The Rock Star's Virginity (Romance Island Resort #3)

by Demelza Carlton

  "Enjoy your flight," the flight attendant said as she passed Flavia her scanned boarding pass.

  With a nod, Flavia moved down the aerobridge, hearing the sibilant hiss of her case wheels on the carpet as the sounds of a thousand conversations in the terminal faded. Another smiling attendant pointed out her seat and Flavia trundled her case to her place for the next couple of hours. With her phone switched off and her case in the overhead compartment, Flavia drummed her fingers on the armrest, already bored and wishing she could start watching the inflight movie early. This plane didn't have screens on the seat backs, so it must be one of those old ones with ceiling screens that descended when the flight crew decided it was time. Wonderful.

  Flavia grabbed the inflight magazine and started flipping through the pages.

  A night of spectacular sex or should she call off the deal?

  She wanted Jay. All those pictures on the internet, invading her dreams. Even her fantasies featured him this week. If the rumours were right and he truly was the legendary lover his fans claimed him to be, one night would never be enough. She'd want more. Not just one episode, but the whole damn season. And the next, and the one after that…

  She should call off the deal. Tell him she'd changed her mind.

  Or she could have one night with a rock star. Enough to fuel erotic dreams for the rest of her life. And the money to travel wherever she wanted for a couple of years.

  The deal didn't look so bad viewed from that angle.

  Flavia scrubbed her hands across her face, trying to blot out the image of her twined around Jay's luscious body, all hard muscle and gleaming…

  "We meet again."

  Flavia glanced up and met the eyes of her trolley assailant. She pressed her lips together, sending up a fervent prayer that he'd go away.

  "And we're seat mates. Isn't that great?"

  Her eyes told him to die, but he ignored her as he shoved his bags in the overhead locker before sliding into the seat beside her. "I'm Tim." He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

  Flavia felt an overwhelming urge to bite his hand. Hard. Instead, she managed a polite handshake as she told him her name. Damn all her good manners.

  "You going to Broome on business?" he asked.

  The sex trade. Lucrative business like you wouldn't believe. Flavia coughed, then cleared her throat to cover the hysterical laughter that threatened to escape. "Um, no. Just visiting a friend."

  "You're all dressed up for your friend. Boyfriend, I take it?"

  "No!" Too late, Flavia tried to cover up her slip. "Just a friend. I want to make a good impression, is all."

  Tim grinned. "Online romance? You picked one hell of a tourist destination for a first date. Be careful where you sit on the beach to watch the sunset, or you'll have a hundred people taking pictures of you as you become an internet sensation. Kissing couple on Cable Beach, silhouetted against the sunset."

  Flavia's blood ran cold. The video of James and his hooker had gone viral, so it had popped up in her social media feed more times than she could count, with captions like Best Man EVER and Buck's Night Booty. She never wanted that sort of fame. That's why she'd made the auction as anonymous as possible, so that by the time Jay learned her name (if he didn't already know it), he'd already signed the confidentiality agreement. "I'll keep that in mind," she said colourlessly. She paused for a moment before she recalled her manners. "Are you going to Broome for a holiday, too?"

  Tim laughed so hard he shook the seat. "Hell no. This is a work trip. Me and my partner, we're filmmakers and our media company scored a contract to do some PR for one of the big Broome resorts. Filming for their new ad campaign. It's the biggest contract we've ever had, so Simmo didn't want to leave anything behind. Every camera we own, tripods, extra lenses, filters...all the cases barely fitted in the car, but he wouldn't hear of leaving it. The resort's paying for it, he said, so why not?"

  Flavia's icy disapproval defrosted slightly. "And here I thought you only brought all that luggage so you could mow down unsuspecting fellow passengers."

  Tim shrugged. "I said I was sorry."

  Flavia couldn't recall hearing anything of the sort, but then she'd been too embarrassed and angry to want to listen to a word he said downstairs, anyway. And now she was stuck sitting next to the man for the next few hours. She imagined him as one of the difficult clients at work – perhaps one of the farmers who'd missed his flight and wanted someone to shout to about it, so all she could do was stay calm until the ordeal was over.

