One month later in Cornwall
What in the world have we here? It’s Sleeping Beauty himself.
Layla set down her paint pots and brushes and stared at the sight of a half-naked hot man asleep on the sofa. He shouldn’t be there, but she wasn’t complaining. The sight of Nick Wells’ broad bare chest, golden-tanned and muscle-sculpted, would brighten up anybody’s morning. And if anybody’s morning needed brightening, it was hers.
She was quite sure she’d never fantasized about the actor – she wasn’t even a fan of vampire dramas. But if she did fantasize about him, which of course, she didn’t, it wouldn’t be about watching him sleep. She bit her lip, looking on dreamily. Because actually he looked beautiful – like a living, breathing statue of an ancient god in a fabulous museum of art.
Ophelia, the stray dog Maggie adopted on that day in November when Alex had come to Porthkara to propose, had trotted good-naturedly in at Layla’s heels. She sat, head tipped to one side, looking disapprovingly at the sleeping male vision. One arm thrown over his head, it obscured half his face. The line of his lips drew her eyes. A shimmer of unexpected, inappropriate and highly inconvenient awareness hit Layla full force. Ophelia switched her focus from Nick to Layla as if she knew.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she told her in a whisper. What with everything that was going on in her best friend’s life she’d happily offered to take care of the dog, but Maggie hadn’t mentioned a thing about Nick. What was he doing in Porthkara when Alex was in London anyway?
She checked her mobile phone. No new texts. Hardly surprising given the signal was so patchy.
The landline gave a shrill ring and she dived to pick up quickly before it could do it again and disturb Nick. She glanced over at him. Luckily he was dead to the world.
‘Hello?’ She answered in a barely-there whisper and tiptoed towards the kitchen. Still fast asleep Nick stirred and rolled over on the sofa revealing a horrendous bruise around the eye that had been hidden by his arm before.
Crikey!
Tail wagging Ophelia followed her. Ear to the phone Layla closed the door noiselessly and leant her back against it.
‘Layla? Is that you?’ Maggie’s voice on the phone made her want to cry. ‘I’m so sorry about Joe. You must be devastated. What was he thinking? He must be out of his mind. Are you okay?’
‘I’ve been better.’ Her heart sank. Maggie had seen the photos on Joe’s timeline. She hadn’t talked to her mum yet and the thought of facing Joe’s parents made her ill. But if Maggie had seen the pictures, so had everyone else.
‘Would you like me to come to Porthkara?’
She ached to tell her best friend, ‘Yes, come right away, I need you’ but it wouldn’t be fair and anyway it wouldn’t change anything, she’d have to face Joe’s big reveal on her own.
‘No, it’s okay. Look, there’s something you don’t know. Joe and me, we were finished a while ago. So technically he hasn’t done anything wrong.’
‘Flip Layla. I can’t believe you’ve been keeping something like that to yourself. You two have been through a bad patch, but it’s no excuse for what he’s done.’
‘It’s more than a bad patch. It’s over. I’m just sorry I didn’t tell anyone.’
‘I wish you’d told me. Why didn’t you?’
Layla’s back slid down the door and she sat on the kitchen floor feeling crumpled and unsure. ‘I didn’t know how to. And you had so much great stuff happening I didn’t want to spoil things.’ She closed her eyes fighting back tears, finally admitting, ‘I was in denial. I guess maybe I thought we could fix it. I was waiting for him to come home.’
‘He shouldn’t have gone in the first place. I can’t believe how selfish he’s been. He should have come home months ago. And now this? I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. Are you sure you don’t want me to come down there?’
‘I’ll be fine. Honest. You mustn’t worry. How are the babies?’ Layla changed the subject, holding back from opening up and confessing that she felt like she was living in a bad dream, multi-tasking like a crazy person, and wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. ‘I’m making a start on their room today.’
‘Beautiful. And exhausting. I’d no idea how full on twins would be.’
‘On the subject of twins … What exactly is Nick doing here?’
‘He’s arrived already? Oh my gosh. Is that why we’re whispering? I was about to give you the heads up. He’s broken up with his girlfriend. I said he could stay at the cottage. That’s alright with you, isn’t it? He’s promised not to get under your feet.’
‘Maggie, have you forgotten how small this place is? Of course he’s under my feet!’ With her free hand she picked at a spot of dried-on paint on the knee of her dungarees. ‘Right now he’s sprawled out in the living room. But more to the point, the bed’s in bits, the place reeks of paint, and there’s no hot water. Dad’s promised to take a look when he gets a moment. But I haven’t seen him for three days. It seems we get along best when we avoid each other.’
‘You poor love. I’m sorry. You could use some moral support. If I’d realized you were having a tough time too I’d have put Nick off. But he’s nice. Really. And anyway you two already know each other a little bit.’ Silence from Layla. ‘The wedding? Give him a chance. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be good for each other.’
Ophelia sat next to her on the kitchen tiles, her little warm body leaning into Layla’s side. She automatically stroked her head and tousled the fur behind her ears. ‘The thing is with all my other commitments the decorating isn’t going as fast as I’d like. The place is in a mess. What am I supposed to do with him?’
