by Nicky Wells
I found myself blushing and picked self-consciously at the strap of my swimsuit.
“You can leave that on,” Dan elaborated hastily. “And the kids can come, too.”
No sooner said than done. Within seconds, the Jones family, Dan, and Peter all sat or lay on the wooden benches in the little sauna room, where Josh took great delight in adding cold water to the hot coals in the grate to make more and more steam. Peter set a maximum temperature and a timer, and slowly we all grew quiet as the heat worked its magic.
After a long windswept walk, energetic water play, and the unfamiliar heat therapy of a sauna room, my offspring drooped and lolloped about languidly when called to the dinner table. Dan had organized pizzas for all of us, although the amount on offer seemed a little on the stingy side.
“Is this enough?” I mused, ever in housewife mode, as I helped dish up.
Dan threw me a conspiratorial look. “Shh,” he whispered. “Just pick lightly. We’ll eat something…”
He stepped away as though retrieving the cheese when Peter came within earshot, and he finished his sentence on an unexpectedly loud and somewhat incongruous, “healthy.” We’ll eat something healthy, too. Like… salad?” He turned to Peter. “We got salad, right?”
Peter looked from Dan to me and back again. I tried to keep a straight face, and Peter simply shrugged. “Of course we got salad. Here, let me help.”
For the second time that day, we sat around the large dinner table in the open-plan lounge. Peter had lit a fire in the enormous fireplace, and the warm glow of logs, the discreet lighting, and many candles contrasted wildly with the black darkness outside. The weather had turned, and rain lashed against the window in intermittent gusts. I felt a sudden longing to curl up with Dan in front of the fire…alone.
Dinner passed quickly, and the kids had a second wind when Dan produced a bag of marshmallows and a stack of roasting tongs. He speared marshmallows for all of us and showed the kids how to hold theirs to the fire so the sweet would melt, but not burn.
We sat back and let them get on with it for a moment, and Dan smiled at me wistfully. “Remember Greetje’s cottage?” he whispered.
I nodded. How could I forget one of the most memorable nights of my life? Newly engaged to my beloved Steve, on a gorgeous, if remote island in the German North Sea, freshly united with my three best friends, and in delicious anticipation of a terrible storm. We played games and drank wine and toasted marshmallows all through the afternoon, Dan, Rachel, Steve, and I.
“That was a great night,” I whispered back. I probed my heart for emotions. Would the memory of that innocent time bring back the grief and anger at having lost Steve? Waggling my head from side to side as if weighing options, I discovered sadness and regret. A vague longing. But most of all, there was fondness and nostalgia and remembered happiness. I was learning to remember Steve without shedding tears and descending into gloom. I was able to talk about good times without feeling bitter.
“It was a great night,” I repeated.
Dan took my hand. “You okay? I didn’t mean to bring up sad things,” he mumbled. “I just…it just came to mind.”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “It came to my mind, too, and do you know? I…I don’t mind. I can do this now.”
Dan raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more, just squeezed my hand a little harder.
Meanwhile, the kids had finished the marshmallows and were looking distinctly worse for wear. The clock on the mantelpiece read nine p.m., and it was definitely time for bed. For the kids at least.
But—“Time for bed,” Peter announced, startling me. He had been so immersed in a book, tucked away on a sofa in the corner, I had totally forgotten he was there.
Dan opened his eyes wide at me as if to impart some secret meaning that I completely failed to grasp. In a moment, the gesture was gone and he rose, stretching his arms high above his head.
“Time for bed, indeed,” he yawned. “That was a wonderful day. Thank you all for coming.”
The kids rushed to him for big hugs, as was their custom at bedtime. “Night, Dan,” Josh muttered sleepily. I chuckled to myself. I had expected a riot, but the kids were absolutely exhausted and quite willing to go off to sleep.
“Night, Dad,” Emily echoed her brother, then came to snuggle with me.
Me, I was confused. Dan, to bed, willingly, at nine p.m.?
But there was nothing for it, so I took the children to my bathroom and supervised brushing of teeth before tucking them into their beds. By half past nine, the cottage was in complete silence.