  "Apology accepted," she said graciously, or at least that's what she was aiming for.

  The flight attendant interrupted the silence to demonstrate the plane's safety features, which saved Flavia the need to say any more.

  When the woman finished and her seatbelt and lifejacket were safely stowed away, Flavia ventured, "I wonder what the inflight movie will be today."

  Tim surveyed the plane. "Don't think there'll be one. No screens. They usually switch them on for the safety briefing. Probably a good thing. I've seen all the decent movies out at the moment and there's none I'd want to see again. I wonder what it takes to get your film approved for release on inflight entertainment? I bet they wouldn't tell me if I asked, though."

  Flavia's polite answering smile seemed to be enough to unlock the floodgates. Tim told her about his and Simmo's online video channel, the series of indie films they'd created in and around Perth, and the challenges of making it big in a world where everyone had cameras on their phones and the videos that went viral were more about being in the right place at the right time than any skill on the part of the person holding the camera. But all that would change after this job, because they'd have the money to film the first season of their series when the cheque came in.

  Flavia nodded and made understanding noises as Tim gave her a blow-by-blow account of the plot of their proposed six-season series. It sounded like a mashup of every one of James' favourite TV shows, including the Aussie soap operas he watched religiously every night, though he'd deny it at the top of his voice if anyone even suggested he watched that soppy crap.

  City buildings gave way to red dust, which transitioned to ancient, weathered rock as they flew north. All too soon, clear skies gave way to stormy turbulence as clouds shrouded them.

  As if to deepen the gloom, the pilot announced their approach into Broome Airport.

  Flavia tightened her white-knuckled grip on the armrests as the jet bumped onto the tarmac before grinding to a halt. Hot, humid air gusted into the cabin, smelling of iron-tainted mud. Tim and the other passengers hurried out of the plane, but she took her time, dragging her bag from the locker and wheeling it slowly down the aisle. She was the last passenger off the plane, but standing at the top of the steps, she wished she'd stayed longer. The tropical air wrapped around her face like a hot plastic bag. How could anyone breathe in this humidity?

  "There's air conditioning in the terminal," the flight attendant said, pointing.

  Flavia clattered down the metal stairs to the tarmac, feeling the heat radiating through her shoes. She moved at a brisk trot, hoping the soles of her sandshoes wouldn't melt.

  There was indeed some form of air conditioning in the terminal building, but even that struggled to push back the humidity. Or perhaps it was the crush of people, both those who had just disembarked from the plane and the families and friends who had arrived to greet them while they waited impatiently for their luggage. The baggage carriers were still unloading the plane, and taking their time, too. Working hard in this heat couldn't be fun.

  Flavia wove through clumps of people, careful not to run over any toes with her bag, until she found herself outside again in a blazing sauna by herself. Bugger.

  "Miss?"

  She turned and met the gaze of an Asian man, who rose from his shady seat behind a potted palm tree. He definitely wasn't Jay.

  "Can I help you?"

  Flavia shook her head. "I'm supposed to wait for someone to pick me up."
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br />   "Then you should go back inside. That's where everyone meets, because it's cooler." He grinned.

  Jay wasn't inside. Flavia was certain of that. She hadn't seen a screaming mob surrounding a man signing autographs or playing air guitar or whatever else rock stars did to work a crowd into a frenzy. No dodgy-looking blokes in hats and sunglasses, either. Well, at least not lurking by themselves. Perhaps she should go inside and look again.

  "The other hotels make their drivers hold tacky signs with people's names scribbled on them. The Resort has…a different clientele. People who don't want their names up there for the general public to see." His knowing look made Flavia feel uncomfortable. How much did he know about her? The man was wearing knee socks with shorts and a button-through cotton shirt, like an overgrown schoolboy. Talk about creepy.

  "Romance Island Resort?" she asked, hoping he meant some other resort. Maybe one of the expensive ones at Cable Beach.

