Читать книгу P.S. I'm Pregnant - Heidi Rice - Страница 13

‘NO WONDER you’re knackered. It’s called compassion fatigue.’ Juno scowled as she placed the last of Daisy’s new batch of silk-screen printed scarves at the front of the stall. ‘You didn’t need to spend the whole night there looking after him. You don’t owe that guy a thing. And I bet he didn’t even thank you for it.’

Oh, yes, he did.

The heat suffused Daisy’s cheeks as she recalled how thoroughly Connor Brody had thanked her. She ducked behind the rack of cotton dresses and prayed Juno hadn’t noticed her reaction.

‘Why are you blushing?’

Daisy peeked over the top of the rack to see Juno watching her. Did the woman have radar or something? ‘I’m not blushing. I’m rearranging the dress sizes.’ She popped back behind the rack. ‘It never ceases to amaze me how out of order they get,’ she babbled, shoving a size fourteen in between two size eights.

‘Daze, did something happen I should know about?’ Juno asked quietly, appearing beside her. She placed her hand over the one Daisy had clutching the rack. ‘If he did something to you, you can talk to me—you know that, right?’

The concern in Juno’s eyes made Daisy’s blush get a whole lot worse as embarrassment was comprehensively replaced by guilt.

It had taken her less than twenty minutes of angst after bolting out of Connor Brody’s house that morning to get over her panic attack. She wasn’t even sure what she’d got so worked up about now. Okay, so she’d jumped him, but who wouldn’t in her situation? She’d been exhausted. She’d spent the whole night in close proximity to that beautiful body of his. She’d seen him at his most vulnerable plagued by those terrible nightmares and it had created a false sense of intimacy. So what? He hadn’t exactly objected when she’d demanded he make love to her. And she’d never be idiotic or delusional enough to fall in love with a man like Connor Brody. A man who was so totally the opposite of the nice, calm, settled, steady, average guy she needed.

All of which meant she could rest assured that what had happened in Connor Brody’s bed that morning hadn’t suddenly turned her into her mother. Because that had always been her mother’s mistake—not the pursuit of good sex, but the belief that good sex meant you must have found the man of your dreams. Daisy knew that good sex—even stupendous sex—had nothing whatsoever to do with love.

The relief she’d felt had been immense.

But the one thing Daisy hadn’t been able to get past—or to justify—was the scurrilous way she’d treated Connor Brody. Not just after they’d made love—but before she’d ever met him. Was it any wonder Juno thought something bad had happened at Brody’s house when Daisy had spent the last few weeks assassinating his character to anyone who would listen?

And on what evidence? None at all. She’d judged him and condemned him because he was rich and good-looking and, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, because she’d fancied him right from the first time she’d laid eyes on him and she’d resented it.

She’d broken into his home, all but accused him of killing a cat he’d actually been looking after and then—after trying to make amends during the night by nursing him through his fever—she’d ruined it all by seducing him first thing the following morning and then freaking out and running off.

Thinking about the way she’d brushed off his perfectly sweet attempts to calm her down made her cringe. He’d been a nice guy about the whole thing—had even offered to talk about it, and how many guys did that after a one-night stand? And what had she done? She’d told him to get lost. The poor guy probably thought she was a total basketcase and frankly who could blame him?

Daisy gave a deep sigh. At the very least she owed the man an apology. What was that old saying about pride going before a fall? She might as well have hurled herself off a cliff.

‘Daze, you’re really starting to worry me.’ Juno’s urgent voice pulled Daisy out of her musings. ‘Tell me what he did. If he’s hurt you, I’ll make him pay. I promise.’

Daisy gave a half-smile, amused despite everything at the thought of Juno, who was even shorter than she was, going toe to toe with Brody. She shook her head. ‘He didn’t hurt me, Ju. He’s a nice bloke.’

She paused. Maybe nice was too tame a word to describe Connor Brody, but it served its purpose here. ‘If anything, it’s the other way around—I hurt him.’

She knew she hadn’t done more than dent his pride a little, but that still made her feel bad.

Walking round the stall, Daisy pinged open the drawer on the antique cash register. She lifted out the rolls of change and began cracking them open.

