Good at Games (11 page)

“That was his Duran Duran period,” Lucille confided. “He's going to kill me for this.”

Suzy had to ask.

“Did you two ever…?”

“No. We were best friends, that's all.”

“Are there any more like that?” Suzy began to eagerly riffle through the cellophane-encased pages. “Yes! Oh, this one's brilliant! What was going on here?”

“New Year's Eve party at Harry's house. We must have been sixteen.” Lucille bent her head over the page, pointing out each of the people in the photo. “That's Pearl Harris; she had a major crush on Harry. That one's Shauna. She threw up in the goldfish bowl about five minutes after this picture was taken. I'm dancing with Ben Grigson—he kept trying to undo my shirt…and Harry's chatting up Ben's sister. I can't remember her name, but she never did find her shoes. We fished them out of the pond in the back garden six months later.”

Suzy, following her finger, exclaimed suddenly, “And that's…”

“Leo.”

Fascinated, Suzy peered at the tall figure on the far right of the picture. Leo must have been twenty or twenty-one then. He was leaning against the wall, clasping a drink and watching the proceedings with a faint supercilious smile on his lips. Some things never changed, Suzy realized. Then, as now, Harry had been the pretty one and Leo the more chiseled and mature of the two. He wore a striped rugby shirt and chinos and an air of older-brother boredom.

“He didn't want to be there,” Lucille said wryly. “But he had to stay and make sure we didn't accidentally burn the house down.”

Unable to resist it, Suzy said, “Did you ever…?”

“Oh,
please
.” Lucille started to laugh. “Leo was Harry's big brother. I was Harry's scruffy little friend. As far as Leo was concerned, we were just a couple of silly kids. I was scared stiff of him.”

At the mention of Leo's name, Baxter had lifted his head. Suzy reached over the side of the bed and gave his ears a consoling rub.

“What about now?”

“Oh well, old habits die hard. He's still Harry's terrifying big brother.” Lucille shrugged. “I've never even thought of him in that way.”

Smiling, she tucked a row of beaded plaits behind one ear.

“But if you did?” Suzy persisted.

“I just wouldn't. Come on. He's way out of my league.”

What?

“I never think that.” Suzy looked amazed. “It never occurs to me that someone could be out of my league.”

“That,” Lucille replied, “is because you're a confident, successful businesswoman. You live in a great apartment, you drive a Rolls, you wear wonderful clothes…”

“And I have an irresistible personality,” Suzy prompted.

“Oh well.” Lucille spread her hands. “Goes without saying.”

“Plus a totally fabulous body.”

“Exactly,” said Lucille with a slowly spreading smile.

“But don't you see? So do you!”

“I walk dogs for a living,” Lucille said patiently. “I sing in pubs and clubs and get ignored totally. If I'm not ignored, I'm heckled by drunks. It doesn't do wonders for your confidence, you know.”

Suzy rolled onto her side, trying to imagine it. If a drunk was daft enough to heckle her, she would launch herself at him, drag him by his ears into the nearest bathroom, and stuff his head down the toilet.

Then again, she wasn't Lucille.

She couldn't sing either.

Well, only like a scalded cat.

Glancing back at the photo of the New Year's Eve party, she changed the subject.

“I showed Leo Mum's house last night.”

“So I heard. He mentioned it this morning when he dropped Baxter off on his way to the airport.” A dimple appeared in one of Lucille's cheeks. “Bit of an eventful evening, by all accounts.”

“He seemed interested.” Realizing the ambiguity of this statement, Suzy added hastily, “In the house, I thought.”

“Well, he sounded keen to me.”

“I wondered if it might be too big for him, what with all those bedrooms. But it didn't put him off.”

“Oh, Leo wouldn't worry about that,” said Lucille. “He's going to need somewhere big, isn't he? Him and Gabriella are bound to want loads of kids.”

Gabriella.

Kids.

Loads…

Suzy felt her stomach tighten abruptly and do a kind of swoop of disappointment.

God, I really hate it when this happens.

Bugger, bugger,
bum
.

Aloud, she said casually, “Who's Gabriella?”