  "The very same." He eyed her. "You're my only passenger today. Is that all your luggage?"

  Flavia balked. "Yes, that's all my luggage. Look, I'm here to meet Mr Felix. I'm not stupid enough to get into a car with a man I don't know who might have plans to murder me and dump my body in the desert. Unless you can give me some ID to prove you're a driver for the resort, I'm not getting into any car with you."

  To Flavia's surprise, the man laughed. "I'm not a driver. I'm a helicopter pilot. And my baby is on the other side of that hangar." He pointed at a shed just inside the airport fence, then pulled out his wallet. "Here's my pilot's licence, if you don't believe me."

  Flavia peered at the card. "Sho-u….Matsu-moto?" she read slowly. "What's a Japanese pilot doing in Broome?"

  He laughed so hard his hands slapped his knees. "It's Shou. Like the shoe on your foot. You've never been to Broome before, have you? Japanese men built the pearling industry and most of the town here, before they were all locked up in World War II. Most of them never came back, but my grandfather's family did. I've visited relatives in Japan, but for generations of my family, like me, Broome is home. The pearls keep us here and I hope they always will."

  Slowly, Flavia started to walk toward the shed. "So you're a pilot or a pearler?"

  "Some women think I'm a right pearler, all right, but Mr Felix's girls have eyes for no one but him, so I'll just be your pilot today." He sounded sad.

  "Girls? Mr Felix has lots of girls?" Flavia blurted out, knowing his reputation but wanting it to be wrong. She'd just be another conquest for him. An unusual and expensive one, but that's all. Her heart sank, begging her on its knees not to go through with the deal with Jay.

  "I'm sure he has as many as he wants, but I've only flown two. Three if you count his sister, and four with you." He looked like he wanted to say more, but his lips closed firmly until a helicopter came into view. "There's my baby."

  He keyed in his access code on the gate and it grated open, allowing them to cross from carpark to airside. Flavia's suitcase bumped along behind her.

  "You can sit in the co-pilot's seat if you like," Shou said. "Just as long as you don't touch anything. Best view in the house."

  Flavia accepted his offer and climbed into the front of the bubble-like helicopter cabin. The overhead blades whirred into life so loud she could barely hear herself think. Perhaps that was a good thing. "Can you tell me about Jay's other girls?" she shouted.

  Shou shook his head, tapped his headset and held out another headset to her.

  She slipped it over her head and repeated her question into the tiny microphone.

  "No, I can't," he said, then paused to speak to the control tower. When he was done, he added, "Romance Island Resort is special. What happens at the resort, stays at the resort. It's what the guests expect of an exclusive place like that. There's no place like it."

  Flavia wasn't sure whether she felt elated or alarmed. On the one hand, if she slept with Jay, no one would ever know. On the other hand, if the man was dangerous, or not Jay at all, and she tried to back out of the deal, did that mean he could get away with hurting her? "What if something illegal happens there?"

  Shou's eyes darted from his instrument display to the sky above as he lifted the helicopter into the air and started to spiral slowly upward. "Then it's reported to the hotel manager, who liaises with the police. Nothing happens on the island without Ms Lane knowing about it. If you're thinking of doing anything illegal at the resort, I recommend you don't. She knows every police officer in town and she'll send me to pick them up. You don't want to cause trouble at Romance Island Resort."

  No, she didn't. Flavia felt a tiny bit safer. "What's the resort like?"

  Shou leaned back in his seat, suddenly relaxed. "Romance Island is one of the most beautiful islands I've ever seen. Incredible beaches, a lagoon where you can snorkel for hours, and the sunsets…if you can, try and find a nice spot on the beach to watch every sunset and dawn, too, if you're up early enough. There's no place like it in the world." He flew over the town, the beach and through the blanketing cloud cover to clear skies. Soon all Flavia could see was ocean, red rock and vegetation desperately clawing a life out between the two.

  Flavia watched it all slip past through her curved window, her thoughts seesawing between whether she should or she shouldn't.

