Deserted Island, Dreamy Ex!

by Nicola Marsh

  Oh, no, the low-life scumbag had to take every last cent of her money too, leaving Meg living in a one-bedroom hellhole in the middle of gangland Sydney, footing bills for their cancelled wedding and working two jobs to save enough money to take a few months off after the baby was born.

  Life sucked for her pragmatic sister and, while Meg pretended to be upbeat for the sake of the adorable little Prue, she couldn’t hide the dark rings of fatigue circling her eyes or the wary glances she darted if any guy got too close.

  Trusting the wrong guy had shattered Meg’s dreams, her vivacity, her hope for a brilliant future, and Kristi would do anything—including being holed up with her ex for a week—to bring the sparkle back to her sister’s eyes.

  ‘What are you going to do with the moula if you win?’

  ‘You’ll find out.’

  Stopping at the ice-cream stand, Kristi placed an order for two whippy cones with the lot, her gaze drifting back to Icebergs.

  She’d left Jared sitting there, all tanned, toned, six four of tennis star in his prime. He’d always been sexy in that bronze, outdoorsy, ruffled way many Aussie males were, but the young guy she’d lusted after wasn’t a patch on the older, mature Jared.

  Years playing in the sun had deepened his skin to mahogany, adding character lines to a handsome face, laugh lines around his eyes. He’d always had those, what with his penchant for laughter.

  Nothing had fazed Jared; he was rarely serious. Unfortunately, that had included getting serious about a relationship, resulting in him walking away from her to chase his precious career.

  He’d been on the cusp of greatness back then, had vindicated his choice by winning Wimbledon, the French Open and the US Open, twice. The Australian Open had been the only tournament to elude the great Jared Malone for the first few years of his illustrious career and she’d often pondered his apparent distraction in exiting the first or second round of the Melbourne-based tournament.

  The ensuing pictures of him with some blonde bombshell or busty brunette on his arm went a long way to explaining his early departures and she gritted her teeth against the fact she’d cared.

  Not any more.

  She’d seen the evidence firsthand of what choosing the wrong man to spend your life with could do and, considering Jared had run rather than build a future with her, he had proved he wasn’t the man for her.

  ‘Your ice cream’s melting.’

  Blinking, Kristi paid, handed Meg her cone and headed for the sand.

  ‘You’re walking down there in those?’

  Meg pointed at her favourite Louboutin hot pink patent shoes with the staggering heel.

  ‘Sheesh, hooking up with tennis boy again must really have you rattled.’

  ‘I’m not “hooking up” with anybody, I’m just going to sit on the wall, take a breather before heading back to work.’

  Meg licked her ice cream, her suspicious stare not leaving her sister’s face.

  ‘You two used to date. Stands to reason there is a fair chance of you hooking up again on that deserted island.’

  ‘Shut up and eat your ice cream.’

  They sat in companionable silence, Kristi determinedly ignoring Meg’s logic. The sharp sun, refreshing ocean breeze, packed beach were reminiscent of countless other days they’d done this together as youngsters and, later, bonded in their grief over their parents’ premature death.

  While their parents might have left them financially barren, they could thank them for a family closeness that had always been paramount, ahead of everything else.

  ‘What do you really think about all this, Megs?’

  Crunching the last of her cone, Meg tilted her face up to the sun.

  ‘Honestly? You’ve never got over tennis boy.’

  ‘That’s bull. I’ve been engaged twice!’

  Meg sat up, tapped her ring finger.

  ‘Yet you’re not married. Interesting.’

  Indignant, Kristi tossed the rest of her ice cream in the bin, folded her arms.

  ‘So I made wrong decisions? Better I realised before traipsing up the aisle.’

  Meg held up her hands. ‘Hey, you’ll get no arguments from me on that point. Look at the farcical mess my short-lived engagement turned into.’

  A shadow passed over her sister’s face as Kristi silently cursed her blundering insensitivity.

  ‘Forget I asked—’

  Meg made a zipping motion over her lips as she continued. ‘But Avery and Barton were both decent guys and you seemed happy. Yet the closer the wedding got both times, the more emotionally remote you were. Why’s that?’

  Because she’d been chasing a dream each time, a dream she’d had since a little girl, a dream of the perfect wedding.

  The dress, the flowers, the reception, she could see it all so clearly, had saved pictures in a scrapbook.

  What she couldn’t see was the groom—discounting the magazine pic of Jared Meg had pasted there as a joke when they’d been dating—and while Avery and Barton had momentarily superimposed their images in her dream, they ultimately hadn’t fit.

  Avery had entered her life six months after her parents died, had been supportive and gracious and non-pressuring. She’d been lost, grieving and he’d helped her, providing security at a time she needed it most.

  It had taken her less than four months to figure out their engagement was a by-product of her need for stability after her parents’ death and she’d ended it.

  Not that she’d learned.

  Barton had been a friend, supportive of her break up and the loss of her parents, so supportive it had seemed natural to slip into a relationship eight months after Avery had gone.

  While their engagement had lasted longer, almost a year, she’d known it wasn’t right deep down, where she craved a unique love-of-her-life romance, not a comfortable relationship that left her warm and fuzzy without a spark in sight.

