The Mighty Quinns: Ryan

While she’d been away shooting a movie, her entire wedding had been planned for her, and she’d passed the point of no return before she’d even had a chance to scream “Stop!” Breaking her engagement now would bring a riot of bad press at a time when her career and her reputation as an actress hung in the balance.

Serena had always wanted to be taken seriously as an actress. Yet most of her career to date had been built on popular and not critically acclaimed films. But her most recent film was different. It was her chance to show she was a capable actress.

She would no longer be the child of Will Sheridan and Cassandra Hightower-Fellowes, or the fiancée of Ben Thayer, or the beautiful face that graced the pages of fashion magazines. She wouldn’t be famous for being famous. Once this movie was released, she’d be Serena Hightower, a serious actress.

And then she’d finally be satisfied, finally be happy with her life. This had to be it. She’d tried everything else—meditation, yoga, Kabbalah, juicing—whatever trend had come along, Serena had tried it, hoping that she’d find the answers to her questions. One question, actually. With everything she’d achieved in life, everything she possessed, why couldn’t she be happy?

It was a simple question, yet one that seemed to plague her mind. There had to be something more to life than this. She had money. She had fame. She had every possession she could ever wish for. And if she went ahead with the wedding, she’d have a marriage.

Serena reached out and poured herself a glass of warm champagne. They’d opened the bottles hours ago as a celebration of the adventure they were about to have. But now, the taste of the flat champagne mirrored her feelings.

She pushed out of her seat and wandered to the front of the jet. Her four bridesmaids were sound asleep, exhausted from the excitement of the trip and too much champagne. Miles had his nose buried in his laptop. She glanced over at the passenger they’d taken aboard in Auckland.

Serena plopped down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

He turned away from the window and met her gaze. “I never sleep on planes.”

The urge to touch him again was overwhelming. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers through his thick dark hair. Why did she find him so fascinating? She’d known her share of handsome men. But Ryan Quinn wore his good looks like he wore his clothes, casually and comfortably. This was a man who never worried over wrinkles and Botox and the effect aging would have on his career. This was a real man.

“So, you’re the nanny Thom has sent along to watch over us,” Serena said, settling back into the leather seat and tucking her feet up under her.

“Nanny?”

“What do you prefer to be called?” she asked.

“Quinn,” he said. “You can call me Quinn.”

She fixed him with her most charming gaze. “What did he tell you, Quinn? Are you meant to keep us out of trouble?”

“I’m supposed to facilitate your travel and activities,” he said.

“If that’s your story,” she said with a shrug. “But you don’t have to pretend. I know why he sent you. He wants to make sure I’m safely delivered to the altar after Christmas.”

“Is that expected to be a problem?”

Serena sighed. “No. Of course not. I’m ready to get married.”

And yet even when she said the words out loud, Serena couldn’t make herself finish the thought—ready to get married to Ben. Was she really ready to marry him? Was she even in love with him? If she was, why was she trying to tease this handsome stranger into conversation when she ought to just go back to her seat and sleep?

“How did you get talked into taking this job?” she asked.

“I guided Thom on a climbing trip last year. He thought I was the right man for the job.”

She laughed softly. “I can imagine,” Serena murmured. Thom was a crafty sort, she mused. He could have sent some gruff, middle-aged security sort, but instead, he’d sent someone young and hot, the kind that her four single bridesmaids would find irresistible. “You’re going to be the hit of the party.”

Serena reached out and grabbed his glass from the table in front of him, draining the last bit of whiskey and water from the bottom. “I’ll get you another,” she said.

“I’m fine,” Ryan replied.

“I’m not,” Serena said.

She crawled out of her seat and made her way to the small galley near the cockpit door. After she filled two tumblers with ice, she grabbed the whiskey bottle and returned to her seat next to Ryan.

“So, why don’t you tell me all about yourself,” Serena said, pouring him a glass.

He pointed to the whiskey, filled to the brim. “Are you trying to get me pissed?”

“It’s a long flight. We have a lot of time to kill. And I’ll get bored if you don’t tell me some interesting stories. I’m just getting you relaxed.”

“I’m always relaxed,” he said.

“Lucky you,” she said. “I never am.”

He pushed the glass in her direction. “Why don’t you drink it, then?”

