What was that about?
Even so, she couldn’t stop herself from seeing the hard planes on his beautiful face. A jawline so strong it could crack concrete.
Stop it, Avery.
That kind of thinking wouldn’t help. He’d phoned, and she didn’t know what to make of it.
She dressed and wandered into the kitchen, where Kyle handed her a fresh cup of coffee with a wary eye toward her melancholy mood.
“What is it?” he asked.
Perceptive
. “My mother phoned yesterday. Turns out I’m the news.”
“What’d you do?” He smiled a crooked smile. “Can’t have been half as bad as some of the messes I’ve gotten into over the years.”
“It’s not what I’ve done so much as
whom
I’ve been seen with.”
“Paparazzi got you, did they?” he asked, disgusted. “Ah, they’re nothing more than a bad sunburn. A couple days of laying low and the pain’ll ease. They’ll be onto something else more interesting.”
She sighed, hoping it would be that easy. Avery took a sip, gave the coffee a minute to take seed. “You know the worst part? He took me to the lighthouse. And all I could see was this trail of women who’d gone there before me. Not that it wasn’t quite perfect, though. It was. Perfect. And orchestrated.” She rolled her eyes.
“Trail of women?” Kyle scoffed.
Avery shook her head like she could shake off the notion that she might possibly be the least bit special in Ryker’s eyes. “Surely you’re not suggesting I’m the only one he’s ever taken there. It’s too perfect a place. And the basket. Come on.”
“Don’t mean to be the one to burst your bubble, but you
are
the only woman I’ve ever known to go there.” Kyle lifted his mug. “Not like a man like Ryker has to worry about impressing a woman, normally. He’s different with you, though.”
Avery shook it off. “I’m just his employee. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Suit yourself.”
It didn’t suit her, though. To think she might be special in any way to a man like Ryker—he was too rich, too powerful, too perfect. And she simply couldn’t believe she could be anything special to him.
That Alexandria was overjoyed by the whole thing sat in Avery’s stomach like a tub of refrigerated lard. Her mother’s misguided approval wasn’t helping things. She acted like she’d finally figured Avery out—and had discovered they were pulled from the same bolt of fabric.
No.
Mother and Bits were animal prints and feather boas. Avery considered herself more of a plaid and stripe mix...not in perfectly matching colors so much as in complimentary eclectic hues. She sighed. Deeply.
Enough focusing on that craziness.
Time to work.
“I hear you have absolutely mad skills at making things happen,” she said, dismissing every other thought racing through her mind. “I have a lot to do and very little calendar left.”
“Not a problem, mate.”
****
Ryker wasn’t sure why in the hell he’d picked up his cell in the first place, let alone held onto it until it burned holes in his palm. But he had. And then he’d found himself pressing Avery’s number on the keypad before he could stop himself.
The realization he needed to talk to her more than he needed to breathe scared the hell out of him.
He’d made an excuse and hung up.
By that evening, his mood was still brooding, and he felt particularly ruthless. He wasn’t the least bit interested in attending yet another one of his mother’s parties in London or drinking with socialites. Before last week, none of these thoughts would have crossed his mind.
Why were they now?
Avery.
Why had he felt the need to hear her voice when he’d only been gone a day? Why did he suddenly feel something had been missing in his life when he got on the plane bound for London?
Maybe he needed to have sex with a stranger tonight to get the blood pumping again.
Perhaps that’s just what he needed to take the edge off. He’d spent enough time this evening brooding.
Ryker steeled his expression and stalked back inside the exclusive club where his mother’s party was in full swing. He ordered two scotches. Neat. A blonde in a jewel-studded swimsuit for a dress slinked next to him.
“I’ll have one of those.”
He held up his hand to tell her no as she curled herself around his arm. He threw one glass of whisky back. Without so much as taking a breath in between, he threw the other back. Then he faced the bartender. “I’ll take three this time.”
“Slow down, big guy,” she purred. “We have all night.”
