‘Great,’ she said, trying to inject enough enthusiasm into her voice while her mind raced a million miles an hour to come up with solutions for Mark’s request. ‘What size is the dress, by the way? I can make a start on scouring the guests and have the shot location scouted by the time it arrives.’
‘A twelve. And the tux is a hundred and two.’
‘Got it.’ She jotted down the figures while her gaze quickly scanned the few hotel guests relaxing around them.
‘Thanks, Abby. Looking forward to seeing what you come up with. E-mail me the shots last thing tonight or first thing tomorrow at the latest, okay?’
‘Shall do. Bye, Mark.’
The CEO had already rung off and she flung her mobile back into her bag, wrinkling her nose as she stared at the figures she’d jotted down, wondering what were the odds of her finding a couple to match the size requirements among the few guests currently staying at Sapphire Island’s one and only exclusive resort, coercing them into modelling and actually having the whole thing go smoothly.
By the end of today!
‘The wind will change and your face will stay like that.’ She looked up at Judd to find him smiling at her without a care in the world. Half his luck.
‘We’ve got a problem.’
‘We?’
He sat back and clasped his hands behind his head, his infuriating smile widening. ‘From where I’m sitting looks as if you’re the one with a bit of rearranging to do.’
‘Rearranging?’
She lowered her voice when she realised an older couple nearby, wearing the ugliest matching floral shirts she’d ever seen, was staring at her. ‘This isn’t about rearranging, my friend. It’s about jumping through hoops so Mark’s biggest customer doesn’t throw a hissy fit and ditch the whole shoot.’
‘Sounds serious. Anything I can do to help?’
‘Not unless you’re a size one hundred and two,’ she muttered, circling the size twelve on her notepad in vicious circles till the page tore.
‘Actually, I am.’
Her pen slowed as a glimmer of an idea flickered through her mind.
No way … she couldn’t … could she?
Trying to keep the edge of excitement out of her voice, she said, ‘How good is Tom at taking photos?’
‘He’s fully qualified. Wanted to work with me for a while before branching out on his own. Why?’
‘And you’re definitely a size hundred and two?’
He sent her an ‘are you for real’ look. ‘I think I’d know my own clothes size.’
He paused as she gnawed on the inside of her cheek to stop a satisfied smile blooming across her face. It couldn’t be this easy, surely?
‘Come on, Weiss. Spill it. What’s this all about? And why are you looking at me like a cut of prime fillet?’
‘Am I?’
She batted her eyelashes, knowing Judd would come through for her. He always had before.
He laughed and shook his head. ‘Your poker face hasn’t changed a bit over the years. It’s still useless, so why don’t you tell me what this is all about?’
‘Fine. I need a model for some fancy tux today. The shots need to be done and e-mailed back to Mark tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest.’
He grimaced and held up the schedule in front of his face as if anticipating some missile she would lob his way.
‘Uh-uh. No way. I’m not a model.’
‘I don’t need a model. I need someone real-looking, apparently. And the tux will fit you, which will save me wasted hours scouring the guests in this place to find someone suitable. So you’ll do it, right?’
She tried her best smile, somewhat relieved at how he was taking the news. At least he hadn’t thrown anything yet, which was what he’d done in the eighth grade when she hadn’t picked him to be on her volleyball team.
His eyes narrowed. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’
‘Well, yeah. It’s a wedding shot, so there’ll be a bride and you’ll probably have to look all lovey-dovey but, hey, you can do it.’
He stared at her for a whole five seconds before cracking up.
‘You’re crazy,’ he managed to spit out amidst his chuckles.
She folded her arms and tried a glare. ‘Glad my predicament can provide you with a morning’s entertainment. And here I was, hoping for a little support.’
His laughter died as he studied her, obviously sensing her discomfort.
‘You’re in a jam, aren’t you?’
‘You could say that. Rather than cackling like a hyena you could come up with some helpful suggestions.’
‘Seems pretty simple to me. Find some other crazy guy to pose for these shots, let me take them and all’s well with the world.’
She snapped her fingers, as if the thought had never occurred to her. ‘Brilliant! Now, where do you suppose I find someone like that on such short notice? And find a bride? And have a fitting for them? And scout the perfect location? And reorganise the day’s schedule? And organise the make-up artist, the hairdresser, not to mention sorting through the shots after they’re taken, choosing the best and getting them to Mark all in one day?’
Her sarcasm fell on deaf ears if his serene expression was any indication and she knew she had to take a different tack.
Mustering every ounce of persuasive charm she possessed, she leaned forward and fixed him with the same coy smile she’d used to great effect last night, knowing the exact moment when comprehension struck as he frowned.
‘I’ve already said no.’ He held up both hands and shook his head vigorously.
‘Come on, you wouldn’t need to be crazy, just slightly unbalanced enough to donate a few hours of your time to help out an old friend.’
‘Don’t even think about it, old friend.’
She reached across the table and captured one of his hands. ‘Come on, Calloway. At least consider it.’
He stared at her as if she’d just asked him to walk on water to reach the mainland. ‘I have and the answer is still no.’
