by Lucy Lord
Jack laughed. ‘It may sound ridiculous, like every interview you’ve ever heard from a fatuous Hollywood A-lister, but I am, really, just a regular guy.’
Summer laughed too. ‘Yeah, just a regular guy who happens to command millions of dollars for every movie performance.’
‘Billions for Antony & Cleopatra, actually.’
As Jack scraped another plate into the bin, his bare shoulder brushed Summer’s. Immediately, they leapt apart from each other. And then, at exactly the same time, they both laughed again.
‘Okaaaay – slight over-reaction,’ said Jack.
They gazed at each other for what seemed like minutes, but was probably only seconds.
Up close, Summer could see the hazel flecks in Jack’s thickly lashed green eyes as they roamed over her face, the scattering of freckles across the bridge of his elegant straight nose, the softness of his full lips.
‘Time for a swim, I think,’ she said, snapping herself out of it. ‘There’s a party out there – this can wait till later.’ She meant the tidying up, but the words hung over them.
‘I’ll join you,’ said Jack. ‘I could use some cooling off.’
Back outside, Jack tried not to stare as Summer undid the halter ties of her maxidress and let it drop to the floor, revealing her beautiful long-limbed, subtly curvaceous body in a faded blue string bikini. Without looking back at him, she performed a clean dive into the deep end, then swam the whole length of the pool underwater. Not giving himself time to think, Jack dived in after her.
The water was wonderfully cool and soothing against his burning skin, purging him of unclean thoughts. Except it wasn’t. What the hell was happening to him? He had drunk quite a lot of the sangria, he rationalized to himself, as he swam after Summer under the water. And the sun could be going to his head. But when he came up for breath, and found himself face to face with her, he realized that it wasn’t nearly that simple.
Her blonde hair, wet against her head, shone golden in the Balearic sun and emphasized her lovely bones and wide laughing smile. She looked him in the eye for a millisecond, before swimming back under.
She looks like the sun, he thought as he followed her. And, try as he might not to make the comparison, he couldn’t help but think of Tamara, unwilling ever to put her face in the sun or her head underwater. He carried on swimming, eyes closed as he was wearing his contacts. As one hand encountered a slender ankle, he allowed himself to caress both legs, ever so slightly at first, and then, gently but more firmly, further up the thighs.
Suddenly, they kicked back at him, absolutely not the reaction he’d been expecting.
When he re-emerged this time, he was face-to-face with Poppy.
‘Get your hands off me, you bloody perv,’ she giggled. ‘Don’t think I was your target, though, was I? She’s over there.’ She nodded towards the far corner of the pool. ‘You must have the worst sense of direction ever.’
‘Sorry, Pops.’ Jack was hideously embarrassed. ‘What the hell did Bella put in that sangria?’
‘Maybe it was a luuurve potion.’
‘Please stop it.’
Jack looked so agonized that Poppy thought she should give him a break.
‘None of my business, mate.’ She thumped him on the shoulder. ‘My lips are sealed!’ Her high voice rang out, bell-like, over the water.
‘Well, you have put my mind at rest. I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody more discreet.’
‘Sorry,’ said Poppy, quietly this time. ‘But maybe you should try to be a bit more discreet yourself.’
‘OK. Point taken.’ Jack searched for something else to say as he bobbed, treading water. ‘Great party, huh?’
Poppy looked out at all the happy faces. After a quick dip, Bella had nipped inside for a brief shower and come back down with Daisy in her arms. She was sitting on her sunlounger with the little girl on her lap, as her new friends cooed over her. Andy had his entire table in fits of giggles – he could be very funny, in his dry way, when he chose. Several people had started drunken dancing by the edge of the pool to an old Stones hit – Jorge was getting quite touchy-feely with Pilar, the waitress from Anita’s, Poppy noticed – and Ben and Natalia were still lounging in Bella’s folly.
‘It’s fab, Belles!’ she shouted, waving over at her friend. ‘Jack’s just been saying what a brilliant party this is!’
‘Thanks, Jack!’ Bella called back happily. ‘Glad you’re having a good time.’
‘A great time!’ Jack cast one last, longing glance in Summer’s direction. ‘OK, so I’ve done my cooling off,’ he added to Poppy. ‘I think I’ll go hang out with Ben and Natalia now.’
