Stranger at the beach house (5 page)

Somehow she did and the unhelpful reply came quickly, making
me smile.

Neither.
All out hooker.
 
Leave nothing to chance or there will be a
poster for naked beach yoga going up in the Post Office!
 

I showered and changed, deciding
on a casual dress which flattered my thighs and showed a little, but not too
much leg above the knee. As much as I would have loved to take Joy’s advice, I
needed to be careful. Yes he was gorgeous, most women would think so, and yes I
had wanted him to pin me down in that bedroom this morning for the fucking of
my life but I was determined not to make an idiot of myself.

I certainly felt an attraction
and I thought there was something in his gaze, but there was nothing concrete
to suggest it wasn’t all in my head and any more than wishful thinking on my
part. The last thing I needed right now was any awkwardness between me and my
neighbour. There was a lot more I needed to know and I was certainly looking
forward to finding out.

The rain began to drum on the
window as I finished my hair and make-up and glanced at the clock. 5.40. Shit.
I was already late. Picking the bag up from the kitchen surface I made my way
quickly across the front of the house, utilising the shelter of the porch to
stay as dry as I could against the rain which was beginning to drive down hard,
running to the side door which led to Sam’s kitchen, the wine bottles clinking
angrily together in the bottom of the bag.

He didn’t answer on my first
knock so I let myself in, smoothing my hair and my now damp dress and put the
bag on the side, unpacking it carefully. First was the slightly wet and crushed
bakery box, then the ingredients for the meal and lastly, the wine. I felt him
before I saw him and my breath caught as I turned to find him leaning casually
against the door frame raking his gaze down my body. “You’re late,” he smiled,
confidently striding over and bending to plant a firm, lush kiss on my cheek.
Oh Jesus, he smelled utterly delicious.

 
“So what are we having then?” he asked, his
long fingers sifting through the shopping I had scattered on the counter,
raising his eyebrows and catching my eye as he spotted the asparagus. He knew.
Christ, could I
be
any more obvious.

 
“Steak,” I said quickly “as requested Sir,
with either chips and salad or baby new potatoes and vegetables. Your choice, I
got both,” I smiled.

“I think we’ll go with this,” he
said, his voice like pure velvet and extremely suggestive as he ran his fingers
over the asparagus tips and I turned away, my cheeks blazing.

“And what’s this?” he asked,
pushing a long finger under the ribbon of the bakery box.

“Dessert,” I laughed, smacking
playfully at his hand.

“I hope its chocolate,” he purred
licking his lips.

“It’s a surprise,” I answered,
noticing the wry smile that was tickling his mouth. He was certainly in a
playful mood.

“Where do you keep your pans?” I
asked, trying to keep my composure. He was standing so close it was getting me
seriously hot and bothered.

He strolled over to a large unit
filled with an array of very expensive kitchen equipment. “What do you need?”
he smiled.

“I’ll have those three,” I said,
pointing at three gleaming pans that had never seen the light of day, “and do
you have a griddle pan?” I asked, moving back towards the counter.

 
“A what?” he frowned and I couldn’t suppress
my giggle.

“Seriously?”
I quizzed and it was his turn to look
sheepish as I moved past him to search the large cupboard. “You must know. You
will have bought it,” I laughed as he shook his head.

“I paid someone to buy all this
stuff,” he said, gesturing around the room as I raised my eyebrows.

 
“Well I love to shop, Sam, so in the future if
you need anyone to buy stuff for you, please feel free to employ me. I’m
between jobs at the moment so I have plenty of spare time,” I laughed, finally
spotting a griddle pan still in its packaging.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he
grinned.

“Do you have olive oil?” I
realised suddenly that it was the one thing I had forgotten.

“It’s probably in there,” he
shrugged, smiling and pointing to a huge cupboard at the far end of the
kitchen.

“Jesus,” I gasped as I opened it,
encountering shelf after shelf of long life foods and milk, row upon row of
various tins and cans and eventually a jar of olive oil. Not a bottle like the
rest of the world owns, but a whacking great jar that looked like it was
designed specifically for caterers and busy ones at that.

