Chapter Twenty-One

It had been four weeks since she’d last seen Nick. Four seemingly endless weeks since he’d looked down at her with those expressive brown eyes and told her if she didn’t take up the Astella offer, she’d regret it.

Right now, exhausted from a 5 a.m. start and roasting under hot camera lights, Lizzie was pretty sure he was wrong. The desire to model had been in her head and her heart from an early age, but a lot had happened in the eight years since she’d left England, all starry eyed, to model in New York. Sure she’d made a steady rise to the top, but on the journey up there she’d lost everything that was really important to her. Her family, her dignity and her sense of identity.

Somewhere along the line she also seemed to have lost her love for modelling. Where once it had been fun, an opportunity to travel and mingle with people she’d never otherwise have a chance of meeting, now she could only see it as a way to be near Robert and pay for his care. She had no skills other than her ability to pose in front of the camera, so while she could, she had to make the most of the one asset she had. In her heart though, she wasn’t modelling in LA. She was back in England, living in the country. With Nick.

She’d finally fallen head over heels in love, and it had to be with a man who lived thousands of miles away from her. But if living with him was pie in the sky, surely it wasn’t too much to ask to see him now and again? Despite a fair degree of prodding though, so far Nick hadn’t committed to a date to fly over. If she had any sense she’d know he was being evasive, and leave it.

Instead she found herself dialling his number after the shoot.

‘Hello, Nick Templeton’s phone.’

Expecting to hear Nick’s deep voice, Lizzie was nonplussed to hear the voice of a woman. A young, breathy sounding woman. It left her totally wrong-footed.

‘Where’s Nick?’

‘He’s just popped out. He’ll be back any minute. Can I tell him who’s called?’ The woman on the other end of the phone was composure itself.

‘Could you ask him to phone Lizzie?’ In her daze, she nearly forgot her manners. ‘Please.’

Of course there were dozens of perfectly logical explanations for why a woman was answering his personal mobile phone at nine o’clock at night, and none of them required either party to be naked. So why couldn’t she think of any of them right now? Why could she only remember his hesitancy about coming out to see her?

Lost in her dark thoughts, she almost missed hearing her phone ring.

‘Hi, Lizzie, it’s Nick.’

She’d been dying to talk to him, but now she was, she didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you for phoning back.’ Formal and polite – very different from how she’d have been if he’d answered his own stupid phone.

‘No problem. How are things in the hotbed of LA?’

It was no use. She couldn’t have a casual conversation with him when her mind was screaming who was the woman who answered your phone? ‘Where are you, Nick?’ she asked sharply.

‘Still at work. Why? Are you okay? You sound a bit odd.’

‘Why did that woman answer your mobile?’

‘Who, Sally? I guess she must have heard it ringing on my desk when I dashed out to buy a sandwich.’

Her heart went into free fall. ‘The same Sally you were seeing?’

‘Yes.’

There was a humming silence while she worked out what to say that wouldn’t make her sound like a paranoid, jealous bitch. ‘I assumed … I mean, I thought …’ We were still in a relationship. God, had she been totally stupid? Was it out of sight, out of mind for him?

‘Lizzie, what’s wrong? Surely you don’t believe …’ She heard him exhale sharply. ‘I’m not seeing her again, if that’s what you’re thinking. We’re both in the office. Working.’

Slowly she let out the breath she’d been holding. Okay, now he’d explained, maybe she did sound paranoid. But it was easy to be paranoid when you were thousands of miles away from the man you loved. ‘So I don’t need to get on a plane and challenge her to a duel at dawn?’

A soft huff. ‘You don’t need to get on a plane for that reason, no.’ Before she could ask him if he wanted her to get on a plane for a different reason – to see him – he was talking again. ‘You seem to have forgotten I’m a workaholic accountant. You, on the other hand, have been draping yourself over hot male models. I’ve far more grounds to be jealous than you.’

Her heart thumped. ‘And are you?’

‘What, of those handsome male models? Of course I am.’

For the first time since she’d answered the phone, the hand holding it relaxed. ‘Good, then we’re even.’

Not by a long way, he thought grimly. Still, the fact that she’d been jealous at the thought of him going back to Sally was a welcome massage to his ego. Even if it was well off the mark. Sally had been interested enough, but there was no way he could go back to the hollow relationship he had with her. Not after getting a taste of what a real relationship would feel like. One with the woman he loved totally. Absolutely. Hopelessly. ‘Back to my original question. How’s the world of modelling?’

‘There have been some good days. I’ve just come back from a shoot in Mauritius.’

He whistled. ‘I’m starting to regret asking you now.’

‘It wasn’t a patch on our few days in Sardinia.’

‘That’s more like it.’

He heard a soft sigh. ‘I hate to sound like a broken record, but when are you coming to see me?’

Time for his stock response. ‘Well, I’ve got quite a lot on at the moment.’

‘So you keep telling me. I’m beginning to think you don’t want to see me.’

How wrong could she be? At the airport he’d barely managed to stop himself from blurting out yes to her plea to stay with him. Only the knowledge that the quiet pace of life with him would soon become a noose around her neck, slowly strangling the sparkle and vitality from her, had made him see sense. She was like a stunning, rare butterfly. He could enjoy her when she fluttered into his life occasionally, but there was no way he could keep her caged.

