‘Oh, God. Oh, Crap. Oh, my life. Lordy, lordy,’ I said into the mirror. My reflection looked thoroughly confused. ‘I know. What the hell was that? He kissed my thigh.’ Now my reflection was a deep shade of red. I blew my hair out of my face and leant over the sink. Bracing myself. I thought back to that moment. His lips on my bare skin. So intimate. So sensitive. So brave. He kissed a part of my body that didn’t usually get much attention, and when he did, it made every nerve ending stand at attention. I was pretty sure I orgasmed when I felt his lips there. Sometimes that didn’t even happen when a penis nestled in. ‘And he wants to be just friends?’ I frowned to myself. ‘I know!’ I wasn’t down for that. Nope. Not anymore. I was going to hound him until he had no option but to do it again, preferably when we were both naked.

‘You ready, Cal?’ Drew shouted up the stairs. ‘Blake’s getting edgy. We’ll miss our flight time.’ I didn’t know who the hell Blake was, but I knew I didn’t like him. Total cockblocker and bossy.

‘Erm…yep.’ A slick of lipstick and a quick comb through my hair would have to do. He still wasn’t telling me where we were going, only giving a very vague instruction of, You must wrap up warm, plenty of layers, which is what I’d planned to do anyway because my wardrobe at the island only catered for staying warm.

I heard the car horn beep three times. Cockblocker Blake again. I quickly slipped out of my shorts and put on some jeans. The sweater he seemed to appreciate when he bunched it up in his fists to kiss my stomach would have to do.

‘Cal.’

‘I’m coming. I’m coming. I’m here,’ I said as I ran down the stairs to find Drew closing the curtains.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘I think so. How long has it been exactly? Since you’ve flown. Are you rusty?’

‘I think it’s been about three weeks. Will that do?’ He smiled, handing me my coat as I followed him out. ‘Blake, impeccable timing. Remind me to thank you later.’

‘What did I do?’ Blake asked as he got back in the car. Drew shook his head as he caught me giggling.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘It’s a surprise,’ he replied, shutting my door. I watched as he got in the front passenger side, his head resting back. ‘How is she, Blake?’

‘Running fine, sir. She’s all ready for you.’

‘We’d better go then. Wind speed?’

‘Perfect for this time of year. Might be a little bumpy on descent though.’

I groaned and Drew glanced at me behind him. ‘What’s wrong?’

My stomach flipped and I wasn’t sure if it was from the thought of impending death or because not so long ago Drew was kissing my thigh. ‘I’m a little…nervous.’

‘You’re a nervous flyer?’ he asked.

‘I am when the plane resembles a tin can.’

‘The best tin. Durable. Small but robust.’

‘How do you know that?’ I asked, taking a sharp breath. ‘Have you tested the theory with an emergency landing?’

‘Hey. Listen. I’m not going to let anything bad happen,’ he said, reaching for my hand. ‘Because if the plane goes down, we both die.’

‘Not helping.’ I grimaced as he laughed.

‘Take a deep breath.’ I leant forward, took in a breath and blew it out directly in his face. ‘Awesome,’ he replied as he scrunched his eyes briefly.

‘Sorry.’

‘Seriously, Cal. I won’t let anything happen to you. Keep taking deep, steady breaths. Trust me.’ I nodded, believing him completely. He kissed my head and placed his thumb at the corner of my mouth, dragging my lip with it, sighing and turning around before switching on pilot mode. ‘Blake, I’ll do my own safety checks just to reassure Cal.’ Swoon.

‘Of course, sir.’

I watched out of the window, remembering the short journey from the airport when I arrived, smiling at how much had changed in a couple of weeks, how at odds I was feeling, wondering if the ideas would return or the words would begin to form sentences again.

‘Here we are, sir,’ Blake said as we rolled onto the bumpy track that constituted the airport car park. It all felt oddly familiar, the chauffeur-driven car, the dark-haired brooding male, the name check of sir. And as the aeroplane came into view, I suddenly understood why it all felt so familiar.

Oh, fuck.

Drew was Christian Grey…but far less controlling.

This felt surreal. I was expecting to hear the first bars of ‘Love Me Like You Do’ blaring out at any second.

‘Trust me?’ Drew asked as he opened my door.

‘Are you taking me to your playroom?’ I asked biting my lip for good measure. He raised his eyebrow in question. ‘Drew, you couldn’t be more Christian Grey!’

‘I’m pretty sure he had a helicopter,’ he replied smiling.

‘He does, but we’ll let that slip.’

‘Absolutely not,’ he replied. ‘Real romance heroes fly fucking planes.’

Fifteen minutes was all it took.

Fifteen minutes for me to confirm that I was head-over-heels smitten for my reclusive, woodcutting pilot. The man who reassured me throughout the flight, cared for me, encouraged me to breathe.

He transformed when he was sitting in the cockpit. He turned into someone who was commanding and powerful. Who knew what he wanted and was going to get it with a steady composure. He always had a presence, but this was something more—a higher level, a metamorphosis into greatness—and my thighs were still bloody quivering from the experience.

