Claudia's Big Break (20 page)

As Jack helped me onto his scooter, I tensed a little. I couldn't help noticing that it looked remarkably similar to the one that had almost knocked me down the other day.

‘This scooter,' I started.

‘Small, isn't it? I'm used to riding a bigger one at home.'

‘It looks like —'

‘Every other scooter on the road here?' Jack laughed. ‘I know. They're everywhere.'

I was going to say ‘the scooter that almost ran me over' but thought better of it. After the sunglass mishap in Athens and the mic incident the other night on my birthday, he probably thought of me as an accident waiting to happen.

I looked around as Jack threw his leg over the seat. He was right. His scooter looked the same as the hundreds of others I'd seen in the past few days.

‘Got your swimmers?' he asked as he started the engine.

I smiled awkwardly. Although I was wearing my swimmers (they doubled as a girdle), I was hoping I wouldn't be diving into the ocean today. It was one thing for Sophie and Tara to see me in my miracle swimsuit. It was quite another for Jack to get a gander at it.

I clung to Jack's hips as the narrow coast road veered past hillsides dotted with olive and cypress trees swaying in the breeze. Scooting around slower drivers and narrowly avoiding goats grazing by the roadside, we finally arrived in Oia on the northern tip of the island. I knew the ride had to end at some stage but I very much enjoyed clutching his firm waist. I could have stayed in that position longer. I checked my hair. My new silk scarf was a beauty. Not a hair out of place. Locals stared as Jack parked the scooter and helped me off.

In the blazing sunshine, we walked around the town counting the blinding white houses with red pebbled walls that clung to the rocky cliff face. Every so often, we'd stumble upon a blue-domed church, or some locals merrily sipping ouzo on the steps of their home — or what we presumed to be their home. Perhaps they were vagrants.

‘According to legend, this town is haunted and has vampires,' Jack said as we wandered the narrow cobbled streets.

‘Really?' Then, for the briefest of seconds, I felt somebody watching me.

‘What's up?' Jack asked, noticing my unease.

‘Nothing . . . it's just that for a moment . . . It doesn't matter.'

‘For a moment what?'

‘I thought someone was watching me, perhaps from around there,' I said, pointing to the corner ahead of us. ‘It's silly.'

Jack puffed out his chest. ‘Not if it's going to stop you from enjoying the day. I'll have a look.'

With that, he disappeared around the corner. When I caught up with him moments later, he was patting a motley coloured donkey.

‘Okay, my imagination,' I said, embarrassed.

‘Not at all. This particular donkey obviously took a shine to you.'

‘Very funny,' I said, and we continued walking, watched closely by middle-aged women in black standing in doorways, scarves tied around their heads and well-worn aprons wrapped around their generous girths.

‘Anyway,' said Jack after we'd walked twenty metres or so, ‘why would anyone be following you?'

‘That's just it. No one would. I guess I'm tired.' And paranoid.

I picked a leaf from an oleander bush and Jack put his arm around me. ‘Come on,' he whispered in my ear.

Eventually, we reached Amoudi fishing village, which lay at the foot of Oia, and strolled along the water's edge to a black stony beach.

‘Fancy a swim?' Jack asked, dipping his toes in water that was busy with boats. It didn't look enticing.

I was watching his tanned muscular arms from behind my dark glasses when, without warning, he ripped off his shirt.
Oh
God
. Suddenly I was mere centimetres away from his bare chest and strong shoulders. Very smooth. Very handsome. Very sexy. There was no way I could disrobe in front of this god. I was seconds away from hyperventilating with not a paper bag in sight. Thankfully, he didn't whip his board shorts off. Seeing Jack in Speedos might have been a little hotter than I could have handled.

When he dived into the water, I was faced with two choices. I could stay on the sidelines twitching and making up excuses as to why I couldn't get into the water. Too cold, too hot, too shallow, too deep; too many fish; no towel; just had my hair permed . . . Or I could do the adult thing and quickly undress the next time Jack dived under the water. That way I could jump in before he had a chance to glimpse my exposed flesh.

So while Jack was doing what appeared to be laps beside fishing trawlers in the freezing, jagged, rock-infested water, I quickly disrobed, closed my eyes, held my nose, sucked in my stomach and jumped under the nearest ripple. I couldn't dive so I did a feeble half-leap half-bellyflop into the sea. The water was glacial.