“Didn't Leo mention her?” Lucille looked surprised. “Oh, she's
stunning
. She and Leo have been together for, ooh, must be a year now. They're getting married in December.”

“Harry, no, stop it! When I said come in for coffee,” Suzy explained, “I did actually
mean
coffee.”

“Come on, we've had such a fantastic evening,” murmured Harry, his mouth nuzzling her neck. “You can't do this to me. You know you want to as much as I do.”

“Yes, yes, of course I do. But listen, Harry, I make it a strict rule never to sleep with a man until I've known him for at least six weeks.”

That put a stop to the nuzzling. Harry drew back, astonished.

“In heaven's name,
why?
”

Hooray, she could breathe again.

“It stops me from being a tart.” Suzy smoothed down her skirt, shook back her ruffled-with-passion hair, and flicked the switch on the kettle. “And it's nice! You have time to look forward to it…all that gorgeous anticipation… Now, proper coffee or instant?”

She was reaching for the coffeepot. Harry, who couldn't be bothered with anticipation—gorgeous or otherwise—said, “Instant.” He shook his own head in bewilderment. “But six
weeks
.”

“And being stopped for speeding on the highway doesn't count.” Suzy guessed he was busily counting backward.

“
Damn
.” Harry sighed. He leaned back against the kitchen wall, his face a picture of disbelief. “So you're telling me you actually persuade other blokes to go along with this?”

“They don't have to. I can't force them,” Suzy told him cheerfully, “can I? Some stick around and some don't. Which is fine by me too. If they like me enough, they'll wait. If all they're after is a quickie and another notch on their bachelor bedposts, well then…” She shrugged, unperturbed. “They're no loss.”

She meant it. She really meant it, Harry could tell.

Aloud, he said, “But I'm still allowed to kiss you?”

“Oh, yes.” Suzy's smile was dazzling. “You're definitely allowed to kiss me. Two sugars or three?”

Harry watched her pile three sugars into her own cup, then hover a heaped spoonful inquiringly over his.

“Just one.”

“See?” exclaimed Suzy. “How could I sleep with you when I don't even know if you take sugar in your coffee?” With an air of triumph she waved the spoon at him. “I mean, wouldn't that just be the pits? Talk about sleazy…ugh!”

Harry, not used to being turned down, smiled and slid his arms around her waist. It was the most ridiculous rule he'd ever heard of. And rules were made to be broken, weren't they?

Slowly, he kissed Suzy's neck and whispered, “One sugar. There, now you know.”

Behind them the kitchen door burst open, and Baxter, his claws clicking like castanets on the red-and-white-tiled floor, bounded across the kitchen to greet them. Springing apart from each other, Suzy and Harry braced themselves for violent impact.

Lucille gasped, slithering to a halt in the doorway. “God, sorry. I didn't realize you two were…ummm…”

“Having a coffee,” said Suzy, clinging on to the red marble countertop and submitting to Baxter's enthusiastic welcome. She grabbed the jar of Taster's Choice and waved it at Lucille. “Can I make one for you too?”

* * *

Suzy heaved a sigh of relief the moment Harry had gone. “Saved by the dog.”

“Oh Lord, this isn't going to work out, is it? Me living here.” Lucille looked worried. “I feel terrible, like a giant contraceptive. I'm really cramping your style.”

“Please. I
want
my style to be cramped.”

Kicking off her high heels and throwing herself onto the sofa, Suzy explained her six-week rule to Lucille.

When she had finished, Lucille looked almost as horrified as Harry had done earlier.

“What,
never?
”

“Well, never say
never
.” Suzy wiggled her toes. “We're all allowed the occasional lapse. Sometimes these things take you by surprise.” The corners of her mouth began to twitch. “You get carried away and…it just happens.”

“But not with Harry.”

“Well, not yet,” Suzy agreed.

Lucille was looking troubled. “Then again you haven't exactly had the chance, have you? Thanks to me.”

“Don't worry about it—oh, tell me what happened on
EastEnders
tonight! Did Peggy find out yet about the affair?”

