The Rock Star's Wedding

by Demelza Carlton

  Xan scanned the crowd, looking for Jason, who was nowhere to be seen. But he had been here not long ago, watching the fireworks with the rest of them.

  Fireworks. That the couple hadn't expected. That no one had expected. Xan sure as hell hadn't organised them.

  Jason must have. Had he seen the newlyweds' response? If he had, he'd have slunk off to sulk, most likely, she decided. Before she'd really thought it through, her feet had already started along the path that led to the villas. If he was sulking, he'd let her off that dance and she could go to bed after a very long day.

  The music followed her around the lagoon. Good thing there weren't any non-wedding guests on the island, as no one would be sleeping with that noise going on. Xan had to give the DJ credit, though – the music wasn't bad. And every track was worth dancing to. Maybe if she couldn't find Jason, she'd head back and join the party. After all, she did have an official invitation.

  She strode past the house and toward the jetty. It was pitch black out there, but she knew by now that's where he'd be. If she'd thought about it, she'd have brought a torch. Or even her phone, but that was sitting on her kitchen bench, switched off like the useless device it was out here.

  "Jason?" she ventured, stepping onto the boards.

  "I'm not even sure of that any more. This week, I'm nobody. Definitely not a rock star. And now, uninvited to the wedding." His voice came from close to the end, but it grew louder as his thumping footsteps brought him into view.

  Xan managed a smile. "You'll always be Jay Felix the rock star to me."

  "Is that because you think I'm a dick, too?" His eyes glistened in the path lights. No, surely not with tears.

  With anyone else, Xan would have tried to be diplomatic, but there was no use hiding her opinions from Jason. And she wanted to know the truth, which he'd respond with if she was honest. So she said, "That depends. Did you do it on purpose? Did you know how he'd react?"

  Jason shook his head. "Fuck no. Like I said, real love has fireworks. I wanted it to be a surprise, my gift to them. I brought up one of the pyrotechnic guys who does the Australia Day fireworks. She always loved fireworks. She'd come down to the foreshore or Kings Park with us every year, and we'd have a picnic and watch the sky show. No idea he'd go psycho. He knocked her down. Bastard knocked her down. And instead of taking a knife or a taser to him, like she would anyone else, she just got up and pretended it was nothing. Then she threatened me if I didn't leave her wedding. So now I'm here." He waved at the jetty. "Got two bottles of champagne, though. The good stuff. Want one?"

  The man owned the whole hotel, but he'd stolen two bottles of champagne from one of his guests. A girl who was crazier than he was. Xan shook her head. This was all too much for her.

  "Yes, please," she said.

  Jason disappeared into the dark and returned a moment later with an unopened bottle of champagne, which he popped with gusto. All without spilling a drop. He handed it to her. "Sorry, didn't bring glasses. I didn't expect..."

  To share. For anyone to notice he was gone. Anyone who cared, anyway. Xan blinked back tears. Impulsively, she threw her arms around him in a hug made awkward by the champagne bottle she still held. "I'm so sorry, Jason."

  Jason returned her hug, not the slightest bit awkward. "He's going to kill her, isn't he? Fuck, how am I supposed to just stand by and wait for it to happen?"

  Xan thought of the strange couple she'd watched all day – not the man who held her in what was a surprisingly comfortable embrace – and shook her head. "I don't think he will. There's something not right there but it's not...I know she's scared of something. They both are. But...I don't think the danger's him. Even if it was, there's nothing you can do about it, except be willing to help if she asks for it. She's an adult and she married him. She gets to make her own decisions, and her own mistakes." Like Xan nearly had with Jerome. Bloody hell.

  Squirming out of Jason's grasp, she brought the champagne bottle to her lips and gulped some down. When she looked around, she found Jason had disappeared. The pop of a champagne cork in the darkness pinpointed his location as he returned with a second open bottle for himself.

  Drinking champagne – the genuine French stuff – out of the bottle, on a jetty with the rock star owner of an island resort. Shit, but her life was crazy. Xan raised her bottle in a toast. "To adults who do crazy stuff."

