Picture Perfect (The Wilsons) Read online

  Picture Perfect

  By

  Alicia Roberts

  Copyright 2012 by Alicia Roberts

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Adult Reading Material

  Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content. It is intended only for those aged 18 and above.

  ***

  Picture Perfect

  ***

  Lea Wilson needed a nice, relaxing break. What she didn't need was to run into an annoying, rugged photojournalist - one who lived in her hotel and frequented her fantasies.

  There’s no way she’ll ever be with Adam Brenner. He’s unpredictable and risks his life every day – what she needs is a dependable man who wants to settle down. Too bad the chemistry between them is so hot…

  Chapter One"You have got to be kidding."

  Adam Brenner stared at his editor in disbelief. Unfortunately, Larry didn't look like he was kidding - he looked dead serious.

  "A vacation?" Adam repeated after Larry. "Because of what just happened? You know it was nothing, it was - "

  "Not the first such accident," Larry finished drily. "What with the time you got stabbed in Outer Eastern Mongolia - "

  "Five guys beating up a kid for no reason? You think I'll just stand there and…"

  "Then in Iraq, Afghanistan, Kashmir, Somalia…" Larry had started checking off each accident on his fingers and Adam winced.

  "Come on, Larry, you know each time I had no choice…"

  "And now finally this incident in Libya."

  Adam tried to speak nonchalantly. "I was trying to escape the gunfire."

  "Bullshit. The hospital report's got everything I need to know." Larry tossed an envelope containing x-rays and doctors' reports on his table. "The bullet hit your tibia bone from the front, which means you were running towards the gunfire, not away from it."

  Adam sighed, he'd never been a good liar. And as a veteran war journalist, Larry wasn't a guy who'd accept your bluffs. Might as well come clean. "She was four years old and caught in-between Gaddafi's forces and the rebels. If I didn't run in to grab her…"

  The memory of that day rose up before his eyes, as real as if he was still there - the heat of the desert, the smell of fighting, the screams and gunshots, and above all, the toddler's terrified eyes. If he hadn't grabbed her - well, he certainly wouldn't have been able to look himself in the mirror again. He gulped and cleared his throat quickly. "You know you would've done the same thing if you were there."

  But Larry didn't look sympathetic. His eyes were cold and he leaned back in his chair. "I pay you to report the news, Adam. Not create it."

  Adam smiled and rolled his eyes. "And who's going to report the news if I'm not there? You know the other guys won't ever get your shots rights."

  "But they get back to me alive and intact. Unlike you."

  He stared at Adam pointedly and a ripple of worry worked its way up Adam's spine. Was he really being suspended after all that hard work, all those amazing photos?

  "I'll be more careful next time."

  "Not with that limp of yours, you won't."

  Adam laughed. So that was the problem! "The limp was just practice," he said lightly, "I was gonna use it on the ladies."

  He got up and moved around the room. "I can walk just fine, see?"

  The office was thankfully small, so he only had space to take a few steps and show off his gait.

  Larry shook his head. "You need at least a month off to let the wound heal. I don't want you having to limp away from rebels next time - they might not miss."

  Adam started to protest but Larry raised a hand to stop him. "It's already arranged. There's a free ticket to Saint Martin's in this envelope, and the address of the hotel where you've got a month's free stay. Pierce was supposed to stay there and cover Kate's secret second honeymoon, but that got cancelled."

  Pierce covered the celebrity gossip, so Kate must be the media's latest darling. Adam didn't care either way - all he wanted was to get back on the field.

  "I'm fine and you know it. You know photo quality'll go down if I'm not doing my job and sales will go down. I'm going back on field."

  "You're doing no such thing. Now, you can take those free tickets and get better in Saint Martin's or if you really want to work, you can cover the New York social events."

  Adam made a face. Larry knew his weak spot - he hated the superficial. He'd much rather be trapped in a small room with wild tigers than be at a high-falutin' snooty party.

