* * *
Aeron
“Fuck it!” I slam my fists down on my desk, unable to write the last few lines of code I need. My usual peace abandons me. It’s times like these that I’m extremely glad I live in Oxwich and not in London. I look out to the ocean, knowing it will check my temper and glimpse a figure walking toward my end of the beach.
I move toward my telescope and position the lens to focus on her. Her black dress and black jacket are hardly attire suited for the beach. Her dark hair whips around her head as she fights with the wind to keep it behind her ear. She looks up toward my house and her hazel eyes stare right through my scope at me. She can’t possibly see me, but seeing her watch me sends a pulse of lust straight to my cock. Her face is soft and sad. Her cheeks are stained pink and her full lips part a fraction. She’s stunning. Before I get an opportunity to further indulge in the vision filling my lens, the cliff’s shadows engulf her and she slips from view.
I note the incoming tide. She can’t stay there for long. She’ll be cut off by the water. I stand and wait, content to watch the sun dip into the sea. The light is mesmerizing as the sun’s reflections dance off the sea. Tonight, the dark silhouettes of the clouds create an eerie feel, the gentle rolling waves ready to turn volatile and threatening at any moment. I’ll never grow tired of this view. It’s never the same.
I wait. Patient. She emerges, following her path back up toward the beach. She stops and turns, looking back toward my white house, gazing at it before her pace quickens to escape the incoming water. Intrigued by her presence, I note she takes the path to The Apartment. The boutique hotel would be better placed in London. With a handful of rooms, I’m surprised it stays in business. I know where she’s staying. A thought seeps into my mind. I’m astonished at what I’m already planning.
I’m content with the understated quiet of my life, but this new figure, wandering into my vista, has aroused more than my imagination.
Chapter Two
Tori
“Same table as last night, Ms. Abbott?”
“Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”
“May I start you off with a cocktail or some wine?”
“Yes, I’ll have a glass of your Sauvignon Blanc and the confit salmon and beetroot, please.”
The menu in the four-table dining room of the boutique hotel surprised me. Who’d have thought such a place would offer such an accomplished dish? The salmon was delicious. I had to have it again.
An entire wall of French doors opens onto a patio overlooking the sea. This time of year they are closed, but this place must be charming in the summer. I gaze out at the patio lights that lead to the sand. A dark haired man relaxes alone at the corner table. He’s the sort any woman over sixteen and under ninety would notice. With a dark shadow of stubble around his jaw and comfortable but smart clothes, he smoulders. You look at him and you think “sex.” I notice he doesn’t wear a wedding band. I sip my glass of wine and raise my eyes to his. A slight smile flashes on his lips. I busy myself with my wine. He has me flushed at a simple glance.
Through my entire dinner, every time I look up, his eyes are locked on me. I stare back for a moment. His stormy greys don’t waver. They look right at me, evaluating every inch of me, and he wants me to know he watches. He plays with his wine glass, the single item on the small table. The waitress brings me my dinner before I do something stupid like hand him my room key, and I concentrate on my plate.
Every mouthful takes effort. The taste doesn’t register. I concentrate on not looking up. Not yet. I try and ignore the gentle hum that has awakened over my skin, the effect of his unwavering gaze.
Finally the waitress returns to clear my dish, and I steal a glimpse of him. He’s still casually sitting, still sipping and still watching me. Strangely, I don’t feel threatened. I want him to come over. He’s clearly interested. No one spends the entire evening watching someone if they aren’t attracted. A thrill runs through me and the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. As if he can hear my thoughts, he walks toward me. My heart beat kicks up and I fidget like an adolescent. Flicking my hair is the only thing that is missing! As he closes the gap between us, he continues past my table to the bar.
Disappointment stabs me and I sigh. My hopes had risen far higher than they should have. Although ... he is astonishingly gorgeous, tall and lean, and his eyes. Wow. I got it right on my first impression. Smouldering. Even more attractive, he was entirely comfortable sitting across from me. He brazenly studied every inch of me, heating my body as he did. My awareness of his appraisal did nothing to deter him. He was confident in his action. There is something dead sexy about a man so at ease in his own skin.
