Читать книгу The Mighty Quinns: Ryan - Kate Hoffmann - Страница 10
ОглавлениеRYAN QUINN STARED out the rain-blurred windscreen of Rogan’s Land Rover, his gaze fixed on the dark tarmac. In the distance, the landing beacons from Auckland’s airport illuminated the night sky.
“How long are you going to wait?”
“All night if I have to,” Ryan murmured, glancing over at his twin brother, slumped in the driver’s seat. “They’re coming in from Los Angeles on a private jet. I don’t reckon they’ll be keeping to a strict schedule.”
“Serena Hightower,” Rogan said, shaking his head. “How did you get so lucky?”
Ryan shrugged. “I’m not sure I’d call it lucky. It’s just another job.”
“Yeah, but the scenery is going to be splendid,” Rogan said, reaching for the coffee he’d set in the cup holder. “What are you going to do with them? I asked Dana what your plans were, but she said they’re top secret.”
“We’re going to Fiji.”
“Really? We’ve never guided in Fiji before. That’s more of a vacation spot.”
“We’ll do some light trekking, maybe some climbing. Surfing. Sailing.”
“What about supplies and equipment and—”
“It’s not that kind of trip. I’m just on board as...an advisor. Someone who can take care of all the details for whatever they want to do.”
“Kind of like a...babysitter?”
Ryan glanced over at his brother, ready with a retort. But there was no way around it. That was pretty much the job description. But how the hell was he supposed to refuse the offer? He was getting his regular rate plus expenses and a promised bonus at the end, all of which he intended to keep for himself. And if he did the job well, there might be other opportunities—which meant a chance to carve out a life of his own, away from the family business. “I prefer to call it a facilitator.”
He’d been considering a break from the family adventure-guiding business for a long time, and lately, it seemed as if that time was now. Both Mal and Rogan were settling down with women they’d met, planning their futures, searching for ways to cut back on the trips they took for Max Adrenaline. They’d both assumed that Ryan would happily take over the brunt of the work.
But he’d made no promises to them and had plans of his own—he wanted to start a surf school. He lived right on the beach; he’d been surfer since the age of nine. And he’d always been a decent teacher. The only thing he didn’t have was the money to make it happen.
His fee, plus a big tip on this job would provide a good start.
“How did you get this job?” Rogan asked.
“I guided a bloke named Thom Perry last year. He was on our Mount Blanc trip. Perry owns Greenmoor Studios in Los Angeles. Serena Hightower is starring in some big blockbuster they have coming out after Christmas. She’s marrying her boyfriend right before the premiere, and he doesn’t want any bad press.”
“Bad press?”
“This is her hen party. She and her bridesmaids want one last fling before she gets married, and Perry wants to make sure they don’t create any problems for the studio.”
“So it’s your job to get her safely to the altar so this bloke’s movie can make more millions?”
“That’s about it,” Ryan said. “How hard can it be? Five women on a tropical island.”
“So, will you be hiring the male stripper or are you providing those services yourself?”
“It’s not like that,” he said. “Ms. Hightower wants an adventure. According to her instructions, she doesn’t want to spend every minute working on her tan. I expect we won’t be sipping mimosas by the pool the entire time.”
“So you’ll be doing a lot of shopping?”
“Definitely not on the itinerary. Perry has a man in Fiji who will help me with the arrangements. Arthur Cawaru. He’ll meet up with me there.”
“We’re splitting the fee with him?”
Ryan shook his head. “Nope. Like I said, the studio is paying all the bills. And this isn’t a Max Adrenaline job. I’m freelancing on this.”
“Wow,” Rogan muttered. “Mal isn’t going to like that.”
“This isn’t a guiding job. I’m not using company equipment or money. And I don’t care what the hell Mal does and doesn’t like these days,” Ryan muttered. “He’s been so caught up in planning the Everest trip that he’s not interested in anything else.”
Max Quinn, their father, had died nearly twenty years before while guiding a group of climbers to the summit of Everest. Before his death, he’d parlayed his considerable fame as a mountaineer into an adventure business with his Aussie friend and business partner, Roger Innis—who had taken total control of the company, and its profits, after Max’s accident.
