Good at Games (26 page)

“Decided against John O'Groats then,” Leo remarked when Suzy returned his cowardly dog to him twenty minutes later.

“Baxter had a good run.”

Not to mention the shock of his life
, thought Suzy.
Not to mention the shock of
my
life.

Leo was watching her, she realized. “You look worn out.”

“Thanks.” A frazzled wreck, more like. Suzy ran her fingers through her hair and privately vowed never to confide in a dog again as long as she lived.

Particularly not a dog as cowardly and lacking in sensible advice as Baxter.

Or any gay couple hiding in nearby undergrowth.

Screw him indeed. The very idea.

“Come on,” said Leo when Baxter was happily ensconced once more in his basket upstairs in the office. “I'll buy you a drink.”

Now that was more like it.

“Am I allowed in?” Suzy plucked doubtfully at her outfit. “Won't people look at me?”

“You know as well as I do,” Leo said patiently, “that everywhere you go people look at you.”

“Yes, but a fluorescent green tracksuit top and Lycra shorts…”

“If anyone says anything, I'll just tell them you're eccentric.”

“Oh well, just a quick one then,” Suzy said happily.

And blushed.

* * *

The restaurant and the bar were both heaving by this time. Leo's security staff was turning people away at the door, but Martin had somehow managed to get in earlier. Now, surrounded by four stunningly beautiful girls, he spotted Suzy and—excusing himself for a moment—made his way over to greet her.

For an idiotic second, Suzy was pleased to see him.

“There's Martin,” she told Leo excitedly. Now she had the opportunity to prove that nothing seedy or illicit had been going on between Martin and herself, and that his presence in her apartment yesterday had been totally aboveboard.

“Leo, phone,” called the girl he had earlier introduced to Suzy as his PA. “It's urgent.”

Leo touched Suzy briefly on the shoulder, murmured, “Won't be long,” and disappeared upstairs to take the call.

“Suzy, Suzy, Suzy,” sang Martin, reaching her at last and trailing an affectionate index finger down her cheek. “Am I glad to see you! Oh yes, and am I especially glad to see you in that outfit. You know what your legs are? Spectacular, that's what. There's just no other word for them. Let me get you a drink, a massive drink to celebrate your heavenly legs.”

He was absolutely plastered, needless to say. Suzy's heart sank like a stone. If she was going to produce Martin as her star witness in order to prove her innocence, she would have preferred him to be sober. Not that he was swaying or slurring or anything, but Suzy could tell how drunk he was—after all, it was practically her specialty. Tomorrow, she knew, Martin would wake up with a clonking hangover.

“Who are you here with?” She skillfully steered the conversation away from the subject of her legs.

“No idea.” Martin shrugged helplessly. “Can't remember their names. Mandy, Sandy, Candy, and Bandy… Something like that, anyway. Costing me a fortune, I know that much. Six quid a shot, those cocktails they're drinking. I mean, they're nice enough girls, but where am I going to find a bank to rob at this time of night?”

Beneath the brash veneer, the effortless good looks, and the oh-so-charming smile, he was unhappier than ever. Glancing over at the four girls now giggling among themselves, Suzy was able to sum them up in a flash. Blond, divorced, in their thirties, endlessly trawling the clubs and wine bars in search of fresh entertainment, they took men for whatever they could get. Spotting Martin on his own, they had latched on to him like burrs. Or praying mantises, thought Suzy with a shudder. He wouldn't stand a chance against that predatory lot.

“Listen to me.” She gave Martin a long look. “Is this the way to get Nancy back?”

The winning smile slid off his face in an instant. “Nancy doesn't want me back.”

“Maybe not right now. But she might change her mind. If you can manage to convince her
you've
changed.”

“I love her.” Martin's face began to crumple, and Suzy pinched the back of his hand, hard. “
Ow.
”

“Don't cry. Nancy certainly won't want you back if she hears you've been seen around town with girls like that.”

Martin couldn't speak. He hung his head and shook it slowly, considering what Suzy was saying to him. To her relief, through the considerable haze of alcohol, it appeared to be sinking in.

The next moment she was almost sent flying as Martin threw both arms around her. Hanging on to her gin and tonic for dear life, Suzy joked, “Steady on there. I nearly spilled my drink.”

Crikey, it was like being hugged by a bear cub that didn't know its own strength.

“You're right,” Martin mumbled, his face buried in her neck. “You're always right. Thanks.”

