by Jill Mansell
Well, it was worth a try.
“Don’t push your luck,” said Leo.
Outside on the pavement, Suzy searched in vain for the gray Volvo.
“Is this a trick?” She shot a suspicious glance at Leo. “Your car isn’t here.”
“It is.” He nodded at the dark green Porsche parked opposite, then casually slid his arm around Suzy’s hip. His hand came to rest lightly on her bottom, and tingles of electricity promptly zapped their way down the backs of her legs.
Suzy didn’t know which shocked her the most: the car or Leo’s hand on her bottom.
“Is it covered?” she murmured as they crossed the road.
Solemnly, he looked behind him and said, “No one else can see a thing.”
“When did you get this car?” Suzy was glad to spot a road map of Britain in the front—she’d be able to sit on that and spare the passenger seat. “Yesterday?”
“Six months ago.”
“I didn’t know you had a car like this. I thought you were Volvo man!”
Why on earth didn’t he get one of those stickers announcing that his other car was a Porsche?
“Baxter is Volvo dog,” Leo explained. “He doesn’t like this one. It’s too cramped.” Smiling to himself, he added drily, “Don’t tell me I’ve gone up a notch or two in your estimation.”
Suzy, settling herself on the opened-out road map and buzzing down the passenger window, said happily, “You did that already when you made an offer for Sheldrake House.”
* * *
The journey back to Sion Hill took all of a minute and a half, but Suzy was grateful to have been spared the walk.
“That’s brilliant. Thanks.” She unclipped her seat belt as Leo pulled up outside the house. “Shall I give you a call later when I’ve spoken to our lawyer about the sale?”
“Actually,” said Leo, “I wouldn’t mind being invited in for coffee.”
Surprised because she’d expected him to shoot off but pleased because now he could give her a lift back to the office as well, Suzy said, “Right now you’re my favorite client. You can have pretty much anything you like!”
* * *
Lucille was out. Suzy left Leo to make the coffee while she changed out of her wrecked yellow skirt and into a neon blue one. While she was in the bedroom, she quickly redid her lipstick, which had worn off, and gave her neck and wrists a few extra squishes of Gio.
When Suzy emerged, Leo had made the coffee and was standing by the windows overlooking the back garden.
He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and the look in his eyes made Suzy’s heart suddenly beat faster.
Much faster.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I think you know,” said Leo.
“I don’t. Tell me.”
“Tell you?” One eyebrow went up. “How I feel about you?” His voice was low, almost hypnotic. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
Suzy stared at him, unable to believe this was happening. Adrenaline, rushing out of nowhere, flooded her body. Did she want to hear this?
“I think I’d better,” she said unsteadily.
Leo nodded.
“You know it’s there, don’t you? This thing between us. It kills me to see you with Harry, when all I want is to have you for myself.”
Suzy couldn’t speak. Actually, she could barely stand, her legs were so weak. Her knee joints felt as if they’d been filled up with mercury.
“So what are we going to do about this?” Leo went on.
“Ummm…”
Softly, he said, “I know what I want to do about it.”
This is how it should be, thought Suzy, having a bit of trouble breathing as Leo began to slowly move toward her. This is how Harry should make me feel. But he doesn’t, he just doesn’t…
Leo stopped, three feet away from her, and held out his arms. There was that look in his dark eyes again, the look that affected Suzy like a drug.
Overcome with impatience, she closed the gap between them, slid her hands around Leo’s neck, tangled her fingers in the silky depths of his hair and closed her eyes in ecstasy as, at last, their mouths met.
Oh, oh, oh, what a fabulous kiss. Suzy, in a daze, gave herself up to it totally. If there was an Oscar for Most Fabulous Kisser, Leo Fitzallan would win it, hands down.
When he began to pull away, a low moan of protest escaped from Suzy’s throat. It was a don’t-stop-now moan, and to make sure he got the message, she wound her arms tighter around him, pressed herself still closer to him, began to move…
“Oh dear,” said Leo, managing to break contact despite her best efforts and taking a step backward.
