Free A Seaside Affair by Fern Britton Page B

began. It started with a few elbows nudging the ribs of their neighbour, then eyes widening and broad smiles, then a ripple of sound as his name was murmured, with row after row picking up the refrain like a Mexican wave of whispers.
    Only then did Ryan step forward and walk amongst his fans.
    Twenty minutes later he stepped over Jess and sat back in his seat, noisily clipping his seat belt.
    ‘Sorry I took so long. You know how it can be. Someone in goat class spotted me. Got recognised. Had to do the right thing. Chatted, had a few photos. God, it’s so tedious, but it goes with the territory – ya gotta do it.’
    The chief stewardess approached, smiling. ‘Mr Hearst. Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to other passengers. You’ve made their day. If only all celebrities could be so generous.’
    ‘It’s my pleasure. After all, it’s the fans who have given me so much. It is they who have made Cosmo Venini so very popular.’ He feigned humility.
    The stewardess turned to Jess. ‘You’re Mr Hearst’s girlfriend, aren’t you?’
    Jess extended her hand. ‘Jess. Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you.’
    ‘Those photos of you on the beach were amazing! You look super hot! Certainly don’t look your age.’
    Ryan took Jess’s hand and kissed her fingers. ‘She doesn’t, does she? She needed a treat, what with me being away so much.’
    ‘Oh, Mr Hearst!’ The stewardess clutched her pussy-bowed neck and turned to Jess: ‘How lucky you are to have him.’
    As soon as the stewardess had walked away, Jess’s bright smile dropped like an Acme safe tumbling off the side of a cliff in a
Road Runner
cartoon, ‘Hmph – she can fuck right off.’
    ‘What?’ said Ryan, running his hands through his well-cut hair and gazing out of the window at London spread below them.
    ‘Saying I look good for my age!’
    ‘Don’t be so sensitive. She’s a charming young woman. Do you have any chewing gum? I haven’t had time to clean my teeth.’
    Jess rootled around in her bag and passed him a half-empty packet.
    ‘Thank you. You could do with some too.’
    Chewing on her gum furiously, she rummaged through her bag for a hairbrush and ran it through her hair. She found a mirror and gave it a quick polish on her T-shirt. Her reflection did look pretty good. Her glossy brown mane of curls framed a tanned and freckled face that enhanced the blue of her eyes and the whiteness of her teeth. She had definitely lost a bit of chub from her cheeks and chin. She dared to tell her reflection that she was happy. Now if only she could get a job. Pay her way. Feel useful. Talented.
    Maybe it wasn’t too late …

9
    T he limo pulled smoothly up to the steps leading to the wide and welcoming entrance of the Starfish Hotel. While the driver helped Brooke out of the car, a couple of linen-clad flunkeys raced to collect her bags from the boot.
    ‘Good afternoon, Miss Brooke. Welcome to the Starfish. I’m Toby, this is Marc.’
    ‘Thank you.’ She gave the young bronzed man a warm appraising glance.
    His colleague stepped round from the back of the car carrying her Hermès valise.
    ‘I love your luggage,’ he said in a deliciously fruity voice. ‘Very stylish.’
    Her driver straightened his tie and asked, ‘Anything more I can do for you, Miss Brooke?’
    ‘No, thank you. Do you have any idea when Milo – Mr James – will be arriving?’
    ‘I’m waiting to hear what flight he’s on. I’m heading to Newquay Airport now to pick him up.’
    ‘OK. Thanks.’
    As the car drove away, the two young bellhops escorted her up the steps and into the hotel lobby. She was gratified to see that her super sexy Marilyn wiggle was attracting much attention along the way.
    The Starfish Hotel was the smartest of Cornwall’s hotels. Built to coincide with the completion of Brunel’s revolutionary train line from Paddington to Trevay, it had offered suitably luxurious accommodation for the wealthy Victorian and Edwardian travellers who