Chapter Twenty-Nine

To say he was bemused was an understatement. Nick couldn’t believe he was sitting amongst this predominantly female audience, watching the most incredible, and to his mind incredulous, creations slide down the runway on models too thin and gaunt for his liking. Did designers really think women were going to buy this stuff? It was increasingly hard for him to believe as yet another model sashayed down the catwalk, spinning around on impossibly high heels and wearing an outfit surely put together by a child?

He stiffened automatically as Hank made his entrance, glowering at the audience as he strutted down the runway. The tanned, beautifully chiselled muscles of his chest were amply displayed by the open silk shirt he was almost wearing. If looks could kill, Nick thought grimly, the bastard would be dead.

Not wanting to waste any more of his energy on the prick, Nick glanced to his side. Charlotte was like a child at Christmas, round-eyed and open-mouthed. Well, at least someone was enjoying herself.

Then Lizzie appeared on the catwalk, and immediately his eyes wanted to look nowhere else. Totally unaware he was doing it, Nick straightened on his chair, his neck craning to get a better view. Whereas with the other models he’d noticed the clothes more than them, this time it was the other way round. Oh, he noticed enough of the wisps of silk that hung over her body to realise there wasn’t much to them. Whatever she had on, it was the body beneath it that made it what it was. As she slowly glided down the catwalk, her hips swaying just a little, her head held high, her movements both graceful and sexy, he felt a burst of pride. He’d always known she was beautiful, with a face the camera adored. Only now did he realise how much more there was to what she did than simply smile. He wasn’t the only male with a tongue hanging out of his mouth as she reached the end of the walk with a sensuous jiggle of her hips. She was smoking hot, sexy as hell. She owned the catwalk and nobody, nobody in that room looked anywhere else but at her.

A split second later her gaze sought out his and for one glorious instant, he felt the connection. It was as if they were alone in the room, just the two of them. Her lips curved in a half-smile and her eyes … oh God, her eyes, what were they saying? But all too soon she was turning and moving away from him.

‘You look like you want to gobble her up.’

His focus remained on Lizzie’s retreating figure. He couldn’t look away. ‘She sure has a way of moving those long legs of hers.’

‘Yes, she does.’ Charlotte frowned. ‘Nick, is there still something going on between you both? I know you used to have this crush on her, and that you had a short fling.’

‘We did and it’s over,’ he replied shortly, the abruptness of his manner no doubt indicating to his highly perceptive sister that, for him, it was anything but over. Lizzie disappeared from the stage and he quickly changed the subject. ‘So what do you think of all the frocks?’

Charlotte took a moment to scrutinise his face, but thankfully seemed to think better of launching into a long interrogation on his love life. At least for now. ‘Frocks?’ she replied instead, her voice signalling that it was possible for someone to sound both incredulous and disgusted at the same time. ‘That’s a word out of the Dark Ages. What you’re looking at here, dear brother, is cutting edge design. Haute couture. If you’re going to be hanging round fashion shows, you really have to use the right language.’

Nick didn’t plan on ever going to another fashion show as long as he lived, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. All he wanted to do now was go home. Put some miles between him and Lizzie while he strapped his heart into some sort of order again. With distance, he could almost manage to forget her and what he’d lost. At least for some of the time.

After Lizzie had floated down the runway one last time, he turned to face his sister. Her eyes weren’t on the catwalk. They were fixed unblinkingly on him. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink,’ he muttered. ‘Do you want anything?’

Charlotte threaded her arm through his. ‘Actually, yes, there is something I want,’ she stated softly and very precisely. ‘Come with me.’

Leading the way, she propelled him, very firmly, out of the main auditorium and into a small side room. There she pushed him, none too gently, onto a plush velvet settee. ‘Does Lizzie know how you feel about her, Nick?’

He felt the blood drain from his face. Was he really that transparent? Please God let it only be his sister who was able to read him that closely, because if Lizzie knew it too … he shuddered. It might work if they both believed they’d had a sweet affair that was now over. It wouldn’t work if Lizzie thought he was still pining for her. Because then friendship would get confused with pity, and pity was something he couldn’t live with.

Avoiding Charlotte’s eyes, he looked down at his hands. ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ he tried.

‘Then I’ll spell it out. Does she know you love her?’

He tried a casual shrug, though his acting had always been lousy. ‘Of course she does. She’s been like family. I suspect you love her, too. I mean, we’ve known each other forever.’

Charlotte pulled her armchair closer and hissed in frustration. ‘Stop it. I’m not talking about love between friends, love between family. I’m talking love between man and woman. Love that should lead to marriage, children, and happy ever after.’ Gently she patted his face. ‘Why have you never told her you love her, Nick?’ she asked more softly.

He shut his eyes and rubbed a hand across his forehead, feeling a build up of tension that would probably lead to one humdinger of a headache. ‘What good would telling her serve? We tried being lovers; it didn’t work out. I’m not about to start embarrassing her by spilling my feelings.’

‘What if she feels the same way? Something passed between you both out there on the catwalk earlier. It wasn’t just friendship.’

‘Leave it,’ he snapped. ‘Yes, of course I love her, I always have, but the fact is, she doesn’t feel the same way about me. That’s why she ended it.’

‘You love me?’

Suddenly, horror of horrors, he looked over his left shoulder to find Lizzie behind him, her face as pale as a sheet. Welcome to total humiliation. With an anguished groan he leant forward and hung his head in his hands, waiting for his frozen brain to come up with some totally rational, believable reason for why the words she’d just heard didn’t actually mean what she thought they did. He couldn’t think of any. All he could think of was how much he needed to get out of this damn place as quickly as possible; to hang on to any tiny shreds of dignity he still possessed.

