glanced behind her to see what he meant. Heading towards the car was a red-faced Alan, followed closely by her sister, resplendent in her bridesmaid’s dress, her sweet face screwed up in anguish. The wedding photographer followed—snapping gleefully away at the runaway bride. Nikki’s heart started to race and she choked on her breath. For the first time, she realised the enormity of what she had done. How it would affect so many people other than herself. She hadn’t even told her beloved sister.
But she’d make it up to them later. Far better to offend a few people than to chain herself in marriage to the wrong man. ‘Step on it,’ she urged Max.
It wasn’t long before they’d reached her older style waterfront apartment in Double Bay. She’d bought it with her first big profits from her business.
Max pulled into the driveway. ‘Have you got keys?’
‘No need. The entry is security coded.’
She expected him to bundle her out into the courtyard and speed off. Instead, he got out of the car to come around and open the passenger door for her. She realised Alan had never done that. Not once. Why had she let herself be so swept off her feet by him?
‘Ouch!’ The gravelled courtyard was not kind to stockinged feet. She started to pick her way across it, wincing as she went.
‘Allow me,’ Max said. Before she could protest she was swept up into his arms again as he carried her across the courtyard to the front door.
‘This is very chivalrous of you,’ she said, flushing.
‘Nothing is chivalrous about the best man running off with the bride,’ he said with a wry twist to his mouth that didn’t quite pass as a smile.
‘But the bride is very grateful,’ she said. ‘More grateful than she can say.’
He continued to hold her as she coded in her password. Then kicked the door open and carried her inside. It was as if he were carrying her over the threshold like a real bride on her wedding night. The thought was way too disconcerting. She struggled to be put down. He immediately set her back on her feet. She fussed with her dress to cover her confusion.
‘What now for you?’ he asked.
‘I intend to barricade myself in my apartment.’
‘And then?’
‘I have a plan.’ She didn’t really. The plan had been to spend the night with her new husband—she shuddered at even the thought of it—in a luxury city hotel then next day set off to a honeymoon in an even more expensive hotel in Dubai. Alan’s choice. ‘But I’m not going to tell you about it. Then you can truthfully tell people you don’t know where I am.’
‘You mean Alan?’
She nodded. ‘I really and truly don’t want him to find me. And I don’t want to make things more awkward for you than I already have.’
‘I get that,’ he said.
‘Just one more thing.’ She tugged the diamond engagement ring—that she had worn with such optimism for the future—off her finger. ‘Can you give this to him, please? I have no further use for it.’
‘Like a best man’s duty in reverse.’
He took the ring from her, his warm fingers brushing against hers as he did so. She snatched her hand back, not welcoming the tingle of awareness that shot through her. She’d been about to wed another man, for heaven’s sake. How could she feel such a flutter of attraction to his best man? Especially a guy who had cheated on his tennis-player girlfriend—a woman as famous as he was—and been involved in a highly publicised paternity dispute.
An awkward silence fell between them. She shifted from one stockinged foot to another, not wanting to meet his gaze. ‘Thank you for helping me,’ she said finally. ‘It was very good of you.’
‘Good doesn’t come into it. I’m not proud of myself for helping you run away. I went against my principles. I’m not convinced it was the right thing for you to do either. I seriously hope you don’t regret it.’
The full impact of what she’d done might not hit her until Max left her alone in her apartment, surrounded by the disarray of her wedding preparations and honeymoon packing. But he didn’t need to sound self-righteous about it. It wasn’t for Max Conway to sit in judgement against her. Grateful though she was for his help.
Anger flooded through her. ‘There’s one more thing you don’t know about your friend Alan. After his twins, he had a vasectomy so he couldn’t have more children. The man who used to toss names for our future kids around with me. Spent hours discussing what colour eyes they might have. Was he ever going to tell me he was shooting blanks? Or let me go through fertility treatment when I didn’t fall pregnant?’
‘I have no words,’ Max said, tight-lipped. No criticism of his friend, of course. Not when the famous tennis player himself had cheated and lied.
‘I’ll never regret walking out on that despicable excuse for a man. But letting my family and friends down? Not doing due diligence on the man before I agreed to marry him? I suspect I’ll always regret my lapse in judgement. I wouldn’t have done a minor business deal without all the facts, yet I was prepared to commit my life to a person I didn’t really know. I wanted that life so much...the husband and kids.’
‘I can only wish you good luck in whatever you end up doing,’ he said. Looking serious suited him and it struck her again how good-looking he was. No wonder the public was so fascinated by him.
‘What I don’t regret is putting my trust in you to help me,’ she said. Max might be pond scum in his personal life and be friend to a cheating, lying fraud. But he had come through for her. That was all that counted.
On impulse she leaned up and kissed him on his smooth, tanned cheek. She was stunned by the sensation that shot through her at the contact, brief as it was. He didn’t kiss her back. Why would he? She’d just run out on his friend. ‘I won’t say I’ll return the favour for you some day because it’s not the kind of favour you want to call on, is it?’
He half smiled at that and turned to leave. She watched him as he strode back to his car, broad-shouldered and athletic. Unless she glimpsed him on television, slamming a tennis ball at his opponent in some top-level tournament, she would never see Max Conway again.
Six months later
MAX HADN’T COME to the small Indonesian island of Nusa Lembongan for fun. On previous visits to nearby Bali he had stayed with friends in luxurious private villas the size of mansions, with all their needs and whims catered to by a team of attendants devoted purely to their comfort. Near the beach in fashionable Seminyak. Overlooking the sea on a cliff top in exclusive Uluwatu. High in the treetops of Ubud.
Not this time.
The last six months had been hell. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong in both his professional and personal life. He had come to this small island, off the east coast of the main island of Bali, on his own. Not to party. But to make plans to reinvent himself.
Yesterday
