The Devil You Know (21 page)

‘Hmm, yes.’ Daisy thought about it. ‘I saw something about it on the news. Edward Powers told me about it. All the poor Names.’

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cancelled her standing order to Foxworth’s. It made her feel slightly

more in control. Then she called on Brad. He opened the door slightly. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Sure.’ Brad let the door open a little wider. ‘As it’s you. Just let

me go and put some clothes on, OK?’

He had just got out of the shower. There was a towel wrapped

around his waist. Daisy stepped inside his hallway, trying not to stare.

Damn. He could talk. Daisy felt weakened by the rush of heat to

her belly. Brad’s body was just incredible. Tanned, even in winter, thickly muscled, his chest and shoulders huge, his biceps … chiselled wasn’t the word for it. And he had a dark, lush trail of hair, gathering down from his chest and matting just above the towel. Little droplets of water had been trickling all over his body. She was distracted. Daisy went into Brad’s living room and sat down on the sofa, twisting her fingers.

‘So.’ He came back in and sat opposite her. He’d just pulled on a

pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt, and he looked incredible.

‘What’s up, babe?’

‘I need a place to live. Can’t stay in my apartment any more.’ ‘That’s a great little space.’. ‘I know, but-‘

She paused. She didn’t want Brad to know about her parents. His

family were rich, and Daisy was suddenly embarrassed.

‘I had a fight with the owners. I don’t really want to go into it.’

‘You picked a real bad time to start looking. Accommodation’s a nightmare in this town.’

Daisy looked around. Brad had a four-bedroom place just to

himself, now he’d moved out of Edward’s rooms.

‘I guess I thought I could stay here?’

His gorgeous brow furrowed. ‘I dunno. I don’t think that’d be

cool. You know, having a girl here. But I’ll keep an eye out for you.

Want a drink?’

‘It’s ten a.m.’ And he wasn’t much of a drinker, was he?

Brad got up and walked into his kitchen, returning with an

opened bottle of Pouilly Fuiss&

‘I know. It’s great, being at college, isn’t it?’

Daisy accepted a glass of wine. She felt like she needed it. Disappointment mingled with longing in the pit of her stomach. There was plenty of room in this house. Yeah, she had to respect Brad’s space, but …

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A tiny part of her thought he should have been there for her. She

suppressed it.

‘Thanks.’

He sat across from her, and his eyes travelled lazily over her body. She was wearing a heavy black skirt, ankle boots, a push-up bra and a low-cut black camisole under a cardigan. She’d dressed nicely this morning, working on the assumption that she might see Brad today.

Of course, that was before the phone call. Lust had been driven out of her head. Now it was back.

She took a large hit of the wine, which calmed her.

‘You really do look great. You’ve lost a ton of weight.’

‘Have I?’ Daisy said absently. ‘I suppose my clothes are a bit loose.’

‘Not everywhere,’ Brad said. His gaze lingered on the slopes of her cleavage, swelling up from her bra, soft and sexy. She really had great tits, he thought.

‘Hey.’ Daisy had wanted him to notice her in this way for so long, but now she was at a loss. ‘Cut that out, dude.’

‘Dude?’ He grinned. ‘That’s cute. Very American. And :why

should I cut it out? You look hot.’ The ?’ Daisy said, stunned. She blushed.

‘I’ll show you. Get up.’ When Daisy just sat there, he got up arid pulled her to her feet. His strong hand was finn. She could feel all his strength. Brad shut the living room door and showed her her

reflection in the full-length mirror.

‘So what?’ Daisy scoffed.

Brad stood behind her, his height towering over her. Her shoulder blades pressed against his chest, her hair hung loose against his neck. He put his arms around her body, holding her. His grip was iron.

‘You don’t see it? Take a look. Almond eyes, that white-blue. Your face is so beautiful, sugar.’ His voice was low, his breath hot on her neck. ‘You got cheekbones. And a waist.’ His left hand splayed against her ribcage, caressing it with his fingertips. Daisy started to squirm, but his arms held her locked in place. The hot feeling in her

belly was starting up with a vengeance. Her breath shortened. ‘Brad ‘

‘And these,’ he said, stroking a finger across the tops of her breasts. It was like a line of fire trailing over her skin. Daisy bit down on her tongue to stop from panting.