And now, with the recent discovery of their father’s body on Everest, there had been a push for his three adventuring sons to make a pilgrimage of sorts to Max Quinn’s final resting place, to retrieve his effects and bury him properly. Mal, Ryan’s older brother, was all for the trip, along with publishing a biography that he and his fiancée, Amy Engalls, were writing about his father.
But not everyone was so enthusiastic about their expedition to Everest. Roger Innis was mounting an expedition of his own to recover their father’s effects, including his climbing journal, which Innis considered company, not personal, property. Mal suspected that Innis was afraid he might be blamed for the mistakes made that day. And Ryan and Rogan knew there were other secrets that might be exposed if their father’s journal got into the wrong hands. The secrets in that book could shatter their perfect memory of their father —and destroy the family he’d left behind.
Ryan drew a deep breath. “We need to tell Mal about Dad and the Montgomery woman. He can still call an end to this.”
“There’s no stopping him,” Rogan said. “The trip is a go.” He paused. “And I’m going with him. I’m not going to let Roger Innis use his expedition to make himself look like the hero.”
“But you said it was morbid.”
“Yeah,” Rogan said. “But I’ve had a change of heart. Claudia has pointed out that I can’t really get on with my future until I deal with my past. Maybe this trip is what it will take for me to understand who he was. And who I am.”
“You know who he was,” Ryan countered. “He was our father. A philanderer.”
“That’s not all he was. Listen, someday I’m going to be a father. And I won’t have Dad around to talk to about it. So I’d like to know him a little better. And I want the truth of why he died on that mountain.”
“And what if the journal’s not there? What if he just died there on the mountain, without anything important to say to his family? Or what if he mentions that Montgomery woman? How do you think that will make Mum feel?”
Rogan drew a deep breath. “I don’t know. But it’s time we found out.”
“You and Mal can go right ahead.”
“It’s something we should all do together,” Rogan insisted.
“Count me out. I’m happy with what I know. I don’t see the need to stir it all up again. It almost destroyed us once already.” Ryan’s chest tightened and he swallowed back a wave of emotion.
His family had never really dealt with his father’s death. At the time, Ryan’s mother, Lydie Quinn, had been so emotionally fragile herself that she hadn’t been able to help her children through the tragedy. Ryan had stood by helplessly as all the happiness had drained out of their lives.
Along the way, Ryan had learned to control his emotions, to stop caring about anything that might make him happy. He’d lived his life waiting for the next disaster to befall their family and building a high wall around his heart to protect himself from the pain.
Malcolm and Rogan had found happiness. They’d fallen in love and were looking forward to rosy futures. But Ryan would never allow himself to be that vulnerable. He couldn’t bring himself to trust that deeply.
“You’re going to have to make a decision soon,” Rogan said. “We leave in three months.”
“Have a good trip,” he muttered.
An uneasy silence fell over the interior of the Range Rover. As if he didn’t already feel like an outsider in his own family, this didn’t make things much better. He and his brothers had always agreed on most subjects, but since Amy and Claudia had come into the picture, that had all changed.
“Is that your plane?” Rogan asked.
Ryan looked up and saw a small jet appear out of the darkness. It rolled to a stop about twenty meters from the car.
“Jaysus, you will be traveling in style,” Rogan said, laughing softly.
“Thanks for the lift,” Ryan said. “I’ll see you in a week.”
The door to the plane dropped down, and Ryan jumped out and grabbed his gear from the rear seat. “Wish me luck,” he said.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing any,” Rogan said. “Stay out of trouble.”
Ryan waved and swung his bag over his shoulder, then jogged across the tarmac to the waiting plane. A young man appeared in the doorway as Ryan climbed the steps.
“Mr. Quinn?”
“Yes,” Ryan said.
“Welcome aboard. I’m Miles DuMont. I’m the studio publicist. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Ryan shook his hand. “A publicist?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he whispered. “You’ll barely know I’m here. I’m just along to make sure we control the message. And get a few good photos.”
“The message? What does that mean?” Ryan asked as he moved past him.
“Ms. Hightower tends to find herself in the middle of a media firestorm wherever she goes. I’m the one who carries the fire extinguisher.”