At ten p.m., I opened my bedroom door a fraction to gauge if there were any nocturnal goings-on, but I was met with nothing but a dark, empty corridor. Resigned, I retreated to bed and crawled under the duvet. I was quite tired.
“This is so totally weird,” I chuckled to myself. If word got out that Dan Hunter was living the healthy low-life… Still, he evidently needed it. I switched off my bedside light and turned to face the window. I was just feeling myself drift off when a whisper from outside my door roused me all over again.
“Sophie? Are you hungry? Come and eat!”
Chapter Forty-Two
My bedroom door opened slowly and Dan crept in. All thought of sleep forgotten, I flicked the light back on and was met by an astonishing sight. There was Dan, the rock star, legend for his antics on and off stage, clad in a demure pair of checked pajamas with a button-up top and a mismatched, stripy dressing gown. His feet were stuffed into fluffy slippers, and he clutched a bottle and two glasses in his hands.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Dinner is served.”
I giggled and left my bed, grabbing my own stripy dressing gown and a pair of thick socks.
“What are you doing?” I breathed into his ear, but he simply took my hand and pulled me down the dark corridor toward the open-plan lounge.
“Have a seat,” he invited me and gestured at the dining table, which was once again laid, although only for two, complete with candles and napkins.
He set down the bottle and glasses and scurried off to shut the lounge door so we wouldn’t alert the kids or Peter. While he busied himself in the kitchen, I basked in the heat from the fire, which Dan had re-stoked, and observed my rock star with some degree of amusement.
Within a few minutes, he brought a dish of smoked salmon bites to the table, followed by crusty bread, a cheese board, various cold meats, olives, pickled anchovies, and prawns with some sort of aioli dip. He popped the cork on the bottle of champagne, poured two glasses, and sat down, satisfied at last.
“Now we can eat,” he announced. “Tapas. What do you think?”
I raised my glass. “Cheers,” I giggled. “So that’s what you meant earlier. I think it’s amazing. It’s like a midnight feast. I’m just waiting for matron to discover us and give us detention. Why all the secrecy?”
Dan speared a prawn and pointed it at me. “Well, for one, as you say, matron will certainly come and give us detention. Peter is very strict on my sleep regimen, you see.” He dipped the prawn into the aioli before popping it into his mouth. The beatific look on his face and his scrunched up eyes suggested he was enjoying this humble treat far more than was warranted.
He swallowed and cleared his throat. “And for another, I’m on a strict diet. Every last bit of cheese gets weighed, the carbohydrates counted, the sugar added up. It’s really tedious.” He grimaced.
I helped myself to some bread and salmon. “Tedious indeed, I can see that. But why? I thought you were supposed to eat lots and get better.” I chewed greedily, my tummy having given an impressive rumble.
Dan speared another prawn and added a mountain of cheese and bread to his place. “Bliss,” he murmured before explaining further. “I’m supposed to eat healthy, not lots. So Peter has taken it upon himself to reform the bad eating habits of a lifetime. Bless him, it’s what he’s paid to do. I’ve been going along with it, and I have to admit, I’m feeling pretty good. But…”
He grinned his school-boy grin, took a big mouthful of food, washed it down with a large gulp of champagne, and finished his thought. “Well, it gets boring. And I wanted to do something special with you. On my own.”
I burst out laughing, but quieted down when I saw the alarm on Dan’s face.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“Peter’s bedroom is right next door there,” Dan whispered back. “And he’s a light sleeper.” He pointed his finger, and we sat in silence for a minute, straining to hear.
“I think we’re okay,” Dan finally concluded and resumed eating.
“God, this is worse than trying to entertain with just the kids in the house,” I giggled softly. “Naughty, naughty us.”
“Ha, we’re not naughty yet,” Dan shot back, speaking softly, as well. “I was working up to that part.”
He winked, and my heart skipped and jumped. He didn’t mean—he couldn’t mean what I thought he meant?
“What do you mean?” I bumbled, hoping for clarification, but Dan was enjoying himself.
“All in good time,” he teased. “Let’s finish our meal first.”
