Page 47 of Not in a Million Years

‘We could lie down in a darkened room,’ I suggested. ‘And wait and see whether we feel much, much better, or we die.’

‘Or we could go to the beach?’

‘It’s too hot.’

‘You can lie in the shade.’

‘It’s too windy.’

‘But the sea breeze will keep us cool.’

‘It’s too sandy.’

‘Kate! It’s a fucking beach, what do you expect? Fitted carpets?’

I started to giggle again, and he did too, and moments later the two of us were helpless with the kind of stupid laughter that only seems to happen when you’re severely hungover.

When we’d recovered our composure, I said, ‘Okay. Beach it is. But you’ll have to put sunblock on my back before we even leave our rooms.’

‘Deal.’

I was in front of the full-length mirror in my room, wearing my bikini, scrutinising myself from every angle, when Daniel tapped on the door. I craned my head to look over my shoulder at my bum one final time, then turned sideways and sucked in my tummy. Not great – not great at all, to be honest – but there was literally nothing I could do about it between now and three seconds’ time.

And anyway, I reminded myself, I didn’t give a toss what Daniel thought of me or my bum. Did I?

I opened the door.

Daniel looked at me appraisingly, grinning. ‘Swit swoo. Oh sorry – I’m not meant to be objectifying you.’

‘No, you’re not. And besides, I’m nothing to swit swoo about right now – too much work and cake in the past few months, not enough reformer Pilates. Still, at least my sunburn’s fading.’

‘Let me take a look. Yes, it definitely looks less angry today. Here, I’ll do your back.’

I heard the farting sound of suncream squeezing out of the bottle, and stood still while he smeared it over my shoulders, the nape of my neck and the curve of my lower back. His hands felt strong and capable, rubbing the cream in briskly and efficiently, with none of the tenderness I’d felt when he’d applied aloe vera gel to my burns a few days before, but even so his touch felt intimate, and the coldness of the cream – definitely the coldness of the cream – caused a shiver to run down my spine. In the mirror, I could see his head bent over me, a frown of concentration on his face. And I could see the way his muscles moved in his chest and arms as he worked – I bet the man had never been near a Pilates reformer in his life, but whatever he did seemed to have been pretty effective.

‘That’s cool, thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ll do my front, then I’ll do you.’

Daniel turned obediently and waited while I slathered sunblock over my chest, legs and stomach. Then I squeezed a thick worm of it onto his back and smoothed it in with my hands. God, he had some seriously impressive muscles going on under his smooth, tanned skin. I could clearly feel lats and traps and deltoids and a whole bunch of others I didn’t know the names of.

‘Looks like you’ve been putting in some gym time,’ I said.

‘Nah, haven’t been near one in years. I run sometimes, and cycle, and still play footie when I get the chance. But you’ve got to be fairly strong in my line of work, lugging wood and finished pieces of furniture around.’

‘Well, whatever it is, it’s working for you.’

‘Are you objectifying me, by any chance?’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

‘Pity. Maybe next time?’

‘As soon as I feel an objectifying moment coming on, I’ll be sure and let you know so you can enjoy it to the full.’

We laughed. I snapped the cap back on the factor 50 and put it in my bag, along with a bottle of water, my phone and the paperback book I’d bought to read on the flight but been too freaked out to open. I slipped on my flip-flops – the walk wasn’t long, and my blisters were healing well – pulled on a loose white cotton shirt, and plonked on my hat and sunglasses.

‘You look like you’re off on an expedition to the Dark Continent, not a five-minute walk to the beach,’ Daniel teased.

‘I’m not taking any chances with that sun. It got me once – it’s not getting me again.’

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