She’d already had too much champagne and was beginning to feel the effects of a hangover. But she picked up the glass and took a sip, then set it down. Serena’s gaze met his, and for a long moment, she couldn’t look away. Would she be so attracted to him if she loved Ben? Her heart said no, but there was so much riding on this wedding now, she had to be sure. Letting her impulsive nature take over, she leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss. Nor was it platonic. It existed in the strange space in between. She drew back, her face warming with embarrassment. Thankfully, Ryan didn’t seem to be offended by her brazen nature.

“Sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“I just...” she murmured. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be engaged?” he asked.

“Yes,” Serena said, frowning. “I am. Don’t you think it odd that I’d feel the urge to kiss you?”

“I can’t say. Do you usually kiss men you barely know?”

Serena nodded. “All the time. I mean, I do on-screen. That’s part of the job. But you’re not...” She sank back into the seat. She had her answer. She hadn’t just enjoyed the kiss, she was desperate to kiss him again. And she didn’t want to stop there. She imagined tearing off his shirt and touching his body, kissing him in places that only she could discover.

She reached for the whiskey and took a big gulp, wincing as the liquor burned a path down her throat.

“I always wondered how that worked,” Ryan said. “How do you kiss someone when it’s just for show?”

“Are you asking if I get turned on?”

He shrugged. “I would think that would be one of the dangers.”

“That’s why so many actors end up together after they’ve worked on a film. At some point, the kissing starts to feel real.”

“Is that what happened with you and...”

“Ben,” she said. “Ben Thayer.”

“Right. Ben.”

“I suppose that’s how it started. He was a really good kisser. And I got a bit swept away.” But she’d never felt quite so infatuated as she was feeling now, sitting next to Ryan Quinn and imagining the next kiss they might share.

“I don’t expect he’d be happy that you kissed me.”

“Hmm.” She smiled at him. “I suppose not. If you don’t tell, I won’t, either. We’ll just make it our little secret.” She needed time and space to be able to figure out what all this meant, and right now she had neither.

“Secrets can be very dangerous,” Ryan said.

Serena 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 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.

Ryan frowned, then turned and braced his hip against the wall. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

It was as if she could read his mind. He’d been feeling like that a lot lately—as if he was living his father’s life, or maybe his brothers’. He was tired of doing things just to please them. But while he’d like to hope he might open that surf school one day, Ryan could barely support himself on what he made. And despite his refusal to join them on the Everest expedition, he couldn’t abandon his brothers when they needed him.

“I don’t know how—or when—I lost control of my own life,” Serena continued. “I’m not sure I ever even had it. God, I’m tired of pretending.”

He heard the exhaustion in her voice and he wanted to go to her and comfort her in some way. But he knew better than to touch her again. “Isn’t that what an actor does for a living?” Ryan asked.

“When the camera is on. But I pretend to be someone I’m not even when the camera is off.” She swung her legs around and jumped off the wall onto the terrace. “This isn’t what you signed on for, is it? Listening to me moan about how horrible my life is.”

“Usually I’m worried about my clients tumbling down the side of a mountain or falling into a crevasse. I think I can manage listening to your problems.”

Serena nodded. “Yes, you’re the kind of man who can handle just about anything, aren’t you? You seem very...competent.” She walked over to him, then looked up to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry about the kiss. I was just—I don’t know. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Ryan knew he should be sorry, too. He hated people who didn’t take their promises seriously. But as his gaze drifted down to her lips he found that he wanted to kiss her again, to drag her into his arms and see where it all might lead. It didn’t even matter that she was supposed to walk down the aisle in less than a month.

Besides being engaged, she was also completely out of his league, Ryan mused. Guys like him didn’t date movie stars. “Hey, I can go home and tell everyone I kissed Serena Hightower. Not that I’ll tell anyone. I won’t. But, occasionally, I might think about it. The kiss, not telling people about it.”

“I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad,” she said. “I might do the same.” She drew a ragged breath and closed her eyes. “I need some sleep. I’ll talk to you later.” She took a step closer and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Quinn.”

“For what?”

“For...listening,” she said. “No one ever does.”

She walked back inside and Ryan watched her leave, admiring the gentle sway of her hips as she moved. He was left wondering about the things she’d confessed to him. Was she really that unhappy with her life? She was supposedly in love. She had a great career and plenty of money. Everyone knew her name and her face. She flew around the world on private jets and stayed in mansions on tropical islands.

“Yeah, she’s out of your league,” he muttered. “Off limits.”

