Best Man and the Runaway Bride

by Kandy Shepherd

  She was dressed in the hotel staff uniform of a batik patterned sarong in shades of blue and a hip-length white lacy blouse, finished with a wide blue sash around her trim waist. Her hair was pulled tightly back from her face in a small bun into which was tucked a spray of delicate white flowers. The effect was both charming and quietly alluring. While modest, the outfit discreetly outlined her shape making no secret of the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. She was beautiful.

  But what was she doing there? ‘Nikki! I thought we’d agreed not to—’

  She gave a quick, furtive glance over her shoulder. From where he stood it didn’t seem that anyone was observing them. ‘May I come in?’ She sidled through the gate and pushed it shut behind her with her hip. ‘Indonesian afternoon tea,’ she explained. ‘Delivering it made a good excuse for me to visit your room.’

  Bemused, he took the tray from her, inhaled the delicious spicy aromas that wafted upwards. The food was enticing, it had been a while since lunch, but his thoughts were firmly on Nikki. He placed the tray on the nearby outdoor table.

  ‘I’m sorry but it turns out I can’t move into the staff quarters,’ she said. ‘Maya has assigned the room to a new housekeeper. The rest of the resort is completely booked out. That means—’

  ‘You’re still next door.’ Why was there elation mingled with his dismay?

  ‘I’m afraid so. My first thought was I could move out for the duration of your stay, perhaps to the mainland. But Maya begged me not to. It’s their busiest time. The baby is very young. She needs me.’

  ‘Then there’s no choice but for me to move out to the mainland. That would solve any proximity problem.’ He would never see her again.

  Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘Please don’t do that. Sooner or later the news will get out that you booked in here. Hopefully long after there could be any connection to me. But for a celebrity like you to cancel his stay would be bad publicity for Big Blue. Kadek’s family is in the hotel business. This place was run down and badly managed when they bought it. Kadek is a second son. It’s his chance to prove himself by making a success of it. His and Maya’s.’

  Max gave himself time to think. ‘Is it such a big deal to be in next-door villas? After all, there are no connecting doors.’

  Her eyes brightened. ‘Keep to our own side of those high stone walls and there shouldn’t be a problem.’

  He knew she was as worried about them being seen together as he was. Yet she was prepared to risk it for her friend. Her loyalty to Maya was appealing. Besides, what she said made sense. He looked around him. The high walls, the frangipani trees, the screen of large-leaved foliage acted like barricades against the outside world. Then he looked back to her. ‘It’s so secluded and private, right now no one would know we were here alone together.’

  * * *

  As if every throbbing cell in her body weren’t aware of that. Of her proximity to one of the hottest ever sports stars in the world. Nikki knew the media interest in the scandalous runaway bride and the best man wasn’t because of her but because of public fascination with him.

  She could quite see why. Max was wearing only a pair of black swim shorts. He must recently have been in the pool. His hair was slicked dark and drops of water glistened on his broad shoulders, the super defined muscles of his chest and arms, his flat belly. Nikki had to force her gaze away. It was a real effort to maintain a conversation with him. She’d had to hand him the afternoon tea tray as she’d feared she might drop it because of hands that were suddenly shaky. Now she concentrated on three creamy frangipani blossoms that were floating on the surface of the pool. Eyes off the best man.

  ‘You’re right.’ She forced her voice to sound normal. ‘If we’re careful, there’s no need for either of us to move out of our accommodation.’

  ‘That’s done, then. You stay on your side of the wall and I’ll stay on mine. But while you’re here...’ His eyes strayed to the tray of snacks on the table. ‘That’s like no afternoon tea I’ve ever seen. I suspect those intriguing parcels would go very well with a cold beer. Join me?’

  Nikki glanced down at her watch. She was scheduled to help out on the desk but not just yet. ‘Do you think it’s wise for me to stay?’

  He shrugged those magnificent broad, very naked shoulders. ‘Probably not. But you’re here, it’s private and you’re dressed as staff. I think we’d be safe.’