  "How 'bout I just stay here, visit my old pals and stuff?"

  Larry's expression softened a bit. "You know, most guys would jump at the free tickets. And I think you need a break - something fun to take your mind off all that stuff. Sun and surf can clear your mind, and you'll probably take better photos after the break."

  Larry sure knew how to convince a guy, Adam had to give him that. He rolled his eyes and let out a melodramatic sigh as he stood up and grabbed the envelope with the free ticket in it. "Ok, mom. I'll see you in a month."

  He strode out of the room purposefully and Larry called out after him - "You'll need a doctor's clearance before I can let you board a plane again."

  Sure, sure, whatever. Adam shook his head and once he was out of Larry's sight he dropped the act. It had been killing him to put pressure on his wounded leg, and he limped his way over to the elevator.

  ***

  "Mmmfft …" Amelia Wilson took another bite out of the blueberry Danish. "You've really outdone yourself. No wonder your cafe's doing so well!"

  Melissa Drake smiled indulgently as her cousin finished her Danish and moved onto a chocolate éclair. "That's sweet of you to say, Lea."

  "No, no, I mean it, these are amazing…"

  Lea wanted to continue telling Mel how awesome here pastries were, but it wasn't possible to eat and talk at the same time - and eating more of that éclair was her top priority.

  Mel smiled. "Well, I wanted you to eat something before you got on that plane. I know you're not going to eat anything on the flight and I didn't want you to land there half-starved. Have you finished packing?"

  Lea shook her head and continued munching on the éclair. Her room was a mess, with clothes strewn about carelessly and discarded on the bed. "I really should get rid of most of these clothes."

  Mel raised an eyebrow as she picked up a sparkly, gold-sequined tank top. "Wow, this sure brings back memories."

  "Ugh. Speaking of things to get rid of…"

  "Why don't you pack it for your trip? I'm sure there are nightclubs in Saint Martin's."

  "Please. And give the paparazzi another excuse to hound me? I'm so sick of those 'Lea Wilson Lapses Into Old Ways' articles."

  Mel held the top against herself and made an exaggeratedly sultry face. "Lea Wilson, It Girl. What are you packing by the way, where's your suitcase?"

  With a mouth full of the creamy éclair, Lea gestured towards her small rolling luggage lying open in the corner of the room. Things had been stuffed in haphazardly - a hair straightener, bottles of sunscreen and lotion, underwear, a few sensible clothes. Mel pursed her lips when she saw the mess - Lea was a seasoned traveler, but her packing skills left much to be desired. Or maybe she planned to take it all out and roll things together and fit everything in nicely? She glanced back at Lea, who was still focused on the éclair.

  A slinky black piece of fabric caught Mel's eye and she pulled it out, puzzled. It wasn't much fabric, and it seemed so much less conservative than the type of clothes Lea
wore nowadays - she held it up against herself and the mystery solved itself.

  "You have got to be kidding me." She looked exasperatedly at Lea, who merely shrugged. "No. Way. No way are you wearing this. Not in Saint Martin's, not ever."

  "I need something for the beach…"

  "Yeah, and it should look like something you wear to the beach. Not like some kind of tent, or super-conservative t-shirt with built in shorts." She walked back to the wardrobe and tossed it in. "Oh no, better yet…" She fished it out again and put it together with the slinky gold tank top. "You're getting rid of this piece of 1820's swimwear. If you're throwing clothes out, this thing should be the first to go."

  "Oh, come on, it's not that bad…"

  Mel shook her head in amusement. "Where did you even find that piece of bathing suit history? A museum? I haven't seen anything like that in stores recently. Or did you get it at the Show No Skin store?"

  Lea had finished her éclair and she stalked out of the room in search of coffee. "I don't want any paparazzi hounding me," she called back over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen.

  "Yeah, I can see that," Mel muttered to herself. She heard the sounds of the coffee machine being switched on, and the rattling of mugs as Lea selected one that was large enough for her drink.

  "You want some coffee?"