  Jason clunked his bottle against hers and they both drank. Crazy stuff, indeed.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Some time later, Xan set down her nearly empty champagne bottle. She couldn't have drunk all of it. Jason must've helped, she told herself, peering at the starlit waves beneath her swinging feet. It wasn't all that dark, not really, with the Milky Way shimmering across the sky.

  "I should go home to sleep," she said, struggling to her feet. Bloody hell, she had drunk more than she'd thought. Xan wobbled as she fought to get her feet into her shoes for the walk back to her unit. Jason might have fallen asleep on the jetty, like so many nights before, but it wouldn't do for the hotel manager to imitate the rock star. Double standards, she thought muzzily.

  "Why did you come out here, Xan?" The shadow that was Jason sat up. "You weren't uninvited. I'm sure you could've stayed at the reception until the end, when one of the psycho's buffed-up mates would offer to show you his incredible stamina for the rest of the night. Or is the helicopter pilot more your type? I forget."

  "His buffed-up mates are ASIO agents who interrogated me last year. Not my type." Xan's voice turned cold. "And not all of us look for the next person to pull into bed. Some of us have standards and integrity and self-respect, and we expect the same from anyone we choose to have a relationship with. A relationship, not a one night stand. Not to mention, that would be unprofessional and against hotel policy."

  "Fair enough," Jason replied, sounding completely unfazed. "So why did you come out here?"

  Xan sighed. He probably hadn't heard a word of what she'd said. In one ear, out the other. Bloody overgrown teenager. "Because when I agreed to go to the wedding with you, I promised I'd dance with you."

  "And that's what I love about you, Xan. Standards and integrity and all that shit. You keep your promises." Jason unfolded to his full height. "Let's have that dance and we can go to bed."

  Xan frowned. "Our own beds. Alone."

  It was Jason's turn to sigh. "Yeah, that. Some of us are just destined to be alone. At least we have each other, right, Xan?"

  "That dance?" she prompted.

  His arm was warm around her waist as his hand clasped hers. As if on command, the music across the lagoon morphed from a fast track into a much slower song. Her head was filled with champagne froth, making it hard to remember the steps.

  "Let me lead. Just this once," Jason breathed in her ear, pulling her closer.

  It felt like the most natural thing in the world to have her body moulded against his, just the thin fabric of her dress and his shirt between them. Rock stars didn't do ties, or jackets, for long. But they could dance.

  "Where'd you learn to dance like this?" she mumbled as he guided her effortlessly across the boards, not stepping on her toes at all.

  Laughter rumbled through his chest. Bloody hell, she was so close she could feel it.

  "Jo did ballroom dancing all through high school. She needed a partner, so she bribed me into it. It paid off, though." His breath was warm on her neck.

  "What with? Alcohol? Girls?"

  "No. She agreed to be the drummer in my band, and she persuaded Caitlin to join as our guitarist. Before she was Angel, she was Caitlin. And now she is again, or so she says. But none of this would have happened if I hadn't agreed to dance."

  Xan laughed with him. "People have done worse for fame."

  "Yeah, I have. But not tonight. Tonight I get to share one dance with you."

  "Yes." Xan rested her head against his shoulder, just enjoying the moment.

  He was the only man she could dance with, without him expecting more. No obligations.
No expectations. Just Jason.

  "The music's stopped," Jason remarked, but he didn't let go of her.

  So it had. Across the lagoon, the party was over.

  So why did she want to linger a little longer here with him?

  "Xanthe," he breathed in her ear, drawing out the sibilance. "Kisssss-zanthe..."

  Yes. Kiss me.

  Xan turned her head so she could feel his breath on her face. Just once. One dance, one kiss, and she'd go home. In the morning, she'd say she was too drunk to remember, but she wasn't. She wanted to know what it was like to kiss Jay Felix. Why so many girls had fallen for him. How he'd charmed all those girls into his bed. It wasn't just his dancing skills, or his celebrity status. Something more...

  Her lips brushed his, burning like that first gulp from the bottle of Moet.

  "Xanthe, you're drunk," Jason murmured. He didn't move away, though.

  Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't. But for a moment, she wanted to pretend...