‘In all the years we’ve known each other, haven’t I been the perfect friend? Haven’t I supported you, helped you with your homework and protected you from the bimbos that wanted to date you? Remember all that?’
His frown deepened. ‘That was years ago.’
‘Yeah, but remember what you said to me?’
His lips thinned as he glared at her in mutinous silence, which lasted all of two seconds. ‘That’s low.’
‘You said that if you could ever do anything for me, your best friend in the whole world, in return all I had to do was ask.’
He yanked his hand out of her grasp and folded his arms. ‘You sure know how to turn the screws, don’t you?’
‘Call it gentle persuasion.’
‘I’d rather call it emotional blackmail.’
‘Are you pouting?’
His lips twitched and she grinned.
‘Damn you, Weiss.’
She let out a loud whoop, which had nearby guests craning their heads to stare in disapproval. ‘It’s only a few hours. It’ll be quick and painless, you’ll see.’
‘Yeah, right.’
Abby stifled her first impulse to fling herself into his arms. After that kiss last night any physical contact beyond the odd hand-holding or arm around the shoulder probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Not with the memory still fresh, still vivid and making her wonder what it would be like to do a whole lot more than kiss her best friend.
‘Thanks, Calloway. You’re a real pal.’
‘Yeah, that’s me, a regular run-of-the-mill friend who has just agreed to the most outlandish scheme he’s ever heard of. I must have rocks in my head.’
‘No, you’ve got a warm heart.’
His expression softened, a second before his lips curved into a wicked smile.
‘You know this is going to cost you big time, right?’
‘No problems,’ she said, her pulse picking up tempo at the calculated gleam in his eyes.
Whatever
he had in mind, it had naughty written all over it.
‘It’s going to be fun having you in my debt. You owe me and you never know when I’ll ask you to pay up.’
She fiddled with the sugar bowl, her fingers twirling the spoon around and around as she wondered if his lowered, husky tone was a figment of her imagination or not.
‘Like I said, I can handle it. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a bride to find, a location to scout and a day’s worth of work to rearrange.’
‘Need a hand?’
She shook her head, her mind already racing ahead as she multitasked what she needed to do over the next few hours.
‘Thanks, but I’ll let you know as soon as the tux arrives. If you can word Tom up, maybe check out a few locations, that would help.’
‘Shall do.’
He sent her a brief salute before pointing to the notepad she’d left on the table. ‘I take it the bride has to be a size twelve?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Why waste more time searching for a model, then?’
‘What?’
Abby picked up her notepad and pen, shoved it into her bag and gulped down the mango juice she’d become addicted to on the island, only half listening to him.
‘You’re about that size, aren’t you?’
She almost choked on the last sip of juice, clearing her throat several times, while his speculative gaze roamed her body with ease.
‘So what if I am?’
She didn’t like the cunning gleam in his eyes.
Worse, she didn’t like the way she’d cottoned on to what he was implying straight away.
He chuckled and squeezed her upper arm. ‘Come on, don’t play dumb with me. You’d be a perfect fit for the dress. Why waste time trying to find someone else? After all, isn’t that the lame-assed argument you used on me?’
She shook her head, hating that he was right. ‘I can’t coordinate the shoot and model at the same time. Wouldn’t work.’
Her pathetic protest fell on deaf ears as his grin widened. ‘You’re a professional. What’s to coordinate? Tom will take the shots, you just stand there and look like a blushing bride. Easy. And just think of all the time you’ll save not messing around trying to find a good-looking couple the right size to wear the clothes.’
He laid his hands out as if his suggested plan was foolproof. ‘Looks like an easy solution all round. Unless you think you couldn’t pull it off—’
‘Don’t try your twelfth-grade reverse psychology on me. I’m not stupid. I can see it makes sense.’
‘Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get moving. We’ve got a lot of work to do before our big event.’
Her eyes narrowed as she took in his cocky expression, his smug grin.
‘You’re loving this, aren’t you?’
‘Hey, I’m not the one who was cruelly coerced into helping his best friend by some lame-duck act.’
‘Lame duck? Why, you—’
‘Uh-uh. Is that any way to talk to your model groom?’
His words didn’t shut her up as much as the finger he’d placed against her lips. The same finger she had an instant urge to nibble on.
‘I haven’t got time for this,’ she muttered, swinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing her room key-card off the table.
‘Before you go, there’s just one more thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘How about a kiss to celebrate our engagement?’
She couldn’t help but laugh, whacking him on the arm. ‘You wish.’
When, in reality, it was her who wished for another scintillating kiss exactly like the one they’d shared last night, before she gave herself a resounding mental slap to stay with the programme, considering her promotion was on the line here.
‘Come on, we haven’t got all day,’ she muttered, annoyed by how many times she’d replayed that kiss, by how much she wanted an action replay in slow, sensual detail.
Draping an arm around her shoulders as they headed for the foyer, he said, ‘Now is that any way to treat your pretend husband?’
CHAPTER FIVE
ABBY squinted at the schedule, her insides tied in knots. It was one thing to agree to this crazy modelling gig, it was another to sit here and calmly do a final read-through of the plans for this afternoon’s shoot.
‘Are you going to eat anything?’
