He cleared his throat, shaking his head slowly and wincing. He smiled. ‘No, this is fine,’ he said, his voice raspy. ‘It takes me back to my misspent youth.’ He crossed his legs at the ankles, stretching his long legs out under the table and grazing her ankle.

  Bea didn’t move away from his touch. ‘Hardly very misspent, if you were drinking lemonade,’ she teased.

  ‘It was what we added to it that was naughty.’ He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘What was it? Gin? Vodka?’ she asked, enjoying the banter.

  Luke laughed. ‘Granny’s cherry brandy.’

  Bea grimaced. ‘Gross. I bet you only did that once.’

  He nodded, watching her silently for a moment or two. ‘Now that the mowing’s done and we’re both free agents, why don’t we make the most of this great weather and take a trip to the Écréhous islands?’

  ‘In your boat, you mean?’ Bea hadn’t expected this, but what was stopping her? He waited for her to answer.

  ‘We could take our lunch there, make the most of what’s left of the day. I think we could both do with some time off, don’t you?’

  Bea was sorely tempted, despite knowing she should keep her distance from him. Sod the investigation, she thought, it was only lunch. ‘Why not? I’ve never been to the islands before, and who knows when I’ll get an offer like this again?’ she said. She’d just have to be careful not to say anything that could raise his suspicions and alert him about the investigation.

  Luke stood up. ‘Great. The sea should be calm and now that most of the holidaymakers have left, we might even be the only ones there.’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ she admitted, liking the prospect even more than expected. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. ‘I’ve always wanted to go there.’

  ‘Good,’ said Luke. ‘Then it makes our trip even more fun.’

  As they approached St Catherine’s Bay, Luke pointed out the window towards the Channel.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘Over there, the Écréhous.’

  Bea peered out of the window and saw the islands, appearing nothing more than a cluster of rocks poking up out of the sea about halfway between Jersey and the coast of France. ‘People don’t actually live there, do they?’ she wondered.

  Luke shook his head. ‘No, but several of the islanders own huts on the main islands, and you can rent one of them, The Old Customs House, from the Parish of St Martin.’

  Bea couldn’t wait to get out there. She wasn’t sure if she was more excited about going on his boat or seeing these intriguing little islands for the first time.

  He parked the car in front of a café. ‘Just popping in to get our lunch. I won’t be long.’

  Bea breathed in the warm, salty air and watched as Luke went in to talk to the owner. After a few minutes Luke emerged, hands full, and jumped into the car.

  ‘Lobster and champagne,’ he said, smiling, as they set off again.

  Once Luke had showered and changed and they’d cast off, it took Bea a little while before she got used to the movement of his beautiful wooden boat. She relaxed against the open door to the wheelhouse. Gazing up at the high mast, she wondered how often he hoisted the sails, or if it was easier to use the engine to get anywhere.

  ‘Engine,’ he said, smiling.

  Bea narrowed her eyes, wondering if she’d spoken her question out loud. ‘What?’

  ‘You were thinking about whether I use wind or diesel to get from place to place on this beauty of mine.’

  Bea laughed. ‘Yes, I was. Why don’t you use the sails though?’

  ‘I do, when I’m further out to sea.’ He looked across at the breakwater and Bea followed his gaze, watching St Catherine’s receding away from them.

  ‘I really should come here more often,’ she said, breathing deeply and closing her eyes in the sun.

  ‘St Catherine’s, or my boat?’ Luke teased, as he steered the boat.

  ‘St Catherine’s,’ she said, eyes shut but aware he was watching her.

  ‘Well, I’ll just have to make sure you enjoy your trip enough for you to want to come again, shan’t I?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘This is bliss. Do you ever see dolphins?’

  ‘We do, especially when the sea is warmer. They swim by the boats, and you see them quite a lot from the café.’

  Bea leant back, resting on her elbows, and watched Luke, so comfortable with his boat as if it were a part of him. She ran her fingers along the varnished handrail. ‘It’s so classical,’ she said. ‘You must have to spend a lot of time working on all this wood.’