The interior of the plane was dark and silent. Ryan stowed his gear in a locker and glanced toward the back of the plane. “They’ve all had plenty to drink,” Miles said. “Come on back. I’ll introduce you to Serena.”
Ryan followed Miles down the aisle of the plane. Four passengers were curled up in the wide leather seats, sound asleep, but a reading light glowed from a seat at the rear.
“Ms. Hightower?”
Ryan held his breath when he got his first glimpse of the actress. She was stunning. Her long hair was pulled back from her fresh-scrubbed face, and she wore dark-rimmed glasses, which did nothing to hide her large liquid-blue eyes.
“Ms. Hightower, this is Ryan Quinn, the guide.”
She smiled warmly and Ryan’s pulse leaped. He knew he ought to say something, but he couldn’t seem to put the words together. Hell, he was the last guy in the world who would be starstruck, but she was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. “Hello,” he finally managed.
“Hi,” she said, sending him a coy smile. She stared at him for a long moment and Ryan wondered if she could read his thoughts. Not that his thoughts were any different from those of every other bloke who had the pleasure of meeting her. She slowly reached out her hand, and Ryan took it.
“I—I have some interesting adventures planned for you,” he said, his fingers tingling.
“Good. I’m looking forward to having some fun. Do you like to have fun, Quinn? Or are you like Thom Perry? Do you think I need to behave myself?”
“I—” Ryan frowned, drawing his hand away. She spoke with a distinct British accent. He’d assumed she was American, but clearly he’d been wrong. “What was the question?”
She laughed softly. “Miles, why don’t you get Quinn something to eat and drink. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us and I’m sure he’d like to settle in.”
“Yes, Ms. Hightower.”
With that, Ryan nodded, then turned and made his way to a seat at the front of the plane. He looked back once to see Serena leaning into the aisle and watching his retreat.
“Be warned,” Miles said. “That innocent smile hides a very naughty side. Don’t be taken in.”
“No, of course not,” Ryan murmured.
But as he sank into the soft leather seat, a strange sense of anticipation settled over him. He couldn’t help but be curious. Who was Serena Hightower? And why did the simple touch of her hand startle him so?
He rubbed his hand on the faded fabric of his jeans, as if the action might banish all thoughts of Serena from his head. But it didn’t work. Unless he regained a measure of control, this was going to be a very long trip.
* * *
SERENA HIGHTOWER STARED out the window of the jet, her gaze fixed on the blinking light at the end of the wing. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to clear the chaotic thoughts from her mind.
She rubbed her hands together, wondering why the effects of the man’s touch seemed to linger. Yes, Ryan Quinn was attractive...and sexy...and he had a dangerous air. And, yes, any woman would find him irresistible. But she was engaged. Engaged to be married in a few weeks! And all she could think about was some stranger she’d just met.
“Ryan,” she murmured. “Ryan Quinn.”
Serena groaned. How had she allowed this engagement to get so far? When she’d accepted Ben’s proposal, she’d never really believed it would result in a wedding. She’d been infatuated, giddy with the romance of being in love. But the realities of their situation had soon begun to emerge. They hadn’t dated very long, and Serena had soon realized that she didn’t really know Ben. Though they were both actors with high-profile careers and permanent places in the gossip magazines, they had very different ideas about a commited relationship, especially when it came to fidelity.
Serena had spent a lifetime watching her parents make a hash of their multiple marriages. Living life as the only child of a celebrity couple should have opened her eyes to the realities of love, especially the fact that actors had so many temptations to stray.
When they’d first gotten involved, Serena hadn’t cared that Ben Thayer had a reputation as a player—she’d just taken it as a reality of the biz. Besides, she hadn’t been concerned about getting hurt, because she was going into the marriage with her eyes wide open.
So how had she lost control of this?
For some reason she’d assumed that the media would be happy to report the engagement and then move on to more interesting stories. But they’d immediately pressed her to set a wedding date. She’d just tossed a date out, figuring she could always change her mind. Unfortunately, her “team” had taken the date as gospel and had begun to plan, clearing her schedule, searching for wedding venues, hiring a wedding planner.
