Best Man and the Runaway Bride

by Kandy Shepherd

  ‘By marriage number three—thwarted marriage number three, I mean—he might have run out of best-man options.’ Nikki couldn’t help the cynical edge to her voice.

  He frowned. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that as an insult,’ she said hastily. ‘He was lucky to have you.’

  He shrugged. ‘I was the sucker who said yes.’

  ‘So you weren’t pond scum after all. Not that I ever really thought you were.’ It was a small white lie. She’d thought him pond scum by association. But when he’d picked her up and run with her in his arms, Max had redeemed himself in her eyes. There was still his media reputation as a love cheat but that had nothing to do with her.

  ‘No. But he proved to be particularly unpleasant.’ Should she offer to pay for plastic surgery on his nose? Perhaps not. He might be insulted. Besides, she hadn’t been the one to swing that punch.

  She looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry if—’

  He caught her arm. ‘Can we move somewhere more private? I don’t want an audience.’

  She followed him to a quieter part of the beach, taking care not to trip over the mooring ropes that snaked along the sand. Max stopped under the shade of a spiky-leaved Pandanus tree. She slung off her backpack and placed it by her feet. A backpack was best for carrying shopping to keep her hands free when hopping on and off boats. ‘I’m sorry for being confrontational,’ she said. ‘I associated you with Alan. Even though you were so kind about helping me.’

  He nodded in acknowledgment of her apology. He looked so good with that beard. ‘So why are you here if not to track me down for Alan?’

  ‘Why does anyone come to tropical islands?’ he said. ‘But I don’t want people to know I’m here on vacation. I’d appreciate it if you kept it quiet.’

  ‘How long are you here for?’ she asked. Most people only stayed a few days. There wasn’t a lot to do if you weren’t into surfing or snorkelling.

  ‘Two weeks.’

  Nikki didn’t know whether to be concerned by his reply or not. Only her family and very closest friends knew where she’d fled to six months ago. She’d prefer to keep it that way.

  He indicated her backpack. ‘What about you? Are you here just for the day?’ He didn’t have to say I hope so. She could see it on his face, hear it in the tone of his voice.

  ‘I live here.’ There was no way she could conceal it.

  ‘What?’ She could take his alarm as an insult. But their last meeting hadn’t exactly led to sunshine and moonbeams for him. The media had been ruthless in their pursuit of him after the scandal of the wedding. Determined to drum up a romance, at the very least an affair, between the runaway bride and the best man. She’d run all the way up here. He’d been left in Sydney to bear the brunt of the intrusive attention.

  ‘Do you remember I said I had a plan?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Well, I didn’t. I escaped up here the day after the wedding to stay with my Indonesian friend while I thought about what to do. She was a boarder at the girls’ school I went to in Sydney. We’ve been great friends ever since. She’d come to Sydney for the wedding, one of my bridesmaids, and I went home with her. I knew she’d keep my whereabouts secret. What I didn’t know was that she was pregnant and suffering severe morning sickness that went on and on. She and her husband run a hotel here. I stayed to help her. And I’m still here.’

  He shrugged. ‘The island is small. Just four kilometres long, I believe. But large enough so we can stay out of each other’s way,’ he said.

  ‘True,’ she said. ‘I promise to keep your whereabouts secret if you do the same for me.’

  ‘Done,’ he said. His shoulders visibly relaxed. She hadn’t realised how tense their chance meeting had made him. If it weren’t for what she had dragged him into six months ago she might feel hurt by his aversion to her.

  ‘Where are you staying?’ she asked. ‘So I’ll know which resort to steer clear of.’

  ‘The Big Blue Bungalows in Frangipani Bay,’ he said.

  Nikki’s mouth went suddenly dry and her heart sank somewhere below sand level. She couldn’t look at him. ‘It...er...might be difficult for you to avoid me. That’s the hotel run by my friend Maya and her husband, Kadek. Not only do I work there, I live there.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  EVER SINCE HE’D helped Nikki flee her wedding, Max had been haunted by dreams of the lovely runaway bride. Dreams, not nightmares.

  The real-life nightmares had been played out in his waking hours with the photos of the best man and the runaway bride splashed all over the media, rabid with speculation about a relationship between them. ‘Cheater Best Man’ was one of the most innocuous. His past dating history had also been dragged out and picked over—again and again. Would they ever leave him alone?

  He was, in his own way, famous. The media had become interested in him when he was still a teenager and had snatched the glory of winning the Australian Open from a much older international player. Then he’d dated a rising female tennis star until their conflicting commitments and ambitions had ended it.

  Though apparently, it wasn’t a juicy enough story that he and Ellen didn’t make it because of their careers clashing. In London, a reporter had used an intrusive lens to shoot him and a female friend having a quiet lunch together and blown it up into a ‘Love Cheat’ scandal. The resulting headlines had made it impossible for him and Ellen to retain any kind of friendship. She’d been convinced he’d cheated on her while they were still together. If he ever played against her in a doubles game it was always a ‘grudge match’, according to the press. His love life—or lack of it—was of continuing interest.