 
“Are you thinking you might be holed up here
for a while?” I quizzed. There was enough food to sustain the man for years.

“Siege mentality,” he laughed
infectiously. “It never hurts to be prepared, Rose”. Prepared for what? I
wondered silently.

As I moved about the kitchen organising
the dinner, I could feel Sam watching me intently. “What can I do?” he asked
gently.

“Peel some carrots,” I said,
motioning for him to come over and showing him what to do. His concentration on
the task was endearing and I couldn’t help but wonder how he had managed to get
through life without knowing how to cook.

 
An unwelcome thought entered my head. Had he
been married? Was he still? “What did you do for food in London Sam?” I asked,
hoping for any answer other than that.

 
“I was usually at the office until late so I’d
eat out, or grab something at the gym,” he said casually.

“An expensive way to live,” I
smiled, raising my eyebrows at him.

“I suppose. I’ve always been too
busy, never really had the need or the urge to cook until now. Shit,” he
grimaced.

 
I looked over to see the blood running across
his finger where he had nicked it with the peeler. “Here,” I said, gently
taking his hand and moving it under the cold running water, looking up to find
him gazing down at me, his blue eyes dark and brooding. “You pour the wine and
I’ll take it from here,” I smiled, walking away and taking a very, very deep
breath.

The crisp white liquid tasted
delicious and I was really enjoying myself. The kitchen was a dream and so was
the man sharing it with me. He was setting the table at my request, having
decided to involve him only in tasks that didn’t require tricky manoeuvres with
sharp objects. “How do you like your steak, Sam?” I asked, watching as he
fiddled with the cutlery.

“Rare please,” he said as I
started to heat the griddle pan, covering the sirloin in a thin layer of olive
oil, sea salt and black pepper. The potatoes and carrots were ready and the
water was boiling for the asparagus.

 
“How long will it be?” he asked, sauntering up
to stand right behind me. I shivered, straightening my back and was suddenly
aware of how much his proximity affected me, firing up my nerve endings, making
me crave his closeness and touch.

 
“Three minutes,” I mumbled, taking another
deep breath and trying to concentrate on the job in hand.

“Is that all?” he queried, moving
in closer. “Wow,” he whispered in my ear, seeming genuinely impressed as I
griddled the steaks and popped the asparagus in the bubbling pan.
 

I moved quickly away to drain the
potatoes, covering them in butter and fine chopped parsley, trying desperately
to pull myself together. “It smells delicious,” he said gently. It wasn’t the
only thing I thought to myself, inhaling his sweet musky scent. One turn of the
sirloin and the meal was ready. I passed my wine to Sam and put the plate down
on the table.

“Thank you, Rose. It looks
amazing,” he said, shooting me a devastating smile and we started to eat. Mr
Richardson had given me two wonderful pieces of melt in the mouth beef and I
had managed not to ruin it.

“To new neighbours,” I raised my
glass to him as he held my gaze.

“And
very
good friends,” he purred, returning the gesture.

I decided now was as good a time
as any to carry on the conversation we had started last night and try and get
some answers to the infinite questions whirling through my brain. I’d do
anything to take my mind off just how good he looked.

“You said last night you spent a
lot of time with Alice,” I started as he nodded, watching me intently. “She
must have really liked you, trusted you,” I continued and his mouth curved
slightly indicating that he knew where this was going. “Did you tell her why
you wanted to leave London and come here and keep a low profile?” I asked,
raising my eyebrows. His eyes twinkled. He knew exactly what I was up to.

“Yes, Rose, I did and I will tell
you as soon as I can, but right now it’s for your own good that you don’t know
and you are just going to have to trust me,” he said as he topped up my wine. I
could tell from his face that I wasn’t getting any more. Damn it. This had done
nothing but fuel my curiosity even further. A change of tactic was required,
but he could forget it if he thought I would leave it at that.

“Did she talk about my mother?” I
asked quietly. I knew the story of course but Alice had always found it
difficult to talk about, especially to me. It was a raw and painful topic for
both of us.

