Another Summer (10 page)

Evie must have nodded off.  She woke as Jake was parking the car in the lane.  He switched off the engine and grinned at her.

“Are we having wild sex out here in your car or shall we make a run for it?”

“Does anybody ever say no to you?”

“Are you going to be the first?” he teased.  “Everyone wants to shag a rock star.  When I’m famous you can make a fortune doing a kiss and tell.”

His cockiness should’ve annoyed her but it was too late for that.  They both knew that sex had been on the cards all evening.  But this had to be her choice, she wasn’t going to be seduced, and she didn’t want time to think it over, to feel guilty and wonder if this made her as bad as Joe.

“I’m too old to start having sex in cars.”

She leaned over and kissed him, her fingers tangling in his hair.  Then she got out of the car and picked her way up the cobbled path, drenched at once as she struggled in her silly shoes.  Jake caught up, pulling her round to kiss her, the rain running over their faces.  

“We could get naked in the rain?” 

“Or maybe we could wait until we’re inside where it’s dry?”

In the kitchen, Evie groped for the light switch.  Nothing.

“Power cut,” Jake shrugged, his arm still draped around her shoulders.  “Happens all the time.”

She’d forgotten the inconveniences of country living.  Forgotten how much she hated the dark, even in the city where it wasn’t pitch black like here with rain lashing the old cottage and rattling the windows.  She shivered, leaning into him.

“It’s no big deal,” he said.  “Most people have candles.  Where would they be?”

“Drawers by the sink, maybe.”

She stayed in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust while Jake poked around quite happily, not seeming to care that he couldn’t see a bat.  When he found a torch, she realised she’d been holding her breath.  There were candles too.  And matches, thank goodness.

“Do you want to fetch us a couple of towels?” he suggested as he lit some candles, melting wax into saucers so they’d stand up.

She didn’t.  But they were both dripping onto the floor and she didn’t want to admit to being so scared.  She took the torch, steeling herself to go upstairs into the blackness.

   On the landing, there was a long mirror, covered years ago in floral decoupage.  She stopped, shocked by her reflection in the torchlight.  Grim wasn’t the word.  Straggly hair, smudged make up.  And those provocative clothes!  What had she been thinking?

Surely he couldn’t still fancy her looking so bedraggled?  Never mind when he saw her naked.  Saw her body that was no longer young and perfect when he was so toned and gorgeous.  And after he’d shown her tonight he could have any girl he wanted.

Biting her lip, she stripped off her wet clothes and pulled on an old T-shirt and some yoga pants.  Too late now to think about impressing him.  Maybe he was already regretting coming home with her.  Should she make it easy for him and say it was okay if he wanted to go?

She slumped onto the bed to think, jumping straight  up when she found the covers were soaking wet.  The torch beam showed water dripping through the ceiling and there were already a couple of puddles on the carpet.

She called to Jake but he didn’t hear so she had to go back down.  He was in the living room coaxing a fire from the ashes in the grate.  He’d lit a dozen dusty white candles.  The shadows danced about the room, skimming his naked back.  The old radio hummed with smoky late night jazz.  Evie swallowed, lost for words at the sight of him.

He turned, grinning over his shoulder.  “Weren’t you meant to be getting us some towels?”

“I got sidetracked by the rainwater pouring through the ceiling.  My bed’s completely soaked.”

The fire suddenly spat into life and he sat back on his heels to admire it.  “Who needs a bed when there’s a nice open fire?”

“You’re joking!  The roof’s obviously leaking and the ceiling could come down at any moment.”

“Drama queen!” he laughed.  “Where’s your sense of adventure?”  But he went upstairs with her to look.

He had the torch so she held onto his other hand with both of hers.  Even without his shirt, he was warm.  And calm.  He organised pans and bowls to put under the drips and said he’d have a proper look in the morning.

So he was planning on staying all night?

“Are there any dry blankets?” he asked.

“I don’t know.  The spare room, maybe?”

She led him across the landing.  He sat on the bed, bouncing on the creaky springs then drew her in closer, holding her between his knees to kiss her.  She was too nervous of the dark to enjoy kissing him back.  

“It’s a fine old bed but why waste that fire after all my efforts?”

Jake carried the dry quilt downstairs and spread it out in front of the fire which was just beginning to flicker and glow.  It looked cosy, like a nest.  Evie was more than happy to be back in the relative comfort of candlelight but was she really going to lie down with him there?  Was she mad?

She busied herself in the kitchen, edging around with the torch until she found wine, corkscrew and glasses.  He was sitting on the quilt when she came back.  She perched on the edge of the sofa, telling herself she was a grown-up.  Grown-ups did this all the time.

“You’re nervous as hell,” he laughed.  “Come here and let’s have some of that wine.”

“It isn’t very cold.”

“I won’t care if you don’t.”

She knelt on the floor beside him and he took the bottle from her, opening it with a flourish.  She held the glasses while he poured.  He spilt some on her hand and bent to lick it off, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She swallowed, took a deep breath.  “What shall we drink to?” 