‘Probably the safest course of action,’ said Poppy. ‘I’m staying right here. This pool is pure heaven.’ And she dived back down under the water.
From the other end of the pool, Summer watched as Jack hauled himself out with strong tanned arms, noticing the way the muscles rippled in his back as he did so. He shook his black curly head to get some of the water out. His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and hips, and Summer’s stomach twisted with longing as he strode on long, well-muscled legs back to the folly.
Inside the folly it was cool and shady, with an almost ethereal light cast by the whitewashed stone of the ceiling onto the white linen-covered mattresses and cushions. The Indian silk drapes in vivid shades of pink, red and orange fluttered in the slight breeze, lending it an exotic air. Natalia was reclining against the cushions, one long leg pointed straight out in front of her, the other bent at the knee. Dressed in a ruched white silk swimsuit, with her white blonde hair piled on top of her head, she could have been Grace Kelly acting the part of a Grecian goddess.
Ben, dazzlingly handsome next to her in his sunny yellow Vilebrequin trunks, was swigging from one of the expensive bottles of champagne Jack had bought and making Natalia laugh. Now, as Jack approached, he offered him the bottle.
‘Thanks, buddy, but I’ll use this.’ Jack held out the glass he had picked up en route from the pool, so Ben could fill it. ‘Jeez, whatever happened to the famous British sense of decorum?’
‘I think you’ll find it’s the famous British sense of humour, actually,’ said Ben.
‘I have been telling him he’s dreadfully uncouth,’ Natalia added. ‘But I think he thinks it makes him look cooool.’ She winked and Jack laughed, because, in all fairness, Ben did look kind of cool, in a decadent, golden-boy sort of way. A bit Robert Redford in The Way We Were, now he came to think of it.
‘Mind if I join you?’ asked a slightly hesitant voice, and Jack turned around to see Summer standing behind him, her long golden hair dripping down her back, droplets of water already drying on her shimmering brown body. She smiled, almost shyly, for her.
‘No! No, not at all! Come meet my friends. Summer, this is Ben and Natalia. Ben and Natalia, Summer!’ Jack could hear the over-hearty jocularity in his voice and winced internally.
‘I know who you are, Ben.’ Summer laughed, and Ben did too, preening himself slightly. ‘It’s great to meet you. And you too, Natalia.’ She held her hand out, smiling, and the older woman smiled back. It was impossible not to warm to Summer.
‘Let me get you a glass,’ said Jack, striding off in the direction of the house and giving himself a chance to breathe. He found Summer’s proximity quite overwhelming.
‘So how do you know Bella and Andy?’ Ben asked, trying not to gawp at the beautiful girl. He wasn’t being lecherous, but Summer was so exquisite that it was difficult not to stare.
‘I run the crèche at my mother’s beach yoga classes. Bella’s been coming for the last couple of months, and we’ve become friends.’
‘So you look after the kids?’ said Natalia, thinking that this girl had to be every man’s wet dream made flesh.
‘Only three mornings a week. Most of them are soooo cute, but the mothers – ugh, don’t get me started.’ Summer rolled her eyes, and Ben and Natalia laughed. She looked guiltily over her shoulder. ‘Sh
it, I should keep my voice down – a few of them are here.’ Ben and Natalia laughed again, warming to her more.
‘But it’s not my main job.’ Summer sat down on the edge of the folly, careful not to get her wet bikini bottom on the linen-covered mattress. ‘Mainly, I write a food column.’
‘Cool,’ said Ben, looking at her with respect as he edged his way towards Natalia inside the folly. He liked writers. ‘Hey, Jack,’ he added, as his friend returned with a wine glass and another bottle of champagne, ‘Summer’s telling us about her work.’
‘You’re a cook, right?’ said Jack confidently as he uncorked the champagne.
‘Oh no!’ Summer smiled. ‘Well, yes, actually, sometimes I do cook for private parties, but that’s not what I’m doing here today. I was helping Bella out, as a friend.’
‘You made that delicious paella?’ said Ben. ‘I thought Bella had upped her game.’
‘We made it together.’ Summer’s voice was firm. ‘Bella’s a great cook. Thanks.’ She took the glass from him. ‘I’m a journalist. I have a food column on a website called Island Life. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it.’
