‘Tea would be good. A large mug with milk and lots of sugar. Thanks.’ God, she looked delicious from behind. She’d lost weight recently. When he’d first seen her, at Angus MacMorrow’s funeral, she’d looked a bit on the dumpy side. Not that he’d minded, but she did look better without the love handles. She’d ditched the baggy sweaters too. Her jeans fitted in all the right places.
‘Let’s go and sit in front of the fire. I think Lizzie’s still up.’
He felt a surge of disappointment. He wanted Daisy Irvine all to himself. But he rose obediently, mug in hand, and followed her into a small room where a fire flickered feebly in a black grate. He had the impression of red walls and richly swathed curtains and big comfy chairs before he saw that there was indeed someone lying across one of the chairs. He saw long legs draped across a plump, overstuffed arm and a pale hand trailing near the floor, then a cascade of light brown hair.
‘Lizzie, this is … Oh. I think she’s asleep.’
‘Perhaps we should sit in the kitchen.’ Ben started to retreat.
The body moved luxuriously, a log collapsed in the grate, and a pair of hazel eyes opened.
‘Hi.’ Lizzie swung her legs off the arm of the chair and stood up in one easy, graceful movement.
‘I’ve brought Ben in for a cuppa,’ Daisy said. ‘You know Ben?’
‘Hi,’ Lizzie said again and held out her hand.
Ben shook it and smiled. Despite wanting to be alone with Daisy, he couldn’t deny that this was one attractive woman.
‘I’ll cheer the fire up a bit.’ She swung round, crouched down in front of the embers, poked, prodded, added some small kindling and a few coals, and watched as the fire leapt into life.
‘Would you like some tea, Lizzie? There’s some still in the pot.’
‘Thanks. Yes please.’
Ben, seated in a low chair next to the fire, felt the warmth of the flames against his legs.
‘Good concert?’
‘Brilliant.’
‘Daisy enjoy it?’
‘What do you think?’
Lizzie’s gaze washed over him lazily. This girl is luscious, Ben thought appreciatively, taking in the fine oval face, the generously curved lips, the sheer self-confidence with which she was looking at him. Without even trying, she was reeling him in with a brand of sexuality he hadn’t come across in a long time – and most attractive of all, she appeared to be completely unconscious of it. As he looked at the softness of her mouth, the lips curled upwards at the ends, lifting into the prettiest of smiles. ‘I’m sure she did. I think going to the concert with you was probably the best things she’s done in a long time.’
‘Best thing who’s done in a long time?’ Daisy asked, re-entering the room with a mug for Lizzie.
‘You, sweetie,’ Lizzie smiled up at Daisy’s face. ‘I’ve been telling you for ages that you need to get out more and now you have.’
‘I’d go out every night if every night could be like that.’ Daisy settled herself down next to Ben. ‘Wasn’t it fantastic, Ben?’ she appealed to him.
‘Fantastic,’ he agreed, feeling the warmth of her thigh close to his and trying to ignore the effect it was having on him.
‘How’s the challenge coming along?’
‘Challenge?’
Lizzie’s brain had clearly jumped to another place and he hadn’t followed her.
‘The paper. Can you save it? Daisy told me about the meeting.’
‘Ah, the paper.’ He considered the matter for a second. Switching into professional mode wasn’t easy while he was sitting in this richly seductive room. ‘Yeah, that is a challenge.’
‘Don’t talk about it,’ Daisy groaned, ‘you’ll spoil my evening. I’ll only get stressed.’
Lizzie swung her feet to the floor and stood up in one fluid movement. She lifted her mug and took a couple of steps towards the door. ‘Sorry. Listen, I’m knackered, I’m off to bed. You two love birds need to be alone anyway.’
‘No, it’s OK, don’t go,’ Daisy protested.
‘Night night, sweetie,’ Lizzie blew her a kiss from the doorway. ‘Nice to meet you, Ben.’ She closed the door behind her, taking her sensuality with her.
‘Gorgeous, isn’t she?’ Daisy said.
‘Who?’
‘Lizzie, of course. She can’t help it. All the guys fall under her spell.’
‘Not me,’ Ben said, meaning it. You could appreciate a fine work of art without wanting to possess it.
Daisy said nothing, she just stared into the fire.
