Deserted Island, Dreamy Ex!

by Nicola Marsh

  She shook her head, desperate to snuggle into him but needing to tell him the truth if they were to have any chance.

  ‘I’m scared of having a real relationship with you.’

  He frowned, confusion clouding his eyes. ‘I thought that’s what you wanted?’

  ‘I do, but…’

  The memory of their last phone call eight years earlier echoed through her head, the anguish, the bitterness, the resentment, closely followed by memories of Avery’s stunned expression when she’d handed back the ring, Barton’s sheer outrage, which had morphed into tears when she’d broken the engagement before he’d had a chance to serve a three-course dinner he’d prepared.

  She’d botched those relationships. Her, with her ridiculously high expectations and utter selfishness, not the guys as she would’ve liked to believe, so what was to stop history repeating?

  ‘But?’

  With her mind a whir of confusion, her heart wanted to jump back into the fray. She had to tell him, there was no other way.

  Laying her palms against his chest, she pushed lightly, stared up at him with hope.

  ‘I’m terrified of mucking up again, of making you leave.’

  His brow creased in confusion. ‘I don’t get it.’

  Inhaling, she let it all out in a rush. ‘I blamed you for dumping me last time. Selfish, arrogant, tennis jock choosing his precious bloody career over me when I knew you’d leave, right from the start, I just didn’t want to believe it. You never made any promises, you were the dream date for six months, and I became a clinging, pathetic limpet demanding more than you were able to give.’

  He opened his mouth to respond and she placed her hand over it, quieting him.

  ‘There’s more. I resented you for years, and, whether inadvertently or deliberately, I chose to date guys the exact opposite of you.’

  She dropped her hand, winced. ‘That didn’t help either, because my old attempts to sabotage reared again and I stuffed those relationships too.’

  Smart man, he didn’t say a word, let her exhaust her cathartic confession.

  ‘So here we are again. I love you, have probably always loved you, you propose and I’m not doing cartwheels. Want to know why?’

  He nodded, his tender smile encouraging her to continue.

  ‘Because there’s no such thing as perfect. What if I’ve built up this ridiculous marriage scenario in my head we have no hope of living up to? What if I disappoint you? Or push you away? Or do a million other stupid things that’ll give you no option but to leave? What if I—?’

  He silenced her with a kiss, a hot, searing kiss that blazed a path directly to her heart, scorching any further protestations along the way.

  Capturing her face between his hands, he sat back, stared unflinchingly into her eyes.

  ‘What if we go into this with our eyes wide open? What if we have no expectations other than to love and trust and respect each other? What if we do everything in our power to make each other happy?’

  Hope surged through her, making her body tremble.

  ‘I kinda like your what ifs a lot more than mine.’

  Rubbing noses with her, he murmured, ‘Me too.’

  Smiling, she tilted her head slightly, brushed a soft kiss against his lips before pulling away to stare into the handsome face she loved.

  ‘As much as I’d love to get swept away in all this, I’m dying to know. Why the sudden turnaround?’

  He grimaced, pinched the bridge of his nose, doing little to ease the sudden frown. ‘Thought you might ask that.’

  ‘Well? You going to elaborate any time soon or do I have to torture it out of you?’

  He smiled at her levity, but it was a forced smile with a twist of pain.

  ‘Your parents had the perfect marriage. Mine didn’t.’

  He stood, thrust his hands into his pockets, his pacing a fair imitation of what she’d done earlier. By the time they’d finished, the rug would be for the tip.

  ‘You never mentioned them?’

  ‘Because I preferred to ignore them.’

  He stopped, his expression halfway between disgust and embarrassment. ‘They were filthy rich. Self-absorbed, bored, hated each other. I was probably a mistake, a mistake that made them pay every day they had to look at me so they chose to ignore me, pretend I never existed.’

  Sympathy twisted her belly at his obvious pain.

  ‘When they weren’t screaming at each other they were keeping up pretences for their equally narcissistic friends. Empty marriages among the lot of them.’

  Which explained his anti-commitment stance. But there was more, she could tell by the rigidity in his shoulders, the clenched fists.

  ‘Best thing they ever did was dump me at their exclusive tennis club. I started taking my frustrations out on a ball, the rest is history…’

  ‘Did your success change their attitude?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, suddenly they couldn’t get enough of me. Fawning over me, turning up at all my matches—it made me sick.’

  His flat tone chilled her as much as his bleak expression. ‘But you know what made me sicker? The fact I cared. Whenever they turned up at a game, I was like a little kid pretending his nightmare childhood never existed, a kid craving his parents’ approval.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that. They’re your parents—’

  ‘Who’ve barely spoken to me since I blew my knee. Nice, huh?’