Normally, I would have screeched, screamed an expletive and run out of the water at lightning speed. But not this time. It mattered not that the sea temperature was too cold for polar bears. I dunked myself before Jack saw my body — any part of my body.

When I came up to the surface, Jack was right in front of me. Almost touching. We smiled at each other and I tried not to think about the modest, almost Victorian swimmers I was wearing. Everything was perfect. I was freezing and had purple lips to match my bruised cheek, but other than that, everything was perfect.

Until I stepped on a large sharp rock and cut my foot.

The pain.

The bleeding.

The embarrassment.

I screamed.

Swiftly picking me up, Jack carried me out of the water. Not only did he see my boring but practical swimmers up close and personal, he got a good indication of my weight and the undeniable fact that I was a wuss when it came to blood and pain. Carefully, he placed me on some red-hot pebbles and examined my foot.

My feet aren't my most attractive feature. Hair growing out from the toes, second toe bigger than the big toe. Chipped nail polish, ragged toenails. An indulgent pedicure wouldn't have gone astray, but it was too late to worry about that now. I was on the verge of fainting and could do little but suck in my stomach and sit uneasily on the uncomfortable pebbles while Jack examined me.

‘Looks okay,' he said after he'd applied pressure to the skin to stop the bleeding. ‘Just a flesh wound.'

Flesh wound? Was he blind? There was a huge gaping hole in my left foot. I needed hospitalisation.

‘It hurts,' I yelped.

‘Nothing a shot or two of ouzo won't cure,' Jack replied as he expertly wrapped my vibrant new scarf around my bloody foot.

Jack was right though. After climbing awkwardly back up to Oia, we found a groovy bar near the ruins of the Venetian fortress. We relaxed on a comfy chaise longue and watched the sunset over a plate of grilled octopus and skewers of lamb and several shots of ouzo. A couple of hours later, after even more food — a candlelit dinner of mussels, prawns and swordfish — I was feeling decidedly more chipper. Not smart, not proud, but not in agonising pain either.

16

I
t was late evening by the time Jack escorted me back to the apartment. I fumbled to open the door. All was quiet. There was no sign of life. Conveniently, everyone had gone to bed. Most considerate of them. It was just as well because, despite my bandaged left foot, I really wanted to jump Jack's bones. I was determined not to but my resistance was waning.

‘Kiss me,' he said in a strong and steady voice.

The words made me go weak at my good knee. How could I resist? I closed my eyes, reached up and kissed him. He smelt of the ocean, fresh and intoxicating.

Jack drew me into his chest, returning my kiss. A weird but thrilling, tingling sensation took over as I held his hand and led him up the stairs to my room. We were heading towards a situation — a scintillating situation, no doubt, but a situation all the same. It could be stopped, even now. Hesitating for a moment, I considered Marcus. I really did need to get him out of my system. Even Tara had said I should. Really, I was doing myself a favour.

So there we were on my four-poster holiday bed — a queen-sized one with crisp white sheets and casually draped mosquito netting — giggling like a couple of teenagers. Quite quickly, the situation intensified. Kissing, gasping, bodies intertwining. Then Jack reached behind my back and found the zipper to my dress. Smoothly, he unfastened it and, quite unlike me, I sat up on the bed and allowed it to fall away.

Thankfully, I'd had the foresight to dump my swimmers and replace them with my only pair of matching bra and knickers. If Jack and I were ever to have a second encounter, I'd need to invest in new underwear. I pulled Jack towards me and slowly unbuttoned his shirt and cast it aside. I took a sharp intake of breath as his shorts hit the floor. He was as keen as me.

Jack unhooked my bra and my breathing quickened as he cupped his hands around my breasts. His whole body hardened as he pressed against mine, our legs interlacing. And you really don't need to know any more than that, except that for the next three hours, bare limbs touched . . . frequently.

Suffice to say, Jack Harper was masterful in the bedroom. He was king of the boudoir. And after it was over, I lay in his arms while he slept. Okay, so no surprises there. I'd yet to meet a man who didn't fall asleep straight after sex, but I didn't mind. At least he didn't turn away from me and roll across to the other side of the bed, or worse, leap out of bed feigning an early morning appointment. Jack spooned me. It was nice. I felt safe.

Truth be told, it felt a little too good to be true. Suddenly I was thinking about George. He'd seemed wonderful at the start too, until he left me with a mountain of debt and lasting trust issues.

