Gideon grinned as he tucked into the first decent food he’d had for two days. She was a feisty female and if they’d been anywhere else he’d have put his money on her. But it was going to take more than tough talk to shift him. This was his home turf and all the muscle was on his payroll.
She poured herself another glass of water, this time to drink, and needed no encouragement from him to sink onto the lounger beside him.
‘Damn, this is good,’ he said. Then, glancing at her, ‘Aren’t you hungry?’
Her only response was to lift her hand an inch or two in a gesture that suggested eating was too much effort. Maybe it was. Now she was lying down, her eyes closed, the I’m-in-charge mask had slipped.
He’d seen it happen a dozen times. Visitors arrived hyped up on excitement, running on adrenalin and kept going for an hour or two, but it didn’t take long for the journey, the heat, to catch up with them. It had happened to him once or twice and it was like walking into a brick wall.
‘Okay, give,’ he said. ‘Maybe I can help.’
‘You can, but you won’t.’ She caught a yawn. ‘You’ll just lie there, eating your illicit chilli and gloating.’
No…Well, maybe, just a little. He was in a win-win situation. He could make things as difficult for her as possible but, no matter what horrors occurred at this wedding, he knew the pain wouldn’t show on the pages of Celebrity.
Short of the kind of disaster that would make news headlines, the photographs would show smiling celebrities attending a stunningly original wedding, even if they had to fake the pictures digitally.
In the meantime, he had the pleasure of the wedding planner doing everything she could to make him happy.
He smiled as he lifted another forkful of his chef’s excellent chilli. Then lowered it again untasted as he glanced at her untouched lunch.
Was she really not hungry? Or was the food…?
He eased himself forward far enough to lift the cover on her plate.
Steamed fish. Beautifully cooked, no doubt, and with a delicate fan of very pretty vegetables, but not exactly exciting. Clearly, she’d taken the ultimate culinary sacrifice to give him what he wanted.
‘I won’t gloat,’ he promised.
‘Of course you will,’ she replied without moving. Without opening her eyes. ‘You’re hating this. If you could wave a magic wand and make me, Crystal, Tal and the whole wedding disappear you’d do it in a heartbeat.’
‘My mistake,’ he said. ‘I left the magic wand in my other bag.’
Her lips moved into an appreciative smile. ‘Pity. You could have used it to conjure up another couple of rooms and solved all our problems.’
‘Two? I thought you were just one room short?’
She rolled her head an inch or two, looking at him from beneath dark-rimmed lids. Assessing him. Deciding whether she could take him at his word.
‘Don’t fight it,’ he said. ‘You know you want to tell me.’
‘You’re the enemy,’ she reminded him. Then, apparently deciding that it didn’t matter one way or the other, she let her head fall back and, with a tiny sigh, said, ‘My problem is the chief bridesmaid.’
‘Oh, that’s always a tricky one. Has she fallen out with the bride over her dress?’ he hazarded. ‘I understand the plan is to make them as unflattering as possible in order to show off the bride to best advantage.’
Her mouth twitched. ‘Wrong. I promise you the bridesmaids’ dresses are show-stoppers.’
‘Oh, right. The bride has fallen out with the bridesmaid for looking too glamorous?’
‘Not that either.’
‘The bride caught her flirting with the groom?’ Nothing. ‘Kissing the groom?’ A shake of her head. ‘In bed with the groom?’
‘That would mean the wedding was off.’ Her voice was slowing as she had to think harder to find the words. ‘This is worse. Much worse.’
‘What on earth could be worse than that?’
‘The chief bridesmaid has dumped her partner.’
‘Oh.’ He frowned, trying to see why that would be a cause for wailing and gnashing of teeth. ‘Surely that means you’ve got an extra bed? You could share her room and the happy couple could have yours. Problem solved.’
‘Problem doubled,’ she replied. ‘The reason she dumped him is because she has a new man in her life and she’s not going anywhere without him.’
‘Okaaay,’ he said, still not getting it. ‘One man out, one man in. No gain, but we’re just back to square one.’
‘If only life were that simple. Unfortunately, her ex is the best man and while I’d love to suggest that you move in with him, solving one of my problems,’ she said, still awake enough to wield her tongue with sarcastic precision, ‘it seems that he wants to show the world just how much he isn’t hurting. To that end, he’s bringing his brand new girlfriend with him.’
‘You’re not convinced that it’s true love?’
‘Anything is possible,’ she admitted, ‘but it would have made my life a whole lot easier if he’d declared himself too broken-hearted to come to the wedding…’
All the tension had left her body now. Her hand, beside her, was perfectly still. Her breathing was slowing. For a moment he thought she’d gone, but an insect buzzed noisily across the deck just above her and she jerked her eyes open, flapped at it.
‘Celebrity would have loved a tragic broken-heart cover story, a nice little tear-jerker to wrap around the wedding,’ she said, easing herself up the lounger, battling her body’s need for sleep, ‘and bump up the emotional headline count. And a new best man would have been easier to find than another room.’
‘You’re all heart, Josie Fowler.’
‘I’m a realist, Gideon McGrath. I’ve left David juggling the accommodation in an attempt to find some space somewhere—anywhere. Hopefully with sufficient distance between the best man and the bridesmaid to avoid fingernails at dawn.’
‘And if he can’t?’
‘If the worst comes to the worst I’ll let them have my room.’
‘And where will you sleep?’ he persisted as she began to slip away again.
‘I can crash in the office,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ve slept in worse places…’
And that was it. She was gone. Out like a light.
He took his time about finishing the chilli, wondering where Josie had slept that was worse than David’s office floor. Who she was. Where she came from, because she certainly wasn’t one of those finishing school girls with cut-glass accents who regularly descended on his office to organise the launch parties for his new ventures.
It wasn’t just her street smart, in-your-face image that set her apart. There was an edginess about her, a desperate need to succeed that made her vulnerable in a way those other girls could never be.
It was a need he recognised, understood and, replacing his plate on the tray, he eased himself off the lounger, straightened slowly, held his breath while the pain bit deep. After a moment it settled to a dull ache and he wound out the shade so that when the sun moved around Josie would be protected from its rays.
That done, he tugged on the bell to summon Francis, then he made it, without mishap, to the bathroom.
Maybe he should make Josie’s day and keep going while he had sufficient movement to enable him to get onto a plane. Perhaps catch up with Matt in