  He shrugged. ‘I love beautifully crafted things and this boat is a bit of an obsession of mine.’

  ‘So, you’re in no rush to finish the restoration of your cottage, then?’

  Luke laughed. ‘No, which is just as well.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I might be selling it sooner than I’d thought.’ Before Bea could question him further, he pointed back to Jersey’s shoreline, at the rich green trees and tiny coves, then across to the Normandy coast. ‘Perfect, don’t you think?’

  Bea nodded, suspecting he had opened up to her more than he’d intended. ‘I really don’t make the most of living on this island, you know.’

  ‘Most people don’t,’ Luke said. ‘I think life gets so busy sometimes we forget to enjoy everything we have around us.’

  She felt the engines slowing down and saw the little group of islands nearby. ‘They’re so pretty,’ she said. ‘Like something in a picture book.’

  ‘Not so inviting in the winter, and damn frightening during a storm,’ Luke said, dropping the anchor and moving their bags of food and drink from the galley into the dingy at the back of the boat. ‘Here, let me help you.’

  She took his cool hand and tentatively stepped down into the small boat. ‘Thanks,’ she said, holding on tightly until she was safely seated.

  Luke showed her around the small islands, and Bea couldn’t get over the tiny, one-room huts, used mainly by fishermen and more recently by the lucky locals who owned one of them. She peered into another window. ‘Why doesn’t anyone live here?’ she asked.

  ‘No fresh water supply,’ Luke said, leading her over to a small cove and laying out a blanket for them to sit on as he took out their lunch. ‘Holidaymakers have been coming to stay here since Victorian times.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame them.’ She took a plastic plate with the freshly cooked lobster and a dollop of yellowy mayonnaise from his hands. ‘This is heavenly,’ she said, unable to remember anything more perfect. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’

  Luke smiled at her. ‘My pleasure, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.’

  After a few minutes, Luke said, ‘Tom.’

  ‘What?’ Why did he want to know about Tom, Bea wondered?

  ‘I think I saw him here a couple of months ago.’ Luke didn’t look at her, but thoughtfully took a drink from his bottle of water.

  Bea shook her head. ‘I doubt it; Tom hates the sea.’

  Luke stopped eating and looked at her. ‘Does he have two children?’

  Bea nodded, wishing he’d drop the subject. ‘He does, they’re quite small.’

  ‘Then I’m sure it was him. I thought I’d seen him somewhere before when I saw you both at your house that evening. I’m sure it was here, although I can’t be certain because I was in the boat at the time and he was onshore.’

  ‘I think you must be mistaken. I can’t see him coming here. He once told me about nearly drowning at Green Island when he was small, so he’s very wary of the sea. I know he doesn’t like boats. It can’t have been him.’

  Luke didn’t look too convinced. ‘You’re probably right. How’s that lobster?’

  ‘Delicious,’ said Bea, feeling better now he’d changed the subject.

  They finished their lunch in silence and Bea relished being with him in such a tranquil place, with nothing but birds and the sound of the waves breaking against the rocks to disturb them. After tidying up, Luke helped her to her feet. ‘Fancy seeing more of the islands?’ he asked.

  Bea nodded. His dark blue eyes, shining with a carefree enthusiasm she didn’t often get to see, made her want to take his face in her hands and kiss him. As if he’d heard her thoughts, he abruptly stopped walking, turned and took her in his arms. Pulling her closer, he kissed her, his cool lips hard against hers. Bea forgot everything and was lost in the moment.

  Then, gently letting go of her, he sighed. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, before taking her hand once more and leading her across the sandy beach.

  Bea felt like she’d been hugged on the inside somehow. As he told her about the old Abbey on the little island of Maitre, and how the French had invaded twice in the nineties, she found she couldn’t quite concentrate because of the touch of his firm hand around hers.

  ‘I remember my dad ranting about that,’ she laughed. ‘I’m glad they didn’t get them back though.’

  Luke looked surprised. ‘They’d have a fight on their hands if they really tried to.’

  ‘Typical Jersey boys,’ she giggled. ‘So patriotic about your island.’

