'You're cold. Like me to drive, miss?'
Silently, she handed him the keys and he slid out of the car as she moved over to the passenger's seat. Her skirt got rucked up on the gear lever. She hesitated, then knowing her legs and slim thighs were her only attractive features, she let her skirt remain as it was.
'I'm frozen,' she forced herself to say as Daz got under the driving wheel.
'Me too . . . it's perishing.'
She expected him to drive fast and flashily, but he didn't. He drove well, keeping just under the 30 m.p.h. limit and with expert confidence that surprised her.
'Do you live in Knightsbridge?' she ventured.
'Who . . . me?' He laughed. 'Nothing so posh. I live in a rat hole in Parson's Green. I'm out of work. Whenever I get down to my last quid I like to walk around Knightsbridge and window shop. I imagine what I would buy from Harrods if I had a mass of lolly.'
She looked at his handsome profile, and again she experienced this devastating pang of desire.
'But why are you out of work?' she asked. 'People need never be out of work these days.'
'I've been ill. I've got a weak lung . . . plays up sometimes . . . then I get laid off. I've been laid off now for two weeks.' Daz thought: The lies I can tell. I almost believe this myself. Then feeling he was laying it on a little too thick, he added, 'I'll get something next week, I'm feeling fine now.'
Natalie digested all this.
'I'm glad.'
He turned and gave her a smile that had earned him his nick name. She felt sloppily weak as her desire for him mounted.
'You don't have to worry about me, miss. No one, including me, worries about me.' He paused, then went on, 'You're out late, aren't you?'
'I often work late.'
'Church Street you said?'
They were now driving by Knightsbridge Underground Station.
'Yes.'
'You live on your own?'
Oh yes, Natalie thought bitterly. Alone . . . always alone.
'Yes.'
Daz's eyes moved to her legs, exposed to above the knee. Poor cow! he thought. This is going to be easy.
'Well, tots of people live on their own,' he said. 'When they get back from work, they shut themselves in their dreary rooms and that's it until they go out to work the next morning. That's why I like to walk the streets at night. Staying in my room on my own gives me the horrors.'
'I can understand that.' Then as he began to drive up Church Street, she went on, 'This is the place . . . on the right.'
Well here's the crunch, he thought. Is she going to invite me in?
'You mean this big block here?'
'Yes. You go down the ramp to the garage.' She hesitated then said in a small voice, 'I expect you would like a wash after changing that tyre. I think you deserve a drink too.'
He hid a grin. He had felt it would be easy, but not quite this easy.
'Yes. I could do with a wash,' and he drove the car down into the big lighted garage.
They went up in the lift to the fourth floor. Neither of them looked at each other on the way up nor spoke.