He smelled of Gaultier aftershave and whiskey and sounded like a small lost boy. Feeling incredibly sorry for him, Suzy patted his shoulder.

“Hey, cheer up. Want me to take you home?”

Martin lifted his head a fraction. He looked hopeful. “Your home?”

“Sorry, we're full. No room at the inn. But I can give you a lift back to your place. Better than staying here,” she prompted.

Across the room, the praying mantises were glaring at her. Suzy glared defiantly back.

“OK.” This time, Martin raised his head properly and smiled. Then he kissed her, somewhat damply, on the mouth. “You're amazing, you know? I mean, really. You're the best.”

Suzy didn't need to turn around to guess who was standing behind her. The icy waves of disapproval tumbling over her shoulders could only emanate from one man.

“C'mon, let's go.” Martin was busy sliding his arm around her waist. Glancing up and vaguely recognizing Leo, he said cheerfully, “Hi! How are
you
? My lucky night, eh? She's taking me home!”

“He's very drunk,” Suzy told Leo. Annoyingly, of course, Martin wasn't looking drunk at all.

He didn't sound it either. Not even tipsy.

“What she means is, she's crazy about me and can't wait to get me into bed.” Martin gave Leo a man-to-man wink. “I tried saying no, but she won't listen—you know what these girls are like once they make up their minds.” Heaving a dramatic sigh as Suzy hauled him away, he called over his shoulder, “Oh, it's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it…”

* * *

“I should kill you,” said Suzy as she shoveled him vigorously into the passenger seat of the Rolls.

Martin looked astonished. “Why? Who
was
that guy anyway? I know I've seen him somewhere before.”

Honestly.
Hopeless.

“My apartment? Yesterday?”

“That's it!” Martin exclaimed. “Came to see Lucille. Is he her boyfriend?”

“No, you big jerk.” Suzy fastened his seat belt for him, though why she was bothering she couldn't imagine. “He's Harry's brother.”

* * *

“Hi, I'm back—ooh, pizza,” Suzy exclaimed. “Yum, my favorite!”

It wasn't, but she was so hungry she could have eaten the carpet.

“What happened to ten o'clock?” As he spoke, Harry glanced across at Celeste. “You said you'd definitely be back by ten.”

“And it's half past one
in the morning
,” said Celeste.

Déjà vu. Suzy frowned, wondering why this all seemed so very familiar. Ah, yes, that was it. She was fifteen again, creeping home in the early hours and being interrogated by her mother because apparently it was fine for Blanche to disappear for months on end, but if
she
dared to be thirty minutes late, all of a sudden it was a hanging offense.

“I stayed on for a drink at the Alpha Bar. Got to chatting with Leo.”

“Leo phoned here two hours ago, to let you know he'd found your hair clip,” Harry replied frostily. “He seemed surprised you weren't home yet.”

Why do I even bother to lie? Why didn't I just tell them the truth in the first place?

All she'd been trying to do, Suzy reminded herself, was keep things simple. Simple and uncluttered. And did it ever work out that way? Of course not.

“Martin was there, drunk as a skunk and on the verge of getting himself into all sorts of trouble. I offered to give him a lift home. Then he invited me in for coffee, but all he really wanted was someone to talk to. Which is why I've spent the last four hours listening to him ramble on about his wife and children and how miserable he is. I drank three black coffees because they'd run out of milk. I've eaten seven peanuts and half a shortbread cookie because that's all the food they had in the apartment. And we didn't have sex. Now, can I finish off that pizza, or would you rather I phoned and ordered my own?”

“Help yourself,” said Harry. “No need to get belligerent. I only asked.”

“I'll go.” Celeste, on the sofa next to him, stretched her matchstick arms and yawned.

“Look, I'm sorry,” said Suzy, “but you didn't have to stay this late. Harry can be left on his own, you know.”

“S'alright.” With a shrug, Celeste searched under the sofa for her sequined mules. “We enjoyed ourselves. It was fun.”

Surprised that Celeste knew what fun was—boredom was far more her field of expertise—Suzy said, “Really?” and tried not to look too astonished. “What did you do?”

“Loads. Read our horoscopes in
Cosmopolitan
.”

Wow.

“Didn't bother with the videos,” Harry said happily. “We watched
Dumb and Dumber
on TV instead.”

Ooh.

Celeste giggled. “That was really funny.”

Hmmm.

“And we chatted. For ages.”

“About ourselves. And about you. And”—Celeste played her trump card—“we played Boggle.”

Excuse me?