  She’d been guilt-ridden for months after ending both engagements, knowing she shouldn’t have let the relationships go so far but needing to hold onto her dream, needing to feel safe and treasured and loved after the world as she knew it had changed.

  Her family had made her feel protected and when she’d lost that she’d looked for security elsewhere. She just wished she hadn’t hurt Avery and Barton in the process.

  ‘You know why you really didn’t go through with those weddings. It could do you good to admit it.’

  Meg nudged her and she bumped right back. She knew what Meg was implying; after Jared, no man had lived up to expectations.

  While she’d briefly contemplated that reasoning after each break-up, she’d dismissed it. Jared had been so long ago, had never entertained the possibility of a full-blown relationship let alone a lifetime commitment and he’d never fit in her happily ever after scenario.

  Liar. Remember the day he walked in on you in your room-mate’s wedding dress while she was away on her honeymoon? The day you joked about it being their turn soon?

  Not only had she envisioned him as her perfect groom, she’d almost believed it for those six months they’d dated.

  Until he’d dumped her and bolted without a backward glance.

  ‘I guess the closer the weddings came on both occasions, the more I realised Avery and Barton didn’t really know me. Sure, we shared similar interests, moved in similar social circles, had similar goals but it was just too…too…’

  ‘Trite.’

  ‘Perfect…’ she shook her head, the familiar confusion clouding her brain when she tried to fathom her reasons for calling off her much-desired weddings. ‘…yet it wasn’t perfect. It was like I had this vision of what I wanted and I was doing my damnedest to make it fit. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  Meg paused, squinted her eyes in the Icebergs’ direction. ‘So where does tennis boy fit into your idea of perfection?’

  ‘Malone’s far from perfect.’

  As the words tripped from her tongue an instant image of his sexy
smile, the teasing twinkle in his eyes, the hard, ripped body, flashed across her mind, taunting her, mocking her.

  Crunching loudly on the tip of her ice-cream cone, Meg sat up, dusted off her hands.

  ‘You need to do this.’

  When Kristi opened her mouth to respond, Meg held up a finger. ‘Not just for the promotion or the possibility of winning all that cash. But for the chance to confront tennis boy, finally get some closure.’

  The instant denial they’d had closure eight years ago died on her lips.

  He’d walked in on her in that dress, had reneged on their dinner plans and avoided her calls afterwards. Except to call her from the airport before boarding his plane for Florida; and she preferred to forget what had transpired during that gem of a phone call.

  Meg was right. While the promotion and prize money were huge incentives to spend a week with Jared stranded on an island, getting closure was the clincher.

  Standing, Kristi shot Meg a rueful smile. ‘Remind me never to ask for your advice again.’

  ‘Don’t ask if you don’t want to hear the truth.’

  That was what scared Kristi the most. In confronting Jared, would she finally learn the truth?

  About what really went wrong in their relationship all those years ago?

  Elliott ordered another double-shot espresso, slid his wire-rimmed glasses back on, peered over them.

  ‘What gives between you and Kristi Wilde? I’ve never heard you mention her.’

  Jared dismissed Elliott’s curiosity with a wave of his hand.

  ‘Old history.’

  ‘A history I have a feeling I need to know before we get this project underway.’

  Elliott tapped his stack of documents. ‘There were enough sparks flying between the two of you to set this lot alight and I don’t want anything threatening to scuttle this documentary before it’s off the ground. So what’s the story?’

  ‘I met her when I first moved to Sydney. Spent a few months hanging out, having fun, before I headed for training camp at Florida. That’s it.’

  ‘All sounds very simple and uncomplicated.’

  ‘It is.’

  Jared downed a glass of water before he was tempted to tell Elliott the rest.

  The way she was totally unlike any of the women in his usual social circle back in Melbourne. Her lack of pretence, lack of artificialities, lack of cunning. The way she used to look at him, with laughter and warmth and genuine admiration in her eyes. The way she made him feel, as if he didn’t have a care in the world and didn’t have the responsibility of living up to expectation hanging around his neck like a stone.

  No, he couldn’t tell his mate any of that, for voicing his trip down memory lane might catapult him right back to a place he’d rather not be: hurting a woman he cared about.

  Elliott rested his folded arms on the table, leaned forward with a shake of his head.

  ‘Only problem is, my friend, I know you, and simple and uncomplicated are not words I’d use to describe you or any of your relationships.’

  ‘It wasn’t a relationship,’ he said, an uneasy stab making a mockery of that.

  While they’d never spelled it out as such, they’d spent every spare moment in each other’s company, had spent every night together, had painted this city red, blue, white and any other damn colour, and belittling what they had to assuage his friend’s curiosity didn’t sit well with him.

  ‘Then what was it?’

  The best time of his life.

  The first woman he’d ever been involved with.

  The first person he’d allowed close enough to care.

  The first time he’d allowed himself to feel anything other than caution and judgement and bitterness.

  He’d been numb after escaping his parents’ bizarre turnaround when they suddenly started acknowledging he existed, had been driven to succeed, to utilise the talent he’d uncovered through their neglect.