Ben closed his eyes. Outside, an owl hooted softly in the still of the night. The snows of earlier in the week had vanished and the temperature had risen perceptibly, but he was still grateful for the warmth of the fire. Inside the room, the only sound was the soft cracking of a log as it burned. Daisy was still sitting very close to him on the small sofa. Encouraged, he lifted his arm and put it round her shoulder, pulling her even closer. Her head dropped onto his shoulder and he could smell the fragrance of her hair.
‘Thanks for coming with me, Ben,’ she mumbled drowsily. ‘I had a great time.’
‘The pleasure was all mine,’ he said, resting his cheek on top of her head. He’d make a move soon. Turn her towards her. Lift her chin so that he could see right into those eyes. Kiss her gently, take his time. He was looking forward to it, treasuring the moment. No need to rush. She was within his grasp now. He could see the soft rise and fall of her breasts and longed to reach his hand forward and cup one, feel its soft warmth, steal under the thin fabric of the T-shirt and stroke the smooth skin until the nipple stood erect. He would trace the dark valley between her breasts with his fingers. Take his time. They had all night.
‘You two love birds.’ Daisy giggled and sat up, swinging round towards him out of his embrace. ‘That’s funny,’ she said. She swung herself off the sofa and threw another log on the fire, then poked it and nurtured in back into flames. ‘Do you remember that time we snogged, Ben? Under the old railway bridge? Then that man came along with his dog.’
Shocked out of his fantasy, Ben could feel his jaw tighten with disappointment. She didn’t come back to the sofa, but sat on the floor, her back to the overstuffed chair where Lizzie had been lying. She reached out for her tea, rested the mug on her knees, studied him, the firelight playing on one cheek, throwing her small nose into sharp relief.
‘What a laugh. You know,’ she sipped her tea thoughtfully, ‘I’m really quite glad he did come by. I mean, it was great fun, but I’d’ve hated to lose you as a friend and if we’d got it together, I probably would have.’
Ben didn’t respond. Fuck, he thought, looking at her. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She didn’t think of him the same way he thought of her. How had he misjudged it so badly? How had he allowed himself to think of tonight as a beginning?
‘D’you know,’ she was still prattling on, ‘that was my first kiss?’ She laughed. ‘I really liked it, Ben. You were a great kisser. I didn’t realise how good you were, of course, till a few other boys had tried it on.’ She grinned brightly at him. ‘In fact, till I met Jack, you were definitely the best.’
She had plunged in the knife and now she was twisting it. He felt pain. Actual pain. It surprised him. He hadn’t thought he was this keen on her. Or maybe it was just his pride that was wounded. Was he smiling? He hoped so. His mouth felt as if he was smiling, but all sensation was fading fast. He wouldn’t be feeling any kisses tonight, that was now obvious.
‘Jack’s going to come back to me, Ben.’
‘Yeah?’ He managed to get a word out.
She nodded. ‘I’m sure of it. I’ve been seeing him a lot, you know.’
‘Have you?’
‘Yup. Down at the gym. Iris doesn’t go there so I get him all to myself. He’s been so supportive. About the paper, I mean. And he’s helped me in the gym too. He’s just like he used to be, before that woman got her claws into him.’
‘Has he said anything?’
She shook her
head, almost imperceptibly. ‘Not as such. He doesn’t need to. But I can tell. He sometimes uses his old pet name for me, it’s just like the old times.’
‘What about Iris?’
She shook her head dismissively. ‘He can’t love her. Not in the way he loved me. In the way I think he still loves me. He can’t. We had such a huge thing going. Earth shattering. Monumental.’
‘Daisy …’ Ben’s heart was twisting within him. She was making a terrible mistake here. Couldn’t she see it? ‘Don’t you think that maybe he’s moved on?’ he asked gently.
Daisy stared at him. ‘Moved on? Maybe, for a while. But he’s regretting it. I know he is. We were made to be together. Daisy and Jack.’ She rolled the words round her mouth. ‘Jack and Daisy. Sounds right, don’t you think?’
Ben stood up. His legs felt like lead, but he had to leave. He had to get out of here. He felt sick with disappointment. What a fool. He’d come through the door a mere hour ago so full of expectation and hope. And now he was leaving, weighed down by self-pity and helplessness.
