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“No worries.” The Russian guy claps him on the shoulder, and Ben comes back over to his sun bed. He slides onto it and stares savagely out to sea.

“Well, so much for that bright idea. Bloody frigid cow.”

I lean over and poke him hard in the chest. “Hey, what was that? Did you want to take him up on his offer? That Russian?”

“At least it would have been something.”

Something? I stare at him incredulously, till he looks up. “What?” he says defensively. “It would have been something.”

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to share my wedding night with a gorilla and a girl with rubber boobs,” I say sarcastically. “Sorry to spoil your fun.”

“Not rubber,” says Ben. “You’ve looked, have you?” “Silicone.”

I can’t help snorting. Meanwhile, Ben is deftly flinging a couple of towels up over our parasol. What’s he doing?

“Just creating a bit of privacy,” he says with a wink, and squeezes next to me

on my sun bed, his hands all over me like an octopus. “God, you’re hot. You haven’t got a crotchless bi