The Honeymoon Arrangement. Joss Wood

drank again, leaned his forearms on the railing and stared hard at his feet. He knew that most people thought that because he was a travel journalist that he was a free spirit—that he was a laid-back type of individual—but nothing could be further from the truth. He was a Third Dan black belt in Taekwondo, held a black belt in Jiu-jitsu and, like the other two, his Krav Maga also demanded immense amounts of control and discipline.

      But no amount of control, self-discipline or philosophising could rationalise this pain away. Because he’d tried. He really had.

      He needed time, he decided—a lot of it—to sort out his head and his heart. Time to think through all he’d recently lost. His baby, his dreams of a family, even his stepdad. He needed time to get back on his feet, to make solid decisions, to work through the emotion of the last couple of weeks, months, years.

      And even though he’d been so tempted to ask Callie to come home with him—sleeping with her would have been the perfect way to step out of his head—he knew that he needed to be alone for a while, to keep women at a distance, to work through what had gone wrong with Liz and how.

      Ten days, he told himself, and he would be on a plane to Kruger National Park for the first leg of his Southern Africa trip. Ten days and he could get some distance from this house, from the memory of the blood, Liz’s ashen face, from the craziness of cancelling the wedding. Ten days and he would have an excuse to avoid all the calls from his friends and family. He wouldn’t have to open the door to any of his three brothers who were taking turns to check up on him, making sure that he was okay.

      Finn sighed. Ten more days. A part of him wished he was hiring a kitted-out Land Rover with rooftop tents and heading out into wild, crazy Africa. But visiting upmarket honeymoon destinations wouldn’t be a kick in the pants either.

      As Callie had said, there was something to be said for licking his wounds in luxury.

      If he actually got to keep the job.

      The travel magazine had forked out a shedload of cash, and some of the hotels had sponsored his stay in exchange for an honest review of their honeymoon experience. He would be writing the story but he was supposed to take his wife’s opinions into consideration as he did so … except now he didn’t have a wife to take.

      He had to talk to Mike, his editor—and sooner rather than later.

      Tomorrow Rowan would send out a blanket email to the wedding guests on his behalf and Mike, as a guest, would receive said email and soon put two and two together. Finn scrunched up his face, annoyed that he hadn’t contacted Mike sooner. Cape Town was a small city and he might even have heard already.

      Finn glanced at his watch. Ten-thirty. A bit late to call, but that couldn’t be helped. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and looked up Mike’s number, sighing as he pushed the green button.

      ‘I wondered when you’d get around to calling me,’ Mike answered without any preamble.

      Finn rubbed his forehead. ‘Yeah, it’s been a bit mad. I presume you’ve heard that the wedding is off?’

      ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

      Finn heard Mike clearing his throat and jumped in before he could speak again.

      ‘I’d still like to do the assignment.’

      ‘It’s a bit pointless without a wife,’ Mike said.

      ‘Can’t I leave the honeymoon bit out and just write on the lodges themselves?’

      ‘It’s scheduled to be part of the honeymoon issue, Finn, with honeymoon and wedding advertising. The article has to concentrate on the honeymoon aspect.’

      Finn swore.

      Mike’s voice in his ear sounded worried and frustrated. ‘Tell me about it. I’m in a Catch-22 situation. The publisher agreed to foot the bill, as did many of the hotels, because you were writing the article. One of the world’s best adventure and travel journalists writing on honeymoons. They loved the idea. And the promo people have already started working on the edition. You’re part of that.’

      Finn swore again.

       ‘ Take me—I’ll be your substitute wife.’

      He almost smiled, remembering Callie’s words from earlier.

      Wait, hold on … What had she said?

       ‘ Take me—I’ll be your substitute wife.’

      Could that possibly be a solution? Taking Callie or someone else with him?

      ‘Can I take someone else?’ he asked Mike.

      Mike’s long pause strained Finn’s patience. ‘I don’t see why not,’ he said eventually. ‘It’s not like anyone is going to ask for your wedding certificate or proof that you’re married. The two of you would just need to be seen to be having fun. Enjoying the experience. Got anyone in mind?’

      He did, actually. Someone who was vivacious, charming, loud, flirtatious, possibly crazy. ‘Yeah, I do.’

      ‘Is she someone I know?’ Mike asked slyly.

      ‘Judging by the way she talks to everyone and anyone, you probably do.’

      ‘Who is she?’

      ‘Let me talk to her first and see if her coming with me is an option,’ Finn said, cautious.

      Instinctively he knew that taking Callie—inviting Callie—would be a very good move for him. He’d get to keep this plum assignment and he’d have the company of someone who was a bundle of fun. On that flight back from New York they hadn’t stopped talking, and Finn could see why men dropped their tongues to the floor around her. She had a surfer’s body—broad shoulders, toned arms, flat stomach and that long, curly blonde hair. But when you looked past the body and face to the brain beyond it you got the shock of your life—because the woman was bright, knowledgeable, and as sharp as a spear-tip.

      At her core, she had a lust for life that was contagious. And best of all—unless something had radically changed recently—she had absolutely no interest in relationships and commitment and would be an entertaining companion. She’d be distracting enough to keep him from feeling too sorry for himself.

      ‘Well, talk to her and come back to me. And if you don’t take her you’ll have to take someone else to complete the assignment,’ Mike told him before disconnecting.

      Finn slapped his mobile in his hand, considering all his options. He tried to be honest with himself. He had to admit that he was attracted to Callie. If they were spending time in close proximity to each other—he didn’t think that honeymoon suites came with twin beds—he’d want to sleep with her. Hell, he wanted to sleep with her now. So sue him. His heart might be battered and bruised, but his junk was in perfectly good working order.

      So sleep with her. It’s not like you haven’t had flings before. She could be your rebound girl—your way to get over and through this bleak time.

      She wouldn’t say yes …

       How do you know unless you try?

      Finn, thinking he might be going off his head, scrolled through his contacts on his mobile. Rowan would have her number and after sweet talking her out, he had Callie’s mobile number. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the green phone icon.

      ‘Hey, how do you feel about being my fake wife?’

      The next morning Callie rushed around her apartment, trying to get ready. It was crazy that when she was travelling for work she was super-organised but when she was back home all her wheels fell off. This morning wasn’t the first time she’d forgotten to set her alarm, and now she was late for work. So she’d be late? She worked long enough and hard enough that nobody would make a fuss.

      Callie pulled a pale yellow dress over her head and scrambled in her cupboards for the pair of nude sandals she wanted