  "No thanks," Mel called back as she rummaged through Lea's drawers, "I should get going soon."

  "Suit yourself…"

  It took Lea a few minutes to make her coffee the way she liked, and when she finally got back to her room, Mel had pulled out a few different things from her wardrobe. Lea would've scowled at someone going through her clothes, but she and Mel had always been like sisters and had frequently shared clothes, so she didn't mind - but she did roll her eyes at the sage-green bikini Mel had laid out on the bed. "Did you want to take that home?"

  "No, silly. It's for you. I've tossed that black tent-ey thing away, you're going to be wearing this and this and this," she gestured to another red bikini and a blue one-piece swimsuit with strategic cuts around the midsection, "In St Martin's."

  Lea put her mug down on the dresser. "Ugh, hon, I really don't think …"

  "Yeah, that's it - don't think. Have fun! Just for once! The paparazzi should be tired of you by now, and even if they aren't, forget about them and just enjoy yourself. Besides, there shouldn’t be any paps at St Martin’s, this time of the year."

  Lea was about to protest so Mel quickly held up two sundresses and a sarong. "Look, you can wear these over your swimsuits, ok? You're not seventy yet, so why should you dress like that? Besides," she raised a suggestive eyebrow, "You'll never catch a man dressing like that."

  "Hah! I don't need to "catch" a man…"

  "I know, I know," Mel said quickly. "But, you know…"

  They both stared at each other uncertainly. Though they were very close and shared all the details of their lives with each other, Mel wasn't sure that she wanted to bring up Ted, Amelia's ex-fiance. Ted had left her unceremoniously almost two years’ back - he'd decided he didn't really want to settle down and preferred a few more years of one night stands and "single life".

  The breakup had been hard for Lea, who'd thought that Ted was a stable, emotionally mature guy with whom she'd have kids and raise a family. Since their breakup, Lea had guarded her heart carefully, hardly ever going out on dates.

  Mel felt terrible about Lea's pain, but she secretly thought that Ted had never been good enough for Mel - he was boring, stale, and uninteresting. But since that fateful night six years ago when Lea had given up her "It Girl ways" and the men who came with that lifestyle, she'd been determined to go out with only the most serious, family-oriented and "grown up" men. Men whom Mel found incredibly boring.

  "Just have fun, ok? Why don't you flirt with a couple of handsome strangers, maybe go on a date with a hot lifeguard or two?"

  Lea's smile was sardonic. "Why don't you go out with a hot lifeguard or two?"

  Mel rolled her eyes. "Duh. Because I'm not the one going to Saint Martin's for a month! Ugh, for someone so smart you sure are dumb."

  "Yeah? When was the last time you went on a date with a random 'hot stranger or two'?"

  "That's beside the point. I'm busy running my cafe. Hot Stuff is struggling as it is, and my staff don't seem to understand that sick leave is for when you're really sick and…"

  Lea grinned evilly. "Yeah yeah, I get it, you can give advice but you can't take it."

  Mel was about to fall for the bait but bit her tongue just in time. "This isn't about me," she said, "And I have to leave in a few minutes, so before that time I'm picking out some nicer clothes for you to take."

  She slammed her hands on her hips when Lea started to protest, and gave her a withering look.

  "Just once," she said, "Have some fun. Your accident was six years ago, the paparazzi need to move on, and you need to enjoy life."

  Chapter TwoThis is nice. Lea stretched out on her sun lounger and flicked to the next page of her book, thinking hazily about how nice it was to be in the sun.

  A large, wide-brimmed hat covered her face and she'd slathered on enough sunscreen to last a lifetime. She'd actually worn that sage-green bikini Mel had forced her to bring, though she did make sure to wear her white sundress over it. But maybe she'd take off the dress at some point and go for a swim - the water seemed so inviting.

  Palm trees waved gently in the breeze, the sky was cloudless, and the sun streamed down happily. This holiday was totally worth it, she decided.

