The Mighty Quinns: Ryan. Kate Hoffmann
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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,