‘How?’ Juno asked, picking up a five-pence roll and ripping off the paper wrapping.

Daisy blew out a breath. ‘I’ve been a complete cow to him. All those things I said to you and Mrs V and everyone else, all the assumptions I made. They all turned out to be a load of old cobblers.’ The tinkle of change hitting the cash drawer’s wooden base couldn’t disguise the shame in her voice.

‘What makes you think he’d care?’ Juno scoffed, but then she’d always been willing to think the worst of any good-looking guy. Daisy wondered when she’d started to adopt the same prejudices.

‘That’s not the point,’ Daisy said. ‘I care.’

‘All you really said was that he’s rich and arrogant. What’s so awful about that?’

‘He may be rich, but he’s not arrogant.’ As she said it Daisy recalled the way he’d kissed her senseless before she’d even woken up properly. ‘All right, maybe he is a little bit arrogant, but I expect he’s used to women falling at his feet.’ She certainly had.

‘So what? That doesn’t give him the right to take advantage—’

Daisy pressed her fingers to Juno’s lips. ‘He didn’t take advantage of me. What happened was entirely consensual.’ Just thinking about how consensual it had been was making her pulse skitter.

‘What exactly did happen?’ Juno’s eyes narrowed. ‘Because it’s beginning to sound as if more than rest and recuperation were involved. You’re not telling me you slept with him, are you?’

Daisy’s flush flared back to life at the accusatory look in Juno’s eyes. How on earth was she going to explain her behaviour to Juno when it had taken her so long to explain it to herself? She opened her mouth to say something, anything, when the rumble of a deep Irish accent had both their heads whipping round to the front of the stall.

‘Hello, ladies.’

Daisy’s heartbeat skipped a beat. He looked tall and devastating in the same worn T-shirt and jeans he’d stripped out of that morning—and amused. His lips twitched in that sensual smile she remembered a little too vividly from the moment she’d woken up in his bedroom.

‘While I hate to interrupt this fascinating bit of chit-chat—’ he gripped the top of the stall’s canopy and leaned over the brightly coloured scarves and blouses ‘—I’d like to have a word, Daisy.’ His forefinger skimmed her cheek. ‘In private.’

Daisy swallowed, feeling the burn where the calloused fingertip had touched.

‘Daisy’s busy. Buzz off.’

He dropped his hand and shifted his gaze to Juno, still looking amused. ‘Who would you be, then? Daisy’s keeper?’

‘Maybe I am?’ Juno blustered, standing on tiptoe and thrusting her chin out—which made her look like a midget with a Napoleonic complex next to Brody’s tall, relaxed frame. ‘And who the hell are you? Mr High and—’

Daisy slapped her hand over Juno’s mouth.

‘It’s all right, Ju,’ she whispered, desperate to shut her friend up. ‘I’ll take it from here.’

All she needed now was for Brody to get an inkling of what she’d said about him to pretty much the whole neighbourhood. This apology was going to be agonising enough, without Juno and her attitude wading in and making it ten times worse.

‘I’ll explain everything later,’ she said into Juno’s ear, holding her hand over her friend’s mouth. ‘Can you look after the stall on your own for half an hour?’

Daisy took Juno’s muffled grunt as a yes and let her go.

‘Fine,’ Juno grumbled. She shot Brody a mutinous look. ‘But if you’re not back by then I’m coming after you.’

Daisy gave Juno a quick nod. Great, she guessed she’d owe Juno an apology too before this was over. She picked up her bag and rounded the stall to join Brody. Right at the moment, though, she had rather bigger fish to fry.

‘I know a café round the corner in Cambridge Gardens,’ she murmured, walking through the few milling shoppers who’d already made it up to the far end of the market under the Westway where The Funky Fashionista was situated.

He fell into step beside her but said nothing.

‘Why don’t we go there?’ she continued, not quite able to look at him. ‘They do great cappuccinos.’

And Gino’s cosy little Italian coffee house was also off the tourist track enough that it shouldn’t be too crowded yet. The last thing she wanted was an audience while she choked down her monster helping of humble pie.

