took another sip of the whiskey, then handed him the glass. “Tell me one of your secrets,” she said. “As an actor, I’ve become quite keen at observation. And I believe you’re the kind of man who keeps his secrets buried very deep.”
“What you see is what you get,” Ryan said with a shrug. He gave her a sideways glance, then shook his head. “I’m not here for your amusement.”
“Of course not,” she replied.
“And I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the glass, then got to her feet. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun this week. If I were you, Quinn, I’d get some sleep. I intend to keep you very busy.”
Serena wandered back to her seat. Miles gave her a suspicious look as she passed him, and she rolled her eyes. “I was just being friendly.”
But when she’d settled into her own spot, she closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t seem to put the memories of her kiss with Ryan Quinn out of her mind. Even now, her heart was still beating a bit faster than normal, and her breathing had grown shallow and short.
Her gaze dropped to the six-carat diamond ring that sparkled on her finger. She was due to walk down the aisle in just a few weeks. Everything was planned. Two hundred and fifty guests had all received their invitations. And yet she wasn’t thinking about the man waiting for her at home in Los Angeles. Instead, she was obsessing over the man sitting just a few feet away.
It was proof that she didn’t love Ben. But then, she’d never really believed in true love, anyway, so what had changed? When it came down to it, was one kiss reason enough to destroy her chance at happiness? “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself. Ryan was a distraction. Ben was the man she intended to marry.
* * *
A BRIGHTLY PAINTED VAN and a Peugeot sedan were waiting for them when the Learjet landed in Nadi, on the island of Viti Levu. They taxied to stop near a well-lit hangar, and Miles and Ryan helped the ladies gather their luggage and fill out their customs and immigration forms for the waiting official. When they were cleared, the girls stumbled into the van, still half-asleep.
“Please tell me we’re finally here,” one of the women cried.
“You’re here,” Ryan said.
He glanced at Serena, and she smiled warmly before disappearing into the van.
Miles and Ryan decided to ride in the sedan, chauffeured by a smiling Fijian. He held out his hand as they approached. “I am Arthur Cawaru. I manage the house at Bellavista.”
Ryan shook his hand. “I’m Ryan Quinn. Thom said you’d be able to help me out with the arrangements.”
“I am at your service, Mr. Quinn.”
Miles introduced himself to Arthur and they got into the rear seat of the car. Though the sun wasn’t up yet, the eastern sky had begun to change from black to a deep blue, and the stars had started to fade. They drove on narrow, winding roads that hugged the coast, the South Pacific on one side and lush, tropical vegetation on the other.
Ryan chuckled softly. “This is bloody brilliant.”
“Brilliant?”
“Look at us. Someone is paying us to hang out in this tropical paradise with five beautiful women. It’s like we won the lottery.”
“I wouldn’t jump the gun on that,” Miles said.
Ryan glanced over at him. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know Serena. She can be...a handful. She’s gorgeous and talented. But she’s also mercurial and stubborn. And moody and demanding. One moment she seems smarter than any woman you’ve ever met, and then she’ll do something that defies common sense, and you wonder how she can be so clueless. If she weren’t so damn beautiful and good at what she does, she wouldn’t get work.”
“She can’t be that bad,” Ryan said.
“She’s got lots of baggage,” Miles murmured. “Just don’t get caught up in the fantasy. She’s nothing like she is on the screen.”
“I’ve never seen her movies.”
Miles stared at him in disbelief. “Never?”
“Was that part of the job?”
“No. Maybe it’s for the best. You won’t be captivated by her.”
Ryan chuckled softly. It was too late for that, he mused. “Hey, I’m always a professional, and I made a promise to Mr. Perry. No worries there.”
“She’s a professional, too,” Miles said. “She’s an actress and a good one. So take everything she says with a grain of salt.”
The rest of the ride passed in silence. Ryan found it difficult to reconcile the woman Miles was talking about with the woman he’d met on the plane. He’d found Serena sweet and charming and vulnerable. And yet to hear Miles tell it, Serena Hightower was trouble. For Miles, anything that interfered with the box office profits of Thom Perry’s latest movie would be cause for concern. To both Miles and Thom, Serena was a commodity, an investment that would pay off only if she behaved to their standards.
The sedan turned off the main road, and after a few minutes, they drove through a tall gate. A moment later, a sprawling mansion appeared out of the dark, the white exterior lit by floodlights. “Crikey,” Ryan murmured. “This is a bit more posh than the tents I usually sleep in.”
“We thought it might be better if Ms. Hightower and her party stayed at a private villa instead of a resort,” Miles explained. “That way we can control the environment.”
“What do you expect they’ll be doing? Pillaging the villages? Stealing cars and raping the menfolk?”
“It’s always best to expect the worst,” Miles said.
The vehicles pulled around the large circular drive and stopped at the grand entrance to the house. Ryan hopped out and Miles followed him. A Fijian woman appeared at the door with a tray of drinks, each decorated with a fresh flower.
“Welcome to Bellavista,” Arthur said in his booming voice. “This is my wife, Juni. House cook. She will bring you anything you would like to eat.”
Juni handed them each a glass. “Wonderful,” Miles muttered. “More alcohol.”
“Fruit juice,” Juni whispered, “with ginseng. Good for jet lag.”
The girls walked into the house, one by one, sipping at their drinks. When they were all inside, Ryan followed. He introduced himself to Juni, then trailed after Miles, slowly turning as he took in the luxurious interior. “Nice crib,” he murmured to himself.
“Thom bought it five years ago,” Miles commented.
“Thom owns this?”
“Yeah. He’s got a château in France, a condo in New York, a beach house in L.A., a mansion in Beverly Hills and a place in Aspen. And this. Strange thing is, he