“‘Oh dear’ what?” Suzy gave him a don’t-worry look, ready to reassure him.
“Smile,” said Leo. “You’re on Candid Camera.”
“What?”
“Not literally.” He sighed as Suzy’s head began to swivel around like a Dalek’s. “But I found out all I needed to know.”
“About what?” The next moment, her eyes widened in alarm. “My God, you mean…”
“Faithfulness just isn’t your strong point, it seems. Engaged for four whole days,” Leo drawled, “and prepared to cheat on Harry already. After promising me that you’d never do anything to hurt him. Oh, Suzy, I’ve met some heartless women in my time, but you really are in a league of your own. You just don’t care who you hurt, do you?”
Chapter 25
Oh, oh, this was monstrous! It had all been a scam, Suzy realized, her skin crawling with shame and outrage. Those mesmerizing looks Leo had been giving her had meant…absolutely nothing. All that guff about the magical thing between them, and how it killed him to see her with Harry…
He just made it up to trap me!
He wasn’t really a fabulous kisser at all; he was nothing but a cheat.
A sneaky, despicable cheat, at that.
It was at moments like these that Suzy understood exactly why Harry was so desperate—for once in his life—to outdo his brother. How awful must it have felt to grow up in the shadow of someone with the answer to everything? Someone who never put a foot wrong, who had the Midas touch when it came to money and the James Bond touch when it came to the opposite sex?
Utterly galling, thought Suzy. That was how it must have felt.
Leo Fitzallan was going to despise her whatever she said. But if she told him she was only going along with the so-called wedding plans because Harry had begged her to, he would despise Harry as well.
The words hanged, sheep, and lamb sprang to mind.
Oh God, here goes.
“Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did it, but please please please don’t tell Harry,” Suzy begged. “He’d never forgive me, and I do love him; truly I do! And I swear I’ll never do anything like that again!”
It was a mortifying process, but under the circumstances, Suzy felt it was the least she could do. Red-faced with shame, she could scarcely bring herself to look Leo in the eye.
Worse still, her brain was still frantically replaying every second of that stupendous kiss. Her lips still tingled helplessly at the memory of his mouth on hers. They hadn’t been able to quite take in the fact that none of it had meant what they’d thought it had meant.
See? thought Suzy. I’m not the only gullible one around here. You fell for it too.
Aloud, defiantly, she said, “Are you going to tell Harry?”
Leo hesitated, then shook his head. “No, I’m not. But you don’t get any more chances, you have to understand that. From now on, you behave yourself. Because if I find out you’ve done anything to upset my brother—”
“OK, OK.” Suzy gestured in frustration for Leo to give it a rest. She was tempted to ask him how he thought Harry might react if he found out who’d been kissing his fiancée in the first place, b
ut basically, there didn’t seem much point. Leo would be bound to have the perfect razor-sharp answer. Arguing with him was like deciding to represent yourself in court because you couldn’t afford a lawyer, then discovering at the last minute that you were up against the country’s most rapier-tongued prosecutor.
“I mean it.” Leo’s dark eyes were boring through her brain.
“And I have to get back to the office.” Since the request for coffee, clearly, had been nothing but a cheap ploy to get himself invited in, Suzy carried the cups through to the kitchen and tipped the contents down the sink. As she returned to the sitting room, a horrid thought struck her. “How long were you planning that?”
“Hmmm? Planning what?”
“That kiss thing.”
You bastard, you know perfectly well what I’m talking about.
“Oh, not long at all. Spur of the moment, really.”
He actually had the nerve to smile.
“Not before you came into the office?”
“Look,” Leo reasoned, “I didn’t know you were going to sit on your Heath bar, did I? And I didn’t know you wouldn’t have your car with you. I’m good,” he added drily, “but I’m not that good. It only became a possibility when you begged me for a lift.”
