by Lily Evans
A can of whipped cream? "The—the White Sands Hotel," I stammered.
"Excellent. That's where we're staying too."
He wanted more? Oh boy.
But Luke was still speaking. "That means I can take you to the hospital to get stitched up, then I can go and join the others when we get back. They won't moan too much if I leave some money for drinks."
So much for him wanting more. God, I could be stupid sometimes. "It's okay," I said, averting my gaze so he wouldn't see my embarrassment. To my relief, I spotted my bikini bottoms, snatching them up to put them back on. "You're on a stag weekend, for heaven's sake. And you're the best man. You don't need to take me to the hospital."
"Yes I do. I can't let you drive yourself."
"I wasn't going to drive myself," I retorted, struggling to re-don the briefs one-handed. I couldn't raise myself enough to push the fabric back between my legs. "I can't. I haven't got a car here. I came by train. But I'll get a taxi—oh!" I yelped, as his fingers assaulted me from behind, delving beneath me to retrieve then tug up the back panel.
"No, you won't," he said firmly, already refastening the ties for me. "I'll drive you."
"But the nearest hospital—it's in Truro isn't it? That's got to be, what, thirty miles from here? And it's Friday night. It'll be really busy. We could be waiting for—"
"Will you shut up?" To my astonishment, his arm slid around me and he kissed the top of my head. "I'm not going to take you to Truro. They've opened up a Minor Injuries Unit about five miles from here. I shouldn't think it'll be too busy this time of year."
"Oh." God, it felt good to be near him again. Good, but utterly confusing.
The sunlight was fading now, the rocks cast in shadow. And when I peered over the ledge, I saw the tide was on its way back out again, the surf rising only three quarters of the way up the sand.
"Another half an hour and we'll be able to get down," Luke said, following my gaze. "If you weren't hurt, we could probably try sooner but I'm not taking any chances."
"Okay." Ordinarily, I'd have argued I could manage, damaged arm or not. But I was in no hurry to move. Getting down from this place would mean returning to reality, the end of this odd, but wonderful interlude. It'd been a welcome diversion from my messed-up life. Soon I'd just be Rebecca Ashmore again. Ex-fiancée of Daniel Cameron. "You said you'd spent many a wet week here," I murmured, keen to distract myself from that thought.
"Yeah. My grandparents used to live here. We came to stay for six weeks every summer."
"Oh." I looked up at him, smiling now. "Maybe you were here when I was. Funny to think our paths might have crossed before."
"They could well have done. But it's a small world after all." He paused to draw a deep breath and I knew what was coming.
"Don't sing," I warned with a glare. "Just don't."
He chuckled. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-seven."
"Ah." He nodded, eyes dancing. "Yeah, I'd have been here. But I doubt I'd have noticed you. Not if you were nine. I bet you were a cute kid, though."
I frowned. "Why, how old would you have been?"
"I'm thirty-four now. So I'd have been, what, sixteen?"
"Really?" He certainly didn't look thirty-four. I'd assumed he was just a year or two older than me.
His grin left me in no doubt he knew I was surprised. "Huh, sixteen," he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "Now that would've been the first year we brought Tim with us. That was quite a summer. We'd both just discovered girls."
I tried to imagine a teen version of Luke. It wasn't difficult. What he would've lacked in stature—surely all the more pronounced back then alongside an even lankier sixteen-year-old Tim—he would've more than made up for in raw, sexual magnetism. Poor Tim. He wouldn't have stood a chance of being noticed, even at six feet tall. "How many hearts did you break?"
"A few," he admitted, having the grace to grimace slightly. "Though I didn't mean to."
I gave a snort. "Of course you didn't."
"I didn't! They just kept throwing themselves at me. I wasn't mature enough to handle it."
"Of course you weren't," I said, adopting a mock-soothing tone. "It must've been hell."
"It was," he agreed, playing along with my pretend sympathy. "It really was. Trying to remember all those names—" I cuffed his arm and he laughed. "Oh, and we did loads of crazy stuff, too. Dived into the sea from over there." He waved his hand up to the right, to the top of the cliff. "Now that was really stupid. Verging on suicidal. But when you're a kid, you just don't think about these things. And actually, this isn't the first time I've had to wait for the tide to go back out."