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‘You’re teasing me,’ she said, gritting her teeth. ‘Cut it out.’ ‘Who says?’

He spun her around and tilted up her head to face him. Daisy’s eyes were moist, her lips parted. Brad thought idly that it wasn’t bullshit; she was turning into a pretty girl.

He was getting turned on by her heat. She was brimming with desire. Brad lowered his head to her full lips and crushed them in a kiss.

‘Man.’

Daisy lay snuggled against Brad, her soft, out-of-shape body against his unyielding muscle. He was as gorgeous now as ever. She thought, detachedly, that he should be lighting up a cigarette now.

But of course Brad was a healthy American and he never smoked. Thoughts like this helped her not to cry.

She’d wanted Brad. Longed for him. But the sex had been painful, teeth-gritting stuff, and he’d acted all shocked when he’d discovered she was a virgin, and Daisy had buried her face in the pillow so that he wouldn’t see that she was crying.

It was nothing like she’d read in her books. It hurt. And it felt all wrong.

But she loved Brad, didn’t” she?

‘Wow, honey, that was great.’ He looked down at her with what she could only describe as a friendly smile. Which ripped her heart out. ‘I can’t believe it was your first time.’

‘I went to an all-girls’ school,’ Daisy said, shortly.

‘I never popped anybody’s cherry before.’ He looked as proud as a rooster.

Daisy blanched. Suddenly she imagined him laughing, telling this story to the boat club. ‘Look, Brad. This is between us.’

His chiselled face looked hurt. ‘I wouldn’t tell. You’re my friend, OK?’

She was, yeah. But, she noted, not his ‘girlfriend’.

All she wanted was to take a shower. ‘I have to run, can I use your bathroom to freshen up?’

‘Absolutely,’ Brad said. He beamed at her, with his white, healthy teeth.

Daisy got up, clutching her clothes to her self-consciously. Brad regarded her still too-plump bottom with fondness. She was the perfect woman, he thought. He liked her, and she’d jumped right into bed, and now she wanted to leave … no ‘cuddling’, none of

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that bullshit. She couldn’t wait to get out of there. Daisy’s just like a guy, he thought, approvingly.

She shut the bathroom door and ran the water, stepping into his shower and scrubbing the spots of blood from her leg. Daisy helped herself liberally to his shower gel, some pine-flesh manly thing. Washing the smell and the sweat of Brad from her, and trying not to feel dirty.

She wasn’t a virgin any more. Daisy wanted to cry, but forced it

back. Years of public school came into their own.

You can’t waste time with this, she thought.

She turned the water off, briskly towelled herself down, and

pulled her clothes on.

‘Hey.’

Brad was still lying there as she re-emerged into the bedroom. ‘It’ll be better next time. Won’t hurt.’ He winked at her. Tll make sure of it.’

‘Yeah, sure. See you,’ Daisy said, with a forced brightness. She half ran down the stairs and back out into the street.

It was still daylight. She glanced at her watch. She hadn’t been in there more than an hour and a half.

Daisy took a deep breath, and headed for Edward’s rooms.

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‘But why would you want to move?’

Edward sat across from her in the armchair in his rooms. Now that Brad had moved out, he had the place to himself. Daisy saw evidence of his taste everywhere: oil paintings on the walls, rush matting on the floors. Even though these were cramped undergraduate quarters, he made it look like a reading room in some upper-class London club.

Daisy looked at him. Edward actually cared.

‘My parents were Lloyd’s Names.’

He grasped the situation instantly. ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘I have to give up the flat,’ .Daisy said. ‘I already broke my lease.’ She twisted her hands in her lap and bit down inside her mouth, trying not to cry.

Edward sensed her mood. ‘The situation,’ he said gravely, ‘calls for a cup of tea. Earl Grey or Lapsang?’

‘Either is fine.’ Daisy looked at his back gratefully as he got up and went over to his kettle, giving her time to compose herself.

‘I have somewhere for you. We have a flat on Walton Street. Two bedrooms, rather nice.’

‘What’s the rent? I can’t afford very much.’

‘Two hundred,’ Edward said, ‘but if that’s too much we can come to some arrangement.’