‘Not yet, but that’s easily remedied. Chuck me my phone, Ben?’ They’d put all their phones in a pile inside the folly, to protect them from the sun. ‘Thanks.’ He caught it expertly, in one hand.
‘Good catch,’ said Summer.
‘I played baseball for Princeton.’ Jack smiled back into her eyes. For a second, as he drank in her golden sunshiny beauty, it was as if nobody else had ever existed. The idea – the fact – of Tamara was there, but it was as if he was . . . oh God, he was going into cliché overload. What kind of pathetic loser was he? He was engaged to Tamara, and had known this girl for less than an hour. For chrissakes.
From inside the folly, Ben groaned, breaking the spell. ‘Is there no end to your talents, you smug bastard?’
‘Not really, no.’ Jack snapped himself back into reality. ‘OK, so . . . Island Life, you say?’
‘Yes, but there’s no need —’ Summer protested.
‘I want to see it.’ Jack briefly looked up from his phone, into her eyes again, and Summer looked back, her heart starting to beat faster. ‘Wow, cool site. Very nicely produced. OK . . . Food and drink . . . Oh here you are . . . Summer Larsson . . .’ He looked up at her again. ‘You’re Swedish?’
Summer nodded. ‘Uh-huh. Born and bred in Ibiza though.’
‘Explains a lot,’ said Ben, and Natalia gave a snort of laughter.
‘Hey, this is great. You write beautifully.’ Jack was reading Summer’s review of Aqua. ‘Aqua . . .? Isn’t that the restaurant owned by that Shane guy we were introduced to earlier?’
‘That’s it.’
‘He was offering us a free meal, any time we like over the next couple weeks,’ said Jack, trying to ignore the perfection of Summer’s face, and the sweet expression in her dark-blue eyes. ‘I wasn’t that keen before – though he seemed a nice enough guy – but having read this, I think I’ll take him up on it. The sea bass sounds fantastic.’
‘It is manna from heaven,’ said Summer. ‘And you should take him up on the offer – the restaurant is fabulous. But you must pay for your meal,’ she added sternly. ‘He has a business to run, and I’m sure you can afford it.’
‘Ha, that told you!’ chortled Ben, taking another swig from the champagne bottle.
‘Yeah, like you’ve never accepted any freebies. Honestly, Summer, this guy is the biggest freeloader in Hollywood. But you’re right, of course. We’ll go – and we’ll pay.’
‘Cool. I’ll drink to that.’ Summer raised her glass, smiling, and Jack clinked it with his, smiling back at her.
‘Right, on that note, with my reputation in tatters,’ Ben announced dramatically, his RADA accent verging on the Ian McKellen, ‘I’m buggering off for a swim. Going to join me, Nat?’
Natalia stretched lazily. ‘Hmmm, I don’t know. It is verrrry comfortable here . . .’
Ben gave her an unsubtle nudge, nodding over at Jack and Summer. After Tamara’s recent nightmarish behaviour, he reckoned his mate deserved some fun, and what could be more fun than a beautiful, free-spirited Swedish chick? He did feel a bit sorry for Tamara, but God only knew what she was getting up to in St Tropez, and as far as Ben was concerned, what was good for the goose was good for the gander.
Natalia, catching on immediately and feeling no loyalty whatsoever towards Tamara, changed tack. ‘But that water looks vonderful! Yes, I shall join you, my darling. See you guys later,’ she added to Jack and Summer, throwing her long legs across the side of the folly and standing up to her full six foot, stunning in her white silk swimsuit and enormous Chanel sunglasses.
Jack and Summer watched as the couple sauntered towards the pool, Ben still clutching his champagne bottle by the neck.
‘Now that,’ laughed Summer after they’d left, ‘is Hollywood glamour.’
‘Hey!’ Jack was mock-hurt. ‘What about me?’
‘I thought you were just a regular guy,’ Summer teased him, and he laughed.
‘I guess I asked for that.’
They looked at one other some more, each acutely aware of the other’s nearly naked body next to them. Summer had no idea why she was behaving like this. She had never, in her entire, charmed life, knowingly shown interest in a man who was involved with someone else. Too messy, too chaotic, too much potential for pain. Yet now, here she was, gazing into the no-doubt faithless eyes of one of the most famously attached men on the planet.
