The Wedding Fling by Meg Maguire Page B

seemed sincere.
    Leigh remembered that voice in the silence and dark of the steam room, the things he’d told her and the closeness she’d felt. She ached to ask him to hang out again sometime, invite him to continue the small bond they’d found in the dark, and the sexual connection that had sparked between them beside the lapping waves, under the stars. But she knew she’d asked too much of Will already. It was his risk to take. He’d be blind not to know she felt something, and if he felt the same, it was his turn to make it known.
    “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime?” It was a question, not a statement, the invitation implicit. She held her breath, waiting for his reply.
    All he did was nod and say, “Guess I’ll see you whenever you decide to visit the mainland.”
    Disappointment cooled her body like a dunk in ice water. “Guess so.”
    And she watched him stroll away, taking a little piece of her heart with him.
    * * *
    W ALKING AWAY FROM L EIGH and her invitation was about as easy as tossing oneself bodily into a volcano.
    Will couldn’t give a damn about the minor risk to his own professional reputation if they hung out again. Other workers had crossed lines with visitors in the years he’d been employed by the resort, and few had been ratted out, even fewer reprimanded—only the ones who’d been complained about by regretful guests in the wake of their impulsive choices. He doubted Leigh would do such a thing to him. So no, it wasn’t job security he was worried about. But after what he’d nearly done to her, selling information to the tabloid, he knew in his heart he didn’t deserve what she was offering him, be it sex or romance or mere companionship.
    Though he wanted it, badly.
    Thank goodness they’d been in the lobby when the invitation had come up. There he’d stood a chance of denying her. Had they been alone when she’d aimed that heated glance his way... He swallowed, his body warming at the mere thought. He just had to pray they could avoid one another until it was time for her to fly to L.A., out of his life and back to the world she’d surely come to miss once the novelty of paradise wore off.
    He kept himself busy with minor repairs to people’s homes, all the time tugged by the memory of what had happened on the short stretch of beach between where he stood and where Leigh would be, once her villa was habitable again. She’d be so close....
    He worked until he was too tired to be tempted, relieved that flights would resume the following day and keep him far away from her.
    But the very next afternoon, Will’s resolve was tested. As The Passport splashed down beside Harrier Key for the final time that day—with Leigh’s recovered luggage on board and in need of delivery—he promised himself he’d be good. He’d be professional. He’d be courteous.
    And he’d be praying to God the entire time that he wouldn’t give in and do anything stupid.
    * * *
    L EIGH OPENED HER DOOR just as the sun was sinking, expecting last-minute maintenance people. They’d been in and out all day, finishing repairs to her solarium window and roof. She was shocked to find Will there instead. Shocked, hopeful, nervous, thrilled...
    “I come bearing gifts,” he announced, holding up the suitcase that had gone missing back in New York.
    “Oh, wow.” She stared uncertainly at the familiar bag. Inside were her clothes, physical reminders of her life back home. Her favorite shampoo and all the memories its fragrance would trigger, underwear bought with Dan in mind. Her phone charger would ruin her lame excuse for not checking her messages and returning frantic calls. No more need to conserve her battery. Though the bandages had to be ripped off sooner or later.
    Will set the case on the stoop. “Guess they got your window all patched up.”
    “They did. Everything okay back in the cove?”
    “Yup. Nothing we couldn’t tackle with an afternoon’s effort, thank goodness.”
    She studied him