Two hundred a month. She knew right away that he had named a desultory sum so that she wouldn’t feel it was charity. The lump in her throat rose up again.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and she couldn’t keep her voice from breaking.

‘Oh, come on, now, old bean. Everything will be fine. You just have a job to do.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Daisy said, miserably.

Edward passed her the tea, black, no sugar. ‘We all have to look

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after our aged parents. Your time for doing that has just arrived a little earlier. You aren’t as helpless as you like to think, Daisy. You just need to work out what your talents are, and act on that. Focus on something else. It will help.’

Daisy smiled weakly. ‘Give me an illusion of control, you mean.’

She took a sip of the tea. Edward was great; he knew exactly how to settle her.

‘Can I be frank?’

She laughed. ‘Why the hell not. Give it to me straight.’ ‘You’ve been coasting. I know you’re too intelligent to be at Rackham. And History of Art?’ Edward’s thin, patrician features creased in disdain. ‘What on earth is that? Why not the history of pottery?’

‘Philistine.’

‘It’s hardly a real subject, Daisy. It’s what nice girls pick to read when they can’t be bothered to work, and are only planning on looking for a husband. And you aren’t dull enough to be one of those girls. Now,’ he methodically added three level spoonfuls of sugar to his tea with a precise motion of the wrist, ‘you’ve received something of a shock, which only means you have to stop mes,ing

about, and do something.’

She considered this.

“

‘You can write,’ Edward suggested.

“

‘Oh.’ Daisy shook her head. ‘I tried that, it didn’t work.’

‘You failed to win one competition.’ Edward was firm. ‘You should try again. You told 1Kichard Weston you would. If his kind of trash made him a millionaire, why shouldn’t you do the same?’

Daisy shook her head. ‘It’s a pipe dream. Do you know how many people want to be writers?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do. Mother belongs to a writing circle. But, you see,’ Edward leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially,

‘she’s no good. Most of them can’t write at all.’

‘And what makes you think I can?’

‘The girls liked your stuff, you told me. Anyway, the point is not whether you can or can’t. The point is that you should at least try. At some point, 1Kichard Weston was an unpublished author. Jilly Cooper, too.’

‘Hmm.’ Daisy smiled at Edward, incredibly grateful. She almost felt excited about it. ‘I suppose I could rework my old idea …’

‘I wouldn’t do that. Start with something fresh. You’ll be better the second time around.’

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His words chimed with Brad’s, reminding her of this morning. The mood was shattered. Daisy put her bone-china cup down. ‘I think I should get going.’

‘Wait a second.’ Edward pulled open a drawer in his walnut coffee-table and handed her the keys. ‘89 Walton Street, Flat 2. That’s the front door, the other one opens the flat’

‘I don’t have two hundred right now,’ Daisy admitted. It brought a pink spot of embarrassment to her cheeks.

‘That’s fine. Any time before the end of the month.’ Edward stood and walked her to the door. ‘Let me know if there’s anything else you need.’

Daisy wanted to thank him profusely, to pour her heart out, but

she knew if she did she would start to cry.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered.

‘See you soon, 1 trust,’ Edward said.

She didn’t go home. She went straight round to Walton Street and let herself in.

Brad would have called it a perfect ‘space’. It was spacious, with lead-panelled windows, antique furniture in dark oak, and red fabric on the walls. It was unbelievably sumptuous, a little weekend retreat for Edward’s family. Far better than the flat she was giving up.

The very beauty of the place made Daisy wretched. She was imposing on her friend. But what choice did she have?

Writing. That was a joke. But she was going to try it. P,,ackham had computers with word processing software… Edward was right; she’d been coasting, she had to try something,. Meanwhile, in the real world, she could look for a part-time job. That might help her afford a commercial rental, and get out of Edward’s hair.

She decided she would think about that. She would think about getting on her feet, helping her parents.

Anything but Brad.

Daisy sat at the mahogany dining table in Edward’s flat and breathed

out.

There it was, laid out neatly before the lead-panelled window with its view of Walton Street and the driving rain that was lashing it. Her submission. One chapter, a synopsis, and a bunch of letters. She had printed up thirteen of them, addressed to agents whose names she had found after combing through a large yellow-covered reference book. Daisy had craftily changed a couple of sentences at