‘Short flight. Was that a good or bad thing?’ he asked shortly after he landed the plane like the majestic specimen of greatness he was.

I thought about how to answer.

I could have watched you forever. Fly me to Australia. It can’t be that far. I watched your hands grip the flight yoke and imagined them on my thighs. Are you sure you just want to be friends? That kiss to my bare thigh told me otherwise.

Instead, I went with, ‘Well, I’m not dead so…well done!’

‘You’re in capable hands,’ he replied.

I know, I felt them on my bum cheeks earlier.

‘Now are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?’

He took a picnic basket and a blanket off one of the seats and helped me down the steps.

‘You don’t have long to wait.’

I looked back at the plane and saw a small golden Karensa logo across the side. ‘Do you fly people to the island? Is that all part of the luxury service?’

‘I have. It’s good to advertise that it’s available, should guests need it. Private flights around Cornwall is something I’ve offered to guests staying in the cottages over summer.’

‘Nifty.’ I pointed to the golden logo. ‘What does Karensa mean?’ I asked, wondering why I’d never asked him before. It was a beautiful name. There must be some meaning behind it. He didn’t reply, just directed me to another waiting car. I listened to him make small talk with the driver, I heard him say the car journey would only take ten minutes, we would need blankets and torches, but he still didn’t answer my question. We travelled in silence, Drew sitting next to me in the back of the car. I felt his glances, I saw his lips part like he was going to say something, finally answer my question, but just as quickly, they would close again and he would return to gazing out of the window.

Hiding. Protecting.

‘What is this place?’ I asked, pressing my hand to the window as we arrived at our destination. ‘The Minack Theatre,’ I said, reading the signs and staring in wonderment as I looked out of the window and saw what looked like…No. It couldn’t be.

Was that snow?

‘You wanted Christmas. You wanted brass bands, carols, mulled wine—’ He got out and opened my door, holding out his hand, helping me to stand because I was far too busy watching the flurries of snow being launched into the air by a snow machine outside the entrance, ‘—and snow.’

I held out my hands, tilted my head to the sky and lit up as I felt the tiny bubbles of foam hit my face. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real snow or that I wasn’t at home for Christmas helping Mum make the stuffing or whipping the cream to top the trifle. None of that mattered because Drew had brought Christmas to me, a new kind of Christmas. He’d tried to alleviate the homesickness and helped me remember why this time of year was so special, and that meant everything to me.

‘There’s more to it than just snow,’ he said leaning against the car, watching me twirl around and dance.

‘Really? This isn’t it?’ I heard him chuckle as I tipped my head.

‘This isn’t it,’ he replied taking my hand. ‘Come on.’

He led me down a path to what looked like a visitor’s centre, and after paying for two tickets, he handed one to me.

‘Minack’s Christmas Cracker. You’re taking me to a show?’

‘Not exactly a show, but more of a Christmas celebration,’ he replied. ‘I first came here when I was nine or ten to see a children’s version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’ll never forget it. The backdrop. The scenery. The noise of the waves lapping along the beach. It was…atmospheric. It created wonder and imagination for a little boy who loved nothing more than to read. Seeing the book brought to life was life changing.’ He’d never been sexier. That magical glint in his eye, the happiness of his memories causing his smile. The fact that he loved reading from a young age made him insanely more likeable and I wasn’t even sure that was possible. ‘They rarely have productions in winter because of the weather conditions, but this year they’re having Christmas carols with the Salvation Army band. Mulled wine and mince pies all round. You up for it?’

He opened the glass doors and watched my face as I took it in for the first time.

‘Oh…oh my goodness, Drew. What is this?’ I started walking down the steep stone steps, unsure of where to look first. Lights were shining, illuminating the shore as the afternoon sun slipped into darkness. The coastline pulled me in, the sound of the waves crashing in front of us, dipping down to a vast expanse of coastline, creating an amphitheatre out of the disorderly rocks.

‘I knew I had to bring you,’ he said, following me as I meandered down the winding path to the huge stone structures. They were overwhelming and imposing, ornate and beautiful, carved out of nature and wilderness to create what could only be described as a scene so astounding it took your breath away.

‘Who made this? It’s…magical.’

‘A lady called Rowena Cade. She carved it out of the coastline. This was her garden. Can you believe that?’ He stared out across the sea, lights dancing on the waves, the line of rocks forming a dark archway almost like it was protecting the beaches below us. ‘She joined an amateur dramatics society when she was struggling with the isolation of living at the very aptly named Land’s End. They needed somewhere to put on a show and she offered them her garden. She made the stage there.’ He pointed to a stone circle at the bottom where the brass band had started to set up their instruments. It was surrounded by steps and what looked like a succession of balconies that got progressively smaller as they climbed. ‘See the first balcony?’ I nodded as he pressed himself behind me, his hand on my shoulder, the heat from his body making me so aware of my own. ‘That was created especially for the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. Amazing. Shakespeare gets his own spot.’