  She pushed aside the promptings of her better judgement. ‘I’ll pass on the beer as I’m due soon at the reception desk. But a cold mineral water would be welcome.’

  He headed inside the sliding glass door to the bar fridge. Nikki felt light-headed at the sight of him. She flushed and had to hold onto the back of a chair to steady herself. Could a man have a better rear view? At the beach, she’d thought he’d looked good in his shorts and T-shirt. But with those impressive muscles flexing under suntanned skin and damp swim shorts moulding the best butt she’d ever seen, her appreciation level shot off the scale.

  Sadly, when he returned with the bottle of water and a glass, he’d put on a T-shirt. Covering up that chest was a crime. Inwardly, she sighed. Perhaps it was for the best. She couldn’t allow herself to fancy Max Conway. She couldn’t trust herself to fancy any man. Not after the monumental error of judgement she’d made with Alan. Come to think of it, she’d never been a good judge of men. Seeing in them what she wanted to see, not the reality that they were after no-strings fun or access to her money. Perhaps both. Leaving her with her heart broken and wondering where she’d gone wrong. Feeling like a fool.

  ‘You look flushed,’ he said. If only he knew!

  ‘Er, yes. It is very hot today.’

  ‘Sit down in the shade and have a cool drink,’ he said.

  Nikki took the cane chair he offered, one of four set around an outdoor table under the shade of a sweetly scented frangipani tree. She had the exact same furniture in her villa. But no outrageously handsome man solicitously pouring her a drink. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Just what I needed.’

  He was just what she needed.

  She pushed the errant thought from her mind. For six months she had been without a man’s company. Wasn’t sure she ever wanted to link her life with a man again. Needs, though. That was a different matter. The presence of Max Conway, all six feet two of him, sitting just knee-nudging distance apart was reminding her that her body had needs even if her heart had been put on hold.

  She edged her chair a less distracting distance away from him, making the excuse of moving it further into the shade.

  Max pushed the wooden tray closer to her. ‘What am I looking at here? Samosa? Spring rolls?’

  ‘Spring rolls are called lumpia here and those fried pastries are like Indian samosas. There’s also ayam sisit, which is a shredded chicken dish, and a selection of spicy savoury fritters. For something sweet there’s dadar gulung, a yummy coconut pancake, fried banana, then fresh pineapple and papaya.’

  ‘You choose first,’ he said. ‘Be quick. I could probably demolish the whole tray in two minutes.’

  She laughed. ‘I guess a sportsman would eat a lot.’

  Again she was treated to that big, lazy smile. ‘I’ve had to watch every bite I eat for so long. Followed strict dietary guidelines for optimum performance. Had a nutritionist rapping me on the knuckles if I strayed. Now I’m eating what I want. I have a big appetite and love good food.’

  Another of those disconcerting shivers of awareness travelled down her spine. Nikki refused to speculate about his other appetites. She really shouldn’t be here alone with him. Thank heaven he’d put on that T-shirt, though it really didn’t do much to disguise the strength and power of his awesome body.

  She wasn’t very hungry so she nibbled on a spicy vegetable samosa then a piece of papaya with a squeeze of lime juice. As Max reached out for his third snack, she noticed a small scar on his elbow, white against h
is tan. ‘How is your elbow now? Is it fully healed?’

  He stopped with a lumpia halfway to his mouth, put it back down on its banana-leaf wrapping. All trace of humour fled from his face and the air seemed to chill around him. ‘Why do you ask?’ he said, eyes narrowed.

  Had she said the wrong thing? Didn’t the whole world know he had injured his elbow in a spectacular manner? ‘I was thinking—not that I think much about you, of course I don’t—that this is summer in the Northern Hemisphere and the tennis season and you—’

  ‘Should be competing?’ His expression was bleak and Nikki wished she’d never raised the subject.

  ‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I brought it up.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. It’s a valid question. One that more people than you have been asking. I can’t avoid answering it any longer.’ He sighed, a great heaving of manly shoulders that made her want to reach out and comfort him. But even a reassuring hand on his arm wouldn’t be appropriate. Not when they couldn’t even be friends because of the scandal that linked them—the fear of it erupting again when she was healing from her emotional wounds. ‘Fact is, the elbow is healed. But not well enough to take the stress of competitive tennis.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, not sure what else to say. She couldn’t say she was sorry again. ‘I’m sad to hear that.’

  ‘The injury was serious. Tendons torn. Bone fractured. From the get-go, the doctors weren’t optimistic that I’d ever get the strength back in it. But I refused to give into that diagnosis. I spent a year in intense rehab at a facility in California. I had orthodox treatments by the top practitioners in their field. Unorthodox treatments that seemed to have more hope than science behind them. I was willing to try anything.’

  The anguish in his voice gave her no hope for optimism on his behalf. ‘But nothing worked?’

  ‘For everyday use, thankfully my arm is good. But not for elite tennis. If I can’t play at the top of my form I don’t want to play at all. No exhibition matches. No charity matches. There’s been no announcement yet, but I’m retiring. That’s another reason I’m staying out of the spotlight.’

  There was a depth of sadness to his words that struck at Nikki’s heart. ‘I can’t begin to imagine how difficult this is for you.’ There was a fine line between sympathy and pity and she didn’t want to cross it.

  He shrugged but his voice was strained when he spoke. ‘I’m not the first athlete it’s happened to and I won’t be the last. The constant risk of injury is something we live with. Every elite sportsperson has to move on at some time or another.’

  ‘But you weren’t ready.’

  ‘At twenty-eight I was nearing the peak of my game.’ Regret tinged with bitterness underscored his voice.

  ‘With a serve speed of over one hundred and fifty-five miles an hour?’

  ‘That’s right,’ he said.

  She paused. ‘I’m trying to see a silver lining here, but is it a good thing that you got out at your peak?’

  ‘If that was indeed my peak. I felt I had further to go. Now I’ll never know what I could have achieved.’

  The depth of sadness and regret in his voice tore at her heart. She had to try and cheer him up. Without giving into the temptation to give him a hug. ‘How many people come nowhere near what you achieved? In any field, not just tennis. You can be really proud of your amazing career.’

  His mouth had turned down and she saw the effort he made to force it into the semblance of a smile. ‘That’s what my dad says. He’s always been my number one cheerleader. My mum too. I’ve spent a lot of time with them over the last months, coming to terms with it.’

  But no significant other to discuss his future with? Not that it would matter to her.

  ‘So,’ she said, not sure how far to go with her questions. ‘What will you do?’

  He shrugged those impressive shoulders. ‘I’ve never done anything but played tennis. I started a university degree but it was impossible to continue with my sporting commitments. I never really thought beyond tennis. I’m in the same boat as many sports people who didn’t plan beyond the next game.’

  Only not all of them were multimillionaires. ‘Someone as talented and well known as you must have options coming at you from all sides,’ she said.

  ‘There are offers on the table. That’s one reason I came here. To consider them. And it’s another reason I can’t get caught up in any further scandal. The role I favour most is with a company with very conservative owners.’

  At the pointed reminder, she wiggled uncomfortably in her chair. ‘And here’s potential scandal, sitting right next to you eating your papaya.’

  She was relieved to see some of the tension lift from his face and the return of that engaging smile. ‘If you put it that way,’ he said.

  ‘Seriously though,’ she said. ‘I feel for you. It wasn’t easy for me to sell my business. I started it from nothing. So much slog went into it. It was my baby.’ Though at the time she’d been happy to trade it for a fat cheque and the prospect of a real baby in her arms. ‘I thought I might feel rudderless without it.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Surprisingly, no. Since I’ve been up here I’m dreaming up new ideas.’ Now with no prospect of a family anywhere in the near future—if ever—she needed a new business baby to keep her occupied.

  She’d put her cosmetics business before everything, social life, dating. According to her sister, Kaylie, she had done that as much to prove herself to her father as to help Kaylie with her skin allergies.