He leaves the dining room without a backward glance. I feel a little foolish for getting ahead of myself. I finish my wine and retreat to my room.
I close the door and slump down on the bed. I shouldn’t be thinking of attractive men and romance. I’m in Oxwich to find some closure and to sell the house.
I listen to the waves gently breaking on the shore, a few feet below my window. My eyes drift closed as the rhythmic breaking continues. I count between waves, one...two...three...four...break. And repeat. Before I realise, my mind clears and sleep pulls me under.
I wake to an overcast day, the seagulls serving as my alarm clock. I stretch. I fell asleep, fully clothed, to the sounds of the ocean. It has been an age since I’ve fallen asleep that easily. Clearly I missed something about this part of the world. It is hard for me to unwind and relax in London. My life in the city is unbalanced. Work is my priority and I’ve thrown myself into it harder since Jim and I started talking about divorce. Something is wrong when it takes death to make you take time off. When did I go so astray that the first holiday I’ve taken in years is to bury my mother?
I can’t do anything today. It’s Sunday. I have the full week to get the house on the market and pack it up, so I decide to indulge myself with another walk on the beach, a few hours at a leisurely pace. The luxury of time spent alone with the single task of walking on the beach should set alarm bells ringing in my head, but it doesn’t. I can put off dealing with the practical tasks until tomorrow.
Looking out, the sky holds the threat of rain. Spring is a lovely time of the year, but the weather is changeable. Like the sea, it has a mood of its own. I change into shorts and a warm long-sleeved top and set off along the sands. As I reach the far end of the bay, I turn to head back. I can see the white house at the opposite end and it pulls my attention. As a child I imagined what it would be like in the big, mysterious house overlooking the sea. I never saw anyone coming or going from the house. It was a mystery. My mystery. It hasn’t changed. The white house still pulls me toward its imposing position over the bay.
* * *
Aeron
It will be raining by lunchtime. Staring out at the bleak, grey skies, I see the clouds rolling in, stormy and agitated, gathering to release their burden. My mood suits the weather. I know the cause. The woman. That first glance when she looked up at the house speared me, dragging all my attention to her. She captivated me. Last night was my test. I got hard watching her and studying her. Fuck me, did I ever. Each time her mouth opened for her fork, I wanted it to be me she opened her mouth for. I’d learned she would be there again tonight. A quick smile and a few compliments to the young girl on the desk secured that information. Tonight, I’ll repeat the game, ensure her interest is genuine and then see where we go. It has been nearly a month since I’ve been to the London office or the club. My tendencies needed an outlet and the club provides that. Until now, Oxwich has never supplied the right vista for my carnal mind. This woman does. I don’t think anyone has ever motivated me to venture two evenings of my time. She is worth it.
As I reach my decision, the woman who is the cause of my distraction strolls down the beach. I move to my telescope to get a better look. Her long, bare legs spark visions of her standing in front of me in heels that accentuate their shape and l
ength and heighten my desire to meet her face-to-face. As she did yesterday, she stops and gazes intently at my house before retreating under the cliffs. And like yesterday, I wait and follow her through my scope, transfixed as she walks back to The Apartments.
* * *
Tori
I barely make it back before rain starts to drizzle from the clouds. Typical Welsh weather. Heat surrounds me and seeps into my bones as I wallow in the huge egg-shaped bath. It’s a complete luxury and I’m indulging in it as much as possible. The bathroom adjoining my room is almost the same size as my bedroom here at the hotel. It has to be in order to fit the ginormous bath in, but it’s heaven.