  Luke helped her back into the dingy and passed over the bags containing the remnants of their lunch. ‘And why not? It’s worth fighting for, don’t you think?’

  She wasn’t sure if there was more to what he was saying, so decided to simply nod her agreement.

  Back on the mainland, Luke drove her home, entertaining her all the way with anecdotes about island life.

  Not wanting her perfect day to end, Bea asked Luke if he wanted to come in for a drink. She finished her second glass of wine and looked up at his tanned face. ‘I’ve had such a lovely day today,’ she said. ‘It was like being on holiday.’ She felt heady and more alive than she had in years, and couldn’t help noting Luke’s muscles. ‘I don’t suppose you ever need to go to the gym, do you?’

  Luke laughed. ‘Never have the time. I’d rather get my exercise outside in the fresh air than in some sweaty gym.’

  Bea thought how different he was to Simon and Tom, who worked out at the gym religiously. She realised she hadn’t heard what he was saying and wasn’t sure how to answer. ‘Um, yes?’ she offered hopefully.

  He laughed, ‘You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?’

  ‘No,’ she stammered, her face reddening. ‘Sorry, I was in a world of my own.’

  ‘Somewhere enjoyable, I hope.’

  If only he knew, thought Bea, trying not to smile. ‘It was very enjoyable.’

  Luke, glass of wine in hand, sipped it slowly as he watched her over the rim. ‘I like spending time with you, Bea.’

  ‘Shall we move into the drawing room?’ suggested Bea, unsure how to reply. It was so long since she had felt such an attraction for anyone and was a little lost for words. ‘It’s getting rather chilly and I can light the fire in there.’ She didn’t like to add how she’d prepared the fire earlier expecting to be spending a quiet evening alone with a good book and a glass or two of rosé.

  ‘Of course.’ Luke carried their drinks and followed her into the vast, cream room, settling down on the sofa as she lit the fire.

  Bea took her place at the opposite end to him. Dragging a cushion onto her lap, she drew her legs up underneath her.

  ‘Why do you do that?’ he asked, passing over her glass.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Feel awkward when someone compliments you?’

  ‘Well, how do you think I should reply?’

  He moved towards her, gently taking the cushion from her hands and tossing it over to the opposite chair. Then, moving closer, he put one hand behind her head and kissed her.

  Bea’s heart almost stopped. The pressure from his firm lips and the feel of his tongue gently exploring her mouth caused her senses, already hazy from alcohol and long-suppressed lust, to go completely haywire.

  One minute, there were light, delicate kisses on her face, neck, throat; the next, urgent discarding of clothes as he kissed her lips, his hands moving deliciously over her skin. Bea sighed as Luke laid her down gently onto the Persian rug in front of the fire. He kissed her before lowering his head to her breasts, sending exquisite shards of ecstasy through her entire body.

  ‘You’re so perfect,’ he whispered hoarsely, a hand caressing her thighs, moving slowly upwards between her legs. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, Luke finally entered her. Bea clasped him to her as they moved, her pleasure increasing until she climaxed seconds before he did. Luke groaned, holding her tightly, as Bea felt her body exploding into a million, tiny pieces.

  9

  NOT A BED OF ROSES

  The next morning, Bea woke to the sound of heavy rain battering against her bedroom window. Wearily opening one eye, she took a tentative look towards the chink of grey light beaming through her bedroom curtains. Her head felt fuzzy, and her mouth was parched. Reaching over to her bedside table, she patted around aimlessly until she found the ever-present bottle of water. She took a sip trying to wake up.

  As Bea leant forward to sit up, her foot skimmed a warm leg. Someone murmured behind her. Her eyes snapped open, sending a shooting sensation burning through her dehydrated brain. Turning slowly, her gaze fell on Luke, asleep on his back, muscular arms bent above his head, his tousled dark hair framing his handsome face, looking peaceful and content. Bea’s heart contracted, and more than anything she wanted to kiss him again.

