Chapter 44

Ray watched the back of Tala's neck flush brick-red. Finally he turned around.

'Bloody Bryan, I told him not to say anything.'

'He didn't. I worked it out. Basically, because nobody who knew the two of you would ever try and fix you up. Plus,' said Ray, feeling quiet Sherlock Holmes-ish, 'the reason you didn't give her a lift home was because you don't know where she lives.'

Tala sighed and pushed a CD into the machine. He came and sat down next to Ray.

'Don't laugh at me, right? It isn't easy being Bryan Kutsenov's best mate. When we go out on the town, girls don't tend to look at the two of us together and say, "Cor, I fancy the pale ginger one."'

He said it jokily, but the expression in his blue eyes was bleak.

'You're not pale!' protested Ray. 'Not that pale anyway.'

'Compared with Bryan I am. Oh, what the hell.' Tala shook his head, clearly regretting his moment of weakness. 'It's not as if I'm desperate to settle down anyway. Plenty of time for that when I'm old and knackered. I was drunk when I answered the ad.' He looked rueful. 'I suppose everyone cheats like crazy, but Alice did make herself sound terrific on paper. No mention that she had a laugh like a baboon and all the charisma of a severed foot – good grief, what is that?'

He looked at Ray in astonishment. Ray's stomach, rumbling like a brick-filled cement mixer, obligingly did it again.

'It's alright for you. You've eaten already. But it's six hours since my last Magnum and I'm practically on my knees here.'

'There's a really good Chinese round the corner,' said Tala. 'Tell me what you want and I'll pick up a take-away.'

Ray, who like to scrutinise every item on the menu – otherwise who knew what you might miss? – leapt up.

'I'll come with you. Got a pen?'

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When they returned, Bryan was lying across the sofa watching the highlights from Wimbledon and frowning over the crossword in the Evening Standard. He held up Ray's note and read aloud: '"Dear Bryan, I have left you and ran off with you much better-looking friend. Love, Ray. PS Where do you keep your chopsticks?"'

Ray plonked a red-hot carrier bag into his lap.

'You can't expect to impress anyone with an empty fridge, you know. We need more than ice cream to keep us going.'

'I was about to take you to Orsini's,' Bryan protested. 'A romantic dinner for two, lobster and champagne-'

'Too late, we've got mushroom dim sum and teriyaki chicken instead. And we aren't going anywhere,' said Ray. 'Tala and I are playing Trivial Pursuit.' Leaning over, he pulled a prawn cracker out of the bag and crunched it with relish. 'You can join in if you like.'

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Tala had finally left at one o'clock.

'What are you doing?' Bryan looked perplexed.

Ray, who was on his knees hunting under the sofa for his shoes, located them at last.

'Going home.'

'Can't you stay?'

'No, it's been a long day.'

'It's been a long date.' Bryan pulled Ray up onto the sofa next to him. 'A thirty-one-hour date. I've known marriages shorter than that.'

'I still have to go home.' Help, now Bryan was tickling the back of his neck. Suppressing a quiver of lust, Ray willed himself to be strong. 'Could you call me a cab?'

Bryan took the copper pig out of his shirt pocket and turned it over in his hand, his expression doubtful.

'Are you sure this is a lucky pig? He doesn't seem to be doing me any favours.'

'You've only just met him,' said Ray. 'Give him time to get to know you.'

'I've only just met you.' Bryan half smiled. 'Properly, anyway. But I already knowhow much I like you.'

Oh dear, this was more than he could cope with. Desperate to make him laugh, Ray held up one hand, his thumb and forefinger three-quarters of an inch apart.

'This much?'

Bryan raised an eyebrow.

'You still think I'm joking. And I'm not.'

'I don't think you're joking. I think you're just trying it on.'

'I'm serious.'

'Where does this come from?' parried Ray. 'The Bryan Kutsenov Seduction Manual? Chapter Six: How to Convince Gullible Girlies that This Time It's For Real?'

Bryan sat back and heaved a sigh.

'You have no idea how frustrating this is. When I don't give a toss about someone, you can guarantee they'll leap into bed faster than you can say Murray Walker. But when I meet someone I really like. . .' He threw up his hands in defeat.

'Chapter Eight,' Ray recited, pulling on his shoes. 'How to Play the Wounded Soldier: Going for the Sympathy Vote.' He rolled his eyes soulfully. 'Next, you'll be telling me you're impotent.'

Bryan raked back his hair. 'You really won't stay, will you?'

'No.' Feeling proud of himself, Ray stood up. 'Now, are you going to phone that cab for me or not?'

'Phone that cab?' Bryan parodied Ray's brisk tone. 'No, I won't.' He paused, then broke into a broad smile. 'I'm giving you a lift home.'

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It was twenty to two in the morning when they turned the corner into Tredegar Gardens and pulled up outside Florence's house.

Nobody up, thought Ray, to peer out of their windows and see me, in a silver Porsche, getting a goodnight kiss from Bryan Kutsenov.

Nobody in the entire street, dammit.

Honestly, what was the matter with people in this neighbourhood?

'Can I see you tomorrow night?' As Bryan spoke, his mouth lingered over Ray's.

Daisy isn't due back until Friday, Ray reminded himself. He's at a loose end. I'm a stopgap, that's all.

Oh, but when they were together he didn't feel like a stopgap.

And if Ray said no, what would he do instead? Watch Eastenders? Flick through old copies of Hello! drawing warts and moustaches on photographs of Daisy Schofield? Clear out his underwear drawer so that the next time he managed to lure a drop-dead-gorgeous racing driver into his bedroom he wouldn't be able to tease him about his less-than-stylish back catalogue of boxers?