I pulled him towards the rows where people had started to gather, wrapped in blankets and drinking steaming cups of hot tea. Only grass provided the comfort you would expect from a cushioned seat in a traditional theatre and Drew laid out a blanket, offering us more protection from the cold weather. He handed me a cup from the top of the flask, twisted off the top and poured me a drink. I wrapped my hands around the plastic, enjoying the warmth of the liquid against my hands. The steam rose into the air, dancing and swaying in the coastal breeze. I smiled. Life felt good.

‘There’s something special about Cornwall, isn’t there?’ I said, listening to the notes travel as the brass band started to warm up.

‘Loved it since I was a kid,’ Drew replied.

‘I was fascinated with the stories associated with it. King Arthur and Merlin. The Pirates of Penzance. There was always somewhere magical to visit. So much…atmosphere.’

‘My mum was very spiritual. Cornwall felt like home to her. She liked the contrasts of it being wild and windy, telling tales of shipwrecks and washed up mermaids, being on a rainy beach under an umbrella, and describing the sea as being such a vivid turquoise in the sun that you had to keep reminding yourself you weren’t in the Mediterranean. She said it always caught you off guard. Left you guessing. She liked that.’

‘Living on the edge,’ I said. ‘Not afraid to take risks. I wonder who you take after?’ He pulled in his mouth, gave a brief smile and looked out across the sea.

‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ I said, watching more people settle on the grass. They pulled their bodies in tight to protect themselves from the bite of winter, but I wanted the cold air on my face, wanted to feel its sting on the tip of my nose. It made me remember this was real, and for tonight, Drew was mine.

‘My pleasure, Cal,’ he replied.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in a Christmas daze, singing carols, helping to pass around mince pies, talking, laughing, chatting. People were offering cakes and biscuits from their picnic baskets. A sense of community, loneliness banished, thinking about how the lady who put this place together with her bare hands must have felt once she embraced the theatre group and made friends. We watched actors play out a scene from A Christmas Carol, Drew smiling as I mouthed the words along with them, and our cold fingers and toes melted a little when children from the local school acted out the Nativity. I put my arm through his, leant my head against his shoulder, caught him watching me more times than I could count, and wondered if today would be the day he’d finally give in, ignore the voices in his head and kiss me.

After a final sing-song of ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’, Drew stood, held out his hands and pulled me up. I’d lost sensation in one bum cheek and was unsure if I’d ever feel my toes again, but none of that mattered. I would have stayed with him on that damp little grassy seat forever.

‘Did you bring Meghan here?’ I asked, trying to imagine what their life was like before it all went wrong. What did they ever have in common? What were the connections that drew them together? Did he fly her to magical places and make it easy for her fall in love with him day after day?

‘No. Never,’ he replied.

‘Have you ever brought a woman here?’ I asked, smirking.

‘Oh yeah. Used to all the time. Every other week.’

‘You’re talking about your mum, aren’t you.’

‘Yep,’ he said, his mouth jerking to a grin as he closed his eyes in mock embarrassment. ‘Didn’t think I’d be here with the most beautiful girl on the island though.’

‘That’s not saying a lot,’ I replied, unable to drop my smile.

‘I was going to say the world, but it sounded cheesy in my head.’

Oh yeah, we were definitely getting it on tonight.

He walked in front of me, possibly trying to skate over the comment that slipped through the cracks of his determination to keep me at a safe distance. He pushed the door, holding it open, but I stayed where I was, dropping my eyes to his feet.

‘Can I have one more minute? I just want to watch the sea a little more.’ I walked back to the railings, held on to them and let the wind fall through my hair.

He stood next to me, his hand lightly touching mine.

‘You didn’t answer me earlier—’ I said, pretending to look at the view but really glancing at the stunning man next to me, ‘—about the meaning of Karensa. Why was it so hard for you answer?’

He didn’t reply at first, just looked out to the distance.

‘Not hard,’ he replied simply.

I turned to him, my hip leaning against the railing. ‘Why Karensa? What does it mean?’

He looked at me now, bold and strong like his eyes were full of what he wanted to say, how he felt.

‘It’s Cornish in origin. A girl’s name. Karensa.’ His eyes never left mine. ‘Meaning love.’

I studied him as he returned his attention to the sea, and tried to ignore the sound of harps and beautiful voices in my head reciting clichéd passages from the romance novels I loved. He believes in love! Underneath it all, he has the heart of a poet. Love will win above all else! Oh, Drew. Beautifully sweet, Drew and his perfect declaration of a time when romance meant something to him, when he was open to love, so much so he named his legacy after it.

‘A girl’s name?’ I replied, my voice dreamy. ‘How beautiful.’

‘Costentyn, the name of the island, is Cornish for constant. Standing firm.’ Just like him. ‘A little bit more Cornish magic for you,’ he said backing away but beckoning me with his hands to follow him. I followed, taking my notepad out of my pocket and jotting down Karensa. Meaning love and there it was, a flash of inspiration, a light-bulb moment, without any doubt.

I had the name for the heroine of my book.

Kari. Short for Karensa. Meaning love.