It took them less than five minutes to get to Gino’s. Not surprising given that Daisy jogged most of the way, clinging onto her bag with both hands and making sure she kept a couple of steps ahead of Brody’s long stride. As soon as they’d walked away from the stall she’d been consumed by panic at the possibility that he might touch her or speak to her before she’d figured out what she was going to say to him.

And how ridiculous was that? she thought as they strolled into Gino’s and she grabbed the first booth by the door. He’d been buried deep inside her less than three hours ago, given her the most earth-shattering orgasm of her life and now she was scared to even look at him.

She slid into the booth and hastily dumped her bag onto the vinyl-bench seat beside her, blocking off any thoughts he might have of sitting next to her. Casting his eyes at the bag, he slid his long body onto the bench opposite. As he rested his arms loosely on the table she noticed the Boston Celtics logo ripple across his chest.

Her eyes flicked away.

Don’t even go there, you silly woman. Hasn’t that chest got you in enough trouble already?

She raised her hand to salute Gino, who was standing behind the counter. ‘Would you like a cappuccino?’ she asked as she watched Gino wave back and grab his pad.

‘What I’d like is for you to look at me.’

The dry comment forced her to meet his eyes.

‘That’s better,’ he said, the low murmur deliberately intimate. ‘Was that so terrible now?’

Daisy decided to ignore the patronising tone. She supposed she deserved it.

‘Look, Mr Brod… I mean, Connor. I’ve got something to say and I…’ She rushed the words and then came to a complete stop, her tongue stalling on the apology she’d worked out.

Then Gino stepped up to the booth. ‘Hello, Daisy luv. What’ll it be? The usual?’

Daisy stared blankly at her friend, struggling for a second to remember what her usual was. ‘No, thanks, no muffin today.’ She’d probably choke on it. ‘Just a latte, not too heavy on the froth.’

‘As always, my lovely,’ Gino said as he jotted the order on his pad, his broad cockney accent belying the swarthy Italian colouring he’d inherited from his mother. ‘What’s your poison, mate?’ he asked, addressing Brody.

‘Espresso.’

‘Coming right up,’ Gino replied. Then to Daisy’s consternation he tucked his pad under his arm and offered Brody his hand. ‘Gino Jones, by the way. This is my place,’ he said as Brody shook it. ‘Haven’t seen you in here before. What’s your name?’

Daisy rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten what a busybody Gino could be.

‘Connor Brody,’ Brody replied. ‘I moved in next door to Daisy a few weeks back.’

Gino frowned, releasing Brody’s hand. ‘You’re not the bloke who—’

Daisy coughed loudly. Good God, had she blabbed to Gino about Brody too? Why did she have such a big mouth? ‘Actually, we’re in a hurry, Gee,’ she said, slanting Gino her ‘shut up, you idiot’ look. ‘I’ve left Ju alone on the stall and the market will be heaving soon.’

‘No sweat,’ Gino said carefully. ‘I’ll go get your drinks.’ Then he shot her his ‘don’t think I won’t ask you about this guy later’ look and left.

‘You know, it’s funny,’ Brody said, although he didn’t sound at all amused, ‘but people around here don’t like me much.’ The statement sounded slightly disingenuous, but Daisy suspected that was wishful thinking on her part.

Her stomach sank to the soles of her shoes as guilt consumed her.

Time to stop messing about and give the man the apology she owed him. And she better make it a good one.

‘Mr… Sorry, Connor.’ She stalled again, forced herself to continue. ‘I’ve behaved pretty badly. Climbing into your garden, accusing you of…’ She paused. Don’t say you thought he killed the cat, you twerp. ‘Of not helping to find Mrs V’s cat. And then…’ The blush was back with a vengeance as he watched her, his face impassive. ‘This morning I forced you to make love to me. And then I ran off without saying goodbye. I feel completely ashamed of my behaviour… It was incredibly tacky and I’m awfully sorry. And I’d like to make it up to you.’ She stumbled to a stop, not sure what else to say.

His expression had barely changed throughout her whole rambling speech. Maybe he’d looked a little surprised at first, but then his face had taken on this inscrutable mask.