After my fingers and toes are positively pruned, I step out of the warm water, reluctant to leave its embrace. The fluffy warm towel serves as my consolation. I curl up on the bed and look out at the rain hitting the sand. I feel at a loss. I brought my laptop with me but I don’t want to get drawn into work. My phone won’t be quiet. Penny, my PA, doesn’t seem concerned with interrupting my peace. Voice messages and texts signify that she is desperate to reach me. Ignoring work is new to me. Before this week, it was my sole priority, but being back home, I feel I’ve earned a respite. Whatever she needs will have to wait.
The time to myself this morning helped me reach a new perspective on my life. I have spent so many years pushing to do better, to reach the next rung on the ladder. My goals at work have obsessed me. Work, and my drive to achieve success dominate my time and attention. I’ve pushed a lot of people away, my mother, my friends. Perhaps, I pushed Jim away, too, but why didn’t he fight for me? For us? Did I mean so little to him? What happened to his promise to love me? In the end, all he wanted was my money.
Maybe here in Oxwich I can afford myself some time to do something for me. Or perhaps being here is already playing with my mind. There seems to be something in the air that forces me to forget about the real world. Snuggling back into the towel, I feel untethered. Adrift. My eyes close and the mysterious stranger staring at me from his corner seat comes to mind. I don’t want to think about him. Why is his face appearing behind my eyes?
A few hours later, I walk into the tiny dining room and move toward my table – or the table I am now calling mine since there doesn’t seem to be anyone else staying here. A thrill runs down my spine. There he is, nursing a glass of something and returning my stare. I echo my actions from yesterday. I sit and try not to look. Of course I can’t. A part of me is okay with that now. His face gives nothing away. It’s blank. No, it’s not. Smouldering is the word that came to mind yesterday and that is exactly what I think now. Heat flares through my body and my response shocks me. Why does this stranger have such a strong effect on me?
My heartbeat picks up as I battle to hold his gaze. I don’t want to give in. Breaking our connection, I yield and lower my eyes.
“Would you like Sauvignon Blanc again, Ms. Abbott?”
“Yes, please, a bottle tonight.” I busy myself with the menu. If he’s going to sit and stare all night, I’m going to need the wine.
The food is delicious, the wine is delicious, and the man is delicious. Like last night, he hasn’t come over to introduce himself. I didn’t want my hopes to rise at the sight of him again. But they do. He must be a guest. Why else would he sit on his own all evening? It is the only explanation for why he dines here—or rather nurses a drink here. I resign myself. He will simply be my ‘mystery gazing man’.
“Hi, I’m Aeron. May I join you?”
His smoky voice at my shoulder startles me, and I look up into his grey eyes. I was so determined not to be affected by him that I missed his approach. He holds out a bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc I’m drinking with a glass. A huge smile cracks my face.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He chuckles at me as he takes a seat opposite. Moving to pour the wine, he pauses and quirks his eyebrow at me, asking permission.
“Please.” Then we’re back to looking straight at one another. Sitting this close to him is far more intimidating. He doesn’t drop his eyes from mine and I’m caught under his scrutiny.
“I’m Tori.”
“Pleased to meet you, Tori. Short for Victoria?”
“Yes, although only my mum called me Victoria.” Grief stirs in my chest at the thought. Stupid really. I hated her calling me Victoria. No matter how many times I asked her, she would never concede and call me Tori. My brows furrow, remembering the past arguments we had.
“You look sad. Have I brought up a painful subject?”
“My mother died recently. That’s why I’m in Oxwich, actually. I grew up here. I’m back to sort a few things out.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss. If you’d rather be on your own, I understand.” Aeron pushes his chair back and begins to stand.
“No, please...” I reach for his hand to stop him from leaving. “I’d like you to stay.” His lips turn at the corners, giving way to a smile that lights up his face and brightens his stormy eyes. He settles back into his seat and tops up his glass.
“So, you’ve been staying here? What do you think of it?” Aeron asks.
“It’s a lovely little hotel. I’m surprised it’s so quiet, though. Something like this would be packed in London.”
“You’re from London then?”
“Yes, although this is where I grew up, London is my home.” I sip my wine, content with answering Aeron’s questions.
