"Same as you, I imagine." Natalie kept her cool. "I came out to eat."
"At the same restaurant as me?"
Her laugh was a light tinkle that grated on his nerves. "There's no law against it, Daniel." When his eyes narrowed in suspicion, she added, "This place is just around the corner from my hotel. You should know—you booked me in there."
She picked up his menu, called the waiter over, and before he could think to intervene, she had ordered wine and swordfish for them both. Unless he was willing to make a public fuss in a crowded restaurant, he was stuck with her. Besides, when he glanced around, he could see there were no longer any free tables.
"So, how's it going?" she asked him.
"Fine. When are you flying back?" Nothing like a blunt question. Between Laura and Natalie, he was beginning to think his tact and diplomacy skills were being worn away to nothing.
His current companion put out her bottom lip in a coy pout. "I told you—not yet. I rather like it here."
"I spoke to Ben yesterday."
"Oh?" Her eyes were cagey. "Is everything okay?"
"No." Their wine arrived and he waited until the waiter had left before continuing. "He's a little overworked on his own."
Natalie waved a hand in dismissal. "He's a big boy. He'll manage."
"We don't appreciate you playing us off against one another, Natalie. Ben has a mountain of his own problems without you adding to them."
At this, she failed to hide her irritation. "That's right—there you go again, putting him first, just like you always do. Ahead of yourself, ahead of us, ahead of anyone who might get close to you . . ."
Daniel sighed. "There is no 'us,' Natalie. We gave it a shot and it didn't work."
"Only because you wouldn't let it," she almost spat. "If you'd have made Ben do his fair share for a change, if you didn't let him ride roughshod all over you . . ."
"That's enough!" When a couple at the next table began to stare, he lowered his voice. "That's my brother you're talking about, and don't you forget it. The situation is what it is. It can't be helped." He took a deep breath, followed by a deep gulp of his wine, and stared across at his distinctly sulky dinner partner. Eighteen months ago, maybe even a year ago, he would have looked at her with desire, with the conviction that their relationship was a good idea and that they both understood its limitations.
He'd been wrong. Now he was struggling to understand why he'd been so attracted to her. Oh, she was beautiful all right, but it was an icy, brittle, artificial beauty. Laura's face swam into his mind—open, honest, and warm, with a kind of self-possession that didn't depend on anyone else.
"Daniel? Are you alright?" Natalie was staring at him. Their food had arrived and he hadn't even noticed.
"Fine. I'm fine." He watched her take a dainty bite of swordfish as though nothing was wrong, and clamped down hard on his temper. "Natalie, you have to stop playing these games. They're not helping anyone. You and I were finished months ago."
Her pout came back. "We don't have to be, Daniel. We could make it work." Her eyes narrowed. "Or is there something you're not telling me? Someone else?"
Like a lightning flash at the back of his mind, Daniel's thoughts tore in two directions at once. No, there was no one else. How could there be? He didn't have the time, the energy, the inclination, the possibility . . . and yet . . . maybe there was someone else.
"No," he said.
She visibly relaxed and took another bite of fish. "Try some. It's tasty."
"I've lost my appetite." Fishing notes from his wallet, he tossed them onto the table and left Natalie staring after him as he walked out of the restaurant. He needed fresh air.
Chapter Nine
Laura spent her evening in a black mood, too. She wasn't accustomed to anyone getting under her skin to such an extent as Daniel did, making her so snarly and out of sorts. She knew she'd climbed out of the pool just spoiling for a confrontation—but he hadn't been shy about joining in, had he?
The thought of making polite conversation over dinner up at the house held no appeal. Catching Teresa out in the garden, she feigned a headache and said she would go to bed early.
Her stint in reception was quiet, giving her plenty of time to fume and worry. Could she risk future business for Paulo by refusing to go on the trip tomorrow? Or should she swallow her pride and tag along like a good girl? If she chose the latter, she had another problem to contend with: she could no longer deny she was attracted to Daniel. More to the point, she wasn't sure she could trust herself not to act on that attraction. That definitely bothered her.
Laura wasn't a hermit—she allowed herself a date or two with someone she liked from time to time—but as soon as things started to get serious, she would make her excuses and back out. Life was less complicated that way, and besides, she hadn't felt a strong enough urge to take things further with anyone. She was happy with her own company, loved teaching, and had plenty of friends and interests. What more could she need? She was only twenty-seven, so there was plenty of time yet to change her mind . . . something her mother was all too keen to encourage.
She would have thought her mother would be the last person to think that way. Wasn't she proof that happily ever after didn't always mean what it said? Laura had spent her childhood listening to tales of how and when her mother and father had met, how her mother just knew he was Mr. Right, that it was love at first sight. Those stories stopped abruptly when her father walked out. Her mother, so caught up in her