  Taking the opportunity to survey the hairs on his chest, she managed to retain enough self-control not to push her fingers through it. He was even more beautiful when he was sleeping. The rest of the time he appeared to be concentrating, on what she wasn’t sure, but hoped it was his partner creating many financial difficulties and not his own involvement in them. She pushed away the thought.

  The sheet only covered him from the waist down, but Bea could tell he was naked underneath. For many years she’d only ever shared her bed with Simon and couldn’t help gazing on this perfect specimen, completely relaxed, as if he was perfectly at home. She felt different with him, somehow, wanted him more desperately than she could recall wanting any other man. Her intense attraction to him unnerved her. So unlike Simon or Tom, the only other men she’d ever slept with; they’d made her feel beautiful and cared for, and had always wanted to please her, but never like Luke had done. She hugged herself at the memory of making love with him.

  She pulled the sheet up around her as Tom’s words about Luke being investigated seeped into her mind. Losing Aunt Annabel was hard enough, and being betrayed by Simon was a different kind of cruelty, but to let herself fall in love with this man when she’d been warned about his financial problems was careless.

  ‘Damn,’ she murmured, wishing yet again that Tom had thought to keep his information to himself. She needed to distance herself from Luke, however much she felt the urge to be with him. She tried to get more comfortable, but moving her legs woke him up.

  ‘Morning,’ he murmured, his voice croaky, as he stretched. He smiled up at her then narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s the matter? Didn’t sleep well? Hangover, I suppose. I’m feeling rather heavy-headed too.’

  ‘Luke?’ she whispered awkwardly.

  ‘What is it, sweetheart?’ He pushed himself up on his elbow, his expression gradually changed to one of concern. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘We had sex.’

  He smiled. ‘Yes, we did.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And, it was wonderful,’ he replied, placing his hands behind his head.

  This felt too perfect, too dreamlike. Why hadn’t she refused to go with him on his boat? She wasn’t an idiot and knew what she could and couldn’t say. Bea couldn’t help smiling as she looked down at him.

  Luke gently pulled her down onto him, kissing her. Bea melted into him, relishing the feel of his mouth on hers pushing away unwanted thoughts.

  His hand moved down towards her bottom. The shrill ring of his mobile startled her. ‘Ignore it,’ he whispered.

  The ringing continued.

  Eventually, with the mood broken, Bea pushed away from him. ‘You’d better answer it. Maybe it’s something important.’

  ‘I’m sure it can wait.’

  Bea wondered why he was so determined not to answer the call. ‘I’ll go and take a quick shower, leave you to it,’ she said, handing him his mobile.

  She got out of bed and with a quick glance back could see he was frowning at the screen. He smiled at her, probably waiting for her to leave the room. Bea went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She could hear his voice though the door. He sounded irritated. She stepped into the shower and stood under the spray of water and soaped her body. Something was wrong… or was she just being overly sensitive? Maybe Simon’s deceit had coloured her perception of how others lived their lives.

  Showered, Bea found Luke standing in her kitchen wearing only his faded blue jeans. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked, passing her a mug of steaming black coffee and kissing her lightly on the neck, making her shiver. ‘Mind if I take a quick shower?’

  Bea’s heart pounded as she watched him walk out of the room. His toned arms, back and tousled hair making her wish they were back in bed. ‘Go ahead.’ He was delicious and so opposite to everything Simon had been. It was such a relief.

  The phone rang. Bea answered it after a couple of rings. ‘Hi, Shani,’ she said. ‘I can’t really talk now. Can I give you a call later?’

  ‘Yes, of course, but let me quickly tell you about that hunky builder of yours.’

  Bea groaned, not wanting to hear anything negative. ‘You’re such a gossip. Go on, what tittle-tattle have you learned at the gym this time?’

  ‘Did you know he lives with a model? Legs up to her armpits, so I heard. They’ve been together on and off for years.’

  Bea’s legs seemed to lose some of their strength. She quickly pulled out a chair and slumped down onto it. ‘What?’ she whispered. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Damn right. They were seen together only the day before yesterday. She lives on his boat with him. Lucky cow.’

 

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