This time, Suzy was genuinely astounded. Boggle? Celeste? The girl who thought
Roget's Thesaurus
was a breed of dinosaur?

“OK, I'm off. See you around,” Celeste told Harry with a vague smile.

“Pop over any time,” Harry said generously.

Just don't always expect a von Etzdorf scarf
, thought Suzy, spotting the pink tasseled ends trailing from Celeste's unfastened Prada bag.

Feigning exhaustion once Celeste had left, Suzy changed out of the silver-and-green Lycra outfit, showered, and got ready for bed.

OK, ready for
sofa
.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” Harry chided when she planted a businesslike good-night kiss on his cheek.

“Harry, you already know this because I've already told you. I don't love you, I'm not going to marry you, and the sooner you break the news to
Hi!
magazine, the better.”

“But
I
love
you
,” Harry insisted, unperturbed. “And I'm going to make you change your mind.”

His calmness was infuriating. It was like trying to convince a Jehovah's Witness that you really
really
didn't believe in God. Suzy abruptly changed the subject.

“Did you and Celeste really play Boggle?”

“Not properly. She just mucked about with the letters for a bit.” Harry was so handsome he even looked gorgeous when he was yawning like a hippo. “OK, sweetheart. Night.”

The bedroom door closed. As Suzy shook out her pale pink duvet, arranging it over the sofa, she spotted the Boggle case on the floor underneath the coffee table.

So that was Celeste's idea of playing Boggle.

Carefully positioned on the four-by-four grid, the lettered dice proclaimed:

S    U    Z    Y

H    A    Z    A

V    A    S    T

A    R    S    E

Laughing to herself, Suzy slid under the duvet and fell asleep.

“Crikey, what time is it? I didn't hear you come in last night.” Blearily, Suzy half opened her eyes as Lucille put a cup of tea down in front of her and sat on her feet.

“That's because I didn't come in last night. I've just gotten back.”

“God, I feel as if I've had about four hours' sleep.” Suzy groaned and tried to stretch her legs. “What's the time?”

“Twenty past six.”

“Huh? In the evening?”

“In the morning,” said Lucille.

“Nooo!” wailed Suzy, her eyes snapping open in horror as she realized that outside it was still dark. “I
have
only had four hours' sleep! How could you
do
this to me? It's Sunday,” she whimpered, “and you've woken me up… What did I ever do to deserve this?”

To add insult to injury, Lucille wasn't looking remotely apologetic. Her eyes were bright, her breathing rapid, and she was positively fizzing with excitement.

“Sorry,” lied Lucille. “I just had to talk to someone. Here, drink this.” She shoved the mug of tea into Suzy's trembling hands. “It'll make you feel better.”

A lousy cup of tea?
That's
supposed to make me feel better?

“Twenty past six, twenty past six on a Sunday,” Suzy moaned. “What have you been
doing
?”

“I've been with Jaz.” Lucille's whole face was aglow as if she'd swallowed a lightbulb. “All night.”

Oh God, she had that look in her eyes. That unmistakable
look
…

Slopping tea in all directions, Suzy jack-knifed into a sitting position.

“Never! Never! You're kidding me!” It came out as an incredulous rising squeal. “You mean you actually HAD SEX WITH JAZ?”

“Are you out of your
mind
?” Appalled, Lucille clapped a hand over Suzy's mouth. Harry was lying in bed less than twenty feet away. Imagine the embarrassment if he woke up and overheard. “Of course I didn't have sex with Jaz! How can you even
think
that?”

“Gosh, you're rough,” Suzy grumbled when Lucille took her hand away at last. Exercising her squashed lips, making sure they were still in one piece, she said defiantly, “Well, you look as if that's how you spent the night. You're all…lit up.”

Then again, maybe Lucille was bluffing.
Not telling the truth
, thought Suzy,
rather like I haven't told her the truth about me and Harry.

“We've been in the recording studio,” Lucille explained.

Lovely. Nice bouncy floor, Suzy recalled. All those layers of sponge laid down to deaden the acoustics meant the studio was fabulous for romping around in.

“Will you
stop
that?” demanded Lucille, intercepting the naughty smile on Suzy's face. “Jaz has written a song and he wants me to sing it. We've spent the whole night working on it… I'm so excited I don't think I'll ever sleep again! Watching him at the control desk is so,
so
amazing—oh, Suzy, it's just been the best night of my life!”

“Blimey, all that and you didn't even have sex,” Suzy marveled.