Judd pointed to the untouched seafood on her plate with a hopeful look on his face.
‘It’s all yours, garbage guts.’ She pushed the plate across the table and smiled as he speared a scallop and several shrimps before the plate reached him. ‘Were you always this much of a pig?’
Her smile turned to laughter as he looked up, mouth full and pushed his nose up into a distinct porcine shape.
‘Gross! If I’d known I would never have agreed to marry you. At this rate you’ll be eating us out of house and home in the first month.’
They’d been like this all morning, teasing each other about their ‘commitment’. He’d helped her plan everything from finding the best location to shutting Tom up when he gave them a hard time, turning a potentially nightmarish situation into fun, and they hadn’t stopped laughing since.
Now, if only she could blink away the image of him in that wedding tux, standing next to her in the most exquisite wedding gown she’d ever seen, she’d be a lot happier.
Having a wedding shoot when she’d secretly fantasised about the real thing with her pretend groom was a little too close to home—and had her pondering ‘what if?’, especially with the groom flirting with her 24/7 like a pro.
Judd finished the mouthful before responding. ‘Sorry, it’s been ages since I’ve had decent food. Being stuck in the desert for six months at a stretch will do that to a guy with a healthy appetite.’
Her smile didn’t falter though her stomach did a strange little flip-flop at the mention of his appetite as she wondered if that philosophy extended to all his appetites.
Don’t go there …
‘Speaking of food, do we get to have an intimate little dinner for two after the “ceremony”? After all, it is our wedding night tonight.’
His voice dropped seductively low and Abby took a sip of water to ease the sudden dryness in her throat.
She should be used to his teasing by now but somehow his use of the word intimate conjured up a host of images she’d rather not contemplate.
Tossing her hair in a ‘dream on’ gesture, she said, ‘Just because we’re doing the whole dress and flowers bit doesn’t mean you can go getting any ideas.’
‘Who, me?’
Mischief gleamed in his eyes the instant before he ducked his head and continued devouring the rest of her meal. ‘If we’re going to do this, I think we should do it right.’
‘Uh-huh. Next you’ll be suggesting a honeymoon, I suppose?’
His gaze snapped up to lock on hers, humour replaced by something darker, deeper, more sensual. ‘Now you’re talking.’
Abby tried to tear her gaze away, she really did, but she’d never seen him look like this and it had her hypnotised.
‘You’re such a flirt,’ she finally managed to spit out, gulping the rest of her icy water in three swallows and wishing she could run the frosted glass over her heated brow. ‘Though you know it’s wasted on me, right?’
‘Flirting is never a waste.’
He dabbed at his mouth with a crisp linen napkin, drawing her attention to his lips, those same lips that had kissed her last night, the same lips that had demonstrated in startling clarity how much better things could get between them if they moved past the flirting stage.
‘Just think, once this shoot is over, we’re bound for life. I can leave my clothes on the floor, my towels draped over the furniture, the cap off the toothpaste, the toilet seat up and you have to put up with me for better or worse.’
She chuckled at his cheeky grin, enjoying their banter now he’d stopped looking at her as if she were dessert.
‘Sure. Go ahead,
knock yourself out, seeing as all that will be happening in your room.’
‘What if I sneak into yours and put frogs in your bed? Or, better yet, itching powder?’
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and suddenly the thought of him sneaking into her room wasn’t so bad after all.
She smiled and reached across the table to slap his hands. ‘I’d be forced to retaliate and you don’t want to try me, you really don’t.’
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What are you going to do? Duck my head underwater like you did on sixth-grade camp at Manly beach?’ ‘Maybe I’ll flush it down the toilet next time.’
‘Bully.’
She tried a mock frown and failed, dissolving into hopeless giggles. ‘You should be afraid, my friend. Very afraid.’
Judd sat back and folded his arms. ‘Bring it on, tough girl.’
She grinned as a waitress placed dessert in front of him, watching him eye the huge chunk of chocolate mud cake as if he hadn’t eaten in a month. ‘I think I’m pretty safe. If you keep eating like that, you won’t be able to move let alone catch me.’
‘A moot point if you ask me.’ He forked a large piece of cake in one mouthful. ‘I’ve already caught you.’
‘You wish.’
He chuckled. ‘I agreed to help your poor snivelling hide. The least you can do is humour me.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever. Now, if you’ve finished stuffing your face, want to move? I should just do a lastminute check on the location.’
‘Yeah, no problems.’
‘By the look of your expanding waistline, you need a walk.’ Grinning, she thrust the schedule into her bag, slung it over her shoulder and aimed a pinch at his waist. ‘Make that a marathon. Let’s go’
‘Thanks for the ego-boost.’
He sidestepped her pinch, shrugged into his jacket and guided her to the door, his light touch in the small of her back, making her all too aware of how things had shifted between them.
It wasn’t the wordplay, far from it. They’d done that a million times before, their barbs getting more outrageous till one of them usually called truce.
She’d changed.
No matter how many times she tried to dismiss that kiss last night or the way it made her feel—wanton, desired, special—she couldn’t, and with Judd playing up to her in his usual teasing fashion she needed to keep a lid on her wildly swinging hormones.
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