  What he hadn’t realised was that Nikki had a public profile too, as daughter of a wealthy property developer and in her own right as a successful entrepreneur. That had ramped the interest in them as an illicit ‘couple’ up to a higher level. Those few weeks after the wedding when they were hot news had been nightmarish.

  His ongoing dreams of Nikki might not be nightmares but they were unsettling.

  The dream always started at the same moment. He was back at the wedding rehearsal in the church on the Thursday night before her wedding. As best man, he was standing next to Alan near the altar. Nikki walked down the aisle, slowly and gracefully, just as she had that night. She was wearing the same short, sleeveless blue dress and silver sandals. Her hair was tied back off her face in a ponytail. She carried a bunch of fake flowers so she could practise handing it to her sister, the chief bridesmaid. All just as it had been.

  What differed in the dream was that Nikki veered away towards him not Alan. Her smile, the loving anticipation in her eyes, was for him. He was the groom. As she neared him he held out both hands to her and drew her close with a possessive murmur. She looked up to him and raised her face for his kiss. He dipped his head to claim her mouth—

  And that was when he always woke up. Confused. Yearning. Disconsolate. Until he shook himself into consciousness and a return to common sense.

  The dream was all kinds of crazy. For one thing, he had no interest in getting married. Not now when his injury had turned his life upside down. Not until his life was sorted. And not until he could be sure his marriage was for keeps. He’d seen the stresses the life of an elite sportsperson could place on a relationship. He wanted the for ever kind of happy marriage his parents had. That meant stability and certainty. Right now all his energies were single-mindedly focussed on his new post-tennis direction.

  Besides, he wasn’t interested in Nikki Lucas in that way. He couldn’t be. She was attractive, yes. Not just in her looks but also her warm, engaging personality. If they’d met in other circumstances perhaps he would want to pursue that attraction. But she’d impulsively stood up her groom and left him standing at the altar. That showed a certain messiness of thought that alarmed him. Max had abandoned all the rules that had governed
his life to aid and abet the runaway bride. And paid the price with his name all over the scandal sheets. They’d both paid the price. The only way he could deal with the adverse press was the knowledge that he had nothing to hide. He could truthfully plead he was innocent of any romantic intent towards Nikki. No affair. No ongoing relationship. Just those cursed dreams.

  And yet here she was. Not the Nikki of his memory or his imagination. But just as lovely. Just as appealing. Just as off-limits. With the uncertain future that lay ahead of him, he needed to stay scandal free with no appearances in the press for the wrong reasons. His behaviour that day had been quite out of character for him. To get where he had in the ultra-competitive world of international tennis, he’d had to stay focussed. He planned. He strategised. He drove himself with iron self-discipline. He did not let his emotions get the better of him.

  Now Nikki looked up at him, not with the loving gaze of his dream but eyes again narrowed with suspicion. ‘How did I not know you were staying at Big Blue?’ she asked. ‘I help out at the check-in desk. I didn’t see your name.’

  ‘I’m checked in as Maxwell James. James is my second name. It’s a privacy thing.’

  Her feet were firmly planted in the sand. She looked as combative as someone could in billowing hippy pants with the light breeze blowing her hair around her face. He noticed she didn’t wear any make-up. She didn’t need it. ‘Why the Big Blue? Why Lembongan island? Isn’t it a remarkable coincidence that you should end up here?’

  ‘That’s all it is. A coincidence. I’d never heard of the island until recently. And my travel agent booked me into the hotel. It ticked all the boxes for what I wanted.’

  Her brows drew together. ‘You really didn’t know I was staying there?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I would have steered clear if I’d had any idea.’

  Hurt flashed across her face at his words. Max mentally slammed his hand against his forehead. ‘Please don’t take offence. I didn’t mean to be rude. But you must realise that after our time in the headlines, I wouldn’t want to see you again. To risk all the media speculation starting up afresh. That was hell.’

  She took a moment to reply. ‘It must have been awful for you. Being up here, I escaped the worst of it. Though my unavailability for comment sent them into a frenzy. I stopped reading after someone claimed to have sighted me with you hiding in a...in a love nest in Fiji.’ She flushed high on her cheekbones at the words love nest. Max had to force himself not to conjure up images of how it might play out if that were actually true.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Yeah. I stopped reading them after a while too. Then, thankfully, the stories dwindled away when the next big beat-up scandal took over. I don’t want to give them something new to gossip about.’

  ‘Me neither,’ she said fervently.

  ‘I’ll move to another hotel. Maybe you can recommend one.’

  She shook her head. ‘No need for that. Big Blue is a great place to stay this end of the beach. My friends only took it over not so long ago. They won’t want anyone cancelling a two-week booking. I especially don’t want that to be because of me.’

  Max didn’t know how to talk about avoiding her without sounding offensive. He remembered how he’d felt—as if his heart were melting—at the sight of her tears on the day of her wedding. He didn’t want to upset her, or feel any urge to comfort her. He didn’t want any kind of relationship with the woman who had thrust him back into those hideous headlines. ‘We’ll have to steer clear of each other.’