  Xan grasped his shoulders and kissed him properly.

  For a moment, he stood as still and hard as a statue. Not moving, not responding. Then he melted, and the whole world moved.

  Once again, Jason took the lead, like the expert he was. Their tongues danced, and it didn't matter that Xan didn't know the steps. He held her like he didn't intend to let her go. And she didn't want him to.

  Her blood fizzed with champagne bubbles, then warmed, sweeping her higher like one of the geysers she'd seen in New Zealand. In the distance, the music began again. One final song. In Jason's arms, she moved with him, dancing to a rhythm he knew better than she did. And still they kissed, because she couldn't bear to tear her lips from his.

  But he could. "Yeah! Fireworks! Just like in the books!" Jason cheered.

  "What books?" Love and kisses and fireworks...those sort of metaphors only happened in romance books. Realisation dawned. "All those girls. The books that went missing. You getting drunk in the library. You've been reading romance books!"

  "Fuck yeah. What women want, right?"

  Romance books. A rock star who read romance books. Xan's shoe caught in the gap between the boards and she stumbled. Jason caught her, but not in time. Together, they tumbled off the jetty.

  FORTY-SIX

  Thank fuck it was high tide and not low, was all Jason had time to think before he hit the water. Remembering his high school surf lifesaving classes, he dragged Xan to the surface so she could breathe, and headed for shore.

  "Let go of me, you bloody fool. Have you forgotten I can swim better than you?" Xan snapped, tearing out of his grasp. Jason wasn't sure if the kick she delivered to his thigh was accidental or deliberate.

  "But the deadly jellyfish..." Jason began.

  "They prefer calm water, like the lagoon. Not rough waves with the tide coming in. Believe me, I checked. I don't want to meet another one." Xan paused. "But sharks feed at night, and I don't have my shark shield on. I swear that tiger shark's still hanging around, looking for a way back into the lagoon. Race you to shore?"

  Tiger sharks? "Fuck yeah. You're on."

  But as Xan pulled ahead, Jason didn't have the heart to try and beat her. He'd kissed her. He'd fucking kissed her. And for a moment, one really long, blissful moment, there'd been fireworks and lightning and toe-curling and every fucking metaphor in the book. In the whole fucking library. He hadn't imagined it that first time, wishing her a happy new year after the cyclone. It wasn't the adrenaline-fuelled, we-just-survived-certain-death euphoria that he'd felt. It was full-blown love. For the one woman he couldn't have.

  Doomed love. Fuck. It was almost like some bitch was writing a book about them. One who hated his guts. What had he ever done to her? Well, no hoity-toity writer got to control his life. He'd take matters into his own hands.

  He waded out of the water, to where Xan already stood, dripping, on the beach.

  "Good thing the nights are warm and the water's warmer," he said. "Come back to my place to dry off."

  Xan shook her head. "No, I'll head back to mine, thanks. Like you said, the night's warm. And all my clothes are there." She glanced down. "Well, all except the shoe I lost in the water." Moonlight winked in the water droplets falling from her bare toes.

  Jason turned back to the sea. "Want me to go get it?"

  "No. It's just a shoe. I'm sure I can get a new pair from Target in town tomorrow."

  Every girl he'd ever been with before had prided herself on her fashionable wardrobe. But Xan... "You seriously wore Target shoes to a celebrity wedding?" Jason couldn't stop laughing.

  Xan shrugged. "Nobody noticed. Everyone's eyes were on the bride, like they're supposed to be. No one even glanced at the hotel manager, unless they needed something."

  "I noticed," he corrected. "I noticed the way that dress is the perfect colour for you, showing off your curves without showing too much. The way the heels made your legs look longer, and you walked in them without tripping or stumbling, as if you were just as comfortable wearing those as the flat shoes you usually wear to work. You look beautiful tonight, Xanthe. And anyone who didn't notice is a fucking idiot."

  Xan snorted. "With one shoe and a soaking wet dress. That's one hell of a compliment, Jason. Thanks. Now I know you're drunk. And on that note, good night." She marched up the beach and the darkness swallowed her.

