Chapter Fourteen

When she woke the next morning, Lizzie was convinced a herd of buffalo were stampeding through her head. There couldn’t be any other explanation for the incessant pounding. Clutching at her temple, she lay back against the pillow and sighed deeply. She was twenty-six, not sixteen. Old enough to have learnt when to stop drinking. Experienced enough to know if she didn’t, she paid for it the next day, in spades. Staggering off the bed, which brought a whole new dimension of dizziness and nausea to the uproar in her head, she fumbled around in her handbag for the paracetamol tablets she had the sense to keep there. It was just a shame she hadn’t had the sense to take the flipping things last night. After swallowing a couple, she snuggled under the duvet and drifted back to sleep.

When she woke again an hour later, the herd of buffalo had slowed to a walk and she felt strong enough to risk getting out of bed. As she peeled off last night’s clothes – nice, who said models today didn’t have standards – she saw a note that had been pushed under her door. Hope your head survived. Give me a call when you surface, Nick.

Smug bastard. Scrunching up the paper, she called him all kinds of names under her breath. Why wasn’t he suffering, like she was? Weren’t they both meant to have been drinking? Wasn’t that the point of sharing a bottle? Clearly not when you shared one with Nick Templeton. He obviously preferred to ease back and watch while his companion made a fool of herself. Charming.

Slowly she made her way down the stairs, thanking all those painful lessons in deportment that enabled her to keep her head reasonably still. When she reached the kitchen she grabbed at the phone and dialled Nick’s number.

‘Templeton.’

‘Why did you let me drink so much, you bastard?’

A deep chuckle echoed down the line. ‘The mood you were in, there was no stopping you. I certainly wasn’t prepared to risk a punch in the ribs trying. Anyway, it probably did you good to let your hair down.’

‘That’s not what my head is saying right now.’

Again he laughed. ‘Drink lots of water, take some headache tablets and go for a long walk. You’ll feel right as rain in a few hours.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ve done the first two already and I still feel lousy.’ She hesitated. ‘Did I say or do anything embarrassing last night?’

‘You mean other than inviting yourself into my bed?’

She swore, and was rewarded with more rich laughter. ‘If you were a decent man you’d have got drunk with me. At least then neither of us would remember what we said the next morning.’

‘I think it’s a good job I stayed sober.’

She had a burning memory of the feel of his lips on hers. ‘Perhaps.’

Silence hung between them for a few seconds. ‘Well, enjoy your day, Lizzie. I’ll try not to be late back.’

With a heavy heart she put down the phone. So, it seemed she’d propositioned Nick twice now. Sure, both times she’d been the worse for drink. But both times he’d turned her down.

And now he was back in the office where his sometime lover also worked. Her heart twisted. God, she hated this feeling. Unrequited love. What a romantic phrase for a really shitty feeling.

She took Nick’s advice and went for a long walk in the fresh air. Maybe it was the walk, or the tablets finally kicking in, but she felt better for it as she strode back towards the barn. That was until she was accosted by two men, one carrying a camera with a giant zoom lens.

‘Miss Donavue, how would you describe your relationship with Nicholas Templeton?’

She glared at him and continued to walk.

‘Is he your new lover?’

She was used to dealing with the press, especially speculation about her love life, so this shouldn’t be fazing her, but it was. She didn’t feel like Elizabeth Donavue any more. She felt like Lizzie. And Lizzie didn’t want to discuss her personal life with this man. Nor did she want that prying camera lens shoved at her face.

‘Does he mind that you were recently photographed in bed with two other men?’ The journalist continued, keeping pace with her. ‘Are you planning on making it a foursome?’

‘Leave me the hell alone,’ she bit out angrily, immediately breaking her first rule of dealing with the press. Never let them see they’ve upset you. She ran the remaining way, opening the door with shaking hands and slamming it shut behind her. Then she slumped to the floor, wrapped her arms around her legs and began to cry.

The sound of a ringing phone cut into her misery. After wiping crossly at her wet cheeks, she stumbled to her feet to answer it.

‘Hello?’

‘There you are. I’ve been trying to get hold of you. How’s the head now?’

How did Nick seem to know when she needed him? Was he psychic? ‘It’s much better, thanks.’

There was a pause. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine.’ Despite her best efforts, she heard her voice crack.

‘No you’re not. What’s happened?’

She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. She couldn’t go moaning to Nick every time she had a minor crisis.

‘You can’t fool me, Lizzie. I can tell you’re upset.’

A lump lodged in her throat and she suddenly forgot all about trying to be strong and independent. ‘There was another reporter here this morning, asking about our relationship. Wondering if you’re my latest lover.’

‘Damn.’ She could almost hear his brain ticking. ‘What did you say?’

