Chapter Twenty-Three

Lizzie was looking forward to the evening almost as much as she knew the man sitting next to her in the limo wasn’t. She wanted Nick to meet some of her friends and if it meant him being uncomfortable, she was sorry, but this was important to her. He was important to her. She glanced over at him as the chauffeur drove them through the exclusive tree-lined streets of Beverly Hills, and had to smother a smile. He was resolutely staring out of the window, no doubt psyching himself up. She could never understand why parties weren’t his thing. When he was one on one, he was sharp and very funny. In smaller gatherings he’d hold his own, articulating his thoughts when he considered the conversation important enough. In a party though, he faded into the background, choosing the quiet corner. As someone drawn to the dance floor and the glittering lights, it was hard for her to understand his preference, though it didn’t mean she didn’t respect it. The very fact that he wasn’t a swaggering, arrogant extrovert was part of his charm. Part of what she’d fallen in love with. That and his strength, his desire to give rather than take. His innate goodness.

She bit her lip, looking back out of the window. God, he was so different to her. So much better. She was the one always on the take. Self-centred and demanding, she pushed people into doing what she wanted them to do, irrespective of their wishes. She hadn’t even learnt from her last monumentally selfish act, despite the tragic consequences. Oh no, what she’d done to her family, now she was doing to Nick. Pestering him to come over and see her, ignoring the fact that he’d kept telling her he was busy. Heck, she was even dragging him to a party he didn’t want to go to. Because he was kind, because he cared, he was doing what she’d asked. Instinctively she reached across and squeezed his hand, her heart feeling uncomfortably tight in her chest.

‘What was that for?’

‘Does there have to be a reason?’

‘Well, no, I guess not.’ He looked so adorable, his eyes like those of a Labrador who wasn’t sure what its master was trying to tell him.

Unable to resist, she leant over and planted a soft kiss on his mouth. ‘It was just to thank you for being you.’

‘By the end of tonight you might be wishing I was someone else.’

She had no time to wonder what he meant by that because security were waving them through Catherine’s gates and up the sweeping driveway towards the white mansion at the top of the hill. A typical Hollywood style grand villa, it boasted ornate balustrades, a sweeping marble staircase, tall, Roman style columns and an immaculate lawn. Oh, and the compulsory swimming pool.

‘Just your average house in Beverly Hills then,’ Nick remarked as he helped her out of the limousine. Suddenly his attention was caught by a vision in vivid purple. ‘Oh my God, isn’t that …’ He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Lizzie was swept into a full on embrace by the woman in question.

‘Catherine, I’d like you to meet Nick.’ It was quite obvious Nick knew who the glamorous brunette was.

‘Nick, a pleasure to meet you.’ Catherine extended her hand, and Nick gallantly kissed it.

‘I rather think the pleasure is all mine.’

Catherine let out an amused chuckle. ‘Oh, you Englishmen have such manners. Delightful.’ She clasped both of them by the hand and walked with them up the steps. ‘Now, come on in and make yourselves at home.’ On reaching the top, she turned and smiled at Nick. ‘Don’t be a stranger, Nick. Before the evening’s over I want to find out exactly what it is about you that’s put such a huge smile on Elizabeth’s face.’ She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, studying him. ‘Though I think I can probably work some of that out for myself.’

Catherine wandered off to greet more guests and Lizzie glanced slyly over at Nick. ‘Glad you came now?’

His breath came out in a rush. ‘Hell’s teeth, you could have warned me. I mean, she’s one of my all time favourite pin-ups.’ Lizzie raised her eyebrows at him and he grinned. ‘Along with you, of course.’ His eyes swung back to Catherine’s tall, elegant figure. ‘But I mean, wow. She doesn’t disappoint in the flesh, does she?’

Lizzie put a hand on the side of his face and pulled his attention back to her. ‘No, she doesn’t.’ She raised her mouth and kissed him hard on the lips. ‘And that’s just to remind you who you came with.’

She was drawing back when he circled her waist with his arm and pulled her more firmly against him. ‘How could I ever forget that?’ he whispered before deepening the kiss.