“This isn’t one of your movies,” he said to Brittany Stone. He’d recognized the actress the moment she locked onto him. “You don’t influence the script here.”
“Big and beautiful guy like you shouldn’t be standing here all alone.”
He couldn’t argue her point. “And you’re the remedy for that?” he said, forcing a bittersweet smile. Normally, he didn’t like his date to pick him rather than vice versa. But he needed someone to lighten his mood. He put his arm around Brittany’s shoulder and frowned when he felt sharp bone where there should have been silky skin.
She felt nothing like Avery.
Didn’t matter. All he needed was a distraction.
The bartender fed him another round of drinks, and Ryker ordered a shot this time. He shouldn’t need alcohol to cozy up to a woman like this. She was blonde, beautiful, and available. Better yet, she would know his rules. She’d made it clear she wanted to spend the evening with him.
She smiled up at him coyly. “You come here a lot, don’t you?”
“Guilty.”
She gave a gasp of shocked delight. “I’m Brittany.” She was superficial and conversation would be dull with her. This was the type of person who cared about being seen and photographed so the world could witness her antics.
An evening with her will force thoughts of Avery out of my head.
“Hope you don’t expect me to remember that.”
“You want to finish that drink and go somewhere a little more private?” she asked, scanning the other guests. Enjoying the jealous looks she received.
“To do what exactly?” Ryker couldn’t help himself from having a little disdain for young Hollywood. A bar was all they needed for seduction. She couldn’t be more than twenty-four. She was almost too immature to spend time with. Until he remembered that was Avery’s age. Avery seemed older. More mature.
A hell of a lot smarter.
The little thing standing next to him tugged at his arm as she gave him her million-dollar smile. “To get to know each other better, of course.”
It wasn’t until Ryker’s mother joined him that his true contempt for the situation seeped in. Even worse, his mother’s wide smile and wink said she was impressed by his last-minute date.
“Your movie was so entertaining,” his mother said with her characteristic perfect English. She turned to Ryker when she said, “You should have told me the young woman you wanted me to meet was so well recognized.”
A blush crossed Brittany’s face. Even she was smart enough to know if Ryker had told his mother about a girl, it couldn’t possibly be her.
“Change of plans. This is—”
“Brittany,” came out in a little grunt.
Ryker made no secret he was distracted as he glanced around.
“Did you see it?” His mother asked him, her gaze connecting with a burly ex-athlete who was moving toward them.
“No.” He took his mother’s arm and nudged her away.
She glanced back at the actress. “It was nice to have met you.”
Ryker took another look at his little socialite. The scoop of her neckline fell below her belly button, and she’d slathered herself with body glitter meant to draw the eye to her implants. Didn’t women realize there was no need to work so hard to make a man look at their breasts? They should know it was a given. They’d do better on most accounts to slather the glitter on their foreheads. At least that way the man would start out looking somewhere else for a change.
Ryker leaned back against the bar and folded his arms. The damnedest thing had just happened. His body had no reaction to the starlet who wrapped herself around him. Even worse, the scotches were having the opposite effect. He didn’t feel numb. He felt a headache coming on. And guilt.
This is all wrong
.
Was this too easy?
She wasn’t providing enough of a challenge. Maybe he needed to work a little harder at the seduction to make it real.
He nearly laughed out loud at the thought. Wasn’t this the way women had always treated him? Like he was the big prize at the county fair and they’d just won?
He looked down at the blonde.
Her eyes were pleading.
Now that she’d been seen fawning over him, she’d be downright embarrassed to be released back into the party. Like she was a fish on the end of his line that was too small so she’d been tossed back.
“This isn’t happening tonight, is it?” she asked, crystal blue eyes narrowed.
“It should be,” he said, downing a scotch.
“You know, I don’t usually have to work this hard for a date.” Her blue eyes turned to ice.
He had no doubt. “It has nothing to do with you,” he said and meant it.
She tipped up on her toes to give him a goodbye kiss, careful to let the nearby paparazzi get her good side.
