Free Good at Games by Jill Mansell

Or perhaps I could call you Myfanwy?”
    Her fingers tightened around the phone.
    â€œLook, I’ll tell you my real name if you’ll tell me yours.”
    More laughter. For heaven’s sake, thought Suzy indignantly, how irritating was it when people did that?
    â€œThis is rather like the dormouse saying to the elephant, ‘I won’t step on you if you won’t step on me,’” said the man on the other end of the phone. “You see, I already know who you are.”
    Suzy’s ear was tingling. She was loving every second of this. The smart thing to do now, of course, would be to hang up. Ha! That would show him what kind of—
    â€œBastard!” wailed Suzy, staring at the phone in disbelief.
    Startled, Lucille said, “What?”
    â€œHe hung up again! He bloody hung up on me before I could hang up on him! That is so unfair.” She swung around to Harry, who was trying hard to keep a straight face. “Was it your boss?”
    â€œNo, thank God.” Harry exchanged an amused glance with Lucille. “It was my brother, Leo.”

Chapter 6
    Lucille refused their offer of a lift home; she had her bike with her. Harry and Suzy, waving good-bye, watched her pedal off into the night with her pineapple hairdo bobbing and her guitar strapped to her back.
    â€œShe’s very independent,” said Suzy.
    â€œOh yes.”
    â€œI feel like the new owner of a puppy from Battersea Dogs & Cats Home. Desperate for her to like me. Do you think she does?”
    Harry shrugged, then smiled.
    â€œI don’t know. Lucille’s wary, but she’s no puppy. Give her time.” He slid his arm around Suzy’s shoulders as they headed for the car. “If it’s any comfort, I like you.” He gave her a quick squeeze. “A lot.”
    * * *
    They pulled up, less than ten minutes later, outside Suzy’s apartment. Eyeing the rakishly parked Rolls, Harry said, “Couldn’t you just sell it and buy a Porsche?”
    Suzy loved her Rolls because nobody expected her to drive one. When you were twenty-four, with tumbling tortoiseshell hair, long legs, and breasts that frankly shouted “Hello, boys!” you conformed to a certain stereotype. People automatically pictured you driving some sporty little number, something sleek and curvy and with a propensity for getting its top off.
    But that had never been her dream. When, barefoot and abandoned, she had first been rescued by Jaz from the hard shoulder of the highway all those years ago—well, six years ago, though it seemed more like fifty—he had asked her what her favorite car was, and she had told him. And six months later, on her nineteenth birthday, he had bought her the Rolls.
    It had been love at first sight. Plus, of course, it had lasted a lot longer than the marriage.
    â€œWhen I have to pay to leave my car in a parking space,” Suzy told Harry, “I like to get my money’s worth.”
    â€œRight, well, early start tomorrow. I’d better make a move.” He revved the engine slightly and glanced at his watch.
    Suzy, who hated it when men pulled up outside her apartment and switched off the ignition, was impressed.
    â€œOK. So, do I get a good-night kiss?”
    Harry leaned across and kissed her briefly on the cheek. Then he smiled. Oh, that heartbreaking smile!
    â€œHave you enjoyed yourself tonight?”
    â€œSo-so,” said Suzy. “Average. Comme ci, comme ça. ” She paused. “Would you like to come in for coffee?”
    â€œBetter not.”
    â€œFine.” Suzy approved of this too. She liked it when they said no. So long as she knew they wanted to really. Saying no because they actually didn’t want to…well, that would have been the pits.
    As she reached for the door handle, Jaz’s front door swung open. Jaz, wearing only a pair of jeans, whistled through his teeth, gazed into the distance, and called out,