‘Now there’s a question.’ Maggie’s cheeky laugh resounded in her ears. ‘You’ll think of something. He won’t be there long. Just until his face heals.’
She clutched the phone tightly. ‘About that …’ A baby crying cut her short. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Phoebe.’ A second high-pitched cry echoed the first. ‘And there goes Horatio. Listen, I’ll have to hang up. Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. You’ve got your hands full.’
‘Let me know how things go. And if I can help with the Joe situation in any way you just have to say. Could you get away for a few days? We could try and find a corner for you here.’
‘I’ll survive. But thanks. Hug the babies for me.’
‘Take care of yourself.’
With that Maggie’s sparkly voice was gone and Layla was left with the beaten-up brother-in-law to add to her problems. For a few seconds she remained frozen on the cold kitchen tiles uncertain what to do. She’d been planning to spend the morning setting to work on a seaside-themed mural for Phoebe and Horatio. She’d sketched out lots of ideas, looking forward to getting creative.
Putting her best foot forward, she got up and crept out of the kitchen into the living room, quietly gathered up her stuff and tiptoed over to the stairs. Like a shadow, Ophelia went too. But the second Layla set foot on the bottom step it creaked loudly and Nick blinked open his eyes. Flustered, she set everything down again and crossed her arms defensively. The bracelet on her wrist jingled and its clasp caught on a shirt button. All fingers and thumbs, she tugged at it.
‘Red?’ He sat up and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. A lazy, impossibly sexy smile curved his lips. She bristled.
Fabulous. He’s forgotten my name.
‘Good morning,’ she said brightly, trying to sound like she’d fully expected to find a celebrity on the sofa. Putting two and two together she twigged that the appallingly badly parked sports car outside was his. ‘That monstrosity blocking the lane looks like an abandoned vehicle. If you don’t move it sharpish you’ll have the neighbourhood watch brigade after you.’
Nick stood up letting slip the throw that had loosely covered not much of him while he slept.
Not convinced that he wasn’t stark naked, she clapped a hand over her eyes and held up the other one like she was directing traffic. ‘Stop. On second thoughts, it can wait.’ He sank back onto the sofa, and through the gaps between her fingers she saw his smile spread impossibly wider.
‘That thing’s a mid-life crisis waiting to happen. As soon as day-trippers start arriving there’ll be a traffic jam.’ Disgruntled she grumbled her words out and gingerly lowering her hand pointed out irritably, ‘You’re much too young for a mid-life crisis.’
He laughed. ‘Okay I get it. You don’t like my car Red.’ His amused tone rumbled through her, spoilt by the fury that had kicked in when he called her by her hair colour. ‘It’s a rental.’
‘Couldn’t you get a bigger one?’
Ophelia barked enthusiastically and jumped up to lick his face. ‘I’m glad someone’s pleased to see me.’
Maggie and Alex’s wedding had been the first, and last, time Layla had seen him in the flesh, so to speak. And he hadn’t been in a state of undress then. As if, like Ophelia, he’d read her mind, he announced, ‘I’d better put some clothes on.’ The taunting glint in his eyes rattled her. ‘It was raining hard last night. I got wet so I stripped and crashed.’
Her gaze darted all around the room trying to avoid staring. Who knew Maggie would end up married to Hot Vampire Guy? And here was Even Hotter Vampire Guy. Not that she was a fan. She’d wanted to believe Maggie when she’d said he was quite nice really, but she wasn’t convinced. He had a dreadful reputation.
‘If you’ll excuse me I need to get on. I’ve promised to help out at the beach kiosk this afternoon. And I’ve got a shift at the restaurant later. The girl who usually washes up has pulled a sickie and headed off to a festival.’ She gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘Right this minute I’d sell my soul to just take flight like that.’
She briskly pulled the curtains and July sunshine poured into the room. ‘The window’s wide open.’ Wearily she remembered that she’d opened it to get rid of the paint smell, and been so ready to zonk out when she’d finished work on the cottage that she’d forgotten to close it. ‘Please tell me Maggie gave you a key? You didn’t climb in through the window in the night?’
‘She said to knock on your door and ask you to open up, but since I got here at 3 a.m. and a perfectly good window was open there didn’t seem any point.’
‘You broke in?’
‘In theory it wasn’t a break-in since somebody left the window open.’ He fixed her with his gaze and shrugged his strong, smooth shoulders, everything about him golden hues, apart from the marks on his face, strong evidence of his bad boy image. ‘It was late. I didn’t want to wake you from your beauty sleep Red.’
In the bright daylight she took in the bruise that circled his eye more clearly. The skin was livid and dark very swollen. ‘It’ll take more than sleep to make that beautiful, what happened?’ Her hand flew to cover her mouth, not in time to stop her adding, ‘Been in a fight?’
‘It’s a long story.’ Clearly a story he wasn’t about to tell.
Uneasy and annoyed at the intrusion, she walked towards the kitchen. It was uncool not to remember her name. And on what planet did he think it was okay to call a person by their hair colour?
‘Tea?’ She threw the question over her shoulder. ‘Don’t answer, because I’m making tea whether you want me to or not. I need it, even if you don’t.’