The man could kiss. There was no doubt about it. In fact his kisses should carry a health warning. In particular, they shouldn’t be allowed in a public place because when she was kissing him, she became totally unaware, and dangerously uncaring, of where she was.

‘Hey, lovebirds. What’s the phrase the kids use? You need to get a room.’

With her mind still full of Nick’s kiss, it took a moment for Lizzie to take in who was speaking. ‘Siobhan,’ she managed as her and Nick drew apart. ‘Good to see you.’

Lizzie turned to Nick and made the introductions. Siobhan was a fellow model. Poor Nick would be totally fed up with meeting models by the end of the evening. On the other hand – she took in his slightly gaping mouth, the glazed expression – perhaps he’d quite enjoy it.

‘Is everyone at this party going to be an actress or a model?’ Nick asked as she guided them towards the bar.

‘Are you hoping the answer will be yes or no?’

His boyish grin spoke volumes. ‘I’ve got to admit, as parties go, this one certainly has its advantages.’

Shaking her head at him, she surveyed the partygoers. ‘Well, I hate to disappoint, but I can also spot a few actors, a couple of directors, some photographers.’

‘Any accountants?’

‘Only you so far.’ Clasping his jacket lapels, she drew him towards her and kissed him again. ‘But the night is young.’

They found a table and were soon joined by a few more models from the agency. Nick looked in his element, so much so he didn’t bat an eyelid when she told him she needed another drink. Typical. Give a man a pretty face and he forgot everything else around him. Even those he’d come to the party with, apparently. Huffing out a breath she rose to her feet and wandered over to the bar. She was almost there when she was accosted by Catherine and dragged over to a quiet corner.

‘Darling, he’s adorable,’ she gushed. ‘Lean, athletic body topped by puppy dog eyes in an intelligent face. Please tell me this man is it.’

Lizzie found she couldn’t speak. Biting at her lip, she sadly shook her head.

‘Why ever not? You know I’ve been worried for you lately, my darling. Your taste in men has taken a real nosedive and that was even before that toerag Charles. This one though.’ Her eyes zeroed in on Nick, who was grinning at Siobhan and making her laugh. ‘This one is a keeper.’

‘I want to keep him,’ Lizzie replied quietly. ‘But I’m very much afraid I can’t.’

‘Can’t?’

Watching Nick made her heart ache, so Lizzie turned her focus back to Catherine. ‘I know this sounds melodramatic, but he’s too good, Catherine. Certainly for someone like me.’

‘What utter nonsense. He sounds exactly right for someone like you. Much more so than those awful types you’ve been cavorting with recently.’

Lizzie swallowed and wished she had a drink in her hands. She needed it right now. ‘Maybe, but Nick lives in England. I need to live out here. He loves the peace and quiet. I need limelight and attention.’

Catherine narrowed her eyes and stared at her. ‘You don’t need the limelight. It just comes with your job.’

‘True, but I do need the job. Besides, I think you get the partner you deserve in life. And I’ve got a terrible feeling that for me, it isn’t Nick.’

‘I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.’

Catherine would have said more, but Lizzie decided it was high time she changed the subject. ‘Sorry, ignore me. I’m being sentimental because he goes back home tomorrow. You know what will cheer me up?’

‘It wouldn’t be a turn on the dance floor by any chance?’

‘Exactly.’ She linked her arm through that of her friend. ‘Come on. Let’s show this crowd some real moves.’

As the party became more raucous, Nick grew more restless. He could honestly say he’d enjoyed the first few hours. There were definite benefits of being introduced to some of Lizzie’s friends. At times he’d had to blink to remind himself this was real. He wasn’t just experiencing some hot fantasy where he was surrounded by the world’s most gorgeous women. He’d even managed to make a reasonable impression. Apparently his stereotypical English appearance was cute. Given a choice, he’d have gone with something more macho, but frankly beggars couldn’t be choosers and Hugh Grant seemed to have done all right out of it.