While she’d been away shooting a movie, her entire wedding had been planned for her, and she’d passed the point of no return before she’d even had a chance to scream “Stop!” Breaking her engagement now would bring a riot of bad press at a time when her career and her reputation as an actress hung in the balance.
Serena had always wanted to be taken seriously as an actress. Yet most of her career to date had been built on popular and not critically acclaimed films. But her most recent film was different. It was her chance to show she was a capable actress.
She would no longer be the child of Will Sheridan and Cassandra Hightower-Fellowes, or the fiancée of Ben Thayer, or the beautiful face that graced the pages of fashion magazines. She wouldn’t be famous for being famous. Once this movie was released, she’d be Serena Hightower, a serious actress.
And then she’d finally be satisfied, finally be happy with her life. This had to be it. She’d tried everything else—meditation, yoga, Kabbalah, juicing—whatever trend had come along, Serena had tried it, hoping that she’d find the answers to her questions. One question, actually. With everything she’d achieved in life, everything she possessed, why couldn’t she be happy?
It was a simple question, yet one that seemed to plague her mind. There had to be something more to life than this. She had money. She had fame. She had every possession she could ever wish for. And if she went ahead with the wedding, she’d have a marriage.
Serena reached out and poured herself a glass of warm champagne. They’d opened the bottles hours ago as a celebration of the adventure they were about to have. But now, the taste of the flat champagne mirrored her feelings.
She pushed out of her seat and wandered to the front of the jet. Her four bridesmaids were sound asleep, exhausted from the excitement of the trip and too much champagne. Miles had his nose buried in his laptop. She glanced over at the passenger they’d taken aboard in Auckland.
Serena plopped down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”
He turned away from the window and met her gaze. “I never sleep on planes.”
The urge to touch him again was overwhelming. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers through his thick dark hair. Why did she find him so fascinating? She’d known her share of handsome men. But Ryan Quinn wore his good looks like he wore his clothes, casually and comfortably. This was a man who never worried over wrinkles and Botox and the effect aging would have on his career. This was a real man.
“So, you’re the nanny Thom has sent along to watch over us,” Serena said, settling back into the leather seat and tucking her feet up under her.
“Nanny?”
“What do you prefer to be called?” she asked.
“Quinn,” he said. “You can call me Quinn.”
She fixed him with her most charming gaze. “What did he tell you, Quinn? Are you meant to keep us out of trouble?”
“I’m supposed to facilitate your travel and activities,” he said.
“If that’s your story,” she said with a shrug. “But you don’t have to pretend. I know why he sent you. He wants to make sure I’m safely delivered to the altar after Christmas.”
“Is that expected to be a problem?”
Serena sighed. “No. Of course not. I’m ready to get married.”
And yet even when she said the words out loud, Serena couldn’t make herself finish the thought—ready to get married to Ben. Was she really ready to marry him? Was she even in love with him? If she was, why was she trying to tease this handsome stranger into conversation when she ought to just go back to her seat and sleep?
“How did you get talked into taking this job?” she asked.
“I guided Thom on a climbing trip last year. He thought I was the right man for the job.”
She laughed softly. “I can imagine,” Serena murmured. Thom was a crafty sort, she mused. He could have sent some gruff, middle-aged security sort, but instead, he’d sent someone young and hot, the kind that her four single bridesmaids would find irresistible. “You’re going to be the hit of the party.”
Serena reached out and grabbed his glass from the table in front of him, draining the last bit of whiskey and water from the bottom. “I’ll get you another,” she said.
“I’m fine,” Ryan replied.
“I’m not,” Serena said.
She crawled out of her seat and made her way to the small galley near the cockpit door. After she filled two tumblers with ice, she grabbed the whiskey bottle and returned to her seat next to Ryan.
“So, why don’t you tell me all about yourself,” Serena said, pouring him a glass.
He pointed to the whiskey, filled to the brim. “Are you trying to get me pissed?”
“It’s a long flight. We have a lot of time to kill. And I’ll get bored if you don’t tell me some interesting stories. I’m just getting you relaxed.”
“I’m always relaxed,” he said.
“Lucky you,” she said. “I never am.”
He pushed the glass in her direction. “Why don’t you drink it, then?”
