Chapter Twenty-Two

Nick couldn’t get the images he’d seen in yesterday’s paper out of his head. Lizzie with a tall, dark, dangerous-looking man, holding her as if he owned her. The quintessential brooding hero. Bronte’s Rochester. Austen’s Darcy. Involuntarily his hands clenched and he tried to remind himself that it was simply a carefully posed photograph to launch two new perfumes. Any sexual chemistry between the models was created purely for the cameras.

Wasn’t it?

He let out a deep, long breath and forced his fists to unclench. He’d know soon enough. Just as he’d know whether he was making this trip as her friend, or her lover. He was damned if he knew what he was supposed to be any more.

The taxi dropped him off outside her apartment block. The same one he’d found her hiding away in only a couple of months ago. He felt he’d lived a lifetime in the intervening weeks.

After checking in with the downstairs security, he called for the lift, his mind still back on the last time he’d been here.

‘Nick.’ He’d barely set foot in her corridor before she flung herself at him, hugging him in a vice like grip. Silky blonde hair brushed against his cheek. ‘I can’t believe you’re finally here.’

He sighed with pleasure as her familiar scent swept through his nostrils. She felt wonderful. More than wonderful. Bloody, amazingly, magnificent. ‘Lizzie.’ There were so many things he longed to say, but he could only just manage her name.

Taking hold of his hand, she led him into her apartment. ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to the airport to greet you. The media interest isn’t as bad as it was – they’ve found another target for a while, thank God – but I didn’t want to risk being noticed and dragging you into this crazy world. Well, not any more than you might have to be, because, you know, if they see you with me while you’re here, they’re bound to start taking photos and asking questions …’ She trailed off, obviously realising she was babbling. Was it possible she was nervous?

He shot out an arm and grabbed her round the waist. ‘Are you going to stop talking long enough so I can kiss you?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered softly. ‘Most definitely, yes.’

And then he did what he’d imagined doing all those nights they’d been apart. He placed his hands on either side of her gorgeous face, lowered his lips to hers and planted a tender kiss there. ‘Hello.’

Her arms wrapped round his neck and she pushed her mouth more firmly against his. ‘Hello back.’

She didn’t seem to be letting him go. In fact she was opening her mouth now, her tongue darting out to dance with his. To hell with it. He angled his head and kissed her deeper, longer. With more heat. Women who wanted to be just friends didn’t put their tongues down a man’s throat.

Lizzie’s fears that Nick would be distant, that he’d only come because she’d pestered him to, just as she’d pestered her parents two years ago, vanished as his hands rested on her hips, drawing her against his very obvious arousal.

‘I think the unpacking can wait,’ she announced huskily.

‘Too damn right.’ His mouth descended once more, devouring her with a hunger that took her breath away.

He’d gone from achingly tender, to scorchingly passionate, in the blink of an eye. Dazzled by the change of pace, Lizzie clung to him, moaning with delight as his hands crept under her blouse and teased their way over her breasts. Undone by his touch, she reached for his shirt, desperate to feel his skin and the tight, hard muscles underneath. When the small buttons started driving her mad, she opted to rip the thing off instead. It was much harder than she’d bargained for. ‘In the movies, these stupid buttons fly off,’ she mumbled in frustration, resorting to undoing each one in turn.

‘In the movies, I’d be the one ripping your clothes off,’ he countered, ignoring the buttons on her blouse and pulling it over her head. ‘There, at least I’ve got further than you.’

She undid the final button and had the satisfaction of pushing back his shirt and burrowing into the warm, hard chest. ‘Did I tell you how much I’ve missed you?’

He reached down and lifted her up into his arms. ‘I think you might have done, once or twice. Now it’s my turn to show you how much I’ve missed you.’ With that he strode purposefully towards the bedroom.

‘I think perhaps you did miss me, after all.’ Full of a warm, fuzzy contentment she traced circles on his chest with her index finger. ‘But maybe you could show me again, just so I’m sure.’

‘Always happy to oblige.’ He started to kiss her collarbone – who knew that was so sexy? – but the mood was interrupted by a ringing phone. ‘You could let it ring,’ he suggested, running his fingers down her sides.

The fact that she was tempted said a lot about the wonder of his touch. ‘But then I’d never know what I was missing out on. I’m far too nosey to do that.’

Smiling, she eased herself up and fumbled around for the phone on her bedside table. ‘Hey, Catherine.’

They exchanged the usual greetings, but Catherine being Catherine, soon got down to business.

‘Has that man of yours finally arrived then?’

‘He’s lying right next to me now.’ Oops, maybe she should have said sitting …

‘Oh dear, am I interrupting?’

‘No, no, you’re fine.’ Clearly bored of waiting, Nick eased himself behind her and began to kiss the nape of her neck. Her skin tingled. ‘Perhaps we could speed this conversation up a bit though?’

An amused chuckle sounded down the phone. ‘I’m having a party at my house tomorrow. Nothing formal, just a small gathering. I’d love you to come.’

‘A party tomorrow?’ she repeated, turning to glance questioningly at Nick. Head bent, poised to kiss her shoulder, he paused and looked up. The smile he gave her was so forced, it almost made her giggle. ‘Yes, we’d love to come. Thank you.’

‘You should have left it ringing,’ he mumbled when she came off the phone.

Smiling sweetly, she crawled back under the duvet. ‘Come on, cheer up, it won’t be that bad. A party, in Beverly Hills? Some people would give their eye teeth for an invite.’ She traced the corners of his mouth with her tongue. ‘You never know, you might even enjoy it.’

‘Perhaps.’

He still wasn’t smiling, so she planted a kiss on his nose. ‘When was the last party you went to?’

He wrinkled his brow. ‘Your eighteenth?’

‘You’re kidding.’ When he didn’t refute his answer, she shook her head in disgust. ‘Well, I’m not going to apologise for accepting then. Two parties in eight years isn’t much to ask of you, is it?’

Finally he crