She raised her eyebrows. "You do know that's the Atlantic, right?"
"So?"
"It's cold, Daniel, even in summer."
"We won't go all the way in, then."
Not sure whether she trusted him, Laura allowed him to take her hand and lead her to the water. When she was thigh-deep, she stopped.
"That's far enough for me," she declared. "You want to catch pneumonia, you go ahead."
Shrugging, Daniel launched himself fully into the water, let out a girly shriek that made Laura laugh, then swam off, leaving her to enjoy the cool water on her legs, the sun on her face, and the view of the beach from the water.
He reappeared a few minutes later. "I take it you'd seriously sulk if I pulled you in?" he asked, laughing as she merely narrowed her eyes at the suggestion.
"Okay." He kissed the tip of her nose. "You're right. It's freezing."
She watched him make his way out of the sea, water dripping from his hair and torso, and waited for an almost painful stab of desire to pass before she followed suit. Maybe the beach hadn't been such a good idea after all.
Towel-dried, they sat in the sand to allow the sun to finish the job. The beach was pleasantly busy but not too crowded, and Laura happily did a little people watching.
"Look at those two," Daniel said, nodding at an ancient couple walking past them. The man had his trousers rolled up to his knees, a cap perched jauntily on his head. His wife, her hair steel-grey and firmly fixed in a tight bun that was impervious to the breeze from the sea, had hitched her skirt and tucked it into presumably copious and sturdy underwear. They tottered to the water's edge, hand in hand, like a sketch from a cartoon.
"How sweet is that?" Daniel murmured.
Laura gave him a sidelong glance, but he was following the couple's progress intently as they dipped toes into the water, then braved ankles.
"I wouldn't mind that," he went on, almost to himself. "To still be holding hands with someone at that age."
Completely fazed by his mood, Laura tried to joke him out of it. "Yes, well, not all couples live in perfect harmony for decades."
"You shouldn't allow yourself to be biased by what happened to your parents," Daniel chided.
Laura snorted. "You sound just like Maria! Besides, what would you know about it?" She bit her lip in immediate remorse. "I'm sorry."
"What for? You're right." He took his phone from where it was carefully rolled in a towel, aimed and clicked.
"You're taking a photo now?"
"Sometimes we need to remind ourselves of what's important in life." He indicated the couple still paddling in the sea. "That's Ben and Becky in fifty years' time, if they're lucky."
Laura gave him a puzzled look. "I never knew you were so sentimental!"
Daniel shrugged. "Neither did I."
****
The next morning, Laura felt decidedly under the weather as she worked her way through her tasks in reception. She wondered if she'd had too much sun yesterday, falling asleep on the beach like that. Or maybe she'd eaten a bad clam or something in the fish stew. It hadn't helped that she'd endured yet another motherly interrogation by Maria at dinner last night about her day with Daniel, and then tossed and turned half the night because she didn't feel too well.
Whatever the cause, she felt tired, sick, and headachy, and the thought of another busy day with Daniel suddenly seemed more like an obstacle to be climbed than a joy. And yet the idea of telling him she didn't feel well enough to go barely entered her head.
He arrived soon after ten, sat in his usual chair, waited patiently for her to finish with a guest, then began to take her through the day's schedule. It seemed they'd had a light day yesterday – today was going to be busy. As he talked, she tried to take in what he was saying, but her head felt fuzzy. All she could hear was the deep timbre of his voice; all she could see was his kissable lips moving in his handsome face.
There was a roaring in her ears as she stared at him, her violet eyes wide, and then it was like a fog had lifted, and all the whirlpools of emotions and unfamiliar feelings that had swamped her in recent days came together. The way he enraged her half the time. The need and longing whenever he was near. Feeling so desperately hurt when he'd thought their kiss had been cold and calculating. Her surprising jealousy over Natalie. The sinking feeling she got whenever she reminded herself he had no time to get involved with anyone. It all made sudden, perfect sense.
She was in love with him.
She loved the way his eyes shimmered like the surface of a deep blue lake when he smiled, the set of his jaw when he was irritated, the way he kissed her. She even loved his stubbornness, his determination to have his own way, because she'd seen the other side too—the side that was caring and loyal. A man who had stayed with her for hours at the hospital when she needed him, and then had risen early after hardly any sleep to provide a taxi service to a woman he barely knew so she could visit her sick husband. A man who put his brother and his family above his own needs and wants.
But as she stared at him now, the clarity and relief that she finally had some explanation for her mixed-up emotions was gradually overtaken by a slow realisation of hopelessness. To love Daniel would be futile. Hadn't he said long-term relationships were no good for him? Tears pricked at her eyes, and it took all her force of will to stop them falling.
"Laura? Are you alright?" Daniel stood up, and there was urgent concern in his voice.
Laura fought to regain some composure. "I'm fine, thank you," she mumbled.
"You're sure? You don't look well."
She thought about the roiling in her