She’d already had too much champagne and was beginning to feel the effects of a hangover. But she picked up the glass and took a sip, then set it down. Serena’s gaze met his, and for a long moment, she couldn’t look away. Would she be so attracted to him if she loved Ben? Her heart said no, but there was so much riding on this wedding now, she had to be sure. Letting her impulsive nature take over, she leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t a passionate kiss. Nor was it platonic. It existed in the strange space in between. She drew back, her face warming with embarrassment. Thankfully, Ryan didn’t seem to be offended by her brazen nature.
“Sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“I just...” she murmured. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be engaged?” he asked.
“Yes,” Serena said, frowning. “I am. Don’t you think it odd that I’d feel the urge to kiss you?”
“I can’t say. Do you usually kiss men you barely know?”
Serena nodded. “All the time. I mean, I do on-screen. That’s part of the job. But you’re not...” She sank back into the seat. She had her answer. She hadn’t just enjoyed the kiss, she was desperate to kiss him again. And she didn’t want to stop there. She imagined tearing off his shirt and touching his body, kissing him in places that only she could discover.
She reached for the whiskey and took a big gulp, wincing as the liquor burned a path down her throat.
“I always wondered how that worked,” Ryan said. “How do you kiss someone when it’s just for show?”
“Are you asking if I get turned on?”
He shrugged. “I would think that would be one of the dangers.”
“That’s why so many actors end up together after they’ve worked on a film. At some point, the kissing starts to feel real.”
“Is that what happened with you and...”
“Ben,” she said. “Ben Thayer.”
“Right. Ben.”
“I suppose that’s how it started. He was a really good kisser. And I got a bit swept away.” But she’d never felt quite so infatuated as she was feeling now, sitting next to Ryan Quinn and imagining the next kiss they might share.
“I don’t expect he’d be happy that you kissed me.”
“Hmm.” She smiled at him. “I suppose not. If you don’t tell, I won’t, either. We’ll just make it our little secret.” She needed time and space to be able to figure out what all this meant, and right now she had neither.
“Secrets can be very dangerous,” Ryan said.
Serena took another sip of the whiskey, then handed him the glass. “Tell me one of your secrets,” she said. “As an actor, I’ve become quite keen at observation. And I believe you’re the kind of man who keeps his secrets buried very deep.”
“What you see is what you get,” Ryan said with a shrug. He gave her a sideways glance, then shook his head. “I’m not here for your amusement.”
“Of course not,” she replied.
“And I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the glass, then got to her feet. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun this week. If I were you, Quinn, I’d get some sleep. I intend to keep you very busy.”
Serena wandered back to her seat. Miles gave her a suspicious look as she passed him, and she rolled her eyes. “I was just being friendly.”
But when she’d settled into her own spot, she closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t seem to put the memories of her kiss with Ryan Quinn out of her mind. Even now, her heart was still beating a bit faster than normal, and her breathing had grown shallow and short.
Her gaze dropped to the six-carat diamond ring that sparkled on her finger. She was due to walk down the aisle in just a few weeks. Everything was planned. Two hundred and fifty guests had all received their invitations. And yet she wasn’t thinking about the man waiting for her at home in Los Angeles. Instead, she was obsessing over the man sitting just a few feet away.
It was proof that she didn’t love Ben. But then, she’d never really believed in true love, anyway, so what had changed? When it came down to it, was one kiss reason enough to destroy her chance at happiness? “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself. Ryan was a distraction. Ben was the man she intended to marry.
* * *
A BRIGHTLY PAINTED VAN and a Peugeot sedan were waiting for them when the Learjet landed in Nadi, on the island of Viti Levu. They taxied to stop near a well-lit hangar, and Miles and Ryan helped the ladies gather their luggage and fill out their customs and immigration forms for the waiting official. When they were cleared, the girls stumbled into the van, still half-asleep.
“Please tell me we’re finally here,” one of the women cried.
“You’re here,” Ryan said.
He glanced at Serena, and she smiled warmly before disappearing into the van.
Miles and Ryan decided to ride in the sedan, chauffeured by a smiling Fijian. He held out his hand as they approached. “I am Arthur Cawaru. I manage the house at Bellavista.”
Ryan shook his hand. “I’m Ryan Quinn. Thom said you’d be able to help me out with the arrangements.”