“I know.” Lucille was hugging her knees, dreamily swaying along to the song playing in her head.

“So how did you get Jaz over his music block?”

“I didn't. He did it all by himself.”

“Go on then.” Well and truly awake now, Suzy gave her a nudge. “Sing it for me.”

Lucille was on such a high, she didn't need to be asked twice. Shaking back her braids, she took a deep breath and began:

I need to let you know

I can't let you go

You leave me with no alternative

You see it's our affair

And I can't bear to share

Your love—yours to take and mine to give

Because I'd die, I'd die, I'd die for you

If you asked me to

You're my angel, my miracle, my reason to liiive—

“For crying out loud,” yelled Harry from the bedroom. “It's not even half past six! Will somebody let that bloody cat out?”

“Always been a bit grumpy in the mornings,” whispered Lucille. “Hates being woken early.”

Suzy, her spine still tingling from the effect of the song, thought how ironic it was that at last she'd discovered something she and Harry had in common.

Still, if she was awake he could jolly well wake up too.

“Ignore him. It's fabulous. Sing it again,” she told Lucille.

* * *

The next fortnight passed by in a blur for Suzy. Summer was well and truly over now, autumn had swept in with a vengeance, and she had never been so busy or worked so hard. Fee, still covering for Donna in the office, was working like a Trojan but still learning the ropes. Martin didn't have his act together yet and was an absolute waste of space. A more brutal employer might have sacked him on the spot, but Suzy knew that if this happened to Martin, it would be the last straw. It fell to her, therefore, to conceal his utter uselessness from Rory and carry out most of Martin's work herself. Bizarrely, she was only able to do this because Rory didn't appear to be firing on all cylinders either. For some reason these days he was totally distracted, frequently in a muddle, and—in the office at least—barely capable of stringing together a coherent sentence.

Weird.

Nor were things what you'd call normal at home. Like musical chairs gone mad, everyone appeared to have switched places.

“It's surreal,” Suzy told Leo when he came into the office to let her know that the mining search had been completed on Sheldrake House. “I can go for days on end without seeing Lucille—she spends every spare minute next door in the studio with Jaz.”

“And you're here,” said Leo. “So who's looking after Harry?”

“Weirder and weirder.” Suzy rolled her eyes. “You won't believe this. Celeste.”

“You mean she pops over every now and again?”

“I mean she's practically moved in! For some reason they've totally hit it off. It's one of those bizarre pairings, like peanut butter and honey sandwiches. You think they won't go together, but somehow they do.”

Leo gave her an odd look. “And you don't mind them spending so much time together?”

Mind? Suzy was on the verge of hooting with laughter at the very idea. She hastily composed herself. “You mean am I jealous? Oh, I don't think Celeste's too much of a threat.” She smiled confidently at Leo. “Harry and I are getting on just fine.”

Honestly, it was a wonder her nose wasn't the size of a telescope.

“Maybe I should drop in on him.” Leo glanced at his watch. “I could spare ten minutes.”

Don't put yourself out too much
, thought Suzy.
He's only your brother.

Aloud she said, “Feel free.”

* * *

Harry was in the middle of having his hair washed when Leo arrived.

“Celeste has to do it for me,” he explained with a grin, his head bent over the bathtub while Celeste massaged shampoo into his scalp. “I mustn't get water inside the cast on my arm.”

The temperature may have dropped outside, but inside Suzy's apartment, it was tropical. The central heating was on maximum, Harry was wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else, and the outline of Celeste's pert little breasts was clearly visible through her flimsy white cotton dress. The way her rosy nipples were brushing against Harry's shoulder blades as she reached for the conditioner was also pretty visible. Leo, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom, listening to the interplay between the two of them, marveled at their brazenness. Feeling neglected by their respective partners, Harry and Celeste were clearly determined to get back at Suzy and Jaz.

They were flirting and not bothering to hide it. Leo doubted whether it actually meant anything to either of them. The chances were, they were both bored and it was nothing more than an entertaining way of passing the time.

“I just saw Suzy at the office. From the sound of it, she's putting in pretty long hours,” he remarked when Celeste had left the bathroom in search of fresh towels.

“Don't worry about me.” Harry gave him a meaningful smirk. “I'm having a great time.”

“So I see.”

“Celeste's quite a girl.” Harry couldn't resist it. If becoming engaged to Suzy Curtis had been a monumental ego boost, cheating on her was even more of one. Not that he
had
cheated on her, of course—with this number of fractures it was pretty much a physical impossibility, just now—but mentally, that was what he was doing.