So we tucked in and chatted away. Our low voices, the roaring fire, and the champagne glasses glinting in the candlelight produced a date-like atmosphere, and my spine tingled in delicious, lusty anticipation. Would he? Would I? Was he ready? Was I?
Finally, I sat back, defeated by the food. “That was delicious.”
“Uh-huh,” Dan groaned back. “God, I needed that.” He reclined in his chair for a moment. Suddenly, he jumped up and grinned at me yet again.
“Now for the naughty part… No, stay there!” he instructed as I half-rose to get up, assuming that…well, that my bodily presence would be required. He did an exaggerated tip-toe stage-walk back toward the kitchen and disappeared from sight behind the counter. From the noises he made, I assumed he was looking for something in the freezer. Sure enough, there he was, straightening up and carrying something. I clamped my hand over my mouth when I saw what it was.
“This is really naughty.” He hiccupped with suppressed laughter when he set down the most enormous ice cream bombe on the table between us. He handed me a spoon. “Dig in.”
“What, like this? Just so? Really?” I indicated my spoon and the heap of ice cream in the dish.
“Yup, just like this. Really. Otherwise it wouldn’t be naughty.” He demonstrated what he had in mind by dipping his spoon in deep to extract a huge helping of double-chocolate ice cream striated with luxury vanilla. “Hmmm yum!” he moaned and had another mouthful.
I readied my spoon and followed suit. “Where did you get all this?” I inquired through a mouthful of melted bliss. “And how did you hide it from Peter?”
“Aha!” Dan laughed. “I have a smartphone. I have Internet access. I got a food delivery when Peter was out getting something in Plymouth.”
“Back up, back up, your phone is still at my house. I never thought to give it back.” I remembered that Dan’s phone was still parked on my bedside table this very moment, having long since run out of juice and never having been recharged. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Jack insisted I had to have a new one anyway.” Dan brushed my concerns away with airy insouciance. “So anyway, I got a food delivery, and I stashed it all before Peter came back.”
“But…how come he didn’t see it all in the fridge?”
“I did the old window-refrigeration trick,” Dan explained with evident glee. “You know, like when you were a student? I had it all in a plastic box below my window sill. It’s been cold enough and Peter never thought to check. And as for the ice cream… well, Peter doesn’t believe in frozen food so he never uses the freezer.”
I shook my head. “Unbelievable, the lengths you go to.”
“All for you, my love, all for you.” He spoke lightly and toasted me as he said the words, but there it was again, that undercurrent of emotion. I broke out in goosebumps all over.
A thumping noise from the next room shattered the mood. Dan and I looked at each other with frightened eyes.
“We’d better tidy up,” I whispered. “Quick!”
We rose and hurriedly cleared the table, putting the sparse evidence of our crime into a black refuse bag and stuffing it deep into the kitchen bin. I loaded the dishwasher while Dan ran back and forth with dishes and cutlery. He blew out the candles and poked the logs in the fireplace apart so that the fire dispersed. There was another bang from next door, followed by the distinctive sound of a door being opened. Dan dove toward the bank of light switches in the kitchen and plunged the large room into darkness. He pulled me down into a crouch behind the center island and put a finger to my lips.
I had barely gotten my breathing under control when the lounge door opened.
“Anyone here?” Peter’s voice carried through the dark room. Then the lights came on. I flinched and screwed my eyes shut, as if that would make me invisible. I hoped he wouldn’t see us in our impromptu hiding place because our position was…incriminating to say the least. Dan had wrapped his body around me, and I half-sat on his lap. Depending on the angle of sight, our stance might easily be misinterpreted.
Peter’s footsteps crossed the lounge and a grating, crackling kind of sound suggested he was busy at the fireplace.
“Must have been a log falling,” he muttered to himself. “I thought we put the fire out properly.”
He paced the room some more, and I broke out into a sweat of hysteria. I had to open my mouth to breathe because my nose had blocked up and was making snorty noises. Digging my fingernails into my palms to keep myself quiet brought tears into my eyes, and Dan touched them lightly with the tip of his nose. Once more, I envisaged how very much we would look ‘caught in the act’ if Peter stumbled upon us, and I started to shake with silent giggles. I could feel Dan’s hand moving infinitesimally against my back, trying to calm me down, and I buried my face in his shoulder.