It was the men he’d struggled with. At first he’d stuck to asking the typical outsider’s questions of the modelling and film industry. Interspersed with a few occasional nods, the conversation, well monologue he supposed would be more accurate, had flowed reasonably well. When he’d run out of the obvious questions, though, it had all become a bit stilted. They weren’t interested in what he did, so he held off discussing the finer points of cash flow forecasting. He did have a go at other subjects, but they seemed to be interested in only one. Baseball.

‘Isn’t that just rounders with a helmet?’ he’d asked innocently.

The looks he’d been given had been sufficient to quell his next conversational gambit – a discussion on the English cricket season.

So he chose to excuse himself and retreat to a quiet corner where he could watch Lizzie, who was dancing with a few of her friends. In a room teeming full of beautiful women, she still managed to shine more vibrantly than the rest. Her beauty was part of it, but she also seemed to have this inner glow. It took him back to her eighteenth birthday party and how he’d watched her dance there, too. Her vivacity seemed to emphasise how very much she belonged here. While he, sitting alone and nursing a beer, clearly didn’t.

His body tensed as he watched the model from the perfume ad, Hank somebody, slither towards Lizzie, like some giant reptile. A hunter towards its prey. Now he was right in front of her. Too damn close. Jealousy threaded its sharp claws round his heart and instinctively Nick stood, his body poised to march over and insert himself firmly and clearly between them. But as his feet started to move, he stopped himself. How would Lizzie feel if he strode over there like the petulant, jealous boyfriend, embarrassing her in front of the man she was currently working with?

He sat back down again and made himself look away.

Lizzie tried to push Hank away, but he was having none of it.

‘Come on. Stop trying to fight the inevitable,’ he whispered into her ear as his arms wrapped round her in a vice like grip.

‘There is nothing inevitable about you and me,’ she tossed back, straining to break away. ‘If you haven’t already noticed, I’ve got a boyfriend.’

Hank turned and glanced over at where Nick was sitting at the back of the room, quietly drinking his beer. ‘What, the English twat?’

Lizzie stiffened, fighting to get her hands between them so she could shove him away. ‘He’s a damn sight more man that you’ll ever be.’

Hank just shrugged off the insult. ‘He looks like a bloke who prefers the quiet life. Not the type to want a woman whose tawdry sex life has been splashed across the papers.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong.’

He raised a dark eyebrow. ‘Am I? You really think that man hiding himself in the corner is going to want to hang round with a woman like you for too long? Hell, you’ve been in the spotlight so much these last few months you’ve even pushed me off the front pages of the gossip columns.’

She had a child like desire to shove her fingers in her ears and block out what Hank was saying. Awful as it was to listen to his words though, it was even more terrifying to realise their truth. All he was doing was repeating back her own fears.

With a strength born of despair and anger, Lizzie finally extracted herself from Hank’s arms and dashed away from the rowdy dance floor to the relative peace of the poolside. Finding herself thankfully alone, she lay back on one of the loungers and stared, agonised, at the glass-like surface of the turquoise pool. What had she been thinking, forcing Nick out here? If she’d had any decency left in her at all, she would have said goodbye to him in England, like he’d suggested. But she hadn’t. Desperate to hold onto him for as long as she could, she’d pleaded with him to come out, even though his reluctance had been obvious. The least she could do now was put him out of his misery. Give him back the quiet life he craved. She was a complication he didn’t need and certainly didn’t deserve, but he was too bloody nice to tell her.

She’d have to be the one to cut him loose. And while she was at it, she might as well cut out her heart.

‘What are you doing over here, all alone?’

From his seat in the corner, Nick turned and gave her a sheepish smile. ‘Jet lag catching up with me.’

‘Really? So if it weren’t for that you’d have been right up there with me, strutting your stuff like Travolta?’

‘Well, maybe not like Travolta. Isn’t that style old hat now anyway?’

Lizzie sighed and slipped in next to him. ‘Jet lag, my foot. We both know that’s just an excuse, Nick.’

He flinched. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise dancing was a compulsory part of the evening.’