“Yes she did, Rose. She talked
about her a lot, especially towards the end.” The kindness echoed in his voice.
“She was very proud of her. She told me that when your Grandpa finally agreed
that she could go to London, it was the saddest and proudest day of her life.
They absolutely adored her and wanted her to live her dream, but she was only
seventeen, from a small town and didn’t know anyone in the city. It seems
natural that they would worry. They went to see her perform and Alice said it
was the happiest she had ever seen her”.

 
I smiled, recalling the photograph which took
pride of place in the house. It was taken at the theatre where she worked, a
radiant image of a beautiful blond haired seventeen year old girl and it was
the overriding image of my mother that was seared on my brain. “Have you ever
wondered about your father, Rose?” he asked gently. The truth was that I
hadn’t, not in a long time.

“I used to when I was younger.
Alice always said she didn’t know who he was, so after a while I just stopped
thinking about him,” I answered honestly.
 
It was a strange question and I wondered if he knew more, had Alice
known more? “Did Alice lie to me Sam?” I asked, thinking for the first time
that maybe she’d known after all.

 
“God no,” he answered quickly and firmly. “She
didn’t know who he was. Your grandpa had not long died when your mum came back
alone and pregnant.
 
She always refused
to tell Alice who the father was, only that she loved him but wouldn’t tell him
about you. It was the cause of many arguments apparently. Alice told me she had
always thought he must have been married,” he said.
 

Alice had told me that too. She
said my mother had denied it, but she couldn’t think of any other reason for
her to come home and face the scandal alone when she was clearly so deeply in
love with him.

“Would you try to find him if you could?”
Sam asked
suddenly, his caring tone and soft gaze pulling me from my thoughts.

 
“I don’t know,” I said simply and that was the
truth of it.

“Did she tell you how my mother
died?” I questioned.

“Yes,” he answered, placing down
his knife and fork and lifting the crisp Pinot
Grigio
to his soft full lips. “She blamed herself for letting your mum go back to
London after she had you. She said if she hadn’t agreed to look after you and
made her stay, that she wouldn’t have been in the accident and your life would
have been very different. I don’t think she ever stopped feeling guilty about
that,” he said, smiling kindly.

Oh my God
. I had never realised alongside the pain of losing her
only child that Alice’s heart was heavy with the burden of guilt. “But it
wasn’t her fault,” I said desperately, suddenly wanting to cry.

 
“I know,” said Sam making his way around the
table and cupping my face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Rose. The last thing I want
is to upset you, but there is something Alice wanted me to show you”. He kissed
my forehead fondly, sending a warm shiver across my brow. “Did you know she was
coming back when she was hit by the car?” he asked as I nodded slowly.

This had been one part of the
story that Alice had made sure that I’d known. Only days after she left, my
mother had realised she couldn’t live without me and that her dreams had
changed, but fate had intervened in the worst possible way and she had never
made it home.

The genuine sadness in Sam’s face
endeared him to me even more as he pulled away slowly. “Bring that surprise
into the lounge and we’ll enjoy it in there,” he smiled gently as he made his
way towards the door.

“Wait,” I said sharply as he spun
around. “What have you got to show me?” I shouted.

“I’m getting it now, Rose,” he
laughed softly, mocking my impatience as he left the room.

‘Surprise?’
It took my brain a moment to register
that he’d been talking about the dessert. I cut two huge pieces of the
chocolate and cream cake, plating it up with two forks and placed it on the
table in the lounge. The storm outside was really picking up and the
conversation about my mother had opened old emotional wounds. Comfort in the
shape of a delicious chocolate and cream covered cake seemed utterly justified.
I retrieved the wine from the kitchen table and made my way back through to the
room. Dart was asleep in front of the fire and I added some fresh logs,
bringing it roaring back to life. “That’s my job,” said Sam walking in, smiling
and placing an old black box on the table in front of me, grinning as he eyed
the cake and stroking his tongue suggestively over his lips.
Christ,
he was sexy.