Round and round Peter went, straightening chairs and plumping cushions, from the sound of it. Several interminable minutes later, he finally concluded his examination of the lounge. He switched the lights off before closing the door behind him, and I exhaled sharply.
“Wait,” Dan breathed into my ear, barely audible despite his immediate proximity.
“Let him go back to bed first.”
We held on to each other in our cramped and awkward position for another few minutes. With the fire extinguished, the room grew cold, and I started to shiver. Dan responded by pulling me closer against him still, and the shift in our center of gravity finally caused us to topple over. Dan extended an arm backwards to break our fall so Peter wouldn’t hear the thud of our entwined bodies crashing onto the floor, and we slowly lay down in a tangled mess of limbs, me on top of Dan.
Very gently, he pulled my face down until our lips met. Softly at first, and increasingly greedy, we kissed. His mouth was warm against mine and his ice cream sweet breath took mine away. His tongue flicked out to trace the shape of my mouth, lick my lips, probe my own tongue, teasing. Where I had been shivering with cold a moment before, I was now trembling with desire, and I gave a low moan. Suddenly, Dan’s hands were in my hair and he yanked me down so I was flat on him, against him, feeling his ribs move, rise and fall with every healthy breath. I let my weight melt my body against Dan’s, mouth connecting against mouth more ferociously than ever before, his hardness hot and strong even through our double layers of clothing. My loin was fizzing with heat, and my ladyship quivered with a long forgotten, long neglected need. Forget the kitchen floor, the cold, and the caregiver next door. I needed this man. I wanted. I was hot. We were both desperate to connect.
Our breathing came in hard bursts, completely synched. I could feel Dan’s pulse in his lips, beating as one with mine. I was dizzy with desire and rubbed myself against Dan greedily. Dan pulled open the front of my dressing gown, then tugged at my pajama buttons.
“Take it off, take it off,” he whispered urgently,
and I raised my upper body so he could liberate me from the offending garment.
“Mummy?”
Emily’s tearful voice rang out tremulously, and I froze.
“Mummy, are you there?”
I swallowed hard, trying to get a grip on reality.
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m here.” My voice came breathy and raspy. I spoke while I rolled off Dan, refastening my dressing gown and thanking my lucky stars that Dan hadn’t gotten anywhere with the buttons.
“Mummy?” The fear in my daughter’s voice caught in my throat, and I pushed myself off the floor.
“I’m right here, darling,” I spoke in a soothing voice that sounded more like Mummy and less like wanton-abandon-sex-goddess. “What’s the matter?” I crossed the kitchen and found Emily at the lounge door, shaking with cold and fright. I scooped her into my arms and sat down with her on the nearest sofa.
“I scared. I had bad dream.” Tears spilled down my daughter’s cheeks, and the last remains of lust in my loins evaporated, to be replaced with guilt and shame. How very stupid of me, of us, to get carried away here, in an unfamiliar house with the kids only a few doors away.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was thirsty and wanted a drink of water. That’s why I wasn’t in my bed.” More guilt! How easily the white lie tripped off my tongue. But I couldn’t really admit to my midnight assignation with ‘Dad’, could I?
“Why’s Dad here?” Emily asked through her tears, momentarily distracted from her fear. I followed her gaze, and, despite the darkness, could make out Dan standing in the kitchen, looking reasonably composed. He loped across the room to join us on the sofa and wrapped us both into a hug.
“I fancied a drink, too,” he whispered. “Your Mummy and I, we’ve been very naughty.”
I inhaled sharply and tried to dig him in the ribs but failed, Emily’s little body being in the way. Dan shot me a look and grinned.
“You see, we’ve been having a secret midnight feast, and Peter wouldn’t be very happy if he knew about it.”
Relief washed over me in a great wave. I hadn’t really thought Dan would give my daughter the down-and-dirty, but with Dan, you never did know.