Maximum Exposure by Jenny Harper

nodded. ‘I saw a letter. Angus was reading it when he died. Things haven’t been going well for us recently anyway and they want us to merge with The Echo . And now it seems to be all slipping away.’
    ‘What does the new guy say?’
    Daisy shook her head. ‘He’s not said anything. I’m beginning to wonder if he even knows.’
    ‘Surely he does.’
    Daisy shrugged miserably.
    ‘Then someone has to tell him.’
    Tell him? She thought of Jay Bond and his utter conviction about what he was doing. How could she tell him anything?
    Jack smiled and put his hand on her arm. ‘Don’t worry, Dais. I’m sure it’ll be fine.’
    She felt the touch like a flame. The warmth of his hand burned through her sweater and spread up and down her arm until it seemed to reach her face and she felt herself blush with the intensity of her delight. She willed him to reach down and take her hand as he always used to. She longed to feel his fingers curl round her own, stroking them with the old familiar touch.
    He took his hand away, reached for his sports bag, and stood up. ‘Must go. Iris will have the supper ready. See you, Dais. It’ll be all right.’
    She felt the absence of his hand like a void in her soul. Don’t go, Jack . She willed him to turn but he met a friend near the door, exchanged a few words then left. Kitten . He’d called her kitten. Her heart swelled and glowed as she remembered how he’d come to her aid on the treadmill. Her man. She stood up, picked up her bag, swung it onto her shoulder, took two steps, then came to an abrupt halt.
    ‘Aargh!’
    Heads swung round in alarm. She grinned vaguely at the concerned faces. ‘It’s OK. I’m fine.’
    But she wasn’t fine. The rest had caused her to stiffen up after her double session on the exercise machines and the pain in her legs was excruciating.

Chapter Twelve
    
    Ben got the text from Martina early one Sunday morning. For the past month, there had been nothing. He’d wondered, daily, how she was doing. Now, out of the blue, this. Shit.
    Ben’s room, at the top of his parents’ house, was essentially an attic conversion. Through a small window he had fine views of the Hailes River. Although it was part of a small new development, the plot was on the edge, giving open access to the river and clear vistas across to fields and woods on the far bank. He liked it, although he didn’t plan on getting too comfortable here. He was thirty, for God’s sake, far too old to be living with his parents, however easy they were to get on with. At the far side of the room, next to the window, Nefertiti stood, mistress of all she surveyed. Kath Gillies had enjoyed the joke and popped in from time to time to change her outfit or add an accessory or two. Currently, Nef was wearing a pair of cropped navy linen trousers, a red and white striped Breton sweater, and a jaunty felt hat – from Nuggets on the High Street made, he’d been told, by one of Daisy Irvine’s friends.
    Daisy Irvine. God, she was ditsy. Ditsy Daisy. It could be frustrating sometimes, but it was also very appealing.
    Ben rubbed his hair, itched his belly, scratched his balls, and began the process of waking up properly. Daisy was a great photographer and she had the kind of charm that everyone responded to, from tiny tots to crumblies in care homes. She could persuade people to do anything for the camera – so what was it that stopped her from believing in herself? She was like a kid. Except that she was a very attractive young woman.
    ‘What do you think, Nef? Might Daisy Irvine be the girl for me?’ he asked the model. She stared blankly back across the room at him, her eyes wide and unblinking, her perfectly smooth face beautifully framed by her red wig. ‘Thanks. You’re no bloody use at all.’
    His mobile beeped again.
    
    This was a little worrying. He glanced at his watch. It was really early. Six thirty. Christ, he hoped she was all right. If she was up