Ryan groaned softly, then rubbed his hands over his tired eyes. This was unlike any other trip he’d worked. But the goals were the same. Keep the client happy. So if Serena wanted to talk, then he was there to listen. If she wanted to hike, he was there to guide her. And if she wanted to kiss him again...he’d have to draw the line there.

Kissing a client would be considered a breach in the company rules against fraternization—and his own. But thinking about kissing her wasn’t. He could go a long time rewinding what had happened on the plane and imagining what could have happened if they’d both been free to do more.

2

SERENA ROLLED OVER in bed and squinted at the clock. From the light filtering through the shutters, she could tell that it was closer to noon than to midnight. She’d slept for five hours without moving and she felt perfectly refreshed.

They’d spend a week on Fiji, and though this was technically her hen party, in truth, she didn’t feel much like celebrating. Instead, she wanted to distract herself with exercise and adventure. Perhaps that was the best way to calm what Thom called her “prewedding jitters.”

“Jitters,” she murmured. Serena held out her hand. She wasn’t jittery. She felt a sense of calm now that she’d put an entire ocean between herself and the wedding plans. She could almost pretend it wasn’t happening.

She smiled, remembering her conversation with Ryan Quinn. The idea of spending the next week with him was more appealing than spending it with her four bridesmaids. And just because she enjoyed his company, didn’t mean she was cheating.

Unfortunately, Ben didn’t have the same loyalty to her. He’d strayed twice in the past year, both times with married costars. The tabloids had printed the rumors but hadn’t been able to confirm them, and Serena had almost convinced herself that his behavior was indeed part of his “process.” In order to play a believable romantic scene on-screen, Ben claimed he needed to experience real romance with his costar.

She frowned. Why did that suddenly seem so disingenuous? Was it because her doubts about their pending marriage were growing deeper with every day that passed? Was it because she was searching for a way out and the clock was ticking down?

Cursing softly, Serena rolled out of bed and rummaged through her suitcase for a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She slipped into a pair of sport sandals, then grabbed a band and gathered her tousled hair into a ponytail. Her sunglasses were tucked in her purse, and she pulled them out and put them on top of head.

The housekeeper, Juni, was in the kitchen and offered Serena some lunch when she walked through. Serena politely declined, instead grabbing a banana and a bottle of water. “Have you seen Ryan?”

“He said he was going to take a walk on the beach,” Juni said. “The other ladies are at the pool, enjoying mimosas. And Mr. Miles is in the office on the phone.”

She wandered out onto the rear terrace and headed to the pool. Her bridesmaids were dressed in colorful bikinis and sprawled on cushioned chaises. “Let the adventure begin,” Serena called.

They all groaned. “Have a drink,” Arabella insisted, her glass dangling from her fingers. “It’ll help with the hangover and the jet lag. And your infernal enthusiasm.”

Serena settled onto a chair and turned her face up to the sun, but before long, she sighed impatiently. “We can’t spend the entire week lying about like this. It’s a crashing bore.”

Caroline sat up and glanced around. “We could go shopping. I’m up for that.”

“We can shop at home. Don’t you want to explore the island? We’re in Fiji. There are jungles and volcanoes and—well, I don’t know what else. I want to see something amazing.”

“Do they have a Tiffany’s here? We could go look at diamonds,” Cecily said. “They’re amazing.”

“Have a drink, Serena,” Lizzy said. “Relax”

A long silence descended over the group. Maybe they were right. Maybe she should just relax for a day and let everyone decompress from the flight. Then they’d all want to do something tomorrow.

“Who is that?” Lizzy asked, tugging her sunglasses down and staring toward the beach. “Is that our pool boy? Oh, my, I call dibs. That man is going to be in my bed tonight.”

“Then I get him tomorrow night,” Arabella said.

Serena sat up and gazed toward the beach, then smiled. “That’s not the pool boy, that’s Quinn.” All four girls turned and looked at her for further explanation. “Ryan Quinn? He was on the plane with us last night. He helped you with your bags?”

“He’s the butler?” Lizzy asked.

“He’s the adventure guide,” Serena said. She waved to him as he approached, taking a moment to admire the sight. He was dressed in board shorts and nothing more. His tanned chest was muscled, his shoulders wide. He looked impossibly fit but not the fit that came from hours with a trainer. His skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat, and it looked as if he’d been running on the beach.

“Bloody hell, Serena, you’re drooling.”