“What do you want most in the world?”

“I don’t know.  Peace of mind, maybe.  What about you?”

“That’s easy.  Fame, fortune and shedloads of sex.”

“Is that all you think about?”

“Pretty much.” 

He clinked her glass, drank half of his, watched her as she sipped her own.  She smiled nervously.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You need to knock it back.  You’re such a lady.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Don’t know.  Depends if you’re a lady underneath.”

She emptied her glass, her stomach in knots as he took the glass and placed it next to his on the hearth, the slate worn smooth by years of polishing.  When he took her hand, every inch of her body was fizzing with anticipation.

He leaned forward and kissed her.  She closed her eyes, drowning in the rainy scent of his hair.  He broke away, leaving her breathless.

“Come here?”  He was by the radio, turning up the volume.  “This is an awesome track.”

She was in his arms, dancing to jazz in the candlelit darkness.  Thigh on thigh as they swayed, barely moving from the spot.  His hands slid under her top, splayed over the small of her back, drifting up the ridges of her spine.

Her cheek found the hollow of his neck, her hands tracing the contours of his shoulders.  He smelled of danger.  Temptation.  She wanted more.  She kissed his cheek, found his lips.  Melted as the kiss became an urgent question.  A promise.

His hands moved down, crushing her hips against him.  He was hard already.  His breath was warm on her ear.

“I want to fuck you so much.”

She laughed, pulling away.  “That’s not very romantic.”

“What?”

He stood there looking puzzled, hands on his head, tugging at his hair.  His jeans were unbuttoned, she noticed.  When had he managed to do that?

“You’re meant to sweet-talk me with romance and poetry.”

“Is that how it worked, back in the day?” he laughed, sliding his arms around her to pull her close.  “These days, we just do it like this.”

Evie woke to find the fire had died and the last of the candles was spluttering in the dim light of dawn.  Jake was sprawled face down beside her, his arm still thrown across her belly.  She smiled.  Stretched a bit, never more aware of her body.  Every inch had surely been stroked and kissed.  It had been bliss.  Heaven.

She recalled looking at herself last night, smooth and curvy in the flattering glow from the candles.  She’d watched his hands caress her inner thighs, parting and probing.  She’d never felt more beautiful.

And Jake.  Would she ever tire of looking at him?  That smooth young skin, tanned caramel down to his firm white buttocks.  She stroked him with the back of her hand.  Would she ever tire of touching him?  Tasting him?  She’d never had sex like that.  Never woken in the early hours like this, wanting more, needing to know it hadn’t been a dream.

She shuffled onto her hip, trying not to mind that the floor was hard.  That she was bruised in places she never knew she had.  It had been worth it.  She wasn’t sorry when her fidgeting woke him.

“Morning,” he hummed against her arm.

“I don’t think it is morning, not quite.”

“So, no morning sex, then?” 

He trailed a lazy finger down her leg.  She was ready to snuggle down again under the quilt.  But he sat up, propped on one elbow.

“I’ll settle for food.  I’m starving, aren’t you?”

Her stomach growled in response and she remembered she hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.  She went to rummage in the kitchen, not quite believing she did it without a stitch on.  She’d always been one to grab a robe.

It was a relief that the power had been restored but she couldn’t be bothered to think about cooking.  She switched on the kettle, was arranging a plate of cold meat and cheese when he sneaked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.  He nuzzled her neck, his morning erection poking against her back.

“So, how did I do on the romance front?”

“Not bad.”

“What about this?  Is this romantic?”

Hands on her breasts, he twirled her nipples into peaks.  She closed her eyes, trying not to purr with pleasure.

“I wanted poetry.”

“Just words,” he whispered as he turned her round and leaned her back against the counter.  “Actions are better.”

His lips were on her, his tongue swirling, his hands moving down, making her ready.  He lifted her up, parted her legs and was inside her before she could answer.  She clasped the rigid length of him, wrapped her legs around him, matching his rhythm, his breathing.  It was hot and swift.  If he hadn’t had hold of her she’d have melted like jelly.

“Pretty poetic,” she laughed.  “But you’ll get better with practice.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They ate their makeshift breakfast and went back to sleep.  When they woke again it really was morning and it was still pouring from the heavens.

“Great day to stay in bed,” he murmured.

“We’re not actually in bed.”

“Details.”

“I’m aching all over.”

“You old people have no staying power.”

She threw a cushion at him.  He grabbed her, kissed her.  His hands were all over her again, his tongue sliding down her belly.  She didn’t think she could come again but as he filled her with pulsing pleasure, she rocked beneath him, climbing and clawing to reach the crest.  She squeezed him dry and it was blissful.

“Shit!” he gasped.  “I’m knackered.”

“You young people have no stamina.”

She smiled at him as he flipped onto his back.  He looked older with ruffled hair and morning shadow.  Sexier, if that were possible.  Was she starting to have feelings for him?  Justifying what she’d done by turning a one-night stand into a love affair?  She’d have to be careful.

