storage bay set into the patio. She’d been awakened by a call that morning saying the staff would