  But she didn’t sound offended—in fact it seemed she wanted to avoid him as much as he wanted to avoid her. ‘We can do that. For one thing I’m part of the staff, unofficially that is, and you’re a guest. That means few opportunities to mingle. What room are you in? One of the lumbung on the beach?’

  ‘Lumbung?’

  ‘Over two levels, the traditional thatched roof, the woven bamboo ceilings, the open bathroom.’

  ‘No. I’m in one of the two larger new villa-style bungalows further back from the beach. Number two. I have my own lap pool. I thought it would be more private than facing the beach.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, her blush deepening. ‘That...well, that could be another problem. I’m staying in the adjoining villa.’

  Not just on the same island. In adjacent rooms. Nikki lying in bed just a stone wall away from him. What kind of dreams might that inspire? He swallowed a curse. ‘Imagine if the media got hold of that? They’d have a field day. I must move to another hotel.’

  She put up her hand in a halt sign. ‘No. Don’t do that. I’ll move to the staff quarters at the back of the resort. I can have a room there. It’s pretty basic but—’

  ‘I can’t allow you to do that.’

  She scowled. Which made her look cute rather than fierce. ‘It’s not a matter of you allowing me to do anything. It’s only for two weeks. I’m not such a “spoiled Sydney princess” that I can’t deal with it.’

  Her voice wobbled on the words. So she’d read that offensive story too. It had been immensely unflattering about both of them. He’d felt outraged on her behalf. Had thought about contacting her to offer his commiserations. Had decided against it. He could not be linked to her again. Besides, no one had known where she was. Now he did.

  ‘And after the two weeks? What then for you?’ he asked.

  ‘Back into my own room, I guess,’ she said.

  ‘I mean, what are you doing up here?’

  ‘Helping my friend Maya. Making plans. You know I sold my business?’

  ‘I saw that,’ he said.

  The night of the rehearsal, when he’d first met Nikki, he had looked her up and read about her success story. How her sister had a very sensitive skin and couldn’t use any of the commercial products. How Nikki had developed a range of products that worked for her sister. How she hadn’t sought conventional distribution but got in early with her online store, stocking first her own products then other brands. Word of mouth and canny marketing had made it a very profitable hit. Just days after the wedding debacle he’d been surprised to see she’d sold out to one of the huge international cosmetic conglomerates under the headline ‘Runaway Bride Cashes In’.

  ‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘Did you sell because of what happened with Alan?’

  She shook her head. ‘The sale was put in motion before the wedding I thought offloading my very demanding business would give me more time to devote to...’ Her voice hitched. ‘To family life.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, not sure what else he could say.

  She shrugged. ‘As it turned out the timing was right—after all I needed a sabbatical from work, some time to put myself together again. Everything had fallen apart. I... I wasn’t coping very well with the aftermath.’

  ‘Understandably,’ he said carefully.

  She raised her eyes to his. ‘You know, I really thought I loved Alan. And that he loved me. I’m nearly thirty. I wanted to get married and start a family. It was devastating to find out the truth about him. How horribly he’d lied. That he wasn’t at all the person I’d thought he was. I didn’t run away from the wedding on a whim, you know.’ She scuffed the sand with the toe of her sandals, averting her gaze.

  ‘I know you didn’t,’ he said. She’d been too desperate for it to have been whim. When the media speculation had been at its fieriest, he had asked himself whether, if he had the time again, he would have aligned himself with Team Groom and refused to help her. He hadn’t had to think long.

  ‘Almost to the time I got to the church I thought I’d go through with it,’ she said. ‘That he’d change. That I’d be the one to make him change where other women had failed. Deep down I knew that wouldn’t happen. My father came good when he went into the church to tell Alan and the guests. But in the car he wouldn’t hear of helping me bolt. My behaviour would have reflected badly on him. Then I saw you and—�
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  ‘And the rest is history,’ he said drily. ‘I don’t regret helping you. I’d do it all again.’

  She looked up, her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Despite the aftermath?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  There were two defining moments that had made him certain he’d done the right thing that day. The first was when she’d kissed him. A polite kiss of thanks. And yet for these few seconds her soft lips had been pressed against his cheek and he’d breathed in her scent he’d felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. An awareness. A stirring of excitement, more thrilling perhaps because it was forbidden. Out of bounds. He couldn’t share that moment and the feelings it had aroused in him with her. But the second moment he could.

  ‘When Alan went for me, there was a moment when his eyes went dead,’ he said. ‘All the charm and bonhomie gone, unable to mask a ruthless violence that I suspect was habitual. I was very glad I’d helped you escape marriage to the man.’

  Nikki gasped and her hand went to her heart. ‘You recognised that? His first ex-wife hinted at abuse on that first phone call. Then confirmed it afterwards when I sent her flowers in gratitude for the warning.’

  He pushed away the unimaginable dreadful thought of Nikki suffering at the hands of her ex. Thank heaven he had been there for her. ‘You had a lucky escape.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Thanks to the people who helped me.’

  Max couldn’t help but wonder what kind of woman would be so generous as to send flowers to the woman who had warned her off her ex-husband? She was something, Nikki Lucas.

  ‘Why didn’t I recognise him for what he was?’ she said. ‘How could I have been so blind?’