Gemma found an outside table at a cafe and dropped her carrier bags – consisting of assorted new clothes, an Anya Hindmarch shoulder bag, and a pair of exquisite black Louboutins, all courtesy of Dom’s AmEx card – and sat down.
As she picked up a menu she scanned the streets. “Jack!” she called out as she spotted him, and waved. “Over here.”
A few minutes later, he joined her. “Been shopping, I see,” he remarked.
She nodded. “It was a very successful expedition,” she confirmed, “and nothing was on sale.”
“You actually sound pleased about that.”
“I am.” She sniffed. “I charged the lot to Dominic’s card, so I made sure everything was full price.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said, and smiled slightly as he picked up a menu.
“I hope you don’t mind stopping for a quick bite before we go back? Because of a certain unexpected visitor, I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning,” Gemma added, pointedly.
“Not at all. I could do with something myself.”
After the waiter took their orders and left with their menus, Gemma leaned forward. “Did the police find anything of use in the van? Something that might help to find Jools?”
“Not really, just a matchbook from a Turkish nightclub. The name’s partly worn away. Devon’s headed back to London to see if the CID can decipher the full name and track the location.”
“Well, that’s something,” she said encouragingly.
“It’s not much, but it’s better than coming up empty-handed. Now,” he added, determined to steer the conversation to a more pleasant topic, “you said you’ve been here before with your mum?”
Gemma leaned forward and rested her forearms on the table.
Although it was warm, a breeze fluttered the scalloped edges of the canopy that shaded them. She drank in the familiar sights and smells of the seaside – greasy chips and sun cream, seaweed drying in the sun, gulls squawking overhead – and she was reminded of the childhood trips she’d made here with her mum.
“I had my first kiss under the pier,” she confided. “I was fifteen.”
Jack raised a brow. “And how was it?”
“Not quite what I expected,” Gemma admitted. She remembered how startled she’d been when his tongue had invaded her mouth. “He was a lifeguard, and really fit. Older than me, too. I think he was eighteen at the time.”
“And did you two become an item?”
“Oh, God, no!” Gemma smiled wryly. “I was only down for the day with Mum. She’d have skinned me alive if she knew I was meeting up with an older boy under the pier like that.” She sighed. “I can’t say I’d blame her. I was a right handful back then.”
“You still are.”
Gemma met Jack’s eyes, so blue and direct, and felt a twist of desire deep in her stomach. His shirt was open at the throat, and suddenly all she could think of was unbuttoning that shirt, very slowly, and running her hands along the smooth muscles of his chest…
“A glass of wine, madam?” the waiter enquired. He stood expectantly by the table, bottle at the ready.
“Yes, please.” Gemma blushed as he poured the wine, embarrassed at the direction of her thoughts.
“Your food will be out shortly,” he said, and left.
Jack held his glass up. “To you, Gemma – a very intrepid, very beautiful…handful.”
She clinked her glass against his. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, and smiled.
“Gemma,” Jack ventured as he set his glass aside, “Would you like to take a walk along the pier after lunch, before we head back? I know I’m not in the same class as your fit friend, the lifeguard, of course.”
She laughed. “No, you’re not even close, sorry. But I suppose you’ll do.” Suddenly all the teasing fled as their eyes once again locked, and Gemma knew, as surely as the sun followed the moon, that she wanted Jack…and the knowledge left her shaken and more than a little confused.
What was she doing, flirting with this man? Gemma wondered.
Jack Hawkins was a dangerous cocktail of good looks, charm and intelligence and it was a combination she was ill-equipped to handle. He lived precariously, chasing leads, selling arms to Third World countries, bedding beautiful women all over the world, and God knew what else.
She wanted stability. She longed for a home, a child of her own, and the kind of close-knit, loving family that she’d never had growing up. A man like Jack could never give her those things. He wasn’t made that way. And he’d make mincemeat of her heart.
But the image of Dominic opening Christa’s door late last night, his hips wrapped in a towel and his hair still damp from the shower, was painfully fresh in her mind. He and Christa had spent the night together, that much was obvious, and the evidence of their betrayal hurt her deeply.
Dominic had taken their wedding vows and trounced them at the first opportunity. Now, she thought with a glint of determination as the waiter returned with their plates, it was her turn.
She’d go for a walk on the pier with Jack, and see where things went. He was good company, funny and clever, and he’d made it very clear he wanted her.
“Having second thoughts?” he asked as he opened one of his mussels and prised the meat out.
Gemma smoothed her napkin over her lap and picked up her fork with a smile. “Not a single one,” she replied.
After they’d eaten the last of the delicious, briny mussels and finished their wine, Jack settled the bill and they stood up to go.
“Let’s stow your things first,” he said.
Together, laden with carrier bags, they went back to Jack’s Land Rover and locked everything inside. He turned to Gemma and held out his arm. “Would madam like to take that stroll down to the pier?”
She hesitated. She really ought to get back to London after all. She had no business skiving off in the middle of the day like this, flirting with Jack, acting like a – a bloody teenager.
Why not? Gemma decided, and pressed her lips together. Why not have a bit of fun? After all, while she stood here dithering like a feather-brain, Dom was probably shagging Christa up against a wall somewhere.
“Gemma?” Jack said gently. “Have you changed your mind? It’s all right if you have. I’ll take you home.”
“No. No, I don’t want to go back yet.” She took his arm and smiled up at him. “Let’s go.”
Jools had just stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a towel when she heard the door lock click and saw the knob turn. Alexios.
She stiffened and clutched the towel tightly against her chest. Her eyes never left his as he came in, shutting the door behind him, and advanced on her slowly.
“Relax, little one,” he commanded softly. “I’ve told you, I’m not here to hurt you. I mean you no harm.”
“Right.” Despite her fear, there was a trace of defiance in her voice. “Your yobbos grabbed me off the street, and you’ve held me prisoner in a windowless room for days now – but you mean me no harm.”
“I’m sorry it has to be this way. It can’t be helped.”
“Why does it have to be this way? Why did you bring me here? You owe me an explanation!”
“I owe you nothing.” His words were cold, measured. “Dry yourself off and get dressed, little one, and perhaps…perhaps then I’ll give you some answers.”