Frankly it wasn't much of a contest.

In the semi-darkness Ray nodded.

'Okay.'

'No Tala this time,' Bryan promised. 'Just the two of us.'

'No sex either,' Ray reminded him.

Bryan's warm mouth brushed against Ray's cheek. 'Why are you being so cruel to me?'

Ray knew why. It was to make up for the fact that he had offered himself to Kai Hiwatari – well, pretty much hurled himself at him – and been turned down. This was an attempt at restoring Ray's shattered dignity, proving to himself that he really wasn't some sad, pitiful character so desperate for sex he was reduced to begging for it.

He cringed every time he recalled that excruciating scene in Kai's car, when Ray had pleaded with him – extremely loudly – to make love to him.

Life is so unfair, thought Ray.

'I'm not being cruel.' He gave Bryan a consoling pat on the leg. 'You're just too ugly for me.'

Bryan laughed, picking up Ray's hand and kissing it.

'Remind me again. Why is it I like you so much?

'I'm just an all-round lovely person,' said Ray.

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'Don't forget what I told you,' said Bev bossily the next morning when she had expertly dragged every detail of the date out of Ray. 'He's only playing around when Daisy's off the scene. It's not serious. You do know that, don't you?'

Bev was starting to sound like a stuck record. It was like being lectured by a teacher – deep down, you knew they were right, but it was still deeply irritating having to sit and hear them out. Particularly when what they were telling you was that, basically, you had about as much chance with Bryan Kutsenov as Dot Cotton had with Brad Pitt.

Keen to get off the subject, Ray said, 'You've got a run in your tights.'

'Oh damn!' Bev, who never went anywhere without a spare pair of Donna Karans, reached for her bag. 'I'll have to go and change.' Hooray! 'Just so long as you don't sleep with him, okay?'

'I'm not going to.' The words came out through gritted teeth.

'Are you seeing him again?'

'No.' Ray prayed that his nose hadn't just grown an inch longer.

Bev nodded, pleased to be proved right. Bryan Kutsenov was evidently bored with Ray already.

'Well, it's for the best. If you don't get involved, you can't get hurt, can you?'

Too late for that, thought Ray. Aloud, dutifully, he said, 'No.'

Bev hesitated. 'What's his friend like anyway?'

Oh, for heaven's sake, did the girl never stop? Ray tried hard to imagine Bev and Tala – the ultimate lad's lad – together. It would be even more of a disaster than his blind date with poor droopy Alice.

Bev was looking hopeful.

Ray shook his head.

'Definitely not your type.'

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When he arrived at Bryan's flat that night at seven o'clock Ray spotted a photographer lurking on the pavement outside. Following Bryan's instructions, he strolled past the house, turned left into Percival Mews, hopped over the neighbour's wall, made his way across their back garden and jumped over another wall on to Bryan's patio.

Bryan opened the French windows, stripped to the waist and laughing, and drew Ray swiftly inside.

'All this subterfuge and we aren't even sleeping together.'

'I feel so sleazy,' Ray protested.

'Sounds promising.' Bryan surveyed him with amusement. 'Is that an invitation?'

'No, and your phone's ringing.'

Ray tried not to listen to him on the phone, but it was horribly obvious who was on the other end.

Oh God, what am I doing here? Ray closed his eyes. Why am I such a masochist?

'That was Daisy,' said Bryan.

'I guessed.' He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans in don't-care fashion.

'She's flying back tomorrow night. I have to meet her at Heathrow at eight. And wear something decent,' he added wryly, 'because her agent's arranged for a few photographers to be there, to witness our touching reunion.'

Please, please, thought Ray, don't ask me to iron one of your shirts.

'You don't mind staying in this evening, do you?' said Bryan.

'Why?' Ray raised his eyebrows. 'Where are you going?'

Bryan smiled and led him through to the kitchen.

'I thought I might stay in too, if that's okay with you. Quality time together, with no interruptions. Besides, my team manager gets twitchy if he sees pictures in the press of me gallivanting round town when I should be taking it easy, preparing for the next race.'

'I don't suppose Daisy would be too thrilled either.'

'Sshh, I don't want to talk about Daisy now. Anyway,' Bryan's mouth twitched, 'I've got something to show you that I think you might like.'

'And I've already told you, I don't want to see it.'

But when Bryan pulled open the fridge doo rwith a flourish, Ray had to admit he was impressed.

'This is good. Very good.'

'Last night you cast aspersions on my kitchen. You said some extremely hurtful things about this fridge.' Bryan gave the top a consoling pat. 'When I came in here this morning it was very upset, let me tell you. It cried out, "Use me! Fill me! I can hold food, I know I can!"'

Ray gazed at the dozens of packs of Marks & Spencer ready meals, the wicked selection of puddings, the exotic fruits and cheeses. . .

'I bought it all myself,' Bryan told him. 'Wheeled the trolley up and down the aisles, did the conveyor belt thing at the checkout, stuffed everything into bags, the works.' He looked proud. 'I didn't know what you'd like, so I. . .'

'Bought the lot,' Ray marvelled, 'by the look of it.'

'I'm just desperate to impress you. I've never filled my fridge for anyone else, you know.' He gave Ray a soulful look. 'It must be love.'

Luckily, Ray was starving.

'Oh dear, I just wish you'd told me earlier,' he teased. 'I'd never have had those two Big Macs.'