"Here?" I felt my eyes widening as he nodded.
"That's how I knew we'd be okay. I've been here on this ledge before. Who'd have thought that eighteen years later I'd be up here again?" He grinned again. "Or that Tim would be marrying my little sister. They hated each other back then. But then, we were pretty cruel to her."
"Why, what did you do?" I'd always thought it would've been cool to have an older brother instead of an older sister. Though we were friends these days, Sarah had been unspeakably superior and condescending towards me when we were growing up. Whereas an older brother might've been kinder, more protective, maybe.
"The usual sorts of things. We put spiders in her bed. Tied her hair to a chair. Put sand in her sandwiches. Shaving foam on her strawberries. Switched her toothpaste for hair-removing cream."
Or not. "Luke!"
He grinned. "Hey, she was fourteen. And she was horrible, always whining, always telling tales."
"I can't think why."
"Mum used to say we had to include her, but we didn't want her there. It's hard to go out on the pull with your spotty kid sister in tow. Funnily enough, she got to bring along a friend the next year." His grin broadened. "Though in the end, she didn't get to spend too much time with her either, if you get what I mean."
I shot him a horrified glance. "You didn't?"
"Yeah, I did." He heaved a reflective sigh. "Rachel Finn. I wonder whatever happened to her? I haven't thought about that girl in years."
"You're terrible! I can't believe I'm hearing this."
He smiled. "It was good while it lasted. But you'll be pleased to hear I grew out of it in the end."
"Oh?" I was longing to ask why, to know why I was the first woman he'd been with in a while—to determine whether that was even true and, if it was, just how long it had been—but before I could frame the question, Luke was pointing out to sea.
"You see that buoy? Tim and I had a race to see who could swim there and back the fastest." He gave me a cocky grin. "No prizes for guessing who won and who had to be rescued by the coastguard." I rolled my eyes and he laughed. "Seriously. Helicopter, winch and all. Believe me, it really does draw a crowd. But Tim's always been a bit, well, accident-prone. There was this one time when we went rock climbing…"
And I listened. Listened as he regaled me with stories about Tim, about Julie, about their childhood though, to my frustration, there were no stories about the grown-up Luke. I was becoming increasingly desperate for insights into his true character. But his deep voice was mesmerising. I could've listened to him for hours—no, make that forever—snuggled there against him, his arm wrapped around me, his body warm next to mine…
"Come on, sleepyhead. I think it's time we got you down from here."
"Wh-what?" I blinked hard, his smiling face swimming back into focus, my head feeling oddly foggy.
"It's okay. I'd have dozed off if I had to listen to me, too."
"No, it wasn't you," I protested, straightening up, feeling the blood return to my cramped muscles. "Really it wasn't. It's all the sun—and the sea air. And to be honest, I haven't really slept since—"
"I know," he interrupted, grinning as he began to stuff things into his backpack—the first aid kit, the box of condoms, the towel, my beach bag. "You're exhausted, Becks. It's pretty obvious."
"Becks?" I
repeated incredulously as he slid his arms through the straps and hoisted the now bulging bag on to his back. "Not even 'Becky' now? You're skipping straight to Becks?"
"I think it suits you, yeah," he said, still grinning as he shuffled forwards and lowered himself down to the next rock, turning around to help me. "Why, don't you like it?"
I loved it. The notion of intimacy evoked by the pet name made me feel ridiculously gooey inside. But I sensed that telling him so wouldn't be a good idea. "Whatever," I said with an exaggerated sigh, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to steady me as I dropped to the same level. "So long as I can call you Puke."
"Ooh, that's so lame. Never heard that one before."
"Puke Tosser. Now that really suits you."
He gave a snort, stepping downwards again before gazing back at me with a smile. "I'll leave you up there. Don't think I won't." But already he was reaching out to me, his hands sliding beneath my arms to swing me down. And slowly, rock by rock, we edged lower and lower until at last we reached the damp sand, blissfully soft beneath my aching bare feet.