‘I lost it and told him to leave me alone. I should have stuck to no comment. Or simply put them straight.’

‘Hey, don’t worry. They’re just trying to needle you into admitting something that will give them a story. Though I hardly think the supermodel dating an accountant qualifies as one.’ He let out a short, sharp breath. ‘Or maybe it does, because it’s so unbelievable.’

‘Why? Because supermodels aren’t bright enough?’

He snorted with disbelief. ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.’ This time the breath he let out was deeper and longer. ‘Look, stay inside. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

‘You don’t need to rush back on my account,’ she muttered, still not sure what he meant by his previous comment. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Of course you are. You always cry when you’re doing okay.’ He paused and when he spoke again his tone was much softer. ‘It’s okay to feel upset, Lizzie. Having people prying into your private life is bound to be distressing. Go and take a bath, read a book, or do whatever you usually do to chill out.’

‘Eat chocolate. Though most of the time I have to make do with thinking about eating it.’

He laughed, breaking the tension. ‘Okay then, go and stuff your face with a bar of Dairy Milk. I’ll see you later.’

Unsettled, Lizzie stared at the phone. Men. They were nothing but trouble. Even the good ones, like Nick, were capable of scrambling a woman’s mind, tearing at her emotions. What she needed more than anything was a chat with a member of her own sex.

Knowing just the woman, she dashed up the stairs to her bedroom and plucked her mobile phone from her handbag. The phone she’d kept turned off ever since the scandal had broken. After waiting for it to find a signal she watched with trepidation as it bleeped and buzzed, updating with all her messages. There were hundreds. Missed calls, voice messages, texts. It looked like everyone she’d ever worked with had been in contact with her. Lizzie ignored the lot of them and went into her contacts. She had one really good friend in LA – an actress she’d met at a charity event. Though she was a fair bit older than Lizzie, they’d hit it off immediately. She was the one woman Lizzie felt able to talk to about things other than fashion and make-up.

‘Catherine, it’s me, Elizabeth.’

The lady on the other end of the phone screeched with pleasure and immediately began to bombard her with questions in her slight Californian drawl. How was she holding up? Why hadn’t she returned any of her calls? And finally – when those were answered and apologies made – where was she?

‘I’m in England, staying with an old friend.’ Lizzie wondered if her careful reply had sounded casual enough.

‘What sort of friend are we talking, my dear? Friend as in purely platonic, or friend as in you want to jump his bones?’

‘A bit of both?’ She replied on a laugh, appreciating Catherine’s directness as it was so similar to her own.

‘Umm. So you haven’t slept with this friend yet?’

‘We’ve shared one kiss, that’s all.’ Her mind went back to that moment after she’d woken from the nightmare. ‘One breathtaking, hotter than hot, kiss. Apparently I also propositioned him, only I was the worse for alcohol and don’t remember. Needless to say, he turned me down.’

‘Do you want to sleep with him?’

‘Yes.’ The word slipped out quickly, instinctively – bypassing her brain and coming straight from her heart.

‘And what about him? Do you think he feels the same way?’

Her mind replayed conflicting images. Nick’s eyes when they rested on her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Nick pushing her away after their kiss, promising he would keep his hands to himself. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Then, my dear, I know exactly what you need to do. Take him out of England and into the sun for a few days. I’ll email you the details of my villa. Use it. A little holiday will do you good, and if you lie round the pool in one of those tiny bikinis of yours, the man won’t be able to resist.’

It sounded heavenly, but was it really that simple? ‘I’m not sure.’

‘About which part? The holiday or the sex?’

A giggle exploded out of her. ‘Oh, Catherine, it’s so good to talk to you. I’m sure the holiday will do me the power of good, and I’m equally sure the sex would be great, too.’ For a moment she halted, aware of how odd that sounded. ‘Funny, I guess I should be scared off it for life after what I’ve just been through.’

‘Perhaps you would be, if you could remember any of what happened.’

‘It certainly helps that I don’t.’ A small shudder ran through her. ‘I felt violated looking at the photos, I still do, but then Nick came along and …’ Snippets of the night before came back to her. The feel of his muscular arm beneath her fingers. The warmth from his body as it had stood so close to hers. The heat in his eyes. ‘Let’s just say it’s no longer the sex I’m unsure about. It’s what will happen after it.’

‘Hopefully, my dear, it will be so good you’ll do it again. And again.’

The image of her and Nick stretched out on a bed, their limbs entwined, was enough to make her toes curl. ‘But then what? Won’t it just make coming back to LA even more difficult?’

‘Elizabeth Donavue, I thought you were a live for the moment kind of gal. Go, have fun. The future will work itself out.’

