style="font-size:15px;"> But she was almost free now. That was worth more than money. She’d gone into this with her eyes open, and didn’t regret it, but she couldn’t deny a big part of her was ready to be just Madison Reid, writer, not Tommy Shane’s fiancée.
And, though she wouldn’t admit it, getting to have sex again was a pretty darned big perk, too.
“So what’s your condition?” he asked.
“The condition is...I take the heat.”
“Huh?”
“I’m the cheater. I’m the bitch. And you break up with me.”
He sputtered. “No, you can’t do that.”
She put a hand up, cutting off his arguments. “Tommy Shane can’t be a cheating dog. I can. Nobody’ll give a damn.”
“You don’t know that,” he said. “The press can be nasty.”
“Why would they? They’ll say I’m an idiot for letting you get away and that’ll be the end of it.”
“What if it’s not?”
“Well, then, I’ll...take a vacation. You send me somewhere tropical and I’ll hide out until they forget all about me.”
“You should do that anyway. Find a nice, hunky beach bum to shack up with for a little while,” he said with an eyebrow wag.
“I’ll think about it. So we’re agreed?”
He frowned, clearly not liking the idea, but she wasn’t going to change her mind. Tommy would never get through a scandal unscathed, but she would. Who cared about Madison Reid? She could take whatever heat anybody wanted to dish out because it wouldn’t last for long.
And if it did? Well...there was always the somewhere-tropical-with-a-hunky-beach-bum idea.
2
“IT’S GOING TO BE one hell of a honeymoon.”
Although the driver of the cab looked confused, considering Leo Santori was sitting alone in the backseat, he didn’t reply. And it wasn’t just because this was Costa Rica and Leo didn’t speak Spanish. The driver spoke English, or something very much like it. No, he just seemed to be abiding by the code that said Americans on vacation in tropical paradises could be as strange as they wanted to be. It was all good. No problem.
“All good. No problem,” Leo muttered.
All good that he was honeymooning alone.
No problem that he’d been betrayed.
It’s really all good that my fiancée cheated on me six months ago so we canceled the wedding, which was supposed to have taken place yesterday. No problem that she kept the ring, the apartment, her yappy bichon frise—which really was no problem—and the new KitchenAid mixer, and I kept the nonrefundable honeymoon.
She’d also kept the best man. The one she’d cheated with.
No problem.
Still, it certainly was not a conversation he wanted to have with anyone. Especially not now that he was here in Central America, ready to embark on some to-hell-with-it adventures. Those would definitely include surfing and zip lining. Good drinks, beautiful beaches, exotic foods.
They also might include getting laid. If he happened to meet a woman who was interested in a rebound-sex-fest with a Chicago firefighter who had a slight chip on his shoulder and a honeymoon package created for two but starring only one.
“Here we are, señor,” said the driver.
The ride from the international airport in Liberia to this west coast paradise had been comfortable. The driver had pointed out various sights that Leo felt sure he’d explore over the next several days. No doubt about it, Costa Rica was every bit as beautiful—sunny, robin’s-egg-blue skies, vivid hills and jungles, perfect eighty-degree climate—as the brochures had said. An outstanding choice for a honeymoon. Even a solo one.
“Thanks, man,” he said.
The driver pulled out his suitcase and handed it off to a broadly smiling doorman who quickly swept it through the entrance of the hotel, which, as advertised, looked small, tasteful and upscale. Inside, Leo glanced around, noting that every wall seemed open to the outdoors. But it was still comfortable, a soft tropical breeze blowing through, whispering along the cool tile floors and setting the potted palms in gentle motion.
A bellhop engaged him in conversation in heavily accented English as they walked to the check-in desk. Leo only understood half of what he said, responding with smiles and nods.
The woman at the desk greeted him. “Welcome, Mr. Santori, we’re so very glad to have you with us.”
She smiled, obviously noting his surprise at being called by name. Then he thought about it and realized he might very well be the only person checking in today. He remembered from the research he’d done on this place that there were only twenty-four rooms on the whole property. Twenty-four bungalows each with a small, private pool and walled garden, just the thing for a romantic interlude between a new bride and groom.
Christ, what was he doing here?
The middle-aged woman, whose English was only slightly tinged with an accent, glanced past him and looked around the open lobby. “And where is Mrs. Santori?”
He grimaced. Obviously, despite his calls and his emails, word had not filtered down to the front desk that he would be traveling alone.
“Uh...”
“Oh, dear,” the woman said, reading something on the screen and biting her lip in consternation. She swallowed, visibly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Santori, I didn’t see the notation on your reservation.”
Okay, so somebody had paid attention when he’d changed the reservation to make it clear he was no longer traveling with a companion. It had just taken her a moment to see the note. He wondered what it said. Maybe: attention—pathetic sap was cheated on and didn’t get married.
He doubted it happened often, but he couldn’t be the first single-on-a-honeymoon vacationer they’d ever seen.
He didn’t ask her to turn the screen so he could read it. His imagination was good enough. “No problem.”
She smiled her appreciation. “How was your trip from the airport, sir?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“Wonderful.” Her fingers continued to click on her keyboard as she finished working on his check-in. “We have you in our Emerald Bungalow. It’s one of our nicest on the west side of the property. Sunsets over the Pacific will make you gasp.”
Yeah. He was sure he’d be doing a lot of gasping during this trip, just not for the reasons he’d expected. It sure wouldn’t be out of breathlessness from the ninety-seven ways he and Ashley would have been having sex.
He pushed her name out of his head. He’d done