But for now she felt drowsy and satisfied.  She needed the loo but didn’t want to move.  She was ready for hot food and coffee but was reluctant to break the spell.  She listened to the rain lashing the window, the fierce wind howling under the eaves but was soothed by his heartbeat.  The silence between them was peaceful, a world away from the chaos outside.  She wanted to stay like that forever.

He shivered a bit beside her and tugged the quilt over them.  “We should do something about the fire.  And your roof.  Those bowls are probably overflowing by now.”

She groaned.  “I can’t be bothered to get up.”

“Not sure I can get up.  But maybe if you give me a little stroke?”

“You’re insatiable!”

“Pretty much.”

“How about a shower?” she suggested as he kissed her neck again.  “If there’s hot water we should make the most of it.”

Warm soapy sex was something else again.  Her knees almost buckled with the joy of it.  Thirty years old and never done that before either.  She was beginning to realise she hadn’t lived.

He watched her towelling her hair.  “You’re one hot older woman, Mrs Marsh.”

“Don’t!”  She didn’t want to be reminded she was somebody’s wife.

“Don’t what?  I just gave you a compliment.”

“Maybe I should be complimenting you.”

“That good, eh?”

“Like you need to be told?”  She found a smile.  “How’s your coffee technique?  I’m parched.”

When she’d given herself a moment, she pulled on jeans and a lilac cotton sweater, deciding she no longer cared that her hair went wavy without her straighteners. The smell of coffee and the sound of piano music drifted up the stairs.

Generations of village children had practised their scales in that very spot.  But none of them had looked like Jake.  He was dressed again, the white shirt dry and crumpled from a night by the fire.  But unfastened.  Tempting.

“I didn’t know you played the piano.”

“Comes in handy, being in a band.  What about you?”

“Granny Barbara taught music and she tried her best to persuade us but me and Vanessa always wanted to be outside.”  She leaned on the piano as he finished the tune, a mellow sound crying out for words.  “I haven’t heard that before.”

“I just wrote it.  Maybe I’ll call it Song for Evie when I get the lyrics.”

“Man of many talents,” she quipped, a little overcome.

So he’d been thinking of poetry after all.  Writing a song for her.  If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.  She picked up a roll from the plate on the piano, bit into the fluffy egg and almost purred.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“If a fried egg has that effect on you, I’m tempted to cook you my Jamie Oliver special.”

“You’re going to be quite a catch for somebody.”

“But not you?”

He picked up his mug, took a drink and watched her wrestle with the question.  The banter had turned serious all of a sudden.

“I just met you,” she hedged.

“So?  That twat destroyed you.  It was hard to watch.  But I made you smile.  Made you come.  More than once, if I remember?”

“I’m worried about rushing into things.”

“You’re not going back to him?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“But in the meantime, who says you can’t be happy?”

She looked down, away from his searching eyes.  She bit into her roll, chewed a bit more than was needed.  A part of her had never been so happy.  The rest had never been so terrified.

“Jake, how old are you?  Twenty-five?”

“Do I look like I’ve had a hard life?”

She put down the roll, frowning at him.  “Go on, how old?”

“Chill out.  I’m in the ballpark.  Twenty two,” he admitted when she continued to glare at him.

“Eight years younger than me?  That’s nowhere near in the ballpark.” 

“Says who?  We connect, don’t we?”

She couldn’t deny it.  She’d never connected like that before.  Probably never would again.  And it was only for a week, she reminded herself.  Different rules, surely?  One blissful week and then he’d be nothing but a delicious memory.  Why shouldn’t she make the most of it?

He’d turned away, was tinkling on the keys, putting words to the melody she’d just heard him play.

“Me and my Evie, we have this connection.  I see your green eyes, I get an erection.  Come away with me now and be my muse.  If you turn me down, I’ll be singing the blues.”

She giggled.  “That’s truly terrible!”

“But true, all the same.  Ibiza would be great for you.  You should come.  We could have the whole summer.”

“Jake, I hardly even know you.  And there’s my daughter?”

“Details!”

“It’s more complicated than details.”

“It’s sex.  Only as complicated as you want to make it.  You fancy me, don’t you?  And you know I think you’re hot?  We could have some serious fun.  You could bring your daughter with you.  The place we’ve rented is huge.”

“But she has school.  It’s only half term.”

“Even better.  All kids jump at the chance of missing school.  Or leave her with her dad.  Let him do his bit.”

“You think I could leave my daughter for a whole summer?”

“A whole summer of beach sex.  Sun on your back sex.  Sex in the sea.”

“Stop!  I get the picture.”

“There’s no rush.  You can have until the weekend to think about it.”

She couldn’t believe she was so tempted.  Her body was tingling at the thought of all that time with Jake.  She’d never had a summer like it.  Probably never would again.

But it was beyond impossible.  She wasn’t the sort of mother who could abandon her daughter, under any circumstances.  She’d never been able to forget how much that hurt.