‘He’s a sweetie but I think he’s got his eye on Meredith. Wouldn’t that be lovely? They’ve both been on their own for years.’

‘They probably like it that way.’

‘Do you have any romance in your body, Hannah?’ grumbled Izzy with a good-natured frown.

‘Not much, no. Far too practical. What about you?’

‘I live in hope that the man of my dreams will come and sweep my off my feet, but sadly the only men in my dreams are building surveyors, tax inspectors, and local historians, none of whom are my idea of Regé-Jean Page.’

‘Who?’

‘Lord, girl. The Duke of Hastings. Have you not watched Bridgerton?’

Hannah shook her head. She’d heard of the Netflix hit but had not seen it.

‘You really aren’t a romantic, are you?’

‘’Fraid not.’

‘Ah well. I thought there might be something going on with you and Conor.’

‘Huh, you must be joking. He’s not my type at all.’ Even as she said the words she wondered if she was protesting too much. It was more a case that she wasn’t his type, as he’d made so abundantly clear last night, although judging from that kiss, there was something there. But she wasn’t going to make a complete fool of herself by giving into the floaty butterfly feelings he gave her whenever he came into the vicinity.

‘Shame.’ She grinned. ‘He seems to like you.’

‘What makes you think that?’ Her words almost fell over themselves and she realised she sounded horribly defensive or was that horribly hopeful?

‘I’ve seen him watching you a couple of times, like he was trying to figure you out. I wouldn’t mind a man who looks like that looking at me the way he was looking at you.’

‘I’m sure you’re imagining it.’

‘Yeah, yeah, if you say so, Hannah. Come on, don’t you think he’s just a little easy on the eye?’

‘He’s OK. But way out of my league. You said yourself he goes out with models and actresses.’

‘Don’t do yourself down. Besides, not all men are stupid enough to believe that all there is to a woman is looks. Conor strikes me as quite intelligent and,’ she grinned, ‘very charming.’

‘Hmm,’ said Hannah, thinking he wasn’t always charming. Striding off after kissing her senseless hadn’t been charming at all. Conor might be intelligent, but he was also used to picking and choosing women and, from what she’d gathered, she was nothing like his usual conquests.

After twenty minutes in the sea, they returned to their pile of towels and wrapped themselves up, then sat chatting as the sea breeze whipped at their hair, drying it slightly stiff with salt.

‘It is beautiful here,’ said Hannah, gazing up at the rolling hills around them. It might be hard going back to work after enjoying all this.’