****
When the countdown to party time hit three days and Ryker had neither phoned nor shown up, Avery carried her phone along with her morning coffee down to the beach to watch the sunrise. Their last exchange had confused her, and she half expected him to call again. He didn’t.
She found the perfect spot to sit and watch the bright yellow hues waft across the sky.
Her phone buzzed, and her heart jumped. She checked the ID.
Mother.
“I’m so sorry, dear.” Mother’s tone didn’t match her words. Instead, she sounded like Nostradamus and her end of the world prediction had just come true.
What now?
“Why are you sorry?”
“The pictures. In today’s papers. And while you’re still living in his place. You must be so humiliated.”
A mix of anguish, fear, and resentment tangled Avery’s stomach lining. “My battery’s about to go out, so I might lose you,” she lied. “But don’t worry about me. I already told you we were never a couple.”
“Well, I’m still coming to see if you’re okay.”
“Gotta go before we’re cut off.” Avery sat there silent, sipping her coffee through the burn in her stomach. Hot tears of betrayal ran down her cheeks.
When she could, she finally stood, and then slowly wound her way back to the villa. She told herself this made things neater somehow. That she wouldn’t have to worry about the crackling embers between her and Ryker that were nothing more than a...a...distraction. She steeled her resolve as best as she could and wished like hell Kyle hadn’t said what he had before.
Not knowing she had ever been special—even for a split second—in Ryker’s eyes was far better than knowing it, dammit. Never knowing wouldn’t have put this huge hole in her heart that felt vast and far away, like a vat that could never be filled again.
And even though she was determined to rationalize it all away and not be affected in the slightest, reminding herself she was only on the island to do a job...to get a paycheck...did nothing to prepare her for actually seeing the photographs for herself. She didn’t have to search for the paper, it was there in the open for everyone to see.
The damning photograph was of Ryker, in London, in a supper club with the most beautiful blonde Avery had ever seen. She recognized the starlet from her film work.
The woman was gushing.
How embarrassing for you
.
Avery glossed over the headline...her brain stuck on the picture.
Kyle entered the kitchen in time to see Avery hovering over the tabloid.
“Can’t believe everything you see in print, now can you?”
“It’s not my business anyway.”
“I have a message for you.”
She’d faced enough rejection standing there. She didn’t need to hear the words too. “Well, I’m not interested.” She stomped out of the room and down the hall before he saw her reaction. She couldn’t afford to let anyone see how truly wounded she was.
His footsteps sounded behind her, and she was surprised at his insistence. She picked up the pace. Heard something in the background about Ryker wanting to explain when he returned.
She slammed the door.
Kyle rapped lightly.
When she didn’t answer, he tapped harder and said something into the wood.
Avery didn’t listen. Didn’t care. Words would only stab her heart even more. “Go away.”
But what should any of it matter? Did he really see the need to rub it in her face though? Or was he just being Ryker?
****
By the time Ryker returned the following day, Avery had decided being all business would provide the appropriate protective shell she desperately craved. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to meet him in the front hall. Instead, she hid in her bedroom until she was sure she could handle whatever emotions seeing him brought.
His expression was tense and his words terse when she finally located him in the kitchen close to lunchtime.
“Your business trip went well?” she said holding back the raw emotion that felt like half the skin of her thigh had been scraped off and she stood there raw, exposed.
His granite expression gave away nothing of his emotions. “It did.”
“Good. I’ve been busy here too. The party’s in two days, and it looks like everything’s solid. In order. I’ll stay on in case anything goes wrong, but I’d be happy to find a hotel,” she said even as she remembered he would never allow a hotel chain on his private retreat.
“Not necessary.” He shrugged, his gaze intent on her. “You belong here.”
“Nothing special about me. I could be one of many...”
“Have we rounded back to
that
again?” he asked, and his voice was angry.
She lowered her gaze, unable to look at him. Because he appeared wounded somehow. And that wasn’t fair.
Maybe the feelings she felt between them were only on her side. Wasn’t he still the same spoiled rich man who couldn’t be bothered to roll up his sleeves?