"Piece of cake," Luke said softly, seeming to sense how wobbly I was feeling and slinging an arm around my waist. "Told you we'd be okay."
"Thank you," I murmured, more grateful than I dared to admit for his support. To be honest, the last thing I wanted to do was go to the hospital. I just wanted to go to bed.
"Look," I said as he began to steer me up the beach, noticing he was exactly the same height as I was. "I don't need to get stitches right now, surely? It could wait until the morning. And then you could go and party."
"Nope. For a start, ideally that wound needs stitching within four hours. But it doesn't just need stitching, it needs cleaning thoroughly or it's going to get infected."
"But—"
"Don't try to argue with me. We're going tonight."
And there it was again, that quiet but firm tone, that note of authority. I couldn't quite work it out. It wasn't that he was determined to get his own way, far from it. After living with Daniel for so long, I was sure I would've recognised that. No, this was something else. An absolute certainty he was right. An inner, unshakable confidence it was the right thing to do. A kind of arrogance that both thrilled and unnerved me in equal measure.
My relief on arriving back at the hotel was immense, though I could feel the curious eyes of the guests sitting out on the terrace as Luke swept me up the steps and was grateful his sweatshirt covered me to mid-thigh. But then, I guessed, it was rather late in the day to be wandering about barefoot and bare-legged.
"Meet me back here in the foyer in ten minutes?" he said, giving me my soggy beach bag after I'd reclaimed my key card from the reception desk. "I'll just get changed and make my excuses to the guys—"
"Luke, wait," I interrupted guiltily. "I'll get a taxi. I promise I'll go to the hospital tonight. You don't have to—"
He silenced me with a brief but surprisingly passionate kiss. "Ten minutes," he repeated with a grin. "Go and put some clothes on."
I trudged upstairs to my room, my mouth tingling. God, that man knew how to kiss, I thought, my fingers still shaking slightly as I battled with the key card. But the smile died on my lips when I finally made it inside, catching sight of my reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the en suite bathroom door.
Oh dear God. No wonder the other guests had stared. My normally shoulder length hair was now part matted to my scalp, part stuck up in the air, my cheeks oddly blotchy, my reddened eyes seeming almost too big for my face. It seemed staggering Luke had found me attractive enough to kiss, let alone attractive enough to have sex with.
Wincing, I peeled off the pale blue sweatshirt and the bikini beneath it, longing to have a shower but aware that one, there wasn't time and that two, getting my bandage wet wouldn't be a good idea. Instead, I seized my hairbrush from the dressing table and, with sand flying everywhere, brushed my hair out as best I could. Having managed to sweep it back into a loose ponytail, I put on some underwear, a pair of jeans and a pale pink T-shirt, sheer feminine pride causing me to return to the mirror to slick on some lipstick.
Better, but far from alluring, I decided with a sigh, slinging a cardigan across my shoulders, my arm too sore now for me to even contemplate feeding it through the sleeve. And glancing at my alarm clock—God, how could that have taken so long?—I grabbed my handbag, snatched up the key card from where I'd thrown it on the bed and headed back out towards the stairs.
As I took the first few steps, I could hear the noise from the bar, the unmistakeable sound of male laughter carrying above the general chatter. By the time I was halfway down I could see into the room, smiling as I spotted Luke standing beside one of the tables, recognising the guys sitting around it.
"No way!" one of them shouted as I paused to look. I couldn't quite see which one, though I was fairly sure it was Tim. "You have to be fucking kidding!"
I grinned. Just how much had he had to drink?
There was loud groaning followed by more laughter. But then to my surprise, I watched as each one got up to slap Luke on the back. "Nice one!" someone called, just as I started to feel a slight tickle of unease. "I didn't know you still had it in you."
"Well, he doesn't anymore!" another bellowed back with a guffaw, clearly delighted by his own wit. And still not quite able to comprehend what I was hearing—what I was seeing—I stared as they began to pile what appeared to be ten pound notes straight into Luke's hand.
