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He turns his head to look at me. Our gazes meet and hold. The look in his eyes is so intoxicating I can’t look away.
‘Thank you,’ he says, and his voice is strangely breathless.
TEN
Lily
Jake’s house in Ibiza is a triumph of cubist modernist architecture. Set into the clifftop it is held up by an impressive framework of poured concrete, steel columns and beams. A concealed garage opens remotely.
‘Wow,’ I exclaim.
‘That’s what I said when I saw the artist impression of the design.’
At the entrance, a suspended steel framed cube hovers in mid-air while the frameless pivot door welcomes us into a stunningly minimalist entrance hall. It opens out to a space into which natural light pours through floating roofs. Sliding doors and the extensive use of glass make the threshold between the open plan interior and exterior convincingly invisible.
Jake slides open the glass doors and we are standing outside facing a swimming pool. Beyond it is the blue-green sea. It is so beautiful my breath catches. Now I know why he wanted to come here to think. This place is so modern and yet so wild and natural. It’s taken me some time but I am slowly starting to understand him a little better. He is a sensuous man who needs wildness, nature. They are almost a part of him. That is why he rides horses bareback.
For a while we are both silent, drinking in the salty sea breeze. Then he looks down at me, tousled, but somehow refreshed already.
‘Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.’
Natural light floods even the deepest parts of the house and there is always that sense of space that comes from vast expanses of glass. There are two receptions, three bedrooms all facing the sea, a kitchen, a dining room, and a cellar. We don’t go down into it.
He opens the freezer and takes out a bag. ‘I’m going for a swim in the sea,’ he says. ‘Wanna come?’
‘How will you get to the sea? We are so high up.’
‘I’ll show you,’ he says, and takes me to the bottom of the garden where there are steep steps that go down to a small private beach inaccessible by any other means.
‘What’s in the bag?’ I ask, as I carefully follow his lead.
‘Breadcrumbs for the fish.’
‘We’re going to feed the fish?’
‘Yup.’
He leads the way and at the end of our descent we are standing on a strip of yellow sand that is totally enclosed by rocky cliffs and sea.
He pulls me toward his body and puts a finger under my chin. ‘I’m going for a long swim. Can you amuse yourself until I come back?’
‘Why can’t I come?’
He frowns, instantly worried. ‘It will be too far out for you.’
‘OK, I’ll swim for a bit, and then I’ll lie on the beach and wait for you.’
He bends his head and lightly brushes his lips against mine. ‘Don’t go anywhere.’
I shake my head. ‘And leave this paradise?’
He puts the bag into my hand.
‘What do I do with the crumbs?’
‘Go into the water until you are waist deep and throw a handful.’
‘OK.’
