It was a glorious late summer day as Dominic took the luggage from the boot of the Maserati and set it down on the gravelled drive. The sky was a pale-blue wash overhead, and the temperature – normally hot and miserable this time of year – was mild.
“I can’t believe we’re in Cornwall, finally having a proper holiday together,” Gemma said as she joined him. Her skirt billowed and blew against her legs in the sea breeze. “It’ll be brilliant – just you and me and the sea…and lots of wine and Cornish pasties and walks along the shingle…
“Don’t forget the room I booked us, with a nice big king-sized bed,” Dominic added.
Gemma eyed him in exasperation over the top of her sunglasses. “Is sex all you ever think about, Dom?”
He considered. “Yeah,” he said, “it is…especially when I haven’t had it for a couple of days. That’s a bloody long time, for me.”
Gemma snorted. “Ten minutes is a long time for you.”
“Here, take one of these suitcases, babes. I can’t manage ’em all. I’m not your bloody porter.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She reached for her cosmetics case and grabbed the handle of one of the wheelie suitcases. “Is that everything, then?”
“I think so. Sun cream, stupid-looking touristy hats, sunglasses, luggage…” He grabbed the other wheeled suitcase and dragged it behind him as he turned towards the hotel “Yeah, that’s the lot.”
Gemma followed, her espadrille-clad feet crunching over the gravel. “This is fabulous, Dom. I’m glad you were able to clear your schedule for a few days. We needed this holiday.”
“What’s this place called again?” he asked over his shoulder as his gaze wandered to the dunes that led down to a private shingle. “St Whatsit’s by the sea?”
“St Anselm-by-the-Sea,” she replied.
Ten minutes later, they were shown to their room on the top floor by Josh, the owner’s pimply faced but cheery son. “Here we are,” he announced as he flung open the door, “the best room in the house – the honeymoon suite.” He smirked.
Gemma gasped. “Dom – you reserved the honeymoon suite? But…we’re not on our honeymoon.”
He shrugged. “We never really had a honeymoon, babes. Just a couple of nights in that run-down bed and breakfast in Loch Draemar—”
“Remember the man next door, who snored so loudly the light fixture over our bed trembled?” she finished, and giggled. “And the boiler that went on the blink? It was so bloody cold we barely managed a shag. We couldn’t move for all the blankets on the bed.”
He leaned forward to kiss her. “We need to get in a bit of make-up time.”
Josh, still hovering in the doorway, snickered.
“Here, mate,” Dominic said hurriedly as he reached for his wallet and withdrew a fifty-pound note, “you’ve done your job, thanks. Be a good lad and run along now. And remember what I told you.”
Josh nodded as he pocketed the money, smirked again, and left, closing the door behind him.
“What did you tell him?” Gemma asked as she wheeled the suitcase inside and set her cosmetics case down.
“I said I’d give him my autograph, along with Christa’s private mobile number, if he keeps everyone away from us for a couple of days.”
She lifted her brow. “Christa’s private number? She won’t like that!”
“She’ll do it for me. She owes me.” He eyed Gemma quizzically. “So…tell me, babes. What do you think of the honeymoon suite?”
Her gaze swept over the king-sized four-poster bed swathed liberally in white silk, the French doors looking out to the sea, the wildflowers artfully arranged in milk-glass vases throughout the room, and she clasped her hands together. “It’s perfect; romantic, but simple. And you were so sweet to book it for us,” she added as she went up to him and slid her arms around his neck. “You deserve a reward.”
“I do? Even though I jetted off to Greece with a beautiful pop singer and left you behind?”
“Well, now that I know why you jetted off to Corfu with Christa, yes. In fact, I think it’s wonderful, what you did for her.”
“I wanted to tell you everything, Gem…but I couldn’t. It wasn’t my story to tell. And you probably wouldn’t have listened, anyway.”
“No,” she agreed, “I wouldn’t.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and pressed herself against him. “But I’m listening now.”
“You said something about a reward,” he reminded her as he reached for the curve of her bottom and squeezed it. “Care to elaborate?”
“It involves that four-poster bed over there,” she began, nibbling on his lower lip, “and you, and me.”
“Sounds good so far,” he approved, his eyes locked on hers as he reached up to undo the buttons on her blouse. “What else?”
“What do you mean, what else? Aren’t I enough?” Gemma demanded, indignant.