‘Hmm,’ he said, the sound rumbling up through his chest. For some strange reason, Daisy’s knees began to shake. She crossed her legs.

He cocked his head to one side. ‘That’s a lot of sins you’ve to make up.’

‘I know,’ she said, hoping she sounded suitably contrite.

To her surprise, he reached across the table and took her hand in his, threading his fingers through hers. ‘What makes you think I was being forced, Daisy Dean? Did it seem to you I wasn’t enjoying myself?’

She gulped past the dryness tightening her throat. How had they got onto this topic? ‘No, it’s not that. It’s just. I was rather demanding. I don’t think I gave you much of a choice in the matter.’

She ought to tug her fingers away, but somehow they’d got tangled up in his. Just as her stomach was now tangled in knots.

He rubbed his thumb across her palm, making her fingers curl into his. ‘You’d be wrong about that,’ he said. ‘You gave me a choice and I took it. With a great deal of enthusiasm.’

His thumb began stroking her wrist, doing appalling things to her pulse rate. She was just about to muster the will to pull her hand away when he let her go and sat back.

Gino cleared his throat loudly and slid their coffees onto the table.

‘Here you go, folks.’ Gino sent Daisy a searching look, raising his eyebrows pointedly, before leaving them alone.

No doubt Gino was as confused as she was. Why had she been holding Brody’s hand? Letting him caress her like that? It wasn’t as if they were intimate. Well, not in the proper sense.

She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug to keep them out of harm’s way. ‘I’m so glad there are no hard feelings,’ she said.

At least she would be glad, once she’d got away from that penetrating gaze.

‘Not about making love to you, no,’ he said, the Irish in his voice brushing over her like an aphrodisiac. ‘There are no hard feelings about that. I enjoyed it, a lot. And, I think, so did you.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘But as to the rest,’ he continued. ‘There you’ve more explaining to do.’

Her cup clattered onto the table and coffee slurped over the rim. ‘I do?’

‘Why did you run off?’

‘I don’t know,’ she lied, and then felt guilty again when he lifted one dark brow. He wasn’t buying it.

‘It was a bit too intense,’ she said. ‘And I don’t usually jump into bed with men I hardly know.’ She clamped her mouth shut. Half the truth would have to do. Because she was getting the weird sensation she was being toyed with, lured into some kind of a trap. Which was preposterous, of course, but Daisy never ignored her instincts.

‘That’s good to know,’ he said. She took a gulp of the hot coffee and then reached for her bag. ‘I’m so glad we got all this settled. I’d hate for us not to be friends. Especially as you live right next door.’

Which made the whole thing even more awful. How was she going to face him every day if her hormones went into meltdown every time she looked at him? She’d have to get that little problem under control and quickly. But for now she decided distance was probably the best medicine. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she slid out of the booth and offered her hand. ‘I’ll see you around. The coffees are on me. I’ll tell Gino to put them on my tab. Thanks for being so understanding.’

He clasped her hand, the warm, rough feel of his palm sending little shivers up her arm—and held on. ‘Sit down. We’re not finished.’

‘We’re not?’

He nodded at the booth seat. ‘There’s still the matter of the making up to settle.’

‘What?’ She plopped back in her seat, not at all sure she liked the commanding tone.

‘The making up.’

Finally he let her hand go. She tucked it under the table, her fingers tingling.

‘You said you wanted to make up for what you’d done,’ he said calmly. ‘And we’re going to have to sort it now, because I don’t have much time.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m catching the Eurostar to Paris in a little over an hour. I’ve got eight days there and then I’ll be two weeks in New York.’

Daisy’s shoulders slumped with relief. Thank you, God. She had no idea why he was telling her his itinerary, but at least she’d have over three weeks before she had to see him again. She should be well over this silly chemical reaction by then. ‘That’s wonderful. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. I’ll miss you,’ she added, a tad concerned to realise it was the truth.

‘Not for long, you won’t,’ he said, the predatory smile that tugged at his lips concerning her a whole lot more. ‘Because when I get to New York you’ll be meeting me there.’