‘It isn’t, but it might have been a gesture on your part to at least have a go, instead of sitting here like a boring sod.’ Hurt flashed across his face and inside Lizzie recoiled at her harsh description. She was the sod, but somehow she had to find a way to provoke him. To make him angry. It was the only way she’d have a hope of doing what she needed to do, and ending the beautiful thing that had grown between them. She’d never manage it if he was kind to her.

‘I’m not like a boring sod, I am a boring sod,’ he replied tightly.

‘You’re not, but you could make more of an effort to mix.’

‘Why, am I making you look bad?’

‘Yes,’ she replied quietly, before turning on her heel and walking away. Her eyes filled with tears and she briskly wiped them away. How it broke her heart to be so cruel to him. But she had to be cruel to be kind, didn’t she? What a bloody stupid saying.

Nick sat back and kicked himself. Now he’d thoroughly pissed off the one person he’d craved to talk to all night. Disgusted with himself, he swallowed down his beer. He might not be having a great evening, but really, did he have to spoil hers as well? One minute she was dancing without a care in the world, the next she was obviously upset, and all because of him. He was acting like a blinking wet weekend. Reluctantly he rose to his feet. Time to bite the bullet and get on that ruddy dance floor.

He was loitering on the edge, toying whether to wait for the next song or just barge straight on in there, when a soft Californian drawl came from behind him.

‘Are you ever going to ask me to dance?’

Nick didn’t realise the words were meant for him until a slim hand grasped him round the arm and started to move him towards the floor. Catherine.

‘Dancing isn’t one of my strong points,’ he blurted as she wriggled her way through the gyrating throng and into some space. Christ, dancing was bad enough. The thought of dancing with his Hollywood pin-up drained away any dregs of co-ordination he might have had.

She laughed and eased her arms around his shoulders. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to eat you.’

They started to move. Nick knew he was holding himself too stiffly, too formally, but he couldn’t seem to relax. He had a gorgeous woman in his arms, but he was praying for the music to finish.

‘You’ll take care of Elizabeth, won’t you?’ Catherine whispered into his ear as they skirted round the outside of the dance floor.

Her question took him by surprise. ‘Yes. Always.’

‘Good, because whatever else she might tell you, she needs you in her life, Nick. She really does.’

As he contemplated her words, the music changed to a slow beat and, miraculously, he found Lizzie beside him. ‘You’ve got no idea how grateful I am to see you,’ he told her, gathering her into his arms.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘But you were dancing with your favourite actress.’

He shook his head. ‘No, I was humiliating myself in front of her. But now I’m going to shuffle with my all-time favourite model while subtly plastering my body indecently against hers.’

For a second, just the briefest of moments, he felt her hesitate, as if she was coming to a decision. He held his breath, terrified, but then she relaxed against him and he breathed again.

Later though, as they got ready for bed, Nick felt Lizzie withdrawing from him. It wasn’t anything she said, rather the things she didn’t say. He was used to her chatting away ten to the dozen, laughing about what she’d seen, giggling over the antics of the people she’d met. Tonight she was eerily quiet. When she did speak, it was only to answer a specific question, and even then her replies were monosyllabic.

‘Are you still angry with me?’ he asked finally as he pulled off his boxers and slipped into the bed.

She turned away from him and slipped on a nightdress. ‘No.’

‘It sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. Look, let me apologise again for being a miserable git.’

‘You’ve done enough apologising, Nick,’ she interrupted, pulling back the sheet and sliding underneath it. ‘I know you don’t like parties. I shouldn’t have taken you. The matter’s over.’

Then she did something she’d never done before. She turned on her side, away from him. He was left staring at her long, slender back. A beautiful sight, but not one he wanted to be faced with. Tentatively he draped an arm around her waist. ‘Lizzie.’

‘I’m tired, Nick. Good night.’

Ouch. Her message was cuttingly clear. Smarting from the rejection he rolled onto his back and stared up at the immaculate white ceiling. Long into the night, long after he felt her fall asleep, he still stared. Only inches separated them, but he might as well have been back in England for all the closeness he felt.