Exotic Nights

She frowned. So true. And half the time she didn’t get the sidekick part either. She got the walk-on-here, quick-exit-there parts. The no-name ones that never earned any money, fame or even notoriety.

She figured it was because she hadn’t done the posh drama academy thing. Her father had put his foot down. She wasn’t to waste her brain on that piffle—a hobby sure, but never a career. So she’d been packed off to university—like all her siblings. Only instead of brain-addling accountancy or law, she’d read English. And, to her father’s horror, film studies. After a while he’d ‘supposed she might go into teaching’. He’d supposed wrong. She’d done evening classes in acting at the local high school. Read every method book in the library. Watched the classic films a million kazillion times. Only at all those agencies and casting calls it was almost always the same talent turning up and she couldn’t help but be psyched out by the pros, by the natural talents who’d been onstage from the age of three and who had all the confidence and self-belief in the world.

Bella thought she had self-belief. But it fought a hard battle against the disbelief of her family. ‘When are you going to settle into a real job?’ they constantly asked. ‘This drama thing is just a hobby. You don’t want to be standing on your feet making coffee, or blowing up balloons for spoilt toddlers for the rest of your days …’ And on and on and on.

‘Well, who wants the guy anyway?’ she asked grumpily. ‘I don’t want the saccharine love story. Give me adventure and snappy repartee any day.’

‘Really?’ he asked in total disbelief. ‘You sure you don’t want the big, fluffy princess part?’

‘No, Prince Charming is boring.’ And Prince Charming, the guy her family had adored, wouldn’t let her be herself.

He leaned forward, took her chin in his hand and turned her to face him. ‘I don’t believe you’re always this cynical.’

The comment struck another little stab into her. It twisted a little sharper when she saw he was totally serious.

‘No,’ she admitted honestly. ‘Only when it’s my birthday and no one has remembered and I’m stuck in wedding-of-the-century hell.’

‘All weddings are hell.’ His fingers left her face but his focus didn’t.

Well, this one sure was. ‘Here was me thinking it was going to be a barefoot-on-the-beach number with hardly anyone in attendance, but it’s massive—ninety-nine per cent of the resort is booked out with all the guests!’

‘Hmm.’ He was silent a moment. Then he flicked her a sideways glance. ‘How lucky for you that I’m in that remaining one per cent.’

Wordless, she stared at him, taking a second to believe the lazy arrogance in the comment he’d so dryly delivered. Then she saw the teasing, over-the-top wink.

Her face broke and the amusement burst forth.

‘Finally!’ He spoke above her giggles. ‘She laughs. And when she laughs …’

The laughter passed between them, light and fresh, low and sweet. And her mood totally lifted.

‘I am so sorry,’ she apologised, shaking her head.

‘That’s OK. You’re clearly having a trying day.’

‘Something like that.’ The thought of tomorrow hadn’t made it any easier and she’d felt guilty for feeling so me-me-me that it had all compounded into a serious case of the grumps.

‘Shall we start over?’ His eyes were twinkling again and this time she didn’t try to stop her answering smile.

‘Please, that would be good.’ And it would be good. Because it was quite clear that under his super-flirt exterior there was actually a nice guy. Not to mention, damn attractive.

‘I’m Owen Hughes. Disease-free, single and straight.’

Owen. A player to be sure—but one that she knew would be a lot of fun.

‘I’m Bella Cotton. Also disease-free, single and straight.’

‘Bella,’ he repeated, but didn’t make the obvious ‘beautiful’ translation. He didn’t need to—simply the way he said it made her feel its meaning. Then he made her smile some more. ‘Any chance you’re in need of a laugh?’

She nodded. ‘Desperately. Light relief is what I need.’

‘I can do that.’ He grinned again and she found herself feeling happier than she had all day—all week even. He leaned towards her. ‘Look, I’ve got an empty pit instead of a stomach right now. Have dinner with me—unless you’ve got some full-on rehearsal dinner to go to or something?’

She shook her head. ‘Amazingly that’s not the plan. I think some of the younger guests are just supposed to meet up later for drinks. The olds are doing their own thing.’

‘Maybe they’ve organised a surprise birthday party for you.’

‘As nice as that idea sounds—’ and it did sound really nice ‘—they haven’t. You can trust me on that.’