Slowly I removed Jack's arm from around my waist and slid out of bed. I wandered downstairs to the bathroom and noticed somebody on the terrace.

‘Tara?'

She jumped.

‘It's the middle of the night. What are you doing?'

‘Writing. Sorry, did I wake you?'

‘Err, no,' I said, wrapping my towel more tightly around my torso.

‘Oh I see.' Tara ginned and looked me up and down. ‘You are looking rather hot and bothered. Jack?'

I nodded.

‘Good. Let this be the last I ever hear of Marcus.'

‘Marcus? Marcus who?' Despite my bravado, I felt a twinge of sadness when I thought about him. I knew that he probably had a new secret girl by now, but I hated thinking about that possibility. It forced me to realise that, for him, our relationship had been purely physical, merely for the sex.

I shivered slightly, taking in the cool air and glancing down at Tara's notebook. ‘You're still writing?'

‘Yeah. I haven't stopped for a few days.'

‘That is such good news.'

‘It's amazing. I don't feel tired at all . . . I've been sitting out here in the moonlight, writing pages and pages.'

‘About?'

‘Anything. Everything. I've been clogged up for so long, but now words are tumbling out faster than I can write them down.'

‘So Santorini really has given you a kick along,' I said, yawning and pulling up a chair. ‘Tell me all about it.'

‘I will but you should go back to bed now.'

I smiled lazily. ‘Okay, but you're not getting off that easily. I want to know everything.'

‘Yeah, yeah. Go on. Get your naked butt back to bed.'

I drifted off, leaving Tara to her writing, thrilled she'd finally made a real breakthrough. If she could sustain it, I had no doubt she would be published. The woman had serious talent.

Creeping back into bed, I cuddled up to Jack. In the moonlight, I could just make out the freckles on his tanned shoulders, and I studied his messy hair as it flopped against the pillow. Listening to his heavy breathing, I pushed myself against him harder, tighter. Then I flung myself around, made some noise, ruffled his hair and finally, in desperation, called out his name. But it was no use. Jack was sound asleep.

17

D
uring a fitful night's sleep interspersed with hours lying in the darkness listening to Jack's heavy breathing, I had time to reflect on all my fizzled relationships. They'd all ended up in the garbage; so really, I asked myself, why would this one turn out differently?

The rapture I'd felt hours earlier faded rapidly as I slipped deeper into a lonely and gloomy depression. Call it postcoital remorse but I didn't see the point in Jack being in my bed any more. Eventually, and the odds were that it'd be sooner rather than later, he'd turn out to be one untrustworthy species of cad or another and I'd be left broken-hearted — again. Besides, as soon as Jack woke up, he'd see me for the person I was. A rather shabby middle-aged woman with a gammy foot, a bung knee and a bruised cheek — not exactly a prize catch.

Not that I was about to let myself be left broken-hearted. I was putting an end to this liaison before it had a chance to do any more damage.

By seven in the morning I was lying in bed desperately wishing Jack would stay asleep long enough so I could edge out of the bed, retrieve my clothes and make a hasty escape to the bathroom. I'd had my chance last night. Why hadn't I done the sensible thing and put my pyjamas on then? Because I was still in la-la land. That's why. Still trapped in a fantasy where Jack and I were on the fast track to happily ever after. What the hell was I thinking?

Last night we'd been perfect together. Too perfect. The conversation was great, the sex unbelievable. I didn't want him to wake up and face morning Claudia. The real one. The one without makeup. Puffy eyes, dull skin, lifeless hair. Such a contrast to last night's sexy and wanton Claudia.

I stared at myself under the sheets. Less than toned thighs, rounded belly, cellulite. Last night I'd obviously been delusional. I edged further and further to the side of the bed, stopping mid-motion at the slightest change in Jack's breathing. Finally, my left big toe touched the floor. Soon enough both feet had connected with the ground. Breathing easier, I crawled around picking up clothes and underwear and a towel. Bottom in the air, on all fours with assorted clothes in my mouth, I finally reached the closed door. Carefully, I reached up and turned the handle. Overriding the need to keep quiet, I got out as quickly as I could. In the process, I gave the door a tap as it closed. No matter. It was done and I was free. Relief. Relief tinged with sadness, but mostly relief. I stood up, wrapped the towel around myself and slowly made my way downstairs to the bathroom.