  But Nikki had never really wanted to hear that. Her relationship with her father was fraught at the best of times. Deep down she didn’t know if she could ever forgive him for the death of her mother. She had died just a few days after Nikki’s twenty-first birthday of a fast-acting form of breast cancer. Nikki and her sister were convinced their mum had died of a broken heart. She’d never got over the discovery of her husband’s infidelity with a much younger woman on his sales team, the subsequent divorce and her father’s hasty remarriage. But Nikki had no intention of discussing that aspect of her life with Max.

  ‘Did Alan know you were planning to sell your business?’ Max’s face tightened and she realised there really was no love lost there. The groom had shown his true colours to the best man. Along with his fist.

  ‘Yes. He pressed me to sell. In hindsight, I think that’s the only reason he proposed—the prospect of sharing in the bounty.’

  Max frowned. ‘Surely you don’t believe that was the only reason?’

  ‘Looking at what he turned out to be, I can only conclude he was marrying me for my money. His anger when I ran away from him was more about loss of a potential windfall rather than of his bride.’

  She knew she had failed to keep the hurt from her voice. In spite of what a jerk her former fiancé had been, in spite of her full knowledge of her lucky escape, that fact still chipped away at her self-esteem. How could she ever again trust her judgement of a man’s character?

  Max leaned over towards her. He frowned. ‘You can’t be serious. You’re smart, beautiful, kind—what man wouldn’t thank his lucky stars you’d want him in your life?’

  His gaze drilled into hers for a moment too long. ‘Uh, theoretically speaking, of course,’ he said, leaning back into his chair.

  ‘Of course,’ she echoed, dropping her eyes, unable to stop her spirits from lifting. He thought she was beautiful. ‘Thank you for those kind words.’ It was amazing how soothing they were.

  ‘True words,’ he said. ‘Every one of them.’

  She glanced down at her watch. ‘I’d love to hear more. But duty calls from the reception desk.’

  But she made no move to get up from her chair, reluctant to go. This kind of chat with Max wasn’t likely to happen again and she was enjoying his company. Not because he was a famous tennis star sharing his doubts and hopes for the
future but because she felt relaxed in his company. She liked him.

  But she shouldn’t. Like, love, lust. All were off the agenda for her. She no longer trusted herself to know the difference. She wasn’t ready to think about men. Not for a long time. If ever.

  Max indicated the tray. ‘Have some more fruit before you go. Or take that last samosa.’

  ‘You have it,’ she said. ‘I really do have to go.’ Not just because duty called but also because it was disconcerting to be so close to him sharing food and conversation. Enjoying it too much.

  Max reached for the samosa. As he picked it up, the fried pastry cracked to reveal the filling. Nikki jumped up from her chair. ‘Max. Be careful. Don’t—’

  Too late. He bit into the pastry with gusto, then stilled, spluttered, swore, and threw the remaining half on the table. What was left of a big, mean green chilli pepper protruded from the pastry. Max’s face flushed red as he pushed away from the table and stumbled up, clutching his mouth. ‘Chilli. Burning. Agony.’ He repeated the same swear word six times in a row.

  He went to grab her bottle of mineral water. Nikki stopped him with her hand on his wrist. ‘No. Water will make it worse. Milk. I’ll get some.’ She ran into his room to retrieve from the refrigerator the milk provided for coffee and tea. She didn’t waste time pouring it in a glass but thrust the ceramic jug at him. ‘Swill the milk around your mouth. It will help neutralise the burn.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he choked out as he gulped down the milk.

  She handed him a piece of pineapple. ‘Try this, too. The acid in the fruit helps with the heat.’

  He followed instructions. She didn’t try to engage him in conversation. Eventually a smile struggled through his obvious discomfort. ‘I didn’t know you were a nurse, Miss Scandal in Waiting.’

  She was so concerned that she hadn’t warned him about how hot some of the local food could be that she barely smiled her acknowledgment of his teasing comment. ‘I got caught out by the heat in the chillies when I first arrived here. I know how much it burns.’ She grimaced at the memory of her first encounter with those particular chillies. ‘The one you just ate had seeds and the pith and they give lots of extra heat.’