She choked out a laugh. ‘You lost me,’ she said, but she could have sworn she heard the sound of a trap snapping shut.

He relaxed back in his seat, the picture of self-satisfaction. ‘You want to make things up to me,’ he prompted. ‘It so happens I need a girlfriend in New York for those two weeks. It has to do with a business deal.’ He tapped his fingers on the table in a rhythm that sounded like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place. ‘And that girlfriend’s going to be you.’

He could not be serious? Was he insane? ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to New York. When I said I wanted to make things up to you, I was planning to bake you another plate of brownies. Not take a two-week trip to New York as your fake date. Are you nuts?’ He was still looking at her with that cocksure, you’ll-do-as-you’re-told expression on his face. It was starting to annoy her. ‘Even if I wanted to go.’ Which she most definitely did not. ‘I couldn’t possibly. I’ve got my stall to run.’

He sighed. ‘If your little bodyguard friend can’t run the stall on her own you can find someone to help her. I’ll pay any wages due. My PA will sort out your travel plans.’ He looked pointedly at his watch again, as if to say, I don’t have time for this.

Daisy’s temper kicked up another notch. ‘You’re not listening to me, Brody. I’m not doing it. I don’t want to. You’ll have to find someone else.’ She did not want to spend two weeks alone with him in New York. She already knew how irresistible he was—what if she had another lapse in judgment brought on by extreme hormonal overload and jumped him again? Things could get very complicated indeed. ‘I don’t owe you that much,’ she finished, indignation seeping from every pore.

‘Oh, but you do, Daisy Dean.’ He leaned forward, those icy blue eyes chilling her to the bone. ‘You told half of London I was selfish, arrogant and not to be trusted. That’s known as slander.’

The blood seeped out of her face. How did he know about that?

‘There happen to be laws against that sort of thing. So unless you want me to be calling my solicitor, you’d best be on that plane.’

He got up from the booth. She drew back, but he caught her chin in his fingers and tilted her face to his. ‘And, Daisy,’ he murmured, the warmth of his breath making her heart go into palpitations. ‘Who said anything about a fake date?’ he finished, his lips so close she could all but feel them pressed against hers.

‘But I’m not your girlfriend,’ she managed to say as her heart pounded in her throat. ‘I certainly don’t love you. And right now I don’t even like you.’

His gaze swept over her, making her notice the length of his lashes again, before his eyes fixed on her face. If she’d hoped to wound him she could see by his expression she’d failed.

‘Make no mistake. This is only a two-week deal. I’m not in the market for anything more and neither are you.’

She thought she could hear a tinge of regret in his voice and cursed her overactive imagination. She doubted he had the emotional capacity for regret. The rat.

‘But we don’t have to love each other for what I have in mind.’

With that, his lips came down on hers in a hard, fast and sinfully sexy kiss. She tried to twist away but he held her firm until she felt the pulse of response, the throb of heat. And before she knew what was happening, she was kissing him back.

He pulled his mouth away first and straightened. ‘You like me right enough, Daisy Dean.’ He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. ‘And we both know it.’

She jerked back, mute with anger and humiliated right down to her knickers—which were now soaked with need.

‘There will be lots we can see and do in Manhattan—and I’ve a mind to show it to you,’ he continued, that devil-may-care charm not the least bit fazed by her furious glare. ‘So, you can spend the two weeks in your bed alone, or make the most of the experience. The choice will be yours.’ He gave her a mock salute. ‘I’ll see you in New York, Angel Face.’

Daisy glared at his back as he strolled out of the café, heard him whistling some off-key Irish ditty as he disappeared down the street.

The overbearing, conceited, blackmailing jerk.

She flung her bag on the seat. How dared he steamroll her like that?

She glowered at the booth opposite, sure she could feel smoke pumping out of her ears. To think she’d actually felt sorry for what she’d said about him. He wasn’t just arrogant. He was a megalomaniac—with an ego the size of his precious Manhattan.

If he thought she was going to step into line, he could forget it. And whatever happened she was not going to sleep with him again. No way, no how.

But even as she made the promise she knew it was going to be next to impossible to keep.