  School holidays had just started, which meant the markets were dead. As a foreign currency trader, she didn't believe in trading shallow markets - and most of the other traders had quit trading for the month. Only novices traded during these summer months, and Lea was far from being a novice. She managed her own boutique investment company, trading a bit of her own money and a decent amount of investor capital. And though she'd been doing fairly well over the last few years, she was going to use this holiday to brush up on her skills.

  A bird cawed raucously in the distance, and she noticed flocks of seagulls hovering over the ocean. This beach was great, she decided. It was far away from St Martin's popular Coffs Point beach, the one that most tourists and "see and be seen" pretentious crowd visited. This one, known locally as The Rocks, was smaller and quieter, frequented by families and those who really wanted to get away from it all.

  Two surfers rode the waves in the distance and Lea decided she would never get tired of watching them. They glided across the waves like birds, laughing when they were knocked down and blissful when they rode smoothly - maybe she'd learn to surf some day?

  On her left a family with three kids played idly, building a massive sand castle. Honeymooning couples strolled hand-in-hand from one end of the beach to the other, a few kids splashed in the shallow water, and a fitness buff jogged barefoot along the sand. The woman wore cotton shorts and a loose tank top, and her blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail - she was slim and athletic, and Lea wondered if she should take up jogging too.

  And then something licked her foot.

  Startled, Lea looked down into the large eyes of the most adorable puppy. She had the droopy ears of a beagle and a nose that was cold and inquisitive. Lea smiled and patted her head, at which point the puppy broke into a delirious panting, and began to turn around in small circles. Lea had been so intent on watching the jogger that she hadn't noticed when the puppy had come up to her.

  Someone had probably taken the pup on a walk, but it was with her now - she could have a few lovely moments before the owner came up to claim his or her dog. When Patches (the name had flickered across her mind and seemed appropriate) came up to her again, Lea got off the lounger and kneeled down to tickle her tummy. Patches was soft and happy and gave her love freely and was thrilled that Lea wanted to play with her. They spent a few moments together, Lea enjoying the soft puppy kisses and Patches enjoying the patting and scratching.

&n
bsp; It took Lea a few seconds to locate a stick that was lying nearby and as soon as Patches saw it in Lea's hand she broke into another quick delirious run.

  "Ok Patches," said Lea softly, "Can you fetch?"

  Patches answered immediately with some enthusiastic barks, and jumped around in excitement.

  "Ok then… go fetch!"

  The stick flew away and Patches chased after it enthusiastically, her sole purpose in life to get that stick and bring it back to Lea. She's so cute, thought Lea, and she loves me so much. I need a puppy, not a man.

  They repeated the game a few more times. Patches' owner was nowhere to be seen and Lea wondered briefly if she could just pretend Patches was hers. The puppy brought the stick back to Lea over and over again, her excitement never waning, her eyes glowing with joy. Finally Lea laughed and gave her a cuddle, wrapping her up in her arms and allowing Patches to lick her face. She laughed again - she hated being licked on her face, but Patches was just so adorable.

  And then something made her look to her left and she saw him.

  Her eyes narrowed. A horrible paparazzo man was standing in the distance with a telephoto lens, snapping away. Sure, he could be taking photos of the beach and the other people there, but her instinct told her that the lens was focused on her. Lea became sure of her hunch when the man moved his camera away from his face and looked at her directly.

  Scum. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?

  Lea let go of Patches and stood up slowly, smoothing down her dress. It hadn't ridden up, had it? She pulled the neckline higher, determined that there would be no revealing photos of her in tomorrow's tabloids, thankful that she'd bothered to cover up the bikini, and began to stride towards the photographer, her steps long and her feet sinking annoyingly into the sand.

  It had been six years since the night of her accident. Six. Years.

  As she took long, determined strides, Patches began to follow her. But the puppy sensed the change in her mood, saw her owner a few paces away, and happily ran away from Lea, who continued to stomp towards the paparazzo.