Sam gawped at the entrance hall of Clifftop House. A statement staircase with a polished banister led up to the first floor. The walls were oak panelled with elaborate cornices and even a stained glass window at one end. The room had obviously been meant to impress when it was built in Victorian times, and by the current owner, who’d spared no expense in restoring it.
‘Wow.’
‘Yeah. That’s what I thought when the agent showed me in. I never dreamed I might live here one day. Even for a little while.’ Gabe pointed to her wellies. ‘Are you going to take your coat off or stand there making a puddle on that nice carpet?’
She glanced down at the water soaking into the exotic rug, but Gabe was smiling.
‘Drat. I’m sorry.’ She shed her dripping mac and Gabe collected it. ‘I’ll leave my wellies here.’
She took them off while he hung up her coat in a room off to the side. When he returned, he was wearing a thin grey jumper that showed off his torso beneath. She didn’t think he had anything else under it and guessed he must have thrown it on after jumping out of bed, just as she had. She suddenly remembered her own outfit and groaned. She was wearing silky sweat pant bottoms and a matching top.
‘You’ll have to excuse my pyjamas. I didn’t have time to change.’ And hadn’t thought she’d need to, of course …
She couldn’t miss his glance at her outfit. ‘None of us did. Um … you are a bit damp. Would you … um … like a dry top?’
She caught sight of her reflection in the window. Oh God, that cami left almost nothing to the imagination, and the sweatpants weren’t much better. ‘Yes, please,’ she muttered.
‘OK. I’ll be back in a sec.’
He jogged up the staircase, leaving her marvelling at the period grandeur of the house and becoming even more amazed that she was standing in it, wearing not a lot.
He was back within a few minutes with a navy long-sleeved T-shirt in one hand.
‘Hope this is OK. I don’t have much that’s clean.’
Sam took it. It was soft and warm. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem. I’ll make us a drink if you want to change. There’s a washroom off the kitchen. I’ll show you the way.’
The kitchen was a surprise, all granite surfaces and white foiled units. Sam didn’t think its stark modernity went with the rest of the house, but she was in no mood to give it a proper assessment, only keen to get out of Gabe’s sight and into something more decent. She took the T-shirt into the cloakroom and swapped it for her damp cami. It was obviously straight from his drawer, freshly laundered with the scent of Lenor.
She had to roll the cuffs up but the top had the advantage of hanging low and hiding the clinginess of the silky fabric over her bottom. She grabbed a comb from the shelf above the washbasin and tamed some of the tangles in her hair while pots clanged outside the door. It was nearly three in the morning – what on earth was Gabe doing? What on earth was she doing?
She emerged to a scent that made her toes curl in delight, even if they were encased in the fluffy purple socks that Zennor had given her for Christmas.
Gabe was leaning over a copper pan on the Aga, stirring something.
‘Mmm. What’s that?’ Sam stood beside him, peering into the pot, which was half full of a dark and gooey liquid.
‘My version of cocoa. A grown-up version.’
As he poured rich dark liquid into two glass mugs, Sam’s tastebuds went wild. ‘That looks and smells amazing,’ she sighed.
‘It’s the best dark chocolate, but this is the really grown-up bit.’ He reached for a small bottle and poured a generous measure of a pale liquid into it.
‘What is it?’
‘Something I picked up on my travels. Wait and see. I’ve no cream, I’m afraid.’
He dusted the top of the chocolate with some cocoa powder and picked up the mugs. ‘Come on.’
In the sitting room, Sam sat on the sofa next to him, almost sinking into the squidgy leather. Gabe handed her the chocolate. ‘Careful, it’s very hot.’
You can say that again, thought Sam, but she took refuge from her wicked thoughts in the steam curling off the chocolate. The alcohol fumes and heady scent made her gasp in delight. Wow. It reminded her of a Bakewell tart … or was it something else, richer? She took a sip. Sweetness combined with the kick of booze. A warmth spread instantly from her lips and mouth, down her throat and through to her toes. This was both dangerous and delicious at the same time.
‘Well?’ Gabe asked.
‘It’s like a liquid Black Forest gateau. It’s amazing.’ She sipped again, letting the flavours and alcohol sink into every cell of her body.