‘Don’t think about Tamara,’ said Jack, reading her thoughts. ‘I won’t be here, in Ibiza, for long. I promise not to do anything bad – anything that would make you uncomfortable. I just feel that I really, really want to get to know you. I felt like you got me, as soon as you saw me. You saw Jack, not Jack Meadows . . .’
‘I saw Jack Meadows,’ Summer smiled. ‘Of course I did – who wouldn’t? But maybe I am starting to see Jack, now.’
He looked at her, sitting there in her faded indigo bikini, her golden skin and hair such a beautiful contrast to the scraps of purply-blue cotton. There was no denying the intense attraction between them. But it was more than lust – Jack was slightly ashamed that the fact she was a journalist, not only a cook, had attracted him to her even more. Not that there was anything wrong with being a cook, of course – he’d loved her paella, and in his business he rarely came across women who took unapologetic pleasure in food. But Jack had studied English at Princeton and was probably guilty of a touch of intellectual snobbery. A cook and a writer? What could be more perfect?
‘I want to know everything about you,’ he repeated. ‘Your childhood, your family, where you went to school, how you got into journalism, your loves, your hates . . . Actually, you don’t look like you hate much.’ As he said this, Jack had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to stroke her cheek.
‘Oh, you’d be surprised,’ Summer laughed shakily.
‘You’re not married, are you?’ Jack added, shocked by how much pain the thought gave him. He knew he had no right whatsoever to feel like this.
‘No, not married, not seeing anybody.’ Summer conveniently brushed the little matter of David aside. ‘But you are . . .’
‘I know, and it’s something I’ll have to sort out. But please, can we spend some time together – alone? Please? This party is far too public.’
Summer could only nod mutely, gazing back at him through sincere blue eyes.
‘Tomorrow,’ she whispered. ‘Tomorrow I’ll show you Ibiza – my Ibiza . . . Oh shit,’ she suddenly added.
‘What is it?’
‘Jamie Cavendish is heading in our direction. He’s a horrible, horrible man – a bully and a thug . . . Hi, Jamie.’ She smiled as the man himself strode up to the folly.
‘You two look very cosy.’ Jamie smirked. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your famous friend, Summer?’
‘Well, you know who he is, so introductions probably aren’t necessar
y. Jamie, Jack. Jack, this is Jamie Cavendish.’
‘Hi, Jamie,’ said Jack, reaching out to shake the man’s hand.
‘So where’s the lovely Tamara?’ asked Jamie pointedly.
‘She had to stay on in St Tropez for a few days – possible part in a new movie,’ Jack said, not liking the overfamiliarity of the Englishman’s tone.
‘What a shame. I was looking forward to meeting her – she looks a right goer. You’re a lucky man, Jack!’ Jamie slapped him heartily across the back, roaring with laughter.
‘I’m sure she’d be thrilled by the compliment,’ said Summer. ‘Anyway, we’ve been monopolizing this bit of the garden for far too long. I think we should get back to the party. Are you coming, Jack?’
‘Sure.’
And they walked towards the pool, leaving Jamie Cavendish standing alone at the folly.
*
‘Thanks for inviting us today, Bella,’ said India, smiling. ‘I’ve had a lovely time so far. And even Jamie seems to be behaving himself, for once.’ She laughed, slightly brittly, and Bella was amazed at the difference in the woman who’d started off being so unfriendly. Her face was actually rather lovely – delicate, with big soulful eyes and a sweet smile that had been conspicuous by its absence in the few months Bella had known her.
‘I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves.’ Bella bounced Daisy on her lap. ‘We like our guests to feel at home, don’t we, darling?’
‘Yes,’ said Daisy.
‘Oh my God! Did you hear that? She’s just said her first proper word. Say it again, Daisy! Yes yes yes yes yes!’
‘Yes,’ repeated Daisy, her little round face wreathed in smiles. As if the effect hadn’t been sweet enough, she giggled for good measure.
‘Oh my God!’ repeated India, smiling again. ‘I am so glad I witnessed that.’
‘Andy!’ Bella yelled. ‘Come over here! Daisy’s just said her first proper word!’
‘Oh, wow! Sorry,’ Andy added to the rest of his table, ‘but I’ve got to hear this.’ And he raced over to where Bella, Daisy and India were sitting on the sunloungers.