Seven
Sunday was a brand-new day, in every sense of the words. Gone were the torrential rain and dark clouds; replaced by birdsong, a promise of sunshine, and a smell of clean, fresh air. A smell that Jemma breathed in as she drew the bedroom curtains and opened the window wide.
In her flat in Orpington, a less pleasant smell would greet her. A mixture of morning air and petrol fumes, to which she had grown accustomed.
The scent she breathed in now reminded her of her life in Esme’s cottage. Although as beautiful as Chislehurst had been, it came a close second to Betancourt Bay on this bright and warm, summer day.
She showered and dressed quickly in a turquoise cotton, sleeveless dress, over which she wore a lightweight, matching cardigan. She was eager to get outside, despite the early hour of the morning. It was barely five a.m. but, like the summer sunshine, Jemma had always been an early riser.
In the kitchen, she made coffee, together with poached egg on toast, which she wolfed down in a matter of minutes. She hadn’teaten dinner yesterday, despite her good intentions, and had made do with a cheese sandwich instead, followed an hour later, by unusually early night.
She left the washing up, which she could do when she got back, and headed for the front door, intent on enjoying the peace and quiet of this time of day.
She stepped outside without looking – and almost got knocked down.
‘What the…? Oh! I’m sorry. Are you okay?’
It took Jemma a moment to recover herself, and for the man’s voice to register with her. She looked him up and down, not quite certain, at first, what had thumped into her. And then she realised it was a male jogger, out for an early morning run.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she said, experiencing an odd sort of tingling in her arm, where he had gently placed his hand. ‘I didn’t think to look. I thought I’d have the street to myself at this time of the morning.’
His smile was dazzling and his blue eyes were mesmerising. Or perhaps she was in shock. But the scent of his body was intoxicating as she leant against it.
Leant against it? She immediately pulled herself away and straightened up, heat rising in her cheeks as she added, ‘Sorry about that.’
‘I’m the one who’s sorry. It was entirely my fault. I’m not used to meeting anyone this early in the morning, especially on a Sunday. Are you sure you’re okay?’
She wasn’t sure at all. But it had nothing to do with being run into. It had more to do with the very presence of this man.
‘No harm done.’ She threw him a smile, blushing even more, and then, remembering she wore no make up this morning, her cheeks burned red-hot.
‘You look … a little flustered. Do you need to sit down?’
‘No! Erm. Thanks. I’m fine.’ She tried to hide her face by glancing away. ‘I just feel a bit embarrassed because I must look a sight without any make up.’ She winced as she spoke. Why had she said that aloud?
‘Embarrassed? Why? You look beautiful. Especially with those freckles.’
Jemma’s experience with men was limited, but she knew sincerity when she heard it.
‘You really think so?’ Her eyes met his, and locked.
He nodded slowly and a warm smile spread across his handsome face. ‘I really do. And as for looking a sight, you do. A sight for sore eyes. Sorry.’ Now he was the one who looked flustered. ‘That was corny.’
‘Please don’t apologise. It sounded lovely to me.’
His smile returned, but then a tiny frown formed between dark brows. ‘Erm. This sounds a little odd. And it’s none of my business, I know. But … what are you doing here at this time of the morning?’ He glanced at Oak View Cottage. ‘And did you just come out of there?’ He tipped his head towards the door.
‘I’m renting the cottage for a month. I arrived yesterday afternoon. Well, early evening, really.’ Jemma smiled at him and his frown quickly disappeared. ‘I was going for an early morning walk along the beach.’
‘Renting the cottage? Oh, I see. I knew Mrs Law had passed away, and I assumed her family had inherited it. I met them a few times over the years and although I’m not sure I could pick her granddaughter out of a line-up, one thing I am sure of, is that she doesn’t look like you.’
Jemma raised her brows as the man gave an awkward laugh and shook his head.
‘Thanks. I think,’ Jemma said.
‘That was a compliment, not an insult. Although, of course, you wouldn’t know that from what I said. You could take it eitherway. Sorry. I’m not particularly good at this. I do recall that she had jet-black hair, and as yours is a gorgeous fiery red, that also gave me a clue.’
Jemma laughed nervously. Was this man flirting with her? It had been so long since anyone had, that she wasn’t absolutely sure.
