Page 86 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
She laughed, shaking her head. “Ah, smooth operator.”
“Uh-huh.” He slid his hand around her waist and drew her closer. She felt his breath warm against her cheek, and then his mouth met hers, warm and firm, his tongue swirling deep inside, exploring all the secret corners within.
A whimpering moan escaped her throat, and she felt the ground beneath her feet slipping away . . .
A shower of spray from a crashing wave startled her out of the moment, and she drew back, her eyes misted. As they cleared, she shook her head, laughing.
“It’s much too cold to stand around here,” she declared, aiming for a note of casual unconcern but not sure that she’d hit it right. “Come on. If you’re going to be a gentleman, let’s go.”
He laughed. “I could warm you up.”
“I think I’ll stick with my hot water bottle, thanks.”
They strolled on down the hill. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the spirit of Christmas already infusing the atmosphere, but she was beginning to feel more relaxed in his company.
Maybe she could take the chance of taking this a little further. It could be fun . . .
Chapter Twenty-Seven
They crossed the Memorial Gardens, the fallen leaves crunching beneath their feet, and turned into the hotel’s car park. And she stopped dead. There was a large motorbike parked beside the front steps.
Paul slanted her a questioning look. “That’s Glenn’s bike?”
“It is.” Her mouth was a grim line. “What the hell’s he doing here?”
“Just go in through the staff entrance,” he suggested. “You don’t have to see him.”
She shook her head, gritting her teeth. “No. I might as well get it over with. Let him know once and for all that I want nothing to do with him.”
His eyes were dark as they searched her face. “Is that true?”
“Yes, it is.” She could hear the jagged edge in her own voice. “You don’t think I’d forgive him after what he did, do you? Not in this phase of the universe.”
He nodded. “Look, I know you wouldn’t want me to interfere . . .”
“I don’t. I can deal with him. Though there might be a few broken bones,” she added on a note of acid humour.
“Okay. But I’ll be right behind you if you need me.”
She smiled grimly and marched up the steps.
Neil, the relief night manager, looked up a little nervously at her entrance. “Ah, Jess. There’s someone here to see you.”
“I know. Where?”
He pointed to the lounge.
Glenn was sitting in an armchair reading the paper. He tossed it aside and rose to his feet as Jess stalked across the reception hall. “Where have you been?” That old familiar whine when things didn’t quite go his way. “I’ve been waiting hours.”
She felt her anger spike like hot lava. “Howdareyou ask where I’ve been? What I do is absolutely none of your business.”
She watched as he struggled to rein himself in. “No. I’m sorry.” He held out a hand to her. “Jess . . .”
“That’s my name,” she snarled. “I’m surprised that you can remember it, among all those other women you’ve been texting.”
“That’s all over now. I don’t do that anymore.” Oh, that little throb of sincerity in his voice — she could almost believe he meant it. “I made a huge mistake and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it. I don’t want to hear it.”