“Oh, babes,” he murmured as her blouse fell open, “believe me…you’re more than enough.”
Gemma giggled as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. “Good to know. But will I be enough for the rest of your life? Won’t you get bored with me, and miss having all those groupies and models and hot pop singers to plough through?”
He threw her down on the bed and lay next to her. “I don’t ‘plough through’ a woman, babes, I make love to her.” He pushed the blouse from her shoulders and kissed his way slowly along the length of her neck. “Like this.” His mouth moved lower, lingering over the swell of her breast above the balconette bra. “And like this.”
“Is that right?” she murmured, and closed her eyes. Her breathing became shallow. “I’m…not impressed.”
“And then,” he added as he tugged at her skirt and dragged it down her legs, “I do this,” and he threw the skirt aside and pulled her knickers off and replaced the scrap of silk with his mouth, licking and nipping and teasing until she cried out with wave after wave of shuddery pleasure.
When she finally caught her breath, Gemma opened her eyes and stared up at Dominic. “And then?” she whispered. “Then I finish what I started.”
He took off his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head until he was stretched out naked beside her. “I love you, Gem,” he said, his eyes on hers. “I always have, you know. You’re all I need. You’re all I’ll ever need.”
“And you’re sure about that?”
“Positive.”
And without another word, he did indeed finish what he’d started, until they were both spent and sweaty and languorous from rolling around in bed for the better part of the afternoon, making love.
Dominic levered himself up on one arm and kissed the top of her head. “Marry me, babes?”
She stretched and rolled over. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she exclaimed. “I already did, in the chapel at Castle Draemar, in front of all our friends and family.”
“I know,” he said. “But I want to do it again, renew our vows. I thought we could have a private ceremony on the beach, nothing fancy, just you and me and the local vicar. I want to make sure you haven’t changed your mind about me – about us.
After all, you swanned off to Brighton with that bloke Jack without so much as a by-your-leave—”
“Nothing happened. But not for lack of trying on Jack’s part,” she added, and smirked.
“And why didn’t it happen? It was plain enough he fancies the hell out of you, Gems.”
“It didn’t happen,” she said firmly, “because I don’t love Jack. I love you. He’s a very attractive, very – unique – man. But he leads a dangerous life. It would never have worked.”
“So you gave it some thought, then.”
She sighed. “Yes, at one point, I did. I thought you’d run off with Christa, made a mockery of our marriage.”
Dominic eyed her. “And if I had run off with Christa? Would you have run off with him?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Honestly? Yes, I might have. Don’t forget,” she reminded him tartly, “you answered Christa’s door that day I went over to confront her, and you were naked as a jaybird.”
“I’d just had a shower!” he retorted. “I spent the night – in the guest room, mind,” he added as she glared at him. “That crazy bloke Tony called, demanding money and making threats. She was scared to be alone in the house with no one to protect her or her mum.”
For a few minutes the room was silent save for the crash of the waves below and the sound of hammering somewhere downstairs. “Do you believe me, babes?”
Gemma sighed. “Yes, Dom, of course I do.”
“Well, then,” Dominic said, “now that Tony’s been arrested, and Jack’s gone off in search of Third World despots, that just leaves you and me, babes. So – what d’you think? Do you want
to renew our vows and marry me all over again?”
“Your track record’s horrible,” Gemma said after a moment.
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“You’re divorced, and you nearly married your ex-wife twice.”
“Yeah. But I didn’t.” He shuddered at the thought of just how very close he’d come.
“No, you didn’t – but only because she caught you shagging the bridesmaid in the broom closet ten minutes before the wedding.”
Dominic said nothing. Sometimes it was better that way.
“And before that, you were with Natalie Dashwood for two years.”
“She’s Natalie Dashwood-Gordon, now,” he reminded her irritably, “and we’re ancient history.” He leaned forward and kissed her shoulder. “Besides, Keeley, Natalie, and all of those other girls, the ones whose names I don’t even remember…? They’re in the past. You’re my future, babes.”
Gemma reached up and wound her arms once again around his neck. “Then we’d better start planning a family,” she said, her eyes on his. “Don’t you think?”
“I do. But first…” He rolled over, pulling her on top of him. “I think we need a bit more practice. I haven’t quite got the hang of it yet.”
Gemma kissed him, long and lingeringly. “I couldn’t agree more,” she murmured. “After all, practice makes perfect.”