Daisy uncurled herself and stood up. ‘You’re very special to me, Ben. We’ll always be friends, won’t we?’
Friends? No actually, that wasn’t what he wanted. He moved to the door. ‘Good night, Daisy. I’ll see myself out.’
‘Night, Ben. See you Monday.’
Monday. In the office. Right.
Ben sat in his dented, rusty bucket-heap of a car and watched the lights go out in the cottage, one by one. The euphoria he’d felt during the evening had evaporated and he felt tired to the bone. She was so wrong about Jack Hedderwick. She was fooling herself. But why? What kept drawing her back to this guy? Why look back into a past that hadn’t worked when there was a whole world to look forward into. A world with other men, guys who were solid and caring and who wouldn’t let her down. Like him, for example.
Sod it. Maybe it was time to move on somewhere else. He’d put out some feelers for work in Edinburgh, for starters. He turned the key in the ignition. The engine tried to start, but simply wheezed and died. Damn. He gave it a moment, then tried again. Nothing. Feeling for the headlight switch in the darkness with his fingers, he realised that he must have left the lights on when he’d gone inside with Daisy. He’d been so excited that he’d forgotten to check – and there was nothing as sophisticated as an alarm to remind you, not on this old bone-shaker. The battery was flat. Shit.
Tired, irritated and generally pissed off, Ben clambered out of the car and kicked the door shut behind him. He had two options – knock on the cottage door and ask Daisy for some floor space for the night, or walk home, five miles in pitch darkness. Well, he liked walking, didn’t he? Turning, he hunched his shoulders, set his head down to check where he was putting his feet, and started on the long road home.
Chapter Eighteen
Daisy saw Ben’s car outside the cottage when she left to go into Hailesbank. Strange. She walked around it a couple of times, puzzling, then gave up and got into her own car. She’d call him later. It was well after midday already and she’d promised her mother she’d be at the house by twelve thirty for lunch. As usual, she was dreading it. For a start, her mother would try to feed her pudding. It remained to be seen whether she’d be able to resist it, though she’d got a lot better in the willpower stakes recently. She was almost back at the weight she’d been when she’d started seeing Jack all those years ago.
All thoughts of Ben were banished as she turned the ignition and began to reverse into the lane. If she was honest, her reluctance to visit the home of her childhood went much deeper than the bottom of a pudding bowl.
She was still scared of her father. Eric Irvine. Policeman, father, charmer, bully, good man, bad man, golfer, chief. She’d substituted her own words years ago for the traditional ‘Tinker, tailor’ rhyme and chanted them in her head any time she had cherry stones, prune stones, fish bones – or anything you left at the side of your plate. There had to be one or two or three or five, but never four or six or it was a bad omen. ‘Policeman’ was neutral, so were ‘golfer’ and ‘chief’. She had her own definitions for ‘father’ and she didn’t share them with anybody. If you got ‘bully’ or ‘bad man’ it meant you were going to be in trouble.
Down the road Ben Gillies was trudging back to Daisy Irvine’s cottage with a set of jump leads. He didn’t see her at the wheel of her Suzuki, even though she had to slow down at the sharp bend – because as it happened, a lorry coming in the other direction obscured her completely. As he walked the last mile down the road, Ben rehearsed in his mind how he would greet her. Brotherly, he supposed. He’d always been a kind of a brother to her. It had been naïve of him to think she might feel the same way he did, just because he wanted to move on from there. She’d never given him any sign of it. Wishful thinking. Set it aside. Still, that wasn’t going to be easy.
Round the final bend, he stopped. The cottage Daisy shared with Lizzie Little really was charming. A shepherd’s cottage originally, he guessed. Behind the cottage lay fields, all the way to the hills, in front – the way he’d just walked – more countryside. Could he feel happy here? He thought of his cramped flat in London. There was no comparison.
He crossed the grassy patch in front of the cottage and knocked. There was a pause, then he heard a call from inside, ‘Coming.’ Not Daisy’s voice. Lizzie’s.
‘Hi again.’
‘Hi you.’ The door swung open and she smiled at him. She had swept her hair up into some sort of twisted arrangement at the back. It fanned out in loose spikes behind her head. A couple of tendrils had escaped imprisonment and fell softly to the long, graceful arc of her neck. Jesus. He couldn’t be the first man who’d wanted to touch the spot where it nestled against her skin.