  He resumed pacing, his expression thunderous. ‘They’re such screw-ups I didn’t trust myself not to be like them. But you know something? I’m nothing like them! I love you and it took the fact of almost losing you to make me realise how damn much. Marriage isn’t the problem. It’s the people who enter into it.’

  He stopped, grabbed her hands, hauled her off the sofa and into his arms.

  ‘We can make this work. Sure, it’s not going to be easy, and far from perfect, but it’s you and me, kid, and that’s already advantage Malone.’

  His sincerity took her breath away, her heart expanding with so much love she could barely breathe.

  ‘I didn’t want to let emotion into my life, didn’t want to take a risk on a lifetime commitment.’

  He paused, searched her eyes for reassurance.

  ‘Until now.’

  Joy clogged her throat and she swallowed, saddened by what he’d been through, when she’d had the fabled perfect life he didn’t believe in. For him to tell her this, unburden his soul…she now understood what drove him and all her reservations flew into the sky alongside the latest A380 she’d still have to board tomorrow.

  Jared loved her.

  She loved him.

  What was she waiting for?

  ‘I accept.’

  Confusion clouded his eyes for a moment before realisation struck and he let out a wild whoop, kissed her thoroughly, before opening the small blue box and sliding the ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

  ‘There. You can’t get away from me now.’

  She winced. ‘Actually, I can. I need to be on that flight first thing tomorrow morning.’

  Crushing her to him, he murmured in her ear, ‘Give me a week to get the centre organised and I’ll be on the first plane out. Deal?’

  ‘You’d do that for me?’

  ‘You know the centre means a lot to me, but I’m basically the financier. I can do most of the work online, can always fly back when needed.’

  Smiling, he cupped her cheek, the love blazing from his hazel eyes toasting her. ‘It’s you I can’t do without.’

  ‘In that case, you’ve got yourself a deal.’

  They sealed it with a kiss. A long, slow, passionate kiss that elicited a long wolf whistle and hoots from her nosy neighbours who were passing by her open door.

  Neither cared. They’d already had part of their lives plastered on TV.

  What was another public display of affection?

  EPILOGUE

  Stranded Survival Tip #18

  An island stay is
temporary. A ring is for ever

  Twitter.com/Stranded_Jared

  Here comes the bride. She’s stunning. And she’s all mine.

  Twitter.com/Stranded_Kristi

  Who needs a scrapbook when you’ve got the real thing?

  Cue the bridal waltz. Lucky me!

  Excerpt from the society pages of the Sydney Morning Star.

  Fans of sport and television flocked to the harbour-side wedding of tennis champion Jared Malone and his stunning bride, PR whiz Kristi Wilde.

  The couple’s relationship blossomed under our very eyes in the documentary Stranded, viewers’ interest enhanced by regular blog and Twitter updates from the love-struck pair.

  The entire country waited with bated breath when our very own golden couple fled to the States for six months but in the Aussie tradition they returned for an Australia Day wedding, the hoopla surrounding the private event rivalling the latest A-list celebrity nuptials.

  The happy couple released a single photo through their best man and our source, award-winning producer Elliott J. Barnaby. The beautiful bride wore a stunning Vera Wang ivory satin strapless gown with mermaid fishtail while the dashing groom wore an Armani tuxedo.

  The bride’s sister and sole bridesmaid, devoted single mother Meg Wilde, walked alongside her daughter, Prue, in the bridal procession. Prue, a gorgeous ring bearer, won the crowd over with her impromptu rendition of ‘Chapel of Love’.

  After the select few guests, including several teens from the Activate recreational centre Mr Malone supports, feasted on roasted half-duckling with seasonal greens, milk-fed veal with Gruyère and a dessert platter featuring warm quince tart, saffron and coconut crème brûlée and dark chocolate semi-freddo, they danced well into the night.

  The happy couple are honeymooning at an undisclosed destination.

  Stay tuned.

  Or better yet, follow the golden couple on Twitter.

  Twitter.com/Stranded_Jared

  I always thought winning Grand Slams was the pinnacle of success. Marrying the love of my life proved me wrong.

  Twitter.com/Stranded_Kristi

  Dream wedding, dream man. Perfect love exists. Never give up. Winning is sublime, on and off the court!

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6601-2

  DESERTED ISLAND, DREAMY EX!

  First North American Publication 2010.

  Copyright © 2010 by Nicola Marsh.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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