"Hey, come on guys. I've got to go," I heard him groan, watching as he slapped the wad of cash back on the table. "You know I don't need all this. Have it back. Buy drinks with it. 'Cause I'm just not sure how long we're going to be—"
To my astonishment, there was another chorus of knowing jeers, another burst of laughter. But then at last, Luke turned around and I saw the smile on his face.
Oh God, the triumphant smile on his face.
My heart sank, a long, slow wave of nausea washing over me, obliterating my hope, driving away the last of my euphoria. Of course he'd gone back to the beach to look for me. Of course he'd needed to find out whether I was all right. It all made perfect sense. The only thing that didn't make sense was why on earth I hadn't figured it out before. Just how stupid could one girl be in a lifetime?
No wonder he was smiling. Of course he was smiling.
He'd just won a bet.
Chapter 3
Even though my legs no longer felt as though they belonged to the rest of my body, they somehow carried me down the rest of the stairs and over to the front desk.
"Hello," the receptionist said, giving me a friendly smile. "Can I help?"
"Er." For a few seconds, I couldn't gather my thoughts enough to figure out why I was there. "Yes," I managed at last. "I need a taxi."
"Okay. That's no problem. I'll just—"
"What?" I heard Luke's puzzled voice behind me. "Forget that. She doesn't need a taxi." He caught my left hand, tugging me around to face him. "What are you doing? I told you I'd take you to the hospital."
"What am I doing?" I echoed weakly. "What were you doing?"
"Getting changed." He waved down at his denim shirt and jeans. "I'm sorry. I know it took a bit longer than—"
I shook my head in disbelief. "No, not that. I meant in the bar just now. What was that?"
"Shit." At least he had the grace to look sheepish. "Look, I can explain."
"You know what? I don't care. I don't want to know." I pulled away, turning back to the receptionist. "Listen, I really would like you to order me that taxi if you wouldn't mind?"
"Rebecca, stop it."
Now he was calling me Rebecca? "Leave me alone!"
The receptionist looked alarmed. "Is this man bothering you? Because I can call security."
"That won't be necessary," Luke interrupted, tucking an arm around me, that compelling note of authority back in his tone. "She's got an injury that needs urgent medical attention and it's already been agreed that I'll take he
r to the hospital." And before I could protest, before the receptionist could say another word he was marching me across the foyer towards the main entrance.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I muttered, furious at his high-handedness. "Do you really think I want you to take me—?"
"Go ahead and scream," he interjected calmly, guiding me down the steps. "Let everyone know I'm kidnapping you, why don't you?" When I didn't reply, he sent me a sidelong glance, his smile rather grim. "I don't hear anything."
"I was a bet?"
He heaved a sigh. "Not exactly."
"Then what?"
He made a growling sound under his breath. "Not here," he said, meeting head-on the prying stares of the only couple remaining on the terrace, a part of me impressed at his ability to make them act as though they hadn't been watching us. "We'll talk about it in the car."
Letting go of me when we reached the bottom of the steps, he pushed me ahead of him along the narrow, hedge-bound path to the side of the hotel. It occurred to me if I was going to run, this was the time to do it. Instead, I meekly waited for him to catch up then followed him across the car park.
The setting sun was casting long shadows across the tarmac, the dazzling blaze of red and gold reflected in the windows of the numerous parked cars. So it wasn't until Luke led me to the furthest corner, pulling keys out of his pocket, that I saw he was clicking open the doors of a black Mercedes.
"This is yours?" I blurted out. I didn't know much about cars, but I knew enough to know this one was brand new and expensive. It didn't fit with Luke's casual image at all.
He shot me a withering glance then bent to open the passenger door. "No," he said dryly. "It's my father's."
Unsure whether he was serious, I edged inside, sinking into the brown leather seat, its contours cradling my aching body to perfection. If I hadn't been so on edge, so uptight, it would've been easy just to close my eyes and slide away into dreamland. But right now, sleep wasn't an option. It seemed much more important to stay angry with Luke.
