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