Lizzie wanted to take that advice so much that she could almost feel the sand between her toes. ‘You know what? I might just take you up on that offer of the villa after all.’

Back in his London office, Nick finally gave up and saved the document he’d been working on. It was doomed to not get finished today. First he’d had Sally, and their not-quite-as-easy-as-it-should-have-been catch-up lunch. Then the call from Lizzie.

As he closed down his computer he thought back to his talk with Sally. Although he’d been in the office several times since Lizzie had turned up, Sally had been busy visiting clients. Today had been the first time they’d been able to meet up. For a woman who’d reassured him she was fine about Lizzie, her eyes had suggested something different. While he had no doubt her heart wasn’t involved, her ego was another matter.

‘You know if the situation was reversed,’ he’d told her when the stilted conversation had got too much for him, ‘and you were sharing a home with a man you’d been in love with for years, I’d feel put out.’

She’d smiled sadly at him. ‘Okay, you’re right. I’m not finding this as easy as I thought I would. Or as easy as I want it to feel,’ she added with emphasis.

He’d realised then that no relationship involving something as intimate as sex was ever uncomplicated. ‘I think we should call time while we’re still friends,’ he’d told her, very aware of the irony of his statement. It was exactly what he feared with Lizzie, that loss of friendship should either of them act on the sexual chemistry now simmering between them.

Only with Lizzie, his heart would be shattered, too.

Sally had seemed surprised, and a little … annoyed, perhaps even upset, at his statement. As they’d stood to leave she’d given him a lingering kiss on the mouth, as if trying to prove something to him. He’d spent the next few hours wondering if her heart had been more involved in their relationship than he’d thought.

Then Lizzie had called, and Sally had immediately slipped from his mind.

Now he was anxious to leave.

He was halfway out of the door when the sound of the phone ringing on his desk halted him.

In two minds whether to answer it or not, he glanced at his watch – only 4.30 pm. For a man renowned for religiously working a minimum of ten hours a day, his recent coming and going on a whim was starting to raise a few eyebrows. He might be a partner, but he wasn’t unsackable. ‘Templeton,’ he barked into the receiver.

‘Ah, so you do go to work occasionally.’ The sweetly sarcastic voice of his sister.

‘I’m nearly always working.’

‘That used to be true, until a certain model appeared on the scene again. Now when I try your office, you’re hardly ever there.’

With a sigh of resignation, he sat back down at his desk. ‘Was there a purpose to this call, or is it wind up my brother time?’

‘I see having a glamorous houseguest hasn’t improved your manners. I was phoning, darling brother, to see how you and Lizzie were getting on. I’d have phoned your mobile, but I wasn’t sure if she’d be with you. This way I can ask all the questions I want to ask.’

A sliver of panic rippled through him. ‘We’re getting on fine.’

‘Are you sleeping with her yet?’

Good God. He eased open the top button of his shirt and slid his tie down enough so he could breathe again. ‘Of course I’m not.’ It was hard to know which was the more far-fetched. The idea of him sleeping with a glamorous supermodel, or the truth. The idea of him sharing the same roof as the woman he loved and not sleeping with her.

‘Why not? You’ve had a thing for her for ages, and now she’s living with you. Blimey, Nick, you’ll never get a better opportunity than this.’

‘I’m not sure I need relationship advice from my baby sister, thank you very much.’ Was it him, or was his office suddenly uncomfortably hot?

‘That same baby sister is happily living with the man she loves. She wasn’t too scared to go after what she wanted.’

‘I’m not scared.’ Liar. You’re terrified Lizzie will laugh at you and never be able to look you in the eye ever again. ‘But it’s … well … complicated.’

‘All relationships are. What’s so complex about this one?’

‘She thinks of me as a brother. She lives in America. She’s recovering from a sex ordeal.’ The barriers slipped easily off his tongue. ‘Do I need to go on, because I can. She’s way out of my league, she loves parties and the limelight—’

‘Enough,’ Charlotte stopped him in mid-flow. ‘That sounds like a list of excuses, not a list of genuine reasons that might keep you from getting together, even if it’s only for a passionate, romantic, short-term fling.’ When he didn’t reply, just huffed into the silence, she sighed. ‘I can tell you’re anxious to rush back to your cosy life in the country, so I won’t keep you. Just do yourself a favour, Nick. Don’t analyse this too much. Relationships aren’t something you can work out on a spreadsheet.’

She put the phone down before he could muster up a suitable, pithy reply. Sisters. Sometimes they thought they knew everything. Yanking his tie further down, he picked up his briefcase and walked out to his car. As he drove the long commute back to the barn, he couldn’t help but think what an odd existence he had at the moment, caught between two lives. Between country dweller and city lawyer. Between friend and lover.