Effortlessly, Suzy changed the subject—but Lucille had certainly had a point when she'd made her last remark about Harry. Oh dear, it wasn't looking promising, was it? After all her talk about the thrill of the wait, where
was
that sense of mounting excitement, the shuddery, bungee jumping adrenaline rush of anticipation? Gone on vacation, by the feel of things. Walked off with its hands in its pockets like a bored teenager.

It simply wasn't happening, Suzy realized with a pang. By now she should have reached the stage where she couldn't wait to rip Harry's clothes off.

And she hadn't.

That first lightning bolt of lust on the hard shoulder of the M4 had fizzled and faded. You couldn't make a spark happen if it was no longer there.

A box of matches
, Suzy thought sadly,
that's what I feel like. A box of matches that's been left out in the rain.

And the saddest thing of all was she knew why it had happened.

Harry was too keen.

It was as simple—and ridiculous—as that.

Sensing that she wasn't really paying attention to the
EastEnders
update, Lucille said, “He really likes you, you know. I haven't known Harry this keen for years. Not since…”

Oh Lord
, Suzy thought.

Alarmed, she said, “Don't say Sophia.”

Lucille gave her a what-can-I-tell-you look. “Sorry, but it's true. He's really smitten.”

Not wanting to hear any more, Suzy rolled over onto her front, picked up the remote control, and aimed it at the television. When you were crazy about someone, there was nothing better in the world than being told they were crazy about you too.

But when you weren't, all you felt was slightly sick.

I'll have to break up with him
, she decided
. It's the only decent thing to do. And the sooner the better. Dragging it out just isn't fair to Harry. I'll be doing him a favor.

Oh dear, it all sounded horribly reminiscent of having your dog put down. Feeling terrible for even thinking it, Suzy glanced guiltily across at Baxter, sprawled on the cobalt-blue rug in front of the fire. He returned her gaze without flinching, one hairy eyebrow raised in a quizzical “So you'd have me put down, would you?” fashion.

“Oh,” exclaimed Lucille, “I forgot to tell you about the ad I put up in the convenience store window. I've had three more phone calls this evening from people wanting me to exercise their dogs. Isn't that great?”

Suzy, still busy wondering how she was going to go about breaking up with Harry, said, “Brilliant! I'll buy you one of those grass sleds for your birthday. You can take it up to Ashton Court park, harness hundreds of dogs to it, and let them pull you for miles. Think of all the exercise it'll save, not to mention the money you'll make.”

“Speaking of birthdays,” said Lucille, “it's Harry's next week. Did he tell you?”

“What? Oh…yes, yes he did.” Of course he had, Suzy remembered. It was on the seventeenth, exactly a week from today. And thank goodness Lucille had reminded her.

Like the feeling you get when you realize you have a genuine reason to cancel that dreaded visit to the dentist, Suzy experienced a surge of guilt mingled with relief. That was OK then; she couldn't possibly break up with Harry so close to his birthday—that would be a really rotten thing to do.

So—
phew
—she could stop worrying about it for now.

He was working nights for the rest of this week, Suzy told herself, so it wasn't as if they'd see that much of each other anyway. No, all she had to do was treat Harry to dinner somewhere nice next Tuesday evening, buy him a funny card, and pick out a present. Nothing too extravagant, that might build his hopes up. Then again, nothing stingy either, because that would be too mean for words. Just something neutral. Like a nice sweater.

Then, a couple of days later, she could casually ease herself away…

* * *

Arriving home from work the following Monday, Suzy spotted a tall, familiar figure leaning against a car parked outside her house.

Correction: leaning against a grubby gray Volvo.

“Look!” Glancing over her shoulder, Suzy alerted her backseat passenger to the situation. “Look who's here!”

Baxter, his vast head stuck through the open window, was grinning his manic Jack Nicholson grin and letting his ears billow in the breeze behind him. When he saw who Suzy was pointing out, he let out a yodeling howl of joy and did his level best to squeeze the rest of his 150-pound body through the seven-inch gap.

Hoping her face wasn't too end-of-the-day shiny, Suzy pulled up behind the Volvo and reached behind her to open the rear door. Whimpering with impatience, Baxter exploded out of the car at last and hurled himself besottedly at Leo.

