Picture Perfect (The Wilsons) (2 page)

"Just have fun, ok? Why don't you flirt with a couple of handsome strangers, maybe go on a date with a hot lifeguard or two?"

Lea's smile was sardonic. "Why don't
you
go out with a hot lifeguard or two?"

Mel rolled her eyes. "
Duh. Because I'm not the one going to Saint Martin's for a month! Ugh, for someone so smart you sure are dumb."

"Yeah? When was the last time you went on a date with a random 'hot stranger or two'?"

"That's beside the point. I'm busy running my cafe.
Hot Stuff
is struggling as it is, and my staff don't seem to understand that sick leave is for when you're really sick and…"

Lea
grinned evilly. "Yeah yeah, I get it, you can give advice but you can't take it."

Mel was about to fall for the bait but bit her tongue just in time. "This isn't about me," she said, "And I have to leave in a few minutes, so before that time I'm picking out some nicer clothes for you to take."

She slammed her hands on her hips when Lea started to protest, and gave her a withering look.

"Just once," she said, "Have some fun. Your accident was six years ago, the paparazzi need to move on, and you need to enjoy life."

This is nice
. Lea stretched out on her sun lounger and flicked to the next page of her book, thinking hazily about how nice it was to be in the sun.

A large, wide-brimmed hat covered her face and she'd slathered on enough sunscreen to last a lifetime.
She'd actually worn that sage-green bikini Mel had forced her to bring, though she did make sure to wear her white sundress over it. But maybe she'd take off the dress at some point and go for a swim - the water seemed so inviting.

Palm trees waved gently in the breeze, the sky was cloudless, and the sun streamed down happily. This holiday was totally worth it, she decided.

School holidays had just started, which meant the markets were dead. As a foreign currency trader, she didn't believe in trading shallow markets - and most of the other traders had quit trading for the month. Only novices traded during these summer months, and Lea was far from being a novice. She managed her own boutique investment company, trading a bit of her own money and a decent amount of investor capital. And though she'd been doing fairly well over the last few years, she was going to use this holiday to brush up on her skills.

A bird cawed raucously in the distance, and she noticed flocks of seagulls hovering over the ocean. This beach was great, she decided. It was far away from
St Martin's popular Coffs Point beach, the one that most tourists and "see and be seen" pretentious crowd visited. This one, known locally as The Rocks, was smaller and quieter, frequented by families and those who really wanted to get away from it all.

Two surfers rode the waves in the distance and Lea decided she would never get tired of watching them. They glided across the waves like birds, laughing when they were knocked down and blissful when they rode smoothly - maybe she'd learn to surf some day?

On her left a family with three kids played idly, building a massive sand castle. Honeymooning couples strolled hand-in-hand from one end of the beach to the other, a few kids splashed in the shallow water, and a fitness buff jogged barefoot along the sand. The woman wore cotton shorts and a loose tank top, and her blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail - she was slim and athletic, and Lea wondered if she should take up jogging too.

And then something licked her foot.

Startled, Lea looked down into the large eyes of the most adorable puppy. She had the droopy ears of a beagle and a nose that was cold and inquisitive. Lea smiled and patted her head, at which point the puppy broke into a delirious panting, and began to turn around in small circles. Lea had been so intent on watching the jogger that she hadn't noticed when the puppy had come up to her.

Someone had probably taken the pup on a walk, but it was with her now - she could have a few lovely moments before the owner came up to claim his or her dog. When Patches (the name had flickered across her mind and seemed appropriate) came up to her again, Lea got off the lounger and kneeled down to tickle her tummy. Patches was soft and
happy and gave her love freely and was thrilled that Lea wanted to play with her. They spent a few moments together, Lea enjoying the soft puppy kisses and Patches enjoying the patting and scratching.

It took Lea a few seconds to locate a stick that was lying nearby and as soon as Patches saw it in Lea's hand she broke into another quick delirious run.

"Ok Patches," said Lea softly, "Can you fetch?"

Patches answered immediately with some enthusiastic barks, and jumped around in excitement.

"Ok then… go fetch!"

The stick flew away and Patches chased after it enthusiastically, her sole purpose in life to get that stick and bring it back to Lea. She's so cute, thought Lea, and she loves me so much. I need a puppy, not a man. 

They repeated the game a few more times. Patches' owner was nowhere to be seen and Lea wondered briefly if she could just pretend Patches was hers. The puppy brought the stick back to Lea over and over again, her excitement never waning, her eyes glowing with joy. Finally Lea laughed and gave her a cuddle, wrapping her up in her arms and allowing Patches to lick her face. She laughed again - she hated being licked on her face, but Patches was just so adorable.

And then something made her look to her left and she saw him.

Her eyes narrowed. A horrible paparazzo man was standing in the distance with a telephoto lens, snapping away. Sure, he could be taking photos of the beach and the other people there, but her instinct told her that the lens was focused on her. Lea became sure of her hunch when the man moved his camera away from his face and looked at her directly.

Scum
. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?

Lea let go of Patches and stood up slowly, smoothing down her dress. It hadn't ridden up, had it? She pulled the neckline higher, determined that there would be no revealing photos of her in tomorrow's tabloids,
thankful that she'd bothered to cover up the bikini, and began to stride towards the photographer, her steps long and her feet sinking annoyingly into the sand.

It had been six years since the night
of her accident. Six. Years.

As she took long, determined strides, Patches began to follow her. But the puppy sensed the change in her mood, saw her owner a few paces away, and happily ran a
way from Lea, who continued to stomp towards the paparazzo.