‘How long have you been listening?’ He raised his head and dared to look at Lizzie.

‘Long enough.’ Her eyes were startlingly bright, her face still showing signs of shock. She moved towards him and he guessed she was wondering what to do, how to console him, how to help him out of the giant crater he’d just found himself in. He, too, was trying to work out how to escape, when salvation arrived in the unlikely form of Hank.

‘Ah, there you are, babe,’ he announced, striding up to Lizzie. ‘They need us for the finale.’ He placed a proprietary arm around Lizzie’s waist, and Nick instantly saw red.

‘Get your bloody hands off her,’ he growled, shooting to his feet.

Hank raised a dark eyebrow, a sneer sliding across his handsome features. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘I’m the man who’s going to shove a fist in your face and ruin those perfect features of yours if you so much as touch her again.’ Anger shimmered off him as he took a deliberate step forward, putting himself right in the model’s personal space. He’d never been more grateful for his height.

Hank glared back for a few thumping moments, then dropped his arm from Lizzie’s waist. ‘Time to go, sweetheart. I’ll be waiting for you.’ He swaggered out the same way he’d entered.

‘Nick.’ He could see she didn’t know what to do, what to say.

‘Leave it.’ Her eyes silently pleaded with him to talk to her, but Nick had had enough torture for one day. ‘You know once there was a time I didn’t think I was good enough for you,’ he told her. ‘God knows, my dear uncle was fond enough of telling me that, and in many ways it’s still true. But when I look at the type of man you prefer, I realise I’m better than that. I would have been good for you, if you’d let me.’ A wave of utter weariness descended on him and he slumped back onto the sofa. ‘You’d better go.’

‘But we need to talk about this—’

‘No.’ Nick spoke over her. Was she mad? Did she really think he wanted to talk about this? Sit down and pick over the bones of their relationship, friendship, whatever the hell it was, when he’d just opened up his heart and let her see right inside it? ‘Don’t keep them waiting. Go and do your job.’

He could see Lizzie was torn. In two minds whether to try and rescue their friendship or ensure she still had a career. Unsurprisingly, the career won. ‘Okay, I can see you need some space, but don’t think you’re running away. I’ll come and find you as soon as I’m done. There are things that need to be said.’

Perhaps, he thought. But he wasn’t planning on saying anything for a while. At least not until he’d got his head together and didn’t feel like dying with embarrassment every time he looked at her. Realising this was goodbye, he stood and gently kissed her cheek. ‘Your parents would have been proud of you tonight. Robert would have been proud.’ He paused and looked deep into her eyes. ‘I’m really proud of you,’ he added softly.

Tears spilt onto her cheeks. ‘This conversation isn’t over,’ she warned, her voice thick with emotion.

But it was. Nick made sure of it. Although he had to drag Charlotte kicking and screaming, and flinging words like coward, numbskull and pig-headed at him, he was soon out in the cold London evening and flagging down a waiting taxi.

Lizzie should have been on cloud nine. The show had been incredibly well received. And so had she. Yet instead of enjoying the adulation of her peers, basking in the delight of the Astella design team, she was trying to find Nick. In her heart, she realised it was a fruitless exercise. As if he was really going to hang around, ready to put his heart on his sleeve and talk to her. In the end, pleading a headache, she escaped into a waiting limo and rang his mobile. He answered on the second ring.

‘That’s it then? You leave without saying goodbye?’ Although she knew shouting at him wasn’t likely to help, she couldn’t stop herself. Her emotions were running far too high for a calm conversation.

‘I did say goodbye,’ he replied stiffly, immediately on the defensive.

She remembered his parting words, about how proud he was of her. His way of saying goodbye. ‘And what about what I overheard?’

‘That was a private conversation with my sister.’

‘Private? You don’t think I have a right to know how you feel?’ When he didn’t reply, she tried another angle. ‘Were you ever going to tell me?’

His sigh was deep and heartfelt. ‘No.’

She didn’t know what answer she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. ‘No?’

‘What good would it have done?’ His voice was quiet and steady, in direct contrast to hers. ‘Listen to you now. You don’t know what to say to me, how to deal with me. That’s exactly what I was trying to avoid.’

Lizzie could think of plenty of things to say to him, but not now. Not on the phone and not when she was so cross with him, both for leaving without talking and for being so irritatingly calm. ‘Damn you, Nick. I hate it when you speak to me in those careful, measured tones.’

There was a long pause. ‘That’s a shame, because this is who I am.’

‘Nick …’ This conversation was going all wrong, and she didn’t know how to get it back on track.

‘Take care. Have a safe flight back. Goodbye, Lizzie.’

She listened to the dial tone in a haze of confusion and utter frustration. Then she threw the phone on the limo floor, stretched out on the seat and screamed.

Thank heaven for the glass screen separating her and the driver.

It was only when she arrived at the hotel she’d been put up in that her brain finally started to make sense of everything she’d heard. Nick loved her. The person who knew her better than anyone else, who knew absolutely everything about her, including her God-awful mistakes, actually, hallelujah, jump with joy, shout from the rooftops, loved her.

A slow smile crept across her face, quickly followed by an ear to ear grin. If someone as rock steady as Nick still loved her, even after everything he’d seen, she couldn’t be that much of a screw up, could she?