“So, what do you do in London, Tori?”
“I’m the director of finance for Leigh and Taggart, a UK based business but we have offices all over the world.”
“Successful and beautiful.”
My divorce has been final for little over six months. It’s been years since I heard any kind of “chat up line” from an attractive man, and I watch his face for signs he’s playing me. All I see is sincere appreciation. I’m more than happy to flirt with him. Oxwich isn’t London. I can take a rest from reality. I gulp half my glass of wine, cross my fingers under the table and smile. “So what about you, Aeron? Why are you staying here?”
“I’m not staying at The Apartments.”
I straighten in my chair and tip my head to the side. “You’ve been here the last two nights.”
“Yes.”
Maybe, just maybe, he was here for me. If so, what was all that about last night? I watch him and wait for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t confirm my hope. He simply tops up my glass. Again.
He studies me, perfectly comfortable with the lengthening silence. I imagine he’s enjoying the sense of mystery he’s created. I squash my sense of irritation. “Fine then. What about you, Aeron? What do you do with yourself in Oxwich?”
“I work with computers, writing code for security systems. I also work in London sometimes.”
“You like your job?”
“Yes, and I’m particularly good at what I do.”
My eyes drop to his lips as he tips them up into a smile. I imagine how good he would be at kissing me. I can’t keep my eyes off him. I squirm in my seat at the images in my head - Aeron’s lips travelling over my skin, commanding mine, his tongue licking into my mouth and devouring me. I’m shocked at how this man disarms me. I lean forward to reach my wine. As the liquid cools my rising heat, I wonder if I should be drinking any more.
“How about you, Tori? You said you grew up here?”
I pause my sexual fantasies, swallow my wine and sit back. “Yes. My mum and dad have—had—a house about five miles away from here. We’d come to the beach all the time and I’d spend hours playing in the sand.”
Aeon contemplated his wine glass. “Oxwich is a lovely place in the world. I’ve not travelled a lot, but then do you really need to with this on your doorstep?” He holds up his glass in a small toast that indicates the view out of the French doors and takes a sip.
I nod in agreement. “You are right. It is beautiful here. I had the most relaxing walk this morning. It’s the first time in a long time I’ve felt so at ease. I’
d forgotten how peaceful it is.”
“You don’t come back to visit?”
His question stirs more guilt. Now that I can’t, I desperately want to come back here and visit, to tell Mum how much I loved growing up here. My eyes drop to the table, taking a moment to myself.
“You look sad again, Tori. I’m sorry. Should we talk about something else?”
“No, it’s fine.” I shake my head to clear my sombre thoughts. “I’m realising that I should have made more of an effort to come back to see Mum. It’s been a long time since I did. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.”
“Are you heading back to London tomorrow?”
“I should.” My mind wanders back to my office and the quarterly report that’s due. “But I’m staying all week. I thought I’d give myself some time.”
“Do you have any plans for the week?”
“Um, no.”
The burning look in Aeron’s eyes and the mention of plans evaporate any last thought of work. My mind conjures images of spending time with Aeron, and my thoughts start running away with me. I must stop drinking. I notice the scant inch remaining in the bottle. How wonderful to simply sit and drink and talk with another person—to connect. This is what I’ve been missing and I didn’t realise it. Aeron being a stranger made it easy. It should be the other way around, but it isn’t.
“Is there someone special in London?” He glances at my bare ring finger.
“No. Not for some time. What about you?”
“Not yet.” His gaze evaluates our glasses. “We’re almost out of wine.”
“So we are.” I know what I want to happen. He slides his thumb over the back of my hand and my heart flutters at his touch.
“Would you come back to my house?” he asks.
There it is. The question that I want to answer, the question that still scares me. A one-night stand is not on my list for this visit.
“You live nearby?”
“Yes, very close.” There is only one house within walking distance. I look up at his face in shock as realisation dawns.
Undertow: A compilation of short beach stories Page 9