‘Nick? Are you still there?’

He shook himself. ‘Yes, I’m here. Sorry, I’m a bit distracted at the moment. I really do have a lot of work lined up, which is why I’m still at the office at nine o’clock at night.’ Though if he’d thought for one moment there was a chance for them, he’d have dumped the work on a junior colleague weeks ago and dashed across to see her.

‘Okay, I hear how busy you are. Message received, loud and clear.’

The hurt in her voice was unmistakable, even across thousands of miles. ‘Lizzie, if it helps any, I miss you. A lot.’

‘Good. I miss you, too.’

Her voice sounded so fragile, as if she was trying not to cry. God he hated this. Being so far from her was agony. Where once he’d been strong, keeping his feelings hidden, keeping his distance, now he was so flipping weak, it was pitiful. ‘How about in a week’s time?’ he blurted. ‘I can probably take a few days.’

‘Oh, yes, please. Stay as long as you can.’

His dumb heart lifted at her words. It didn’t care that she was a supermodel, living in the glitz of LA and he was an English accountant who fled to the quiet of the countryside at weekends. No, his heart figured while she still wanted to see him, it still had a chance with her. ‘Well, I’d better go back to putting together my spreadsheet on accelerated depreciation. I guess you’d better go back to wrapping yourself around those male models.’

‘See you soon,’ she whispered softly.

A few evenings later, feeling better than she had done in weeks now she had the promise of seeing Nick, Lizzie put on her best public face and attended the launch party of the new fragrance she was promoting. Innocence. The irony of the name, after what she’d been through, wasn’t lost on the thousands of people who flocked to see the launch. Nor was it lost on Hank, the broodingly handsome, annoyingly temperamental, model who’d been chosen as the face of Astella’s latest fragrance for men. Sin. It was an essence that oozed from him as he swaggered up to her.

‘At last, Elizabeth has come out to play.’ With a proprietary air, he tugged at a lock of her hair.

‘I’ve come out to do my job,’ she corrected stiffly. ‘Not to play.’ On the previous occasions they’d met he’d left her in no doubt she was on his list of potential targets. Women he’d zero in on, capture and spit out when he’d had enough. Several months ago there had been a moment, a wild scary moment, when she’d nearly let herself be caught. Instead she’d started dating Charles. Out of the frying pan … into a raging inferno.

‘Come on, don’t disappoint me. I’ve seen how good you are at playing,’ he murmured silkily. ‘Thanks to those recent photographs we all have.’

His dark words were a sickening reminder of how, despite the statement of admission from Charles, the memories of that sordid episode would be hard to exorcise. Most people she’d mixed with since her return had been sympathetic and kind, but there would always be the Hanks of this world. Ready to bait and needle her. ‘I’ll do my job with you, Hank. Nothing more.’

He laughed, his black eyes glittering. ‘What’s wrong? One man no longer enough for you? I can assure you, I’m all the man you’ll ever need.’

Her stomach churned and a cold sweat pricked at her skin. What type of woman had she turned into that she’d nearly slept with Hank? Had actually slept with the cold-blooded blackmailer, Charles? The Lizzie of old – secure, bristling with confidence, happy, albeit with the occasional bouts of loneliness – wouldn’t have given men like Hank and Charles the time of day. But the woman who’d emerged from the agony of her parents’ death was chillingly different. Not outwardly, perhaps, but inside, in her head. She was riddled with such heavy guilt it was like a poison, eating away at her mind. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t have known the tragic consequences of her simple plea for her family to visit her. In her head, their deaths were her fault. Since then she’d started to punish herself, dangerously associating with men she knew would treat her badly. Back in England, her time with Nick had been a special treat. Something she hadn’t deserved but had snatched at greedily, hoping his goodness would rub off on her. Now she was in LA again, and terrified of falling back into her old ways.

‘Elizabeth, Hank, we need you for the photo call.’

Hank arched his eyebrow and smiled cynically, holding out his arm for her to take. ‘Come along, sugar. It’s time to drape adoringly over me for the cameras. Later I might let you do it for real.’

Gritting her teeth, Lizzie took his arm, knowing it was what the company needed from her, and what the media were expecting. Innocence and Sin. Two new faces for Astella’s two new perfumes. As Innocence she had to stand and smile sweetly, looking coy while Sin tried to tempt her down a different path.

The cameras flashed as Hank smouldered down at her, draping his arm possessively round her shoulders, his grip biting into her skin. Next to him she stood tensely, trying to imagine it was Nick, not Hank, who was holding her. But the arrogance of Hank’s tight hold, the cruel, knowing smile that played across his lips as she flinched, was so far removed from the quiet, gentle intensity of Nick it made her want to weep.

As soon as she was able to escape, Lizzie excused herself and dashed off to the Ladies’. There she stood, hands braced against the sink, trying to quell the nausea swirling around in her stomach. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to pretend to like a man for the cameras. It was part of her job, part of the fantasy she was paid to create. So why now was it such an ordeal? Was it because it was Hank? Or would she have felt the same revulsion towards any man who held her in such a possessive way? Any man who wasn’t Nick.