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‘Okay, you can open them now,’ he instructed.
I did so slowly, savouring the moment.Wowseemed inadequate for a journalist to use as a descriptor, but I truly couldn’t think of another word to capture the beauty of what I was seeing.
There was so much to take in, it was hard to know where to look first. A deep, flagstoned terrace was set with tables elegantly draped in snowy-white cloths and topped with gleaming silverware. Tall candles flickered on every table, their glow in competition with the thousands of LED lights twinkling from the branches of the trees and nestled within the foliage. But as magnificent as the outdoor dining room was, it was the backdrop that made this place truly spectacular. Beyond a low wall, the only thing to be seen was the sea, glinting in a kaleidoscope of blues, greens and gold as the rippling waves captured the sunlight.
‘Oh. My. God. This might literally be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,’ I said, gushing like an idiot. Ridiculously, I could feel the smart of tears springing to my eyes as I turned to the man beside me. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’ Finn looked inordinately pleased at my delight. ‘How did you ever discover this place?’ I asked as we walked in unspoken agreement towards the wall that looked out over the water.
‘I covered a conference here several years ago as a journo,’ he said, leaning against the waist-high wall and breathing in deeply as though recalibrating. ‘I remember thinking at the time that it would be the perfect place to bring someone for a special occasion.’
‘Do first dates count as special occasions?’ I asked, my voice husky.
Finn turned away from the sea and stared deep into my eyes, making it impossible to look away. Not that I had any desire to do so.
‘I don’t know. You tell me.’
I could have found a quip then, defused the moment into something trivial, and yet I did the exact opposite. I was already holding one of his hands, but now I reached for the other, as though we were exchanging vows.
‘It feels pretty special to me.’
*
Our table was ready, Finn informed me, after checking in with the maître d’, who resembled the captain at the helm of a ship as he stood on his podium, surveying the diners and the sea beyond them.
‘We could eat now, or if you prefer, we could grab a cocktail and take a wander around the grounds before the light fades.’
‘Option B, please,’ I said happily, more because I knew he’d take my hand again as we walked through the hotel gardens than from a burning interest in horticulture.
I was right, Finn did reach for my hand. In the other I held my cocktail, chosen from the menu chiefly because it was one of only a few I could order without blushing like a teenager. The night already felt sexually charged, without choosing a drink with a side order of double entendre.
There was a warm, sweet smell in the air, emanating from either the climbing honeysuckle, the concoction in my glass or the anticipation that something was happening tonight that was so deliciously combustible, it could ignite at any moment. With previous boyfriends, desire had always been a long, slow burn, but this felt as though we were under a giant magnifying glass beneath the heat of the sun.
One circuit around the garden proved that Finn knew even less about trees and shrubs than I did.
‘Do you have a garden?’ I asked, aware that I still knew so little about his life.
‘No. Not even a window box,’ he said with a rueful shrug. ‘I rent a flat with a couple of other guys. It’s fair to say the only thing we successfully grow is mould from the occasional plate that never makes it to the dishwasher.’
‘Ugh.’ I shuddered. ‘And you in hospitality too.’
Finn grinned. ‘The coffee shop has a glowing bill of health,’ he said proudly, and then added as a teasing afterthought, ‘Three years, and I’ve not poisoned a single customer.’
‘It’s the little things,’ I agreed soberly, loving the way I could make him laugh, and loving even more the way his arm had somehow snaked around my waist as we walked.
Excitement was thrumming quietly through me, like a low-grade electrical current. Later it would spark into life, I knew that with a certainty I’d never experienced before. It was there in Finn’s eyes when he looked down at me, burning like twin flames. Delaying the gratification of feeling his lips on mine was only going to make it even more intense when we eventually surrendered to the moment.
‘Hungry?’ he asked, his voice low.
I had to remind myself he was asking about food. I nodded.
Finn began leading us back towards the terrace, taking a leisurely route beneath the trailing boughs of some weeping willows. Surprisingly, the sun was still playing games with the light, turning the glass in a couple of the hotel’s ground-floor windows into fiery portholes.
‘They do an amazing salmon dish here that’s—’
‘What’s that smell?’ I asked, interrupting him.
Finn paused and inhaled deeply, before checking the soles of his shoes in case we’d found one of the ‘gifts’ left by the hotel’s wandering peacocks. He flashed me a beam when he saw they were clean. It was the last natural smile I’d see from him for a while.
I sniffed the air again, like a tracker dog, aware that the smell was even stronger now. ‘No. It’s not that. It’s kind of pungent, almost acrid.’
