The Mighty Quinns: Ryan

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 hardly has time to vacation. I don’t think he’s been here in two or three years. But it’s a handy place to stash the occasional detoxing actor or actress. Very private. Virtually no media presence on the island.”

“Mr. Quinn, your room is this way,” Arthur said. “Mr. DuMont, please follow Juni. You’re in the other wing.”

Arthur reached for Ryan’s bag, but he shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

“This way.”

His room was airy and spacious, the windows covered with large floor-to-ceiling shutters. Ryan tossed his gear on the bed, then threw open the shutters and walked out onto a wide terrace that overlooked the ocean. It was still dark, but the sound of the surf filled the air.

“I love the way it smells here. What is that? I can’t place the scent.”

Ryan turned to the right and found Serena sitting on the stone wall nearby, staring out at the eastern horizon. She had the room right next to his.

“Frangipani, I think,” Ryan replied. “They’re most fragrant at night. They don’t have nectar, but they use their scent to trick moths into pollinating them. The poor moth does all the work for no reward.”

“Well, I’m impressed.”

“My mother has been trying to grow frangipani for years without any success.” He decided a change of subject was in order. “I figured you’d crawl right into bed. It’s been a long trip.”

She smiled. “No. I can sleep later. I wanted to watch the sunrise.” She pointed out at the water. “Look. It’s about to happen.”

A tiny sliver of red light appeared over the water and they both stared at it. Though they were standing a fair distance away from each other, Ryan felt oddly close to her, as if they’d discovered a connection between them.

As the sun crept higher, it painted the clouds in a blaze of purple and orange. Ryan had seen a lot of sunrises in a lot of beautiful places, but this one was different. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if his senses had suddenly cleared and his mind had sharpened. He should have been exhausted, but instead, he was energized.

“Do you ever wonder if you’re living someone else’s life?” she asked.