  Melbourne had held nothing but bad memories and newly clinging parents for him and moving to Sydney had been as much about fresh starts as fostering his career.

  Though she hadn’t known it at the time, Kristi had been a saviour: a friend, a lover, a distraction, all rolled into one.

  And when she’d got too close…well, he’d done the only thing he could.

  He’d run.

  ‘Kristi and I dated casually. We had fun.’

  ‘And you didn’t break her heart?’

  He hadn’t stuck around long enough for that; had made sure of it.

  ‘Would she be taking part in your little social experiment if I had?’

  Apparently satisfied, Elliott nodded, his glasses sliding down his nose as he absent-mindedly pushed them back up.

  ‘Good point. She seemed feisty. I reckon she would’ve skewered you if you’d done a number on her.’

  ‘Too right.’

  Not that he agreed with his friend’s assessment. Back then, Kristi had had vulnerability written all over her. She’d acted as if she didn’t care but he’d seen the signs, had caught the unguarded longing stares she’d cast him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  Then there was that bridal shower she’d been so hyped about, throwing a huge shindig at her apartment for her room-mate, her incessant chatter of gowns and registries and invitations sending a shudder through him.

  Marriage was never on the cards for him and just being close to all that hearts and flowers crap made his gut roil.

  Then he’d walked in on her one day, standing in front of a cheval mirror, wearing a shiny white wedding gown and a beatific smile. If that vision hadn’t sent a ripple of horror through him, her words had.

  ‘It’ll be our turn next.’

  Not a hope in Hades.

  So he’d pulled back, brought forward his departure date to a Florida training camp, said goodbye with a phone call. He’d taken the coward’s way out but, the way he saw it, he’d made the right decision.

  He’d never promised Kristi anything, had made it clear from the start their dating had a time limit. Wasn’t his fault she’d interpreted it as anything other than what it was: a casual fling, fun while it lasted.

  ‘If you two parted amicably, does that mean you’re going to pick up where you left off on the island?’

  ‘For your nosy viewers to see? Not likely.’

  As the words tumbled easily he had to admit he’d wondered the same thing himself, the thought crossing his mind the instant she’d strutted in here with her shoulders squared for battle and her eyes flashing fire.

  ‘Too bad. Would’ve been nice to add a little romance to the mix.’

  With a shake of his head, Jared stood. ‘You’re a sap.’

  ‘No, I’m a producer after ratings.’

  Throwing a few notes on the table, Elliott hoisted his load into his arms and stood too.

  ‘And sex sells, my friend.’

  Jared grunted in response, a certain part of him agreeing with Elliott, with the faintest hope Kristi would too.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Stranded Survival Tip #4

  They’re playing our song. Pity it’s the theme song from Titanic.

  AS KRISTI spritzed her custom-made patchouli perfume behind her ears, on her pulse points, her hand shook, the infernal buzz of nerves in her tummy hard to subdue.

  No matter how many times she mentally recited tonight was about fine-tuning details for their week on Lorikeet Island, she couldn’t ignore the fact catching up with Jared reeked of a date.

  She didn’t want to think of it as a date. A date implied intimacy and excitement and expectation, feelings she’d given up on a long time ago where he was concerned.

  Jared Malone might have once rocked her world, but she’d got over it. He could flash that sexy smile and charm her with witty wordplay all he liked, it wouldn’t change a thing.

  She’d seen the way he’d looked at her during their brief meeting at Icebergs; as if he remembered everything about her and would love to take a fast sprint dow
n memory lane.

  If he tried, she had four words for him.

  Not in this lifetime.

  Leaning into the mirror, she tilted her head to one side to fasten an earring. The long, straight silver spiral shimmered as she turned, caught the light, reflected, matching her sequinned halter top perfectly.

  She loved the top’s funkiness, had offset it with low-slung black hipster formal pants. Chic, without trying too hard. Not that she’d dithered too long on her wardrobe choice. She wanted to speed through this evening, speed through the seven interminably long days on the island and regain equilibrium.

  For while she might not have feelings for Jared any more, seeing him again had her on edge, a strange combination of anger, fear and reservation. While he could act as if things hadn’t ended badly between them, she couldn’t, unable to shake the foreboding that the longer she spent in his company, the more chance she had of making a fool of herself again.

  For that was exactly what she’d done last time around.

  Made an A-grade ass of herself.

  She’d known he’d had to leave eventually, yet had started to cling the closer his departure grew, culminating in that silly, angry ultimatum during their last phone call.

  She’d made him choose. Her or tennis. How young and stupid had she been?

  When he’d walked in on her in that wedding dress the week before he left, she’d been glad. She’d wanted him to see how she looked, wanted him to envisage the dream of happily-ever-after as much as she wanted it.

  So she’d made that flyaway comment about it being their turn next, half hoping he’d sweep her into his arms and take her with him.

  Instead, he’d withdrawn, closed off, the last week before he departed, leaving her morose, desperate and hurt, incredibly hurt.

  Her ridiculous ultimatum had been born of anger and resentment and rejection, something she should never have done.

  But she couldn’t change the past; the memory of her naivety made her cringe and seeing Jared again only served to resurrect those old feelings of embarrassment and mortification.