And what was so terrible about that?

See, Leo? I can play that game too
, thought Harry, his smile triumphant.
I'm no longer second-best.

Returning from the linen closet with her arms full of clean towels, Celeste pulled the damp one from around Harry's shoulders and let it drop carelessly to the floor. With a sensuous rhythm and her tongue held playfully between her teeth, she began to rub his hair dry with a fresh towel.

“OK?” stage-whispered Celeste. “Not too hard?”

“You're a wicked girl,” Harry told her with a grin.

“There, all done. You can have a blow-dry in a minute. Now, Leo.” All innocence, Celeste turned around to face him. “What would you like?” She paused. “Tea? Coffee? A proper drink?”

“Thanks.” Leo glanced briefly at his watch. “But I have to get back to work.” To Harry, he added, “I just dropped by to see how you were.”

“Oh, bearing up,” said Harry with a broad wink. “Making the best of things.”

Behind him, trailing a finger lightly down his bare back, Celeste murmured, “I'll second that.”

* * *

The reason Rory was having such trouble concentrating in the office was that all he could think about was his upcoming weekend in Wales with Fee. As Friday had drawn nearer, his powers of rational thought had begun to crumble like cake. At home, like a prisoner counting down the days to his release, he had a calendar with larger and larger crosses on it in red felt pen. In the square marked Friday, October 11, he'd written
YES!
and circled it wildly about fifteen times in anticipation.

Needless to say, it was the kind of calendar entry you'd die rather than let anyone else see, but since Rory lived alone and couldn't remember the last time he'd invited someone into his home, his embarrassing secret was safe.

And now it was Friday, October 11—after what seemed like months, it had finally arrived—and he was so wound up with excitement he could barely speak.

Lucky it's a relaxation weekend we're going on
, thought Rory.
Crikey, hope it works.

“I'm all packed and ready to go,” Fee told him cheerfully when he arrived at the office after lunch.

Rory stowed his weekend cases beside the filing cabinets. He could have left them in the trunk of the car but hadn't been able to resist bringing them in so that every now and again he could glance over at them and experience that
ziiing
of excitement in the pit of his stomach.

Just three more hours before they could leave. He would change, in the back room, out of his business suit and into a suitably casual Aran sweater and dark green corduroys. They would stop off at Fee's apartment to pick up her cases. Then, by five thirty they'd be off, across the Severn Bridge and into Wales, all the while chatting easily to each other in the car. Oh yes, the flow of conversation would be effortless, and just to make sure of this Rory had already prepared a list of suitable topics.

And by six thirty, he thought with a surge of joy, we'll be driving through the glorious Brecon Beacons, exclaiming over the scenery, following the snaking path of the River Wye…

“Hope you've packed your long johns,” Suzy announced, coming off the phone and eyeing first the cases then the steel-gray clouds outside. “It's not a four-star hotel you're staying in, you know. From what Fee's been telling us, the place sounds more like Colditz.”

I don't care, I don't care. As long as we're together, that's all that matters
, thought Rory rebelliously.
In fact, the colder the better. Then maybe I'll be able to help to keep her warm…

“Now you're sure you'll be able to manage without us,” he said aloud, sounding concerned but not meaning it for a millisecond. Like it or not, they'd just
have
to manage.

“Oh, we'll struggle through somehow.” Suzy smiled to herself because Rory didn't even realize that for the past fortnight, she'd been running the business practically single-handed. “And Donna's back tomorrow. We'll cope.”

Rory wasn't bothered about the temperature of the hotel, but the prospect of Colditz-style food was off-putting. Never mind, they could eat out, he'd take Fee somewhere exquisite and romantic… Was Franco Taruschio's famous Walnut Tree restaurant anywhere near Snowdonia?

“Blimey, look who's here,” Suzy marveled as the door swung open and Jaz came in. “The Creature from the Blacked-Out Basement! What are you doing out in daylight—are you sure all this fresh air won't make your skin shrivel up and drop off?”

Everyone laughed, except Jaz.

He turned to Fee with a look of compassion on his face.

“Oh God, what is it? What's happened?” Fearfully, Fee clutched her throat.

“I'm sorry, darling. Now, it's nothing horrific, but your mother's had a bit of a fall and slipped a disk. Your father called just now. She's in the hospital in Bournemouth, and he wants to know if you can get down there this evening.”

“No,” croaked Rory, aghast. “
No.
”