“I am at your service, Mr. Quinn.”
Miles introduced himself to Arthur and they got into the rear seat of the car. Though the sun wasn’t up yet, the eastern sky had begun to change from black to a deep blue, and the stars had started to fade. They drove on narrow, winding roads that hugged the coast, the South Pacific on one side and lush, tropical vegetation on the other.
Ryan chuckled softly. “This is bloody brilliant.”
“Brilliant?”
“Look at us. Someone is paying us to hang out in this tropical paradise with five beautiful women. It’s like we won the lottery.”
“I wouldn’t jump the gun on that,” Miles said.
Ryan glanced over at him. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know Serena. She can be...a handful. She’s gorgeous and talented. But she’s also mercurial and stubborn. And moody and demanding. One moment she seems smarter than any woman you’ve ever met, and then she’ll do something that defies common sense, and you wonder how she can be so clueless. If she weren’t so damn beautiful and good at what she does, she wouldn’t get work.”
“She can’t be that bad,” Ryan said.
“She’s got lots of baggage,” Miles murmured. “Just don’t get caught up in the fantasy. She’s nothing like she is on the screen.”
“I’ve never seen her movies.”
Miles stared at him in disbelief. “Never?”
“Was that part of the job?”
“No. Maybe it’s for the best. You won’t be captivated by her.”
Ryan chuckled softly. It was too late for that, he mused. “Hey, I’m always a professional, and I made a promise to Mr. Perry. No worries there.”
“She’s a professional, too,” Miles said. “She’s an actress and a good one. So take everything she says with a grain of salt.”
The rest of the ride passed in silence. Ryan found it difficult to reconcile the woman Miles was talking about with the woman he’d met on the plane. He’d found Serena sweet and charming and vulnerable. And yet to hear Miles tell it, Serena Hightower was trouble. For Miles, anything that interfered with the box office profits of Thom Perry’s latest movie would be cause for concern. To both Miles and Thom, Serena was a commodity, an investment that would pay off only if she behaved to their standards.
The sedan turned off the main road, and after a few minutes, they drove through a tall gate. A moment later, a sprawling mansion appeared out of the dark, the white exterior lit by floodlights. “Crikey,” Ryan murmured. “This is a bit more posh than the tents I usually sleep in.”
“We thought it might be better if Ms. Hightower and her party stayed at a private villa instead of a resort,” Miles explained. “That way we can control the environment.”
“What do you expect they’ll be doing? Pillaging the villages? Stealing cars and raping the menfolk?”
“It’s always best to expect the worst,” Miles said.
The vehicles pulled around the large circular drive and stopped at the grand entrance to the house. Ryan hopped out and Miles followed him. A Fijian woman appeared at the door with a tray of drinks, each decorated with a fresh flower.
“Welcome to Bellavista,” Arthur said in his booming voice. “This is my wife, Juni. House cook. She will bring you anything you would like to eat.”
Juni handed them each a glass. “Wonderful,” Miles muttered. “More alcohol.”
“Fruit juice,” Juni whispered, “with ginseng. Good for jet lag.”
The girls walked into the house, one by one, sipping at their drinks. When they were all inside, Ryan followed. He introduced himself to Juni, then trailed after Miles, slowly turning as he took in the luxurious interior. “Nice crib,” he murmured to himself.
“Thom bought it five years ago,” Miles commented.
“Thom owns this?”
“Yeah. He’s got a château in France, a condo in New York, a beach house in L.A., a mansion in Beverly Hills and a place in Aspen. And this. Strange thing is, he hardly has time to vacation. I don’t think he’s been here in two or three years. But it’s a handy place to stash the occasional detoxing actor or actress. Very private. Virtually no media presence on the island.”
“Mr. Quinn, your room is this way,” Arthur said. “Mr. DuMont, please follow Juni. You’re in the other wing.”
Arthur reached for Ryan’s bag, but he shook his head. “I’ve got it.”
“This way.”
His room was airy and spacious, the windows covered with large floor-to-ceiling shutters. Ryan tossed his gear on the bed, then threw open the shutters and walked out onto a wide terrace that overlooked the ocean. It was still dark, but the sound of the surf filled the air.