Next time, thought Suzy, remind me to walk. Even if I’m covered in real dog poo. From head to foot. Just walk.
“So what about the house?”
“This house?” Leo sounded surprised. “It looks fine.”
“Sheldrake House,” said Suzy. “Are you still buying it, or was that part of the scam too?”
Leo raised a mocking eyebrow. “What do you think?”
“I think it was all part of the scam.”
“Such pessimism!” This time, he actually laughed. “Oh, come on, Suzy, cheer up. I’m still buying the house. I’m not that much of a bastard, you know.”
Tuh. “That’s a matter of opinion,” said Suzy.
* * *
“So that was Harry’s brother.” Donna whistled appreciatively when Leo had dropped Suzy back at the office. “Ooh dear, I was right, wasn’t I? Exactly your type.”
“He isn’t,” said Suzy with feeling. “He’s a ruthless, arrogant, devious shit.”
“And when has that ever put you off?” Donna gave her a knowing smirk. “You should have seen the way he was looking at you.”
That’s nothing; you should have seen the way he was kissing me.
But Suzy couldn’t bring herself to say it, not even to Donna. The kiss had been Leo’s way of testing her and she had failed with flying colors, hurling herself at him with all the abandon of a large, affection-starved puppy.
Heavens, she had all but wrapped her legs around his waist.
Shameful or what?
“Oh, and Harry phoned while you were out,” Donna went on. “He said to clear your schedule on Monday because the people from Hi! are coming to take the first round of photos.”
“God,” said Suzy. “I can just see it: Harry Fitzallan welcomes us into his lovely hospital room.”
“He said not to worry about getting your hair done beforehand, because Hi! is bringing someone down from London to do it.” Donna consulted the shorthand squiggles in her notebook. “And a makeup artist. And a stylist. And a selection of clothes.”
“But I don’t want to look like Ivana Trump,” wailed Suzy.
It all sounded horribly over-the-top. Her mind conjured up a worrying picture of herself wearing a rhinestone-encrusted dress and ultra-bouffant hair. Not to mention ultra-bouffant lips.
“Ivana Trump? You should be so lucky,” Donna retorted. “You’d have to lose a few pounds first.”
Suzy rolled her eyes. Donna was starting to sound nerve rackingly like Celeste.
* * *
The photographer, the hairdresser, the stylist, the makeup artist, and the photographer’s assistant weren’t the only people to travel down to Bristol on Monday morning.
The man from Tiffany & Co. came too.
“Lucille checked out the rings in your jewelry case to find out the size you’d need,” Harry explained with pride.
“Yes, but it’s only on loan, for the photo shoot,” said Suzy, to reassure herself. The rings the man from Tiffany’s was producing from his heavy-duty briefcase were pretty heavy-duty themselves. There were some serious rocks winking out at her from among the folds of black velvet.
“Not only for the photo shoot.” Harry shook his head. “For life.”
Alarmed, Suzy said, “You’re not serious!”
“Nothing but the best for my future wife.” Harry sounded pleased with himself. “Any one of these. It’s your choice. Although I must say, I like the look of the heart-shaped one best.”
Suzy, her mouth dry, glanced fearfully across at the man from Tiffany’s. “How much is it?”
“Don’t worry about that!” Harry gestured expansively toward the briefcase. “I want you to choose the one you want. Money is no object!”
The stylist from Hi! sighed. “Ooh, I wish someone would say that to me.”
Suzy wished Harry wasn’t saying it to her. She swallowed and looked at the ring he was sliding onto her finger. She wasn’t completely ignorant when it came to good quality jewelry. This ring probably cost twenty thousand pounds. Even assuming that Tiffany & Co. were giving Harry a hefty discount in exchange for the publicity, he was still keen to spend a minimum of ten grand.
On a ring she didn’t even want.
The other thing Suzy knew was that it didn’t matter how beautiful the ring might be; if you tried to sell the thing back to the shop a week after you’d bought it from them, you’d be lucky to get a tenth of what you’d paid for it.
