Chapter 51
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
As the sun went down, they kissed and kissed in the dunes until they were breathless and panting and only by some miracle still fully clothed, if a little dishevelled.
Eventually, reluctantly, they pulled apart. Frankie wrapped her cardigan around her as goosebumps rose on her skin. The evening air was cool on her heated skin, a blessing, given the circumstances. She simply could not keep herself together around this man.
‘Come on,’ said Dylan, grinning at her as he jumped to his feet, taking her hand to help her up. ‘I’m bloody starving.’
They practically ran across the island for dinner, dropping Blondie back at the house on the way, although they knew she’d find a way to escape again, most likely within the hour.
They walked into the hotel lobby hand in hand, and Sally looked like she might explode with joy at the sight of them.
‘You two look very cosy,’ she said to Frankie when Dylan made his excuses and went to the bathroom. ‘Talk quickly, I need details.’
‘We are. Oh my God, Sally, I’m so happy,’ said Frankie.
Sally threw her arms around her neck with a squeal. ‘I’m so happy for you.’
‘Thank you. I’m happy for me, too.’ Frankie paused. ‘I just wish Bobby hadn’t left. I want you to be happy as well, Sal. I mean, I know it’s not all about men and we’re independent women and all that–’
‘But it does help,’ interjected Sally.
‘Yeah, it does.’
‘Actually… about that,’ Sally started to say, then stopped abruptly.
‘What? Don’t tell me Bobby’s actually managing to text you back?’
‘No way. No chance of that. No, it’s actually… someone else.’
‘What? Who?’ said Frankie, although she had her suspicions.
‘Nothing’s happened,’ said Sally, ‘but Jake came over to see me earlier and, I don’t know, it was weird. He was, like, hanging around like he wanted to talk to me. It might have been nothing but it felt like there was a definite vibe, you know?’
‘I do know,’ said Frankie, grinning.
‘You don’t mind, do you? I mean, obviously he’s heartbroken about you and Dylan, and I don’t want to take advantage or anything. Or do anything that might make you feel weird. You come first, you know that, right?’
‘Of course I don’t mind,’ said Frankie, and she found she genuinely meant it. Not a hint of jealousy stirred within her. ‘Just, you know, go carefully. We’ve had enough broken hearts around here to last us fifty years.’
As Dylan approached, Sally gave her another hug and whispered in her ear, ‘Jake said he might come back next season, after all.’
‘Eek,’ said Frankie. ‘That’s amazing, Sal.’
‘I think so,’ said Sally, then turned as Dylan joined them. ‘You guys ready for some food?’
‘Are we ever,’ said Dylan with a suggestive wink at Frankie.
She flushed again and, truth be told, even when it arrived, she barely noticed the food, except that it was warm and hot and filled her empty belly.
All she could think about was kissing Dylan on the beach.
About what might come next. About how it might feel.
Mainly, she was worrying about exactly how incompetent he was going to think she was.
It was one thing him knowing she was inexperienced, it was going to be quite another thing when he discovered exactly how inexperienced.
‘And what are you thinking about?’ he said when he caught her blushing into her lemon meringue pie.
‘I prefer not to answer that right now.’
‘Well now I know exactly,’ said Dylan. ‘I was thinking the same thing, as it goes.’
‘This time, I can pretty much guarantee you weren’t,’ she said with a guffaw.
The idea of the famous Dylan Wright worrying about his, er, performance, was too funny.
His baffled face just made her laugh harder, until wine came out of her nose and she had to run to the bathroom to rectify the situation.
Sally came over every few minutes, ostensibly to check on them but mainly to shoo the younger waitresses away from Dylan and Frankie’s table – or, more accurately, Dylan’s chair – where they flocked all too frequently as if attracted by a magnet.
To his credit, Dylan was gracious and kind to them all, even signing a few autographs as they left.
In between the interruptions Frankie and Dylan giggled and chatted and ate and managed to completely avoid discussing the Thing They Didn’t Want to Face.
The idea that this thing between them might ever actually work beyond tonight. And how.
It was only on the walk back to the Manor in the cooling night air that the conversation stilled.
Eventually, Dylan spoke into the silence. ‘How about we do both?’
‘Do both what?’ said Frankie, her turn to be baffled. ‘I’m… not very experienced, remember? Go easy on me.’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Frankie! What on earth do you think I meant?’
‘I don’t know but it sounded complicated.’
He snort laughed at that, and she couldn’t help but join in, though she was secretly a little relieved.
‘Well, hell, let’s circle back to that later,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘But no, I’m talking about our conversation earlier. You remember our existential crisis about music retreats and travelling and all that, right?’
‘Oh. That,’ she said flatly, before understanding dawned. ‘Wait, you think we can do both?’
Dylan turned towards her, navy eyes sparkling in the moonlight, and his excitement was infectious. ‘I’ve got enough money, right? I don’t need to work. And let’s be honest, Herm in the winter is probably a bit bleak for running retreats.’
‘That’s true,’ she said.
‘But plenty of places are amazing in the winter. Some places even have summer when we have winter, eh? New Zealand, Australia, Fiji.’
Her skin prickled. ‘So, what? We run the retreat here in the summer and…?’
He nodded. ‘And travel through the winter. Exactly. Everybody wins.’
Frankie felt like she might leap out of her skin. ‘Could we really do that?’
‘Sure. Why the hell not?’
