Page 119 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
“. . . No.”
“Did I do something to upset you?” he asked gently.
“No. It was my fault. I . . . made a mistake.” Her voice sounded strained. “I saw you, with a girl — one of the T-and-T people. She was here with her husband.”
“Ah . . .” Enlightenment began to dawn.
At last she glanced up at him. “I saw you going into her room, and I assumed . . . I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. I’m sorry.”
“It was understandable,” he responded gently. “I can imagine how it must have looked.”
“I found out when they were checking out. They left that bottle of whiskey for you, and . . . she explained what had happened. I’m sorry, I would have apologised then, but . . .”
“I stayed out of your way.” He laughed. “I was afraid you’d chew me up and spit out the bones.”
Her smile wavered for a moment. “There’d be a lot to chew.”
“There would.”
They had reached the Memorial Gardens. The Ellises were some way ahead, past the hotel and already turning into their gate.
The Memorial Gardens lay quiet under a blanket of undisturbed snow, glistening like diamonds in the glow of the single street lamp. The flowerbeds were just undulations, casting weird shadows against the smooth white surface.
Jess paused and Paul watched the white clouds of her breath drifting away on the icy wind. There was no one else around, and the snow seemed to deaden every sound but the wind and the sea.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
He was a little surprised at her suggestion, but he wasn’t going to question the whys and the wherefores.
He reached out tentatively and took her hand, and they strolled down the ramp to the narrow strip of beach left by the incoming tide. The wind was whipping the waves into a fury of white foam far out across the bay, dancing in across the sand then ebbing away to be chased by another.
“I love how the sea is so different all the time,” she murmured. “Sometimes so stormy, sometimes as tranquil as a millpond. Every day you never quite know how it will be.”
“That’s part of the fun of living here. Always the unexpected.”
“Where have the beach huts gone?”
“They take them away at the end of October. They’re stored in the car park on the top of the hill until April.”
“Ah.”
They had reached the bottom of the cliff steps and they could go no further as the slope of the beach meant that the sea here ran right up to the cliff wall. Jess climbed the first step, then turned to him. Their heads were level, and she lifted her hands to each side of his face. And kissed him.
He felt as if he’d been tasered. Her mouth was warm and firm on his, her sensuous tongue sliding boldly between his lips, probing its way deep inside.
He’d forgotten to breathe — he’d probably forgotten his own name. His hands slid up into her hair as he kissed her back, their tongues sparring and swirling around each other, their bodies generating enough heat to melt all the snow on Cliff Road.
She drew her head back, her eyes dark as they gazed up at him. “Take me to bed.”
He stared at her, stunned. But her eyes told him that she meant it. Fumbling in his pocket for his key, he took her hand, led her up the steps and across the road to his front door.
Dammit. The keyhole. Why couldn’t he get the key in? Ah, at last. Jess was laughing, teasing him, as he finally managed to get the door open.
He dragged her inside, slamming the door with his heel and shoving her back against it. Then his mouth was on hers, fiercely possessive, as his hands swept up and down her spine, defining every curve, every valley.
She moved against him, her body restless, her soft moans telling him everything he needed to know.
His hands itched to feel her skin. Hunger roared through him and he deepened their kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming everything she had and demanding more.
