Chapter Eighteen

Nick woke early, doing a quick double take when he caught sight of Lizzie sprawled out next to him. He had to smile. In sleep, she looked nothing like the ultra glamorous, elegant model. Sexy, certainly, with her usually smooth hair tumbling in a mass of confusion around her face and across the pillow. Elegant, no, not at that moment. He leant over to kiss her on the nape of her neck, but pulled back at the last minute, flipping onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

In the cold light of day, would she regret what they’d done? He cast an eye over her sleeping form, remembering her wholehearted response to him last night. No, he didn’t think she was the type to regret. But it still begged the question. Would she have leapt so easily into bed with him if she hadn’t had a court case hanging over her head, or the horrors of her experience with Charles still fresh in her mind?

‘Good morning, lover.’ He turned to find Lizzie on her side, smiling up at him with sleepy blue eyes. ‘Hey, why are you looking so pensive?’

He rolled so he could face her. ‘How can you possibly look more beautiful now, without make-up, and with tangled bed hair?’ Slowly he trailed a finger down the side of her face, tracing its soft lines. He ached to kiss her again, but was unsure of his moves, frightened to assume anything.

‘Nick?’ Her eyes grew troubled. ‘What is it?’

Letting out a sigh, he flipped onto his back again. ‘Honestly? I’m hoping to God I haven’t taken advantage of you. If Charles hadn’t blackmailed you, we would never have ended up in bed together.’

Lizzie sat up and glared at him. ‘What a stupid thing to say. How do you know that? Maybe this was always destined to happen.’

‘And what exactly is this, Lizzie? One night of unforgettable but never to be repeated bliss, or something more?’

‘What do you want it to be?’

He smiled wryly at the clever way she turned the conversation. ‘I want to make love to you this morning, this afternoon, tonight, and every other chance I get before you go back to America.’ And for the rest of my life, he added in his head.

Chuckling softly, she moved to lie across him, her breasts teasing his chest. ‘That’s good, because that’s exactly what I want, too.’ She bent her head to capture his mouth. ‘Here’s to a few more days of the four s’s.’

They had breakfast on the balcony and made love once more before hunting down some snorkels and wandering down the steps to the beach. It was as if her life in Los Angeles didn’t exist. Lizzie had finally found relaxation, peace and a man she not only had amazing sex with, but she could be herself with. A man who was not only a great friend, but who she was seriously falling in love with. She ignored the voices in her head telling her this wasn’t going to last – that it wasn’t real life. They could take a running jump for a while.

‘How is your swimming these days? Progressed from the doggy paddle?’

His eyes teased and she slanted him a look. ‘I think you’ll find I’m no longer that six-year-old girl you tried to teach to swim.’

The glance he shot back was hot and heavy. ‘I know.’

Instantly her pulse rocketed and her insides liquidised. Incredible. She even felt herself blush. He might have a deceptively calm, quiet exterior but beneath it lurked a positive sex God. He looked ready to take her again, this time on the beach steps. A shiver ran through her, but she didn’t feel cold. On the contrary, she felt hot. Extremely hot.

‘Last one in the sea cooks dinner,’ she announced, jumping off the last step and onto the beach.

‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ she heard Nick yell after her. Racing across the sand, she risked a quick peek over her shoulder and smiled at the sight of him struggling to run with flippers in his hands and assorted masks and snorkels dangling from the rucksack on his back.

Arriving at the sea, she splashed straight into it.

‘Yikes, that’s cold,’ Nick exclaimed a moment later as he hit the water.

She ducked her head into the waves, loving the feel of the spray on her face. ‘You always were a big chicken when it came to cold water.’

‘Who, me?’ He shook his head at her. ‘I think you’re confusing me with Robert. I’ve just got a healthy respect for the temperature of the sea. Probably because I don’t have the luxury of the layers of blubber you females enjoy.’

With one sharp pull she tugged him, very efficiently, into the cold water. ‘Blubber my arse.’ When he reared up and deliberately looked at her bum, she pushed him under again. ‘I have it on good authority that my bottom is perfect.’ She wriggled that part of her anatomy suggestively in his face. ‘I was signed by Calvin Klein to be their swimwear model, I’ll have you know.’

Standing up, he reached out and pinched her rear. ‘Umm, maybe I can see why, but to be sure I’ll have to take these down.’

She swatted away the hand that tugged at her bikini bottoms and went to fetch the mask and snorkel he’d abandoned on the beach. ‘You know, I haven’t been snorkelling since …’ Abruptly she stopped. A family holiday in the Greek islands. She must have been about ten, Robert a much older fifteen. He’d begged their parents to allow Nick to come too, successfully arguing there was no way he could be expected to put up with his kid sister for a whole week. With a pang of remorse and a heavy dose of guilt she thought of Robert now, lying on his bed in LA, staring unseeing at the ceiling. It was a sharp reminder of why the life she was living with Nick could only ever be a temporary escape.

Nick gave her hand a light squeeze, gently bringing her attention back to him. ‘It was Greece,’ he supplied softly. ‘I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. A holiday abroad, with my substitute parents and best friend.’ He flashed her a smile. ‘Just a shame this annoying brat followed us round all the time.’

She pushed him again, hard, but this time he was ready for her, laughing as he captured her hands. It was only later, as she was snorkelling, that she realised he’d known exactly what to say to lift her mood.

They snorkelled for half an hour before falling, dripping wet, onto their towels. Nick leant on his elbow, watching Lizzie as she stretched out in front of him. She had the grace of a cat and the body of a siren. It was no wonder he couldn’t get enough of her. Of its own volition, his hand reached out and began to trace the skin at her slender waist.

‘All those people who gaze at this body in magazines; the women with envy, the men with desire.’ His fingers smoothed across her toned stomach. ‘They have no idea that what they’re seeing is only a pale copy of the real thing.’