‘Tea would be lovely. Thank you.’ His drawl wound through her, making it hard to stay cross.
Layla’s nails tapped out an impatient rhythm on the worktop while she waited for the kettle to boil. Her nerves jangled.
He can’t stay here. He’s in the way. He’ll have to go.
She was in enough bother without a six-foot-something actor hiding out in the cottage while she painted. All she wanted to do herself was hide and paint, and there wasn’t enough room for two fugitives.
She poured hot water into a red polka dot teapot and watched a curl of steam rise from the spout. It wasn’t her call. Maggie had said it was fine – so she’d lump it.
Turning to grab a couple of flowery mugs, her skin prickled as she realized she was being watched. Dressed in jeans and a grey tee, Nick filled the doorframe. Her eyes about level with his broad chest, she tipped her head to meet his distracting face.
‘I’ve moved the car.’
‘Hopefully, none of the neighbours have called in the constabulary quite yet.’
Despite the shiner, his amazing almond-brown eyes triggered fantasies of places she’d like to go – Spain, California. She gritted her teeth, fighting his intensity.
He had the reputation of a scumbag. He was famous for it. The gossip mags claimed he’d treated his co-star girlfriend abominably, although if Maggie was to be believed that stuff was all rumour and nothing to do with reality. He hadn’t behaved badly at the wedding. She’d used the excuse that she’d been having physio for an ankle sprain to try to avoid dancing with him at the party. But he’d convinced her that it would be bad luck for the bridesmaid not to dance with the best man, and made himself impossible to resist. But still. Nice or not, Nick in Porthkara was the final straw.
Turning her back on him she took a bottle of milk from the fridge and poured the tea. Her grandmother’s lucky charm bracelet shifted slightly on her wrist. Somewhere down the line she reckoned the luck must have run out. As she passed him the hot mug their fingers clashed. Heat climbed up her neck and spread to her face no doubt turning it a colour that rivaled her hair dye. Zapped by awkward sparks, her hand fluttered up into her hair and landed on the pink silk scarf she’d tied it up with.
Crikey! What must I look like? Something the cat dragged in!
‘So why do you want to take flight?’
‘I didn’t mean that. I don’t really want to leave, not permanently at any rate.’
‘But?’ His gaze suddenly soft and serious trapped hers searchingly.
‘I was supposed to go travelling with my boyfriend. And I didn’t. I couldn’t. My mum was in an accident. Car crash. Head-on collision. She’s lucky to be alive. She was in intensive care for a week.’
‘She pulled through?’
‘She’s okay.’ She nodded earnestly. ‘No lasting damage, thank goodness. But that week was the longest of my life. It felt like the world had ended. The waiting was horrible.’ She shrugged it off, not relishing dredging up the memories. ‘It happened the night before we were due to go away. So I couldn’t leave. Joe went without me.’
‘Nice.’
‘Well, he said I could join him in Australia when I was ready.’ There was no point telling him all the little details. ‘With one thing and another it never happened.’
‘Why not go meet up with him now?’
‘It’s too late.’
‘It might not be.’
It was polite of him to show an interest, but she wished he wouldn’t. He wasn’t in full possession of the facts. ‘I finished with him, and I didn’t tell people and neither did he, and now I’m in a bind because it seems he got over me quicker than I got over him. He’s announced on social media that he’s gone and got married in Mexico.’
‘Ouch.’
‘So it’s not so much that I want to go far away or stay away a long time or anything, but just at the minute I’d love to escape.’
A gust of fresh sea air blew in fluttering the curtains. She inhaled deeply, welcoming the familiar smell of salt and home. Nick watched her sip her tea. At least being scrutinized by him was a distraction from the prospect of half the eyes in the village analyzing her. The idea of being an object of pity smarted terribly.
She looked at the kitchen clock. ‘Joe’s post went up on his timeline roughly twelve hours ago and that’s exactly how long I’ve been feeling like I want to run away.’
‘Am I getting this right? You’d like to scurry off somewhere and hide and instead you’re stuck with me. The unexpected guest.’ Nick gulped his tea. ‘I can only apologize.’
Ridiculously self-conscious, she fumbled in a cupboard for the emergency stash of chocolate biscuits. She popped off the tin’s lid and held it out to Nick, tightening her fingers to control the shake.
‘I’m being terribly rude. You’ve caught me on a bad day. Biscuit?’ She smiled, dredging up some cheerfulness she didn’t feel.
‘I’ve got a photo shoot coming up soon. I’m on a strict nutritional programme. I daren’t risk it.’
‘You wouldn’t risk it for a chocolate biscuit?’
He shook his head slowly, the line of his lips hard and tight.
‘I’d say “bad day” is one hell of an understatement. I have a suggestion. I’ll lie low here for as long it takes to sort my face out, keep out of your way, help you out in any way I can. And when it’s time for me to go you can tag along for a couple of days, keep me company on my photo shoot.’
‘That’s sweet, but really I couldn’t.’
‘Of course you could.’ The coaxing drawl fuddled her head. ‘It’ll be fun. The shoot’s in Paris.’