The Wedding Fling. Meg Maguire

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СКАЧАТЬ earlier flight with room for me on it.”

      He held up two sets of crossed fingers. “Enjoy your getaway.”

      With a wave, Leigh said goodbye to the last familiar face she’d see for two weeks. She said goodbye to L.A., to the girl she no longer recognized as herself, and strode through the airport’s sliding doors and into the unknown.

      THE FLIGHT SHE CAUGHT to New York was insanely overpriced, yet well worth it to feel L.A. dropping away behind her. If any of Leigh’s first-class neighbors recognized her, they were kind enough not to let on. It was the calmest six hours she’d passed in weeks, nothing but blue sky and white clouds, totally unlike the storm swirling in her head.

      She’d failed to change her second flight, a smaller carrier that had no planes leaving before the one she’d already booked, the following morning. The idea of being alone in another hotel room with only her thoughts for company scared her, so she napped fitfully through the night in the airport.

      She arrived in Bridgetown at lunchtime, though, sadly, her luggage did not. No clothes, no cell charger, no toiletries. Abandoned by her own belongings.

      With a mighty sigh, she headed for the airport’s exit. As the doors slid open, the warm, scented air of the island enveloped her, the sun caressing her travel-weary body. By the cab stand, a group of three smiling men played steel drums. Just an extra touch to realize tourists’ stereotypical expectations, but it worked. Leigh’s panic faded with the song’s cheerful notes.

      She’d be okay. There were plenty of clothes to be purchased here in Barbados, and her sleeping cell phone had enough juice to make a handful of calls.

      Speaking of calls. She dug the device from her purse and turned it on with held breath. Alerts for voice and text messages multiplied as the phone roused. Though tempted to view Dan’s and find out if he’d caught on, she ignored them all, tapping out a text for her mom. I’m safe. Won’t be in touch for a while. Don’t worry, and please don’t follow. Sorry for the stress. See you in a couple of weeks. Leigh. As soon as the message was sent, she switched off her phone for good.

      Leigh had a few hours before her final flight, and she spent it wandering the shopping district, buying a knock-off designer suitcase to fill with new clothes, then ate a lunch of fried plantains from a street vendor. It was easy to stay distracted here, amid all the colors and smells and sounds. And how lovely it felt, being any old visitor to these cheerful strangers.

      At two-thirty a taxi dropped her off outside the city, at an airport on the coast—a tiny terminal with a large antenna, no runway. The roadside billboard proclaimed it Bajan Fantasy Airlines. A long dock led out into the glittering water, where a seaplane—a Cessna on water skis—bobbed lazily in the waves. As far as she knew, this was the only way to get to Harrier Key. She’d picked the resort island for its seclusion, booking one of only four private villas.

      She walked through the terminal’s open door and into what reminded her of a bus depot. A dark-skinned woman in a salmon-pink dress stood behind a long counter, and a single passenger lounged in the waiting area, reading a newspaper. Leigh gathered her printed ticket and ID.

      The woman greeted her with the gigantic Barbadian smile Leigh had gotten very used to while shopping. “Miss Bailey?”

      Anonymity gone, Leigh fell back to earth with a thump. “Yes. That’s me.”

      “I knew it! You know how I knew that?” the woman asked brightly, tapping on a keyboard.

      “Not the tabloids, I hope.”

      She gave her a funny look. “Tabloids? Dear me, no. I know ‘cause you the only woman flyin’ with us this afternoon.”

      “Oh. Right.”

      More tapping. “And you’re all checked in. How about Mr. Cosenza?”

      She flinched. “He won’t be coming.”

      “Oh dear.”

      “Yes, change of plans.”

      “I’m afraid the tickets are non-refundable.”

      “That’s fine. Sorry if it’s any extra trouble for you.”

      “Not at all. You got twenty minutes before you take off. Help yourself to coffee or tea.” She nodded to a counter with carafes and a jumble of mismatched cups.

      “Thanks.”

      Leigh filled a rainbow mug and took a seat across from the other passenger. He wore jeans, and a linen shirt with the top few buttons ignored, his tan and the state of his overgrown brown hair telling her his vacation had been going on for some time. He seemed like a man with no place to go, in no rush to get there.

      He caught her staring. His eyes were as blue as the water beyond the windows, and Leigh didn’t look away quickly enough to appear polite, so she smiled instead and gave a tiny wave. He smiled in response, then turned back to his paper. Leigh tried to keep her gaze on the ocean, though she stole a glance at her fellow traveler every few seconds.

      Something about his ease attracted her. Leigh had been surrounded by L.A. people for so long—a species whose males preened as diligently as its females—that this man’s lack of styling struck her as refreshingly exotic. He was also nothing like Dan, which didn’t hurt. Taller, she suspected, generally bigger, more fair, with those bluest of blue eyes.

      For the first time in what felt like forever, Leigh let herself imagine how it might feel to kiss a man who wasn’t Dan. What would he taste like? What would his skin smell like? How would his stubble feel, after she’d spent two years with a studious shaver? The fact that she could wonder such things had her breathing easier. She was hurt, not ruined.

      The stranger folded his paper and called to the woman behind the desk. “Just the one, Jackie?”

      “Just the one.”

      “Right.” He turned to Leigh. “You ready to go?”

      She blinked. “Go, like, take off?”

      “Unless you feel like swimming.”

      “No, I’m ready.” She drained her cup and rose to place it on the coffee counter. She looked to the man as she picked up her suitcase. “You do this a lot? Do you work on one of the islands?”

      Another smile, one that gave him a dimple. “I do.”

      Jackie broke in. “He’s your pilot, dear.”

      “Oooh.” Leigh offered a dopey grin. “Sorry. I thought you were a passenger.”

      “Only if you feel like doing the flying. In which case I’ll happily take a nap.”

      She laughed. “No, no, you do the flying.”

      “Okay then.” He gave Jackie a salute and headed for the rear door, Leigh following him into the sunshine.

      “You’re American,” she said.

      “Guilty.”

      “Where are you from?”

      “In some former life I recall СКАЧАТЬ