Since that night, Lea had
changed. Her life had gotten better. But that didn't make the paps happy - they wanted her to slip up, to do something stupid again. There were always photos of her at the galas and charity events she still attended, and the occasional tabloid article about how "sad" her life was now.

But the worst was when they snapped her on an off day - on the rare occasion when she
went to a nightclub, or when she visited Vegas for a friend's bachelorette party. "Wild Times Start Again", the headlines would proclaim, and investors in her boutique fund would call up to check that she, and their funds, were doing ok. She didn't need that drama now, not when she'd just taken some time off.

She'd
almost reached the photographer by now. He didn't look worried that she'd seen him and come up to him - he hadn't attempted to run away, he didn't have that nervous look most of them got when she approached them, and strangely enough, he hadn't tried to take any more photos of her.

His eyes crinkled at the corners and he smiled at her in an irritatingly friendly way.

Lea wasn't about to waste time on pleasantries. "Give me your camera," she demanded coldly.

He raised on eyebrow quizzically, the smile never leaving his face. Now that she was closer, Lea realized it was a rather nice smile - softly curving lips, and happily sparkling chocolate-brown eyes. The man had a strangely unkempt look about himself - his hair fell to his eyes in soft waves, and looked like it hadn't been cut in a while. Dark stubble covered his square jaw, and shadows under his eyes gave her the impression that he hadn't slept in a while. And there was something haunting behind his smile, too, something dark and curious…

Stop it.
She must've gone without men for a long time if she found this annoying camera-slinger attractive. She tried to ignore the fact that he was tall and lean, and his baby-blue t-shirt and cargo shorts hinted at well-defined muscles, and focused on his eyes. Why was he still smiling?

"Excuse me?" His voice was dark and smooth like his hair.

"You heard me. Your camera, now."

She held out her hand and her scowl deepened.

***

The woman was nuts. There was no other explanation for it.

Why else would she, a perfect stranger, be demanding his camera? This was a puzzling wrinkle in what had been an otherwise nice morning.

Adam had arrived late last night and had slept fitfully.
This is a strange hotel
, he kept thinking to himself. It had only a few dozen rooms, and was surprisingly luxurious, more like a resort than a typical hotel. Larry must've pulled some strings to get a room here for a month. Why did he have to keep insisting on this silly holiday? He didn't need a break from work - it might be stressful and unpleasant in some ways, but he knew he was making a difference and that's what counted. He remembered the numerous wars and famines he'd captured on camera, and decided the bed was too soft.

The morning brought with it another dose of guilt - why was he trapped on an island for the rich and pretentious when he could just as easily be taking snaps of Rohingya refugees?
And just look at that stick-thin blonde over there picking at her croissant, ready to throw the contents in the bin.
He shook his head in disgust, wolfed down his cereal and coffee and headed out to the beach.

The sunshine and holiday vibe had rubbed off on him a little, but the first beach had been crowded and full of wannabes. There was a small group of paparazzi taking pictures of a
D-list celebrity, and near him two excited women chatted about a reality TV star and her sisters who'd visited that beach recently. The overheard conversation had made him decide to get directions to the smaller, quieter beach, and once he’d reached The Rocks, he'd suddenly felt happy. The warm sunshine, the balmy breeze and the crash of waves - no wonder people picked St Martin's as a holiday destination.

Adam carried his camera everywhere, and though there was nothing particularly exciting about
The Rocks, he was soon snapping photos of the surf, the kids playing in the sand, and the surfers who kept getting knocked off their boards.

And then he saw her in the distance - a slender, dark-haired woman playing with her dog. Both of them were so happy and carefree, radiating the kind of true love that only exists between a dog and its owner.

So he'd done the natural thing - he'd stood up, zoomed in with his lens and snapped away. As he took one photo after another, he thought hazily that she was quite pretty
, and the whole scene was just perfect.

Her face shone with intelligence and joy, and she would probably be a fun person to know. Too bad she was wearing a sundress and not a bikini, he thought distractedly, wondering how she'd look in one. But then she looked
at him and stood up angrily. Uh-oh.

As she strode towards him, he put the camera down. Some people didn't like taken their picture taken, maybe she was one of them?

She was even prettier up close. There were golden specks in her amber eyes, and her hair fell down in long, dark waves. Her button nose had the beginning
s of a few freckles and she smelled like jasmine.

And then she'd asked for his camera.

It had taken a surprising amount of willpower not to ask her if she was nuts. When she repeated her request he asked politely, "Why?"

Her angry frown and flashing eyes made her look cuter, he decided. She would probably be fun to annoy, but on the other hand, she did seem like one of those crazy women who might just grab his camera and smash it.

"I saw you taking my photos," she said pointedly, "And I'd appreciate it if you'd delete them."

Normally, he'd
just apologize and delete them. But he had a strange urge to spend more time with Angry Girl and he decided to stall before asking her out for a coffee.

"There's nothing wrong with taking photos of a beach."

She rolled her eyes dismissively. "If you think you're selling my photos to some tabloid, think again. I
will
have my lawyers sue you for damages."

Now this was amusing. "Why would I sell your photos to a tabloid?"

She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms, as if the answer was self-evident.

"Look, it's not like you're a celebrity…" Or was she? He'd been out of touch with
pop culture for so long, he had no idea if she was the next Madonna or something. Or maybe just another reality TV star? Either way, she seemed pretty determined about those photos. And if she
was
some kind of celebrity, he didn't want to waste time having coffee with her.