The heart-shaped diamond was stunning. Harry held her hand up and kissed the tips of her fingers.
“What d’you think?” he said lovingly.
Before Suzy could open her mouth to speak, the photographer and the stylist were nodding in agreement, joining in.
“Perfect, Harry!”
“Yeah, Harry, great.”
“Harry?” The receptionist eased herself into the crowded room, carrying a tray of tea and lurid yellow cookies. “Lemon crunch creams all right, love? Ooh, and the physical therapist came around, but I sent her away, told her you were too busy for all that now.”
“Thanks,” said Harry, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Actually, Doreen, we’re a bit cramped in here. Any chance of an empty room where the girls could make a start on Suzy?”
“Don’t worry, love. I’ve already thought of that!” The receptionist planked the tray down next to the briefcase from Tiffany’s, slopping tea over the velvet lining and beaming uncontrollably at Harry. “The sluice room’s lovely and quiet—she can get herself all gussied up in there.”
The gussying up, to Suzy’s dismay, took over two hours. First the hairdresser snipped off a few split ends, then went through the heated rollers routine before going completely berserk with the styling spray. Suzy’s hair ended up absolutely huge, like a gigantic Dairy Queen ice cream, but—sadly—with the texture of four-day-old Yorkshire pudding.
Next, the makeup artist troweled on more makeup than Suzy had ever had on her face before. Which was saying something.
Now she resembled a drag queen with hair the texture of four-day-old Yorkshire pudding.
“You need a manicure,” tut-tutted the stylist.
“My nails are fine.” Suzy held them up in protest.
“They might be fine for you,” the stylist told her pityingly, “but this is for Hi!”
* * *
By the time Suzy was ready, the room was even more cramped. The lighting had been set up, silver reflective boards were being arranged at odd angles, and Dr. Hubble, with her sleek dark hair in a new style and her feet in never-seen-before high heels, was busy taking Ha
rry’s pulse.
The only thing that cheered Suzy up was the realization that Harry was wearing makeup too.
“Don’t say it.” He grinned at her. “I look completely ridiculous.”
“Not so much as me.” Suzy twirled, showing off the hideous, porridge-colored, knee-length linen dress the stylist had insisted on. When Suzy had begged to be allowed to wear her own marigold-orange shirt and short black skirt, the stylist had replied pleasantly, “I think that might look a bit tarty, don’t you?”
“Give us a kiss,” said Harry, catching her arm as she twirled.
“No kissing!” barked the stylist as the photographer’s assistant homed in on them with his light meter. “You’ll ruin the lipstick.”
“Whose?” Suzy asked innocently. “Harry’s or mine?”
Chapter 26
It was just starting to rain as Jaz climbed into his car. Next door, he saw Lucille emerge from the house steering her bike with one hand and carrying a guitar case in the other.
He watched her, hatless and coatless, gaze up at the sky in dismay.
Jaz tooted his horn and beckoned Lucille over. “Where are you heading?”
“Just some pub. I sing there sometimes on Monday nights.” Lucille looked embarrassed.
“Well, I guessed that much.” Grinning, Jaz glanced at the battered guitar case. “Whereabouts exactly?”
Oh well, no big deal. It was no longer a secret, after all, Lucille reminded herself. “Bedminster.”
“That’s amazing,” lied Jaz. “I’m on my way to an AA meeting in Bedminster now. Come on, leave your bike. I’ll give you a lift.”
The Indian summer had screeched to a halt, hot sun having abruptly given way to cold winds and driving rain. Lucille, shivering in a thin denim shirt and jeans, said, “Are you sure your AA meeting’s in Bedminster?”
“Wouldn’t say it was if it wasn’t.” Jaz shrugged and looked amused. “What would be the point of that?”
Lucille was still hesitating. “I’d be stuck for a lift home.”
“What time do you finish?”
“Eleven.”
“No problem. After our meetings we go out for coffee and a chat. I can pick you up at eleven.”