“I love the way it smells here. What is that? I can’t place the scent.”
Ryan turned to the right and found Serena sitting on the stone wall nearby, staring out at the eastern horizon. She had the room right next to his.
“Frangipani, I think,” Ryan replied. “They’re most fragrant at night. They don’t have nectar, but they use their scent to trick moths into pollinating them. The poor moth does all the work for no reward.”
“Well, I’m impressed.”
“My mother has been trying to grow frangipani for years without any success.” He decided a change of subject was in order. “I figured you’d crawl right into bed. It’s been a long trip.”
She smiled. “No. I can sleep later. I wanted to watch the sunrise.” She pointed out at the water. “Look. It’s about to happen.”
A tiny sliver of red light appeared over the water and they both stared at it. Though they were standing a fair distance away from each other, Ryan felt oddly close to her, as if they’d discovered a connection between them.
As the sun crept higher, it painted the clouds in a blaze of purple and orange. Ryan had seen a lot of sunrises in a lot of beautiful places, but this one was different. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if his senses had suddenly cleared and his mind had sharpened. He should have been exhausted, but instead, he was energized.
“Do you ever wonder if you’re living someone else’s life?” she asked.
Ryan frowned, then turned and braced his hip against the wall. “Yeah. Sometimes.”
It was as if she could read his mind. He’d been feeling like that a lot lately—as if he was living his father’s life, or maybe his brothers’. He was tired of doing things just to please them. But while he’d like to hope he might open that surf school one day, Ryan could barely support himself on what he made. And despite his refusal to join them on the Everest expedition, he couldn’t abandon his brothers when they needed him.
“I don’t know how—or when—I lost control of my own life,” Serena continued. “I’m not sure I ever even had it. God, I’m tired of pretending.”
He heard the exhaustion in her voice and he wanted to go to her and comfort her in some way. But he knew better than to touch her again. “Isn’t that what an actor does for a living?” Ryan asked.
“When the camera is on. But I pretend to be someone I’m not even when the camera is off.” She swung her legs around and jumped off the wall onto the terrace. “This isn’t what you signed on for, is it? Listening to me moan about how horrible my life is.”
“Usually I’m worried about my clients tumbling down the side of a mountain or falling into a crevasse. I think I can manage listening to your problems.”
Serena nodded. “Yes, you’re the kind of man who can handle just about anything, aren’t you? You seem very...competent.” She walked over to him, then looked up to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry about the kiss. I was just—I don’t know. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Ryan knew he should be sorry, too. He hated people who didn’t take their promises seriously. But as his gaze drifted down to her lips he found that he wanted to kiss her again, to drag her into his arms and see where it all might lead. It didn’t even matter that she was supposed to walk down the aisle in less than a month.
Besides being engaged, she was also completely out of his league, Ryan mused. Guys like him didn’t date movie stars. “Hey, I can go home and tell everyone I kissed Serena Hightower. Not that I’ll tell anyone. I won’t. But, occasionally, I might think about it. The kiss, not telling people about it.”
“I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad,” she said. “I might do the same.” She drew a ragged breath and closed her eyes. “I need some sleep. I’ll talk to you later.” She took a step closer and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Quinn.”
“For what?”
“For...listening,” she said. “No one ever does.”
She walked back inside and Ryan watched her leave, admiring the gentle sway of her hips as she moved. He was left wondering about the things she’d confessed to him. Was she really that unhappy with her life? She was supposedly in love. She had a great career and plenty of money. Everyone knew her name and her face. She flew around the world on private jets and stayed in mansions on tropical islands.
“Yeah, she’s out of your league,” he muttered. “Off limits.”
Ryan groaned softly, then rubbed his hands over his tired eyes. This was unlike any other trip he’d worked. But the goals were the same. Keep the client happy. So if Serena wanted to talk, then he was there to listen. If she wanted to hike, he was there to guide her. And if she wanted to kiss him again...he’d have to draw the line there.
Kissing a client would be considered a breach in the company rules against fraternization—and his own. But thinking about kissing her wasn’t. He could go a long time rewinding what had happened on the plane and imagining what could have happened if they’d both been free to do more.