She squealed. ‘In that case, I win. I’m not sure about everybody else but I definitely win.’
Dylan laughed, low and soft, as he pulled her close. ‘You, Frankie Jacks, are all that matters.’
He lowered his lips to hers and she melted into his kiss.
How could any of this be happening? Was this all a dream she was about to wake up from to find she’d been drooling into her pillow?
Surely it had to be. It just had to. No one could be this lucky.
But no, when Dylan pulled back it was still him and they were still kissing in the moonlight, only now they had a plan. Of sorts.
The rest of the way up the hill, they talked animatedly about how they’d convince the islanders to let them do it, where they would set it up, what it would be called, how the name of Dylan Wright could be used to reach the best, most high-profile clients.
How they could keep it discreet, private, a genuine retreat from busy celebrity lives.
A chance to switch off and let creativity flow.
They only stopped talking and plotting when they arrived back at the house.
The chill in the air was even sharper, as they stopped by the front door.
‘Do you want to come in?’ said Frankie, her face aching from smiling so much, her bones zinging around in her body with the excitement.
And, suddenly, tension too. For here was Dylan Wright, standing in front of her, looking at her like he wanted to devour her, and although she knew she should feel nervous, somehow it seemed like the simplest thing in the world to take his hand and lead him upstairs.
‘I think…’ she said, when they were standing in her bedroom, looking at each other, metres apart, the sound of the waves swelling around them as if they were still down on that beach between the dunes.
Somehow her whole bedroom seemed different from how it had looked, or perhaps felt, only hours before. Or maybe it was them that had changed.
‘You think…?’ said Dylan, looking down at her, his pupils dark.
‘I think if you’re going to go into business with me…’ she said, heart thumping.
He moved towards her, until they were all but touching. ‘Is that all we’re doing? Going into business…?’ he said softly.
‘Whatever it is we’re, er, doing here, we’d better make sure we’re compatible,’ she stuttered.
‘I like how you say that word.’ His fingers brushed her jaw, reaching in to play with her curls almost reverently. ‘Compatible. But I already know that we are. There’s no way this,’ he pointed between them, ‘isn’t about to be incredible.’
Her pulse pounded in her ears. ‘You know I’ve never done this before, right?’
He smiled slowly, a rogue’s smile. ‘You know I’m an expert, right?’ he said, in a voice that made her whole body tingle.
‘Thousands of women can’t be wrong, I suppose.’ She snorted.
He grinned wider. ‘Not exactly thousands. But there have been a few, I’ll admit.’
‘None like me, I suppose,’ she taunted, eyebrows raised. What the hell was she doing? This was reckless. Crazy. But she wanted it. Wanted him, so badly it made her head spin.
His face grew serious. ‘I think it’s safe to say there’s not another person like you on earth.’ His voice caught in his throat.
She swallowed. ‘Right back at you, Dylan Wright.’
He looked at her intensely. So intensely, Frankie thought she might dissolve into flames on the spot. ‘What? What is it?’ she just about managed to get out.
And then he said it, and the words took the breath from her body.
‘I bloody love you, Frankie Jacks, that’s what.’
‘You… you love me?’ she squeaked, all the blood rushing to her head at his words, making it swim.
He blinked at her. ‘How can you doubt it? You’ve unmade me, Frankie Jacks,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘In the best way, you – this place, yes – but mainly you, you’ve taken me to pieces and put me back together, and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.’
Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she said with an attempt at a smile. ‘Sorry, I’m nervous.’
His lips twitched but his eyes, those eyes, remained fixed on hers. ‘You don’t need to be nervous,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I’ve got you.’
Every nerve ending was suddenly on high alert. ‘I love you too, Dylan,’ she said. ‘I might not have a fancy way to say it, but I do.’
His throat bobbed, and the flash of vulnerability she saw in his eyes nearly broke her. ‘You do?’
She nodded.
He moved closer, his eyes roaming over her body. ‘And you want…?’
‘Oh hell, I’ve wanted this since I first saw you on that bed,’ she said with a chuckle, her body heating at her own boldness. ‘Lying there like a delicious present. A hungover present, admittedly, but a present nonetheless.’
Whatever restraint Dylan had managed thus far seemed to release in that moment, and the chatter died on Frankie’s lips as he moved forward, pulled her against his chest and kissed her so thoroughly, so deeply, that Frankie’s entire body melted into his and all conscious thought vanished from her head.
Now there was heat and ice and lightning running through her veins all at once as her blood thundered in her ears.
She had to pull him across to the bed before she fell down.
And when Dylan was hovering over her, one arm braced on the bed beside her, his mouth devouring hers, his lean body pressed against her, she found herself arching beneath him, pulling him closer, wanting him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Only once, as Dylan removed her clothes and made love to her for the first time, slowly and tenderly at first and then with a passion she had never even dreamed of, did she stop to think, International rock star Dylan Wright is making love to me.
And the thought made her smile so much, he actually stopped to ask her what she was smirking about.
‘I’d just like to say for the record that that is not the usual reaction I get,’ he said, but his eyes were flashing with amusement, his mouth millimetres from hers, sweat glistening on that incredible chest of his.
She giggled. ‘Don’t you ever stop loving me, Dylan Wright,’ she said, pulling him back down on top of her. The moan that escaped his lips in that moment, low and rumbling and filled with desire, it was the best sound Frankie had ever heard.
THE END