  It depended on Jay. Or the man who might or might not be Jay. God, when did this all become so complicated? She should have just gone to a pub and gone home with some bloke for the night. Wham, bam, thank you…but no, she wouldn't have done that, either.

  Now, she might as well make the most of the opportunity. Whatever it held.

  "There's the island, coming up now." Shou pointed.

  Flavia peered at the blue heart – the lagoon Shou had mentioned – rimmed with red rock, white sand and a surprising amount of green. Buildings nestled among the trees, roofed in light green that made them blend in with their surroundings. As if the entire island was uninhabited. The only clearly visible man-made structure was a patch of paving, marked with a ringed H – the helipad.

  Shou circled the island, dipping lower as he approached the landing spot. Flavia watched as a figure flew out the door of a building and pelted down the path to the helipad. A woman, she decided, as the helicopter settled on the ground. A woman who didn't look happy at all. In fact, her expression rivalled the storm clouds over town.

  Shou didn't seem to notice. He grinned and waved cheerfully at her. "There's Ms Lane herself, come to greet you. You enjoy your stay, now."

  Flavia cracked open the door. Meeting the hotel manager was hardly a problem, when compared to what would happen later.

  Fourteen

  The sound of the approaching helicopter alerted Xan. She was halfway out the door before she realised she still had her coffee in her hand. She set it on the unoccupied reception desk and crossed the foyer to the door. The film crew were finally here.

  Yet when she reached the helipad, she couldn't see anyone but Shou with some girl in the co-pilot's seat. No sign of Simon or the other guy she'd spoken to during their video calls. Or any of the essential equipment they'd insisted on bringing and charging her for. Well, the hotel, but the hotel's budget was her responsibility and…what did it matter? Who was this girl and where were her cameramen?

  When the girl reached the open gate, Xan stuck out her hand. "Xan Lane. I'm the manager of Romance Island Resort."

  Xan gave the girl credit. She smiled and had a surprisingly firm handshake. "I'm here to see Mr Felix," she said.

  "Are you now?"

  "Yes," she said pleasantly. "If you could tell him I'm here, please."

  Xan almost admired her. "What name shall I give him?"

  A faint blush appeared across her cheeks. "He's expecting me."

  No guest stayed at her hotel without giving suitable identification. Not even Jay's guests. "Are you a mail-order bride?" Xan demanded.

  The girl's shock left her mouth hanging open. "No."

  "A groupie? A fan? An ex-staff member?" Xan pressed, w
atching the girl's eyebrows draw down in annoyance.

  "No. Not that it's any of your business, but I'm a travel agent. And I'm here as Mr Felix's guest, so unless you want me to warn my clients away from your hotel…" the girl trailed off ominously.

  "So Jay's banging travel agents now?" Xan was shocked to see the girl's face flame red, but she pressed her advantage. "Did he pick you up in town on his last trip?"

  "I've never met him before," the girl protested, then bit her lip.

  Not a mail-order bride. Not a groupie. What did Jay need a travel agent for? He lived in a damn resort and refused to leave. A girl who hadn't met him and blushed furiously at the mention of sex. No. He couldn't be that stupid. Not even Jay would bid on that girl's virginity auction, surely.

  "Follow me to Reception. I'll get you checked in and make sure you have access to the guest facilities," Xan said, turning on her heel to head back to the hotel. She heard the girl's footsteps and trundling wheels follow her. Xan slipped behind the desk as if she processed guests every day. "Right, name?" She poised her hands over the computer keyboard. "And I'll need to see some ID, plus your police clearance."

  The girl opened her mouth to argue.

  Hundreds of backpackers had tried and failed. Xan cut her off before she started. "Your details are kept confidential, but we need them for legal reasons. If you go swimming in the lagoon and don't come out, we need your details to file a missing persons report with the local police. Now, ID and police clearance, or you'll have to get back into that helicopter, because you can't stay here without correct identification."

  Reluctantly, the girl extracted her wallet and handed over her driver's licence. Further fossicking in her bag produced a document folder from which she pulled a crisp police clearance. "There."