What felt like five minutes later there was a knock on her door. Groggily she opened one eye. ‘What?’
‘Lucy.’
‘Go away.’
He didn’t. Rather he opened the door. Tee shirt and long shorts. Tanned muscles on show. She shut her eyes tight. The last thing she needed was to see Daniel looking gorgeous in casual-wear. Self-control, self-control—she had some, didn’t she? Even a teeny bit?
He yanked open her curtains. She screwed her eyes shut tighter against the glare.
‘Lucy, you’re coming out with me.’
‘No. I’m sleeping.’ With him. In her dreams. All the time.
‘Open your eyes.’
She ignored him.
‘When did you last see the sun?’ She could feel him close by the bed. ‘You’re turning into some vampire. The bar is going great, but you’re working all hours. You look awful. I’m ordering you to take the night off.’
She opened her eyes at that. ‘Are you forbidding me to go there?’
He nodded. ‘If you set foot in that bar in the next twenty-four hours I’m sacking you.’
‘You can’t do that.’
‘I’m the boss.’
She closed her eyes again. ‘Fine. I won’t go. Now leave me alone.’
‘No. I’ll stand here and annoy you until you get out of bed and spend the day in fresh air like normal people.’
‘Daniel.’
‘Would you rather I got in there with you?’
She sat up immediately, clutching the sheet to her chest.
He grinned. ‘Thought that idea might get you moving.’ He strolled to her door. ‘I’ll give you five minutes. If you’re not dressed and in the lounge by then I’ll be back in here and dressing you myself.’
She lay down again after he left and debated whether or not to stay there.
No. She pushed back the covers and looked out from the curtains, amazed to see the sun high in the sky. She quickly slipped on a top. Then she heard his voice. ‘Put your swimsuit on.’
That would be the bikini—the only swimsuit she had. She really must go shopping for an all-covering granny special soon. She pulled the top off and put the bikini on underneath. Her heart’s tempo picked up. She shouldn’t. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t.
Lucy had always struggled with shouldn’t. It was the red rag and she was the bull.
They walked along the bay and found a warm spot on the crowded beach. He had a blanket.
‘Your tan is fading.’ He ran light fingers down her arm. She shut her eyes with the agony of it and hoped he couldn’t see her reaction flare behind her Jackie O sunglasses.
‘Why are we here, Daniel?’
‘My case starts next week. This is my last chance to relax for a while. And you need a break.’
‘What’s your case about?’
He stared into the sea. ‘The last thing I want to think about right now is that case.’
‘What do you want to think about?’
‘Nothing. No thoughts. No analysis.’
No regrets. He blinked and turned to look at her.
‘Let’s go for that swim.’ She raised her brow, wanting to shatter the sudden stillness. ‘Race you to the pontoon.’ She’d ripped off her glasses and dress and was running to the water before she’d finished the sentence. She heard his growl of laughter, and knew her head start would only be a split-second advantage.
The water was freezing but she struck out and pulled her arms through the water furiously. Ten seconds into it and she was fighting a stitch-like pain in her side. How could she have lost fitness in just a few days? Breathless, she finally got there and tried really hard not to be completely peeved as she saw his face already bobbing by the wood.
‘Your technique’s not bad really,’ he said. ‘You could do with a bit of practice.’
‘You think?’ She puffed out the words.
A party of keen teenagers splashed out, swamping the pontoon with wet bodies. Lucy sank a little in the crowd. Daniel frowned as he saw her face. He reached out an arm and pulled her to him. He gripped the pontoon and supported her with his other arm. ‘You OK?’
‘Sure.’ Her breath wouldn’t return. If anything she felt more puffed. And cold. She wanted his other arm around her. His legs brushed against hers as he trod the water.
‘Your lips are blue. You’re freezing.’
All she could think about was how he could warm her up.
‘I’ll swim you back in.’
This was embarrassing. It was only a few metres but her body was acting as if she’d tried to swim the English channel in winter with only a banana for breakfast. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had breakfast. Or lunch.
‘OK.’
‘Put your arms and legs around me.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Come on, koala hold.’
‘You can’t swim with me like that.’
‘I can swim. Trust me.’ He took her hands and pulled her towards him. She had no option, had to cling to him like a little barnacle on a big rock. Oh, yeah, she just had to.
His body was warm even in the chilly water. The feeling of security in his strong arms was soporific, the pleasure in being carried by a fit male extreme.
I am pathetic. I am a pathetic excuse for a modern woman. I should be swimming myself. She relaxed against him completely and let her arms hold him close. The sensation was too nice not to indulge. Her eyes shut tight. Her body wasn’t cold any more.
‘Lucy, you can let go now.’
She opened her eyes to his dry amusement, suddenly aware she was barely under the water. A boy who looked about eight years old was standing in the water not far away. She really was pathetic. Reluctantly she looked up into his face. He stared at her, his mouth sort of smiling, but his eyes were like arrows piercing deep, searching. Talk about one-way traffic—hunting out her thoughts while refusing to reveal any of his own. She dropped her gaze, landing on his shoulders instead. Stupid, because they were very broad and she was very nearly clinging. She went to lower her legs but his hands tightened on her a fraction. She risked another look at his eyes. Gleaming gold flecks grew—bringing warmth to his usually reserved demeanour—and bringing heat to her belly.
The young boy hollered out to a friend. The moment shattered. She slipped from his arms and stumbled up the beach. Back on shore she shivered. Need made her bones ache. He handed her a towel and she sat with it cloaked tepee-style around her. She caught his frown.
‘I’m OK, just tired.’
‘You haven’t eaten.’ He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a banana. She giggled.
‘What’s so funny?’ He peeled the banana. ‘OK, it’s not much. Down that and we’ll go to the deli.’
They sat and waited for their order. He picked up a paper from the counter. He took the news section, offered her the glossy magazine.
‘Actually I’d prefer the world section.’
He looked curious.
‘Weirdest-stories-in-the-world section,’ she explained. ‘You know—SHARK EATS ELEPHANT, EIGHTY-NINE-YEAR-OLD WOMAN GIVES BIRTH.’
‘That’s not the world section, that’s tabloid.’ He handed it to her anyway. ‘I’ll have it back when you’re done.’
The silence was almost companionable. He sat in his long board shorts, sandals and nothing else. She wore a tee and her sarong tied round her middle. If she closed her eyes she could pretend they were on a beach on some remote Pacific island. Only they wouldn’t have a table separating them. She wouldn’t be avoiding eye contact. There wouldn’t be other people sitting too close and talking too loudly about what movie they should go to that night. He wouldn’t be so engrossed in the business section.
The pancakes with banana, bacon and maple syrup looked fantastic, but only a few bites into it she abandoned it—grumpily recognising her appetite was nothing like normal.
They wandered the few yards back to his flat. She’d pretended the silence was comfortable, but now it intensified to uneasy awaren
ess. They said nothing as they climbed the stairs. Once in the apartment she headed straight to her room, showered and re-dressed. She headed to the lounge and out to the balcony. She sat and took in the view and pretended she couldn’t care less where he was right now or what he was doing.