‘I’ll have you know I’m lightly tanned.’ Her face smiled up at him.

He ignored her self-effacing comment and carried on his study. ‘Your skin is amazingly soft.’ He wished he knew how to describe it to do it justice. Saying it was like silk was too clichéd, yet he couldn’t think of any other description. He was a numbers man, not a words man. Deciding he was better letting his actions do the talking, he dropped light kisses across her stomach, his face erupting in a satisfied smirk as her nipples hardened.

‘Lizzie.’ She turned to meet his eyes and whatever he was going to say stuck in his throat. Unable to resist, he bent to capture her mouth, kissing her with the intensity of a man starved of female company. It was how he felt around her. For years he’d made do with loving her in his dreams. Now, for these few precious days, she was a reality. He intended to make the most it.

His hands crept under her bikini top, palming her breasts, but suddenly the answering warmth wasn’t there. Worse, she was pushing him away.

‘Nick, no.’ Sitting up, she crossed her arms over her chest. ‘God, what if someone’s out here, taking photographs? I’ve had enough of people watching me have sex to last me a lifetime.’

Her words sliced through him and he rolled away, feeling every inch the horny teenager accused of pawing a girl out of his league. ‘You’re right, sorry,’ he replied tightly, turning his eyes towards the sea, hurt and annoyed with his lack of control. The trouble was, they were coming at this affair from two very different directions. She was a touch of paradise he’d never be able to get enough of. He was a pleasant distraction from her troubles back at home.

Lizzie reached out a hand to touch his leg. ‘Nick, sorry, that sounded harsher than I meant it to.’

Cutting off her attempt to placate him, he scrambled to his feet. ‘I’m going for a swim.’ With a bit of luck the cold water would dampen his flaming ardour, something he couldn’t seem to keep in check when he was with her.

Calling herself all kinds of names, Lizzie levered herself onto her elbows and watched anxiously as Nick swam up and down the small bay. She’d panicked, pure and simple. A sudden flashback to the photographs of herself on a bed, Charles licking her breasts, another man looking on with a leer on his face. For a fleeting moment she’d felt the awareness of a camera with a long telephoto lens. By the time she’d realised her fear was irrational, that the private, secluded bay was totally deserted, it was too late. She’d pushed Nick away, denting his pride.

Huffing out a breath, she sat up and rested her head on her knees, her eyes on the lone swimmer. She might have gone about things like a charging bull, but Nick had the sensitivity of flipping litmus paper. How could he possibly think she didn’t want him? Couldn’t he tell that every time he touched her, her body leapt into flames?

Perhaps he was finding the transition from friend to lover too weird. Funny, because she was finding it exactly the opposite. Having a lover who was also a friend was so incredibly … natural. One minute he’d make her laugh, the next she’d be breathless and giddy with desire. He didn’t seek to control her, only to pleasure her. And when the passion was temporarily spent, there were no uncomfortable silences. Instead there was cuddling, warmth, teasing. It was all so new to her, but she could so easily get used to it. Too easily.

Finally he strode out of the sea and walked towards her. Unabashed, she stared at him, watching the streams of water running off his hard body. A body usually quietly hidden beneath conservative clothes. That was Nick. Understated, but actually quite magnificent.

‘Feel better?’ she asked as he drew closer.

Her heart sank as he avoided her eyes, instead reaching down for his towel. ‘If you mean have I got my libido in check, then, yes.’

‘Nick, come on, don’t be like this.’ She shook her head, frustrated with him. ‘It wasn’t a rejection. You know that.’ Standing up she ran her hands over his chest, kissing him lightly on the lips. He remained rigid, unmoving. Swearing under her breath she gave up and went to sit back on the towel. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’m currently the paparazzo’s number one dream target. The last thing I need right now is to give them more ammunition.’ She pleaded with him to understand. ‘I’m a famous figure. I have to be extremely careful about my privacy.’

‘Yeah, I noticed.’ With vigorous strokes, he rubbed himself down with the towel. He still hadn’t looked at her.

‘So that’s it, is it? You’re going to have a strop all day just because I declined your offer of sex on the beach?’

‘I wanted to make love to you,’ he corrected softly. ‘But I hear what you’re saying. I’ll restrict my amorous overtures to the safety of indoors in future.’

She let out a sigh of pure, unbridled frustration. ‘God, you can be so bloody infuriating.’

‘No doubt.’ He picked up the snorkel equipment and hoisted it over his shoulder. ‘I’ll see you back at the villa. I need to catch up on some work.’

As Nick made his way off the beach, he didn’t dare to look behind in case he was caught by one of the daggers he knew Lizzie must be mentally flinging at him. Okay, he was being petty, and it sure as hell wasn’t pretty, but it summed up exactly how he felt. As if he needed her to remind him she was a famous figure. Angrily he shoved the towel around his neck. He knew she was, damn it. Just as he knew she was not only out of his league, she was playing in an entirely different division.

And now he was feeling good and sorry for himself, which pissed him off even more.

Dumping the snorkels back in the pool hut, Nick acknowledged Lizzie had a right to be concerned about being photographed again. The scars from the last ordeal were still very fresh, something he of all people should know. So what he should have done was cut her some slack. Shown some understanding. Not stormed off like a truculent teenager.

The trouble was, he reflected as he strode through the villa to the bathroom, it was hard enough handling the fact he was having an affair with Lizzie, the beautiful girl he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. When he was reminded he was also sleeping with Elizabeth Donavue, dazzling supermodel and pin up to millions of men around the globe, it sent him into free fall.

He was attractive and successful. He believed that. But next to Elizabeth Donavue, he wondered if he’d ever be attractive or successful enough.