Suzy, emerging at a more leisurely pace from the driver's seat, lifted up her sunglasses and slowly smiled at Leo from under them. She'd seen Diana Dors do this in a movie once. Jolly effective.

Provided, of course, you didn't have a shiny face.

“Well, he certainly seems to like you,” she told Leo.

“Cupboard love. He can smell the potato chips.” Leo took a small bag out of his shirt pocket. Ecstatically, Baxter guzzled the contents in one go. “Oh well, tracked him down at last.” As he rubbed Baxter's ears, Leo explained, “The flight landed at Heathrow at three o'clock. I drove back here, went straight over to Lucille's place to pick up Baxter…and got an earful of extremely colorful abuse from her landlord.”

“Oh, what a shame,” said Suzy. “So he's still alive, then.”

Leo said, “After that, I called Harry. He told me Lucille was staying here with you.”

“That's right.”

“And you took Baxter in as well. Good of you.” He frowned. “But I've been ringing the doorbell and no one's in. Where's Lucille, and why is Baxter with you?”

It was the first time Suzy had seen him in daylight. And considering he had come directly from the airport following a transatlantic flight, Leo was looking unfairly good. His white polo shirt and faded Levi's were creased, of course—how could they not be?—but his tanned face glowed with health and his dark blue eyes, which crinkled at the corners whenever he smiled, were bright and alert. He had sportsman's eyes, Suzy decided. They didn't miss a thing. Even more unfairly, although he wasn't wearing mascara and she was—
loads
of it, actually—his eyelashes still managed to be longer and thicker than hers.

He had sportsman's stubble too, she observed. Funny how it could look so unappealing on a girl's legs yet so gorgeous on a man's chin.

Now where was the justice in that?

“Lucille's got herself loads more dog-walking business,” she told Leo. “She's taken a gang of salukis to the Downs for a six-mile run. I said Baxter could spend the afternoon with me in the office. We've become excellent friends—he adores the backseat of my car.”

Oops, provocative remark. Suzy held her breath, waiting for Leo to raise an amused eyebrow and drawl, “Who wouldn't?”

When he didn't, she couldn't decide whether to be disappointed or relieved that he wasn't that tacky.

Instead, checking his watch, Leo said, “Will Lucille be gone for long?”

“Should be back any minute now.” Suzy waved her keys at him. “Come in for a drink.”

The hot afternoon sun had streamed in through the closed south-facing windows, turning the apartment into a furnace. Having flung open the windows, they moved out onto the wrought iron balcony overlooking the back garden. Suzy brought out two tumblers, a jug of mineral water with lime slices and ice cubes bobbing on the top, and a couple of dog chews for Baxter.

It was a bit of a bugger, Leo being spoken for. She hadn't meant to think this, but the thought kept popping—practically of its own accord—into her head. Then again, thought Suzy, maybe it was just as well, especially if Harry's still a touch sensitive about having his girlfriends decide that, actually, they prefer his older brother.

In an attempt to move on to more neutral ground, she started asking him about his trip to New York.

Within minutes, Leo said gently, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Suzy felt herself going pink.

“You know what. I've told you before. Don't mess Harry about.”

Damn, thought Suzy, it had happened again. She'd been flirting with Leo without even realizing she was doing it.

Still, he could have been more tactful; no need to make such a drama out of the situation. Pointing it out like that was hardly chivalrous.

Stung, she said, “Guilty conscience?”

Leo's dark blue eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Harry told me,” said Suzy. “About you and Sophia.”

Was it her imagination or did the tension in his shoulders subside? There was a long pause, then Leo said, “Thought he might. Well, maybe you're right.”

“Maybe? Come on,” she chided. “You ran off with his girlfriend. Then you dumped her and she killed herself. I mean, you can understand why he was upset with you.”

Slowly, Leo's gaze ran over Suzy, taking in the tight, white, scoop-necked T-shirt and pink skirt, her bare brown feet propped up on the balcony rail, and the expensive sunglasses pushed up on top of her head, keeping the tumbling tawny mane of hair off her tanned face.

Nothing escaped his notice.

Finally, he said, “And maybe you can understand why I don't want you to upset him.”