‘That’s because it’s made with black cherry bourbon. I picked it up when I was last in the States. One of the better things to come out of there.’
Sam sipped and sighed. ‘The best, I think. It’s gorgeous.’ Like the man who made it, lounging next to her with his dark hair tousled and damp, and no idea of the sinful thoughts in her mind or the feelings he’d aroused in her body.
‘Glad you like it.’
As they sipped in silence, she became aware of the sensuousness of her surroundings: the sofa, the warm wooden furniture and thick brocade curtains drawn either side of a curved bank of windows facing the sea. The moon had retreated behind the clouds again so outside the night was dark, though rain spattered the windows and the roar of the waves was still loud. Sam heard the clock tower strike the quarter hour. In a very short time, the first slivers of dawn would creep into the sky. The festival was hours away … but it might as well have been years.
‘This is a spectacular house, Gabe. I’m impressed.’
Gabe shook his head. ‘Don’t be. None of the furniture’s mine.’
‘What was in the removal van, then?’
‘You mean you didn’t have a look?’
Sam rolled her eyes. ‘No.’
‘Cooking stuff and gadgets, mainly. Office equipment like a desk and chair. A few home comforts – sound system, computer stuff, TV.’ He smiled. ‘And my own mattress. The one in the master bedroom must have seen some action so I’m glad I brought my own.’
Her cheeks warmed up. She wished she hadn’t asked.
Her sense of the surreal was also taking over. Had she dreamt all the years of loss and struggle, rebuilding her life? And here he was smiling at her, all damp, tousled hair and firm body beneath the thin sweater. She was as much in danger of falling in love with him as she had ever been, and her initial anger that he was back had cooled.
He’d said the hot chocolate was grown-up, and so were they. Perhaps it was time they talked properly. After all, they might never have the chance again.
‘That night after the trip to the hospital, I really thought it was Ryan at the crossing in Marazion. That was silly, of course, he’s probably at the other end of the country.’
Gabe sipped his drink before answering. ‘It could easily have been him … it was dark.’
‘No. It was my wishful thinking.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with wishful thinking. Nothing wrong with hope.’
‘Really? After Mum died and Ryan was put away, I lost my hope.’ And we split up, she wanted to say but didn’t dare.
‘For all I know he might have a family,’ she continued. ‘He might be on the breadline or ill or depressed. Knowing he’s alive isn’t enough. I want to know he has a life, despite what he’s done.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t blame me,’ he said quietly.
‘I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but I can’t forget that you let me down. No matter what the reasons, I can’t forget.’
‘Or forgive?’
‘I don’t know. I think I can understand and accept what you did but forgiveness … means I have to forget. I … I felt too much for you. I cared too much, which meant that the crash to earth was so much worse, and now I’m worried that too much time has gone by between us to pick up where we left off.’
Gabe took her hand. ‘I don’t want to pick up where we left off. That’s impossible, but we could start again at a whole new place.’ His voice was passionate. ‘I was angry too, for all kinds of reasons, and I didn’t come back here to re-ignite something that’s long been dead. I came because the town needed me. Because I thought I was helping Porthmellow – and yes, helping you. Which was more important to me, I can’t decide, but one thing is certain: I never once wanted to cause you any more pain than I have already.’
‘You did cause me pain but it’s eased. I don’t blame you anymore. I blame Ryan. I’ve accepted he was wrong. I blame myself for not seeing sooner the way he was going. For not noticing that my own brother was so desperate. Maybe I put that on you when you thought turning him in was for the best.’
Gabe’s jaw dropped. Sam had surprised herself. Maybe she could forgive him after all.
‘Earlier you said you’d lost hope but you hadn’t. You carried on, you built the business up and cared for Zennor. You didn’t lose hope. You made it.’
‘Made it is a relative term.’ She smiled.
‘You said I’d made it too but you’re wrong.’
She frowned. ‘What do you mean? Look at this place. The money you’ve made, the empire. You’re our headline draw for the festival.’
He shook his head. ‘Granted, I’ve had some success with the business but the money means nothing to me. I lost the thing that really mattered to me. You.’
Sam was so astonished she laughed out loud. ‘Me? A stressed-out girl from Porthmellow who runs a pie van? Oh, come on, I’ve seen you with other women on the news sites. Glamorous women. Wasn’t one of them a Lady?’