  Every instinct Jason had told him to follow her, but he knew she'd only kick him again. On purpose this time.

  Somehow, he'd fucked up again, and he didn't know how. With the one woman he couldn't afford to lose.

  Shouldn't have kissed her, he told himself, stumping along the sand to his villa. Shouldn't have had that dance and kissed her and...

  But fuck, it had been worth it. Fireworks and all.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Xan was adrift in her dreams, feeling the blissful roll of a boat under her feet as she walked the deck of a yacht just like the one the Fishers owned. Instinctively, she knew this was her home, though how she knew it, she couldn't say. She called a name as she searched for someone, a vague sense of unease growing in the pit of her stomach.

  But there was no one else aboard.

  Laughter drifted up from the waves, and Xan turned to look. On the dive platform at the back of the boat sat a tiny toddler of indeterminate sex, dangling its feet in the water as the fish rose up to kiss the child's toes.

  Relief flooded through Xan. This was the child she was searching for. Her child, though she had none.

  She climbed down the ladder, stretching her arms out. A pair of much larger arms lifted the kid up, pressing the toddler to her chest in a three-person hug. Warm lips melted against hers, giving and demanding in equal measure. Better than a book. Better than any book.

  "I love you, Xanthe," Jason said, before he kissed her again.

  Bloody hell! Xan jolted awake. Thank all the gods and anyone else who was listening: she was home, alone in her bed, with no sign of Jason in the house. She still felt the heat of his lips on hers. Somehow, that kiss on the jetty was seared into her memory so deeply it had invaded her dreams.

  She should never have done it. Danced with him, kissed him...any of it.

  She needed to leave before she was tempted to do something stupid. Again.

  Time to travel. Time to go. Time to look for something new.

  She hadn't told him, but her citizenship papers had come through this week. She'd been too busy with the wedding to do more than glance at them, but she was free to leave the resort and take any job she wanted now.

  Xan thought of her dream. It would be wonderful to feel a boat deck under her feet again. Diving expeditions didn't pay well, but she didn't need them to. It might take weeks or even months to find another job on a dive boat, though. The summer was over, and the wet season wasn't. Nowhere in Australia would be hiring right now.

  That headhunting hotel chain. If they still wanted her, she might be able to do their job for a little while until something better came up. If it was still available.
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  It was four in the morning, but Xan itched for action, so she switched on her laptop and found the email. She read it through twice, before typing a short reply:

  Yes, I'm interested. Can you give me further information about the position or the hotel?

  She hit SEND before she could reconsider. A request for information was hardly a signed contract, she told herself, as doubt crept in.

  She didn't want to leave Romance Island. She loved the place.

  She loved its owner, a man she couldn't have, because he didn't love anyone but himself.

  That's why it was time for a new adventure.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  A tentative knock on the door dragged Xan's attention from the lagoon, where no naked rock star swam this morning. Maybe he'd slept in, after all the drinking and dancing last night. If she was lucky, he'd have forgotten all about their kiss.

  After waiting half an hour for a response that evidently wasn't coming, she'd switched off her laptop and stuffed it back in its bag. She'd check her email again later, but today she deserved a rest. The wedding had been hard work.

  She squeezed past the dining table and unlocked the door.

  Jason stood on the door mat, a strange intensity in his eyes that Xan couldn't remember seeing before.

  "I'm looking for the lady who owns this rather remarkable shoe," he said, holding out one of her heels from last night.

  Another line he'd stolen from a movie. Or a book. Xan couldn't remember. Were all the charming things he said and did borrowed from the books he'd read? Maybe none of it was him at all.

  "I don't have any use for a single shoe. I have two feet."

  "That's why I brought them both." Jason pulled his other arm from behind his back, showing her the pair she'd worn yesterday.

  No wonder he hadn't been in the lagoon this morning. "You went swimming for my other shoe?"

  He grinned. "Nah. The heel was caught in the jetty, like Cinderella was too busy fleeing the scene to free it before she took off. The other one was still on the beach where you'd left it, too. So I figured I'd bring them back to you. Especially as neither of them is a Target shoe." He held them up so she could see the brand name clearly on the insole.