‘Daisy’s not here. Sorry. Are you coming in?’
‘Oh. Right.’ He stood on the threshold, hesitating.
‘It’s cold with the door open.’
‘Sorry.’ A few minutes couldn’t hurt. He stepped into the kitchen.
‘What’s that?’ Lizzie indicated his carrier bag.
‘Jump leads. My car wouldn’t start last night. I was hoping I could connect them to Daisy’s car and get some life back into the battery.’
‘She’s taken her car. She’s gone off to her folks’ for lunch. Reluctantly, I have to say.’
Lizzie was looking at him curiously. He became oddly aware of her freshness. She was wearing what seemed to be a man’s shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the collar turned up so that it framed the curve of her neck. A pendant hung down to the valley between her breasts. He followed the shape of it. A small red stone, then a silver hoop. Some small red stones – garnets? – suspended by fragile chains. They dragged on her skin as she moved, then released and swung. It was hypnotic. He felt himself growing warm and drowsy, a slave to the gentle movement of the pendant.
‘So you had to walk home last night?’ She laughed, a rich, full, warm sound. ‘Why didn’t you come back in here? I’d have thought you two would be tucked up in bed anyway.’
Ben grunted. ‘Didn’t happen.’
She put her hands on her hips and studied him. ‘None of my business, I know, but you’re so right for Daisy, I was hoping you would get it together.’
‘That makes two of us. But she’s got another man in mind, it seems.’
Lizzie groaned. ‘I know. She’s still harking after Jack Hedderwick.’
‘You don’t think he’s going to go back to her?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Not a hope. If Daisy wasn’t so obsessed she’d know that herself.’
Ben thought, I’ve been a complete idiot. For the last few weeks he’d thought of little else but Daisy Irvine. He’d gone to sleep seeing the storm-grey eyes with their flecks of gold, longing to feel the soft warmth of her body cradled next to his. What a bloody fool.
He thumped his fist on the doorpost in a sudden blast of anger. ‘Is there something wrong with me?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I know my hair is verging on red. I know that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. But I’m pretty fit, I shower daily, I don’t bite my nails, I’m kind to dogs and old ladies. And I’m not invisible. Am I?’ He turned to her, his voice insistent. ‘Am I? Because just recently, I’ve bloody well felt invisible.’
Lizzie laughed and laid a hand on his arm. ‘No Ben,’ she said. ‘I would have to say, you’re very visible to me.’
Her eyes were the colour of sagebrush after rain, her lips looked soft and welcoming. He watched as they parted slightly. There was a glimpse of even, creamy teeth and she had moved so close to him that he could feel the warmth of her breath. She wasn’t Daisy – but Daisy’s indifference had hurt. And here, an inch from his grasp, was the sweetest balm to the sore. So then, somehow, he was kissing her, a gentle, inquiring, tentative kiss that nuzzled her top lip and moved on to the lower before settling somewhere in the middle. And she was in his arms and her hands were on his bum, pulling him close to her with an urgency that he had no will to resist. His hands were all over her, pulling aside the shirt, feeling the softness of the swelling of her breasts. Her back was against the kitchen wall, one leg was curled round his back, her groin was arcing towards his, and his kisses had moved from her mouth down her neck and were reaching greedily for her nipple.
‘Wait! Ben.’
He eased away, his breath coming fast and ragged.
‘We can get more comfortable.’ She smiled at him, pulled her shirt back into place and reached for his hand. ‘Come.’
At the door of her room, he stopped. ‘I don’t know about this.’
She didn’t ask about his doubts. She didn’t need to. Instead, she swung him round to look at her. ‘Daisy is my best friend, Ben. I wouldn’t hurt her. But she doesn’t want you. At least,’ she qualified her statement, ‘not yet. I think she might, given time. She hooked her hands behind his waist and pulled him closer. ‘But she has to make her own mistakes, decide what it is that she wants from life. If it’s you … well, perhaps she’ll realise she’s missing out on something if she sees you with someone else. Who knows? But until she gets herself sorted out, there’s no reason you can’t have a bit of fun, wouldn’t you agree?
Maximum Exposure: The Heartlands Series Page 12