‘None of them could hold a candle to you.’
Sam forced another laugh but her hands were shaky. A lump formed in her throat. Oh shit. The exhaustion, the stress of the festival, the emotions and the booze at three in the morning on an empty stomach – they’d all got to her. ‘It’s this grown-up hot chocolate making us talk like this. I wish I hadn’t drunk it, perhaps I should have left.’ Perhaps she still should go, she thought.
‘It’s true and being grown-up is vastly overrated, but I’m glad you stayed.’
This was all going too fast, much too fast. ‘You’ve had too much of the grown-up hot chocolate, too, Gabe.’
‘Maybe, but I’ve never seen more clearly in my life. Please can we try again?’ Gabe moved away slightly. ‘I’ll let it go if you don’t want to … but why not?’
His dark eyes were intense. Serious, longing … All the youthful feelings of lust and love flooded back. She might only have this one chance. They’d moved so far since he’d arrived back in Porthmellow. She glimpsed a moment beyond tonight when they might move even closer, but how could she build a new life with someone who had once destroyed the life they had together?
She tried to stand up, wobbled a little. ‘I really ought to go.’
‘Why?’ Gabe got up and steadied her.
‘Because I don’t trust myself.’
‘To do what?’
She was terrified she might forgive him and restart her life. Their lives. Imperfect. Far from even approaching perfect, but finally moving in the right direction: towards each other not further away.
‘This.’ She reached up, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. What the hell was she doing? Even as Gabe kissed her back, she was still asking the question and answering it with: ‘I don’t care.’
How long had it been? Rewind to the moment before Gabe had walked into the cottage that night to tell her about Ryan. Rewind all of that and wipe the tape. Focus on now. On this very instant. Take it a second at a time. Gabe’s mouth on hers. That feathery way he kissed, little light kisses that she knew would lead to so much more. The delight in his eyes when he realised that she was staying. The taste of him; sweet cherry and smoky bourbon. The kiss ended and she licked her lips and giggled.
‘What?’
‘Wow. A guy who tastes of cherry and chocolate. Must be a dream combination.’
He laughed. ‘I aim to please.’ His tone softened. ‘Sometimes. Except when I hurt someone. I’m sorry. If I could turn back the clock—’
‘Don’t carry on. You’d do the same again. I wouldn’t expect any different. Don’t spoil the now.’
His eyes widened a little. She still had the power to surprise him. She was in control. ‘So, there is a now,’ he murmured.
Oh yes. She wanted the now so much. Her body told her how much, that was obvious, but she wanted to be with him again, hold him and be held by him. Skin on skin, the way they had way back. And yes, Gabe coming back had made her life harder. Falling in love with him again had made it ten times more difficult, but right now, she didn’t care. Like the festival, regrets could wait until tomorrow. Except it already was tomorrow and already too late to go back.
She stood up and lifted his hand in hers. ‘If you want there to be.’ Then she kissed him again.
Taking her cue, he took her hand and led her out of the lounge and upstairs. Her legs were like jelly, and she was trembling but wildly excited. ‘Please don’t say you’ve chosen the bedroom in that turret?’ she asked when they reached the landing.
‘Is it a deal breaker?’
‘Might be.’
‘Shit.’ Gabe grimaced and pointed to the door in the curved stone wall at the end of the landing. They both laughed at their youthful fantasies but with every step, Sam knew that this was real and serious grown-up stuff, only she didn’t want to grow up.
Sam rolled her eyes. ‘Remember when we used to joke about who lived here and that once you entered, you could never leave.’
They reached the bedroom door. ‘I think you’re confusing it with Hotel California,’ said Gabe.
‘Don’t tell me you have a four-poster in there?’ she asked.
Gabe pushed open the door, and let her go inside first.
Sam groaned. ‘You do have a four-poster, and with tapestries too. Oh Gabe, that’s so cheesy.’
‘Like I said. It’s not mine.’ He sat on the bed and pulled her between his legs. Still giggling at the outrageous cheesiness of the bed and the outrageousness that she was even here at all. ‘So, is it a deal breaker?’ he asked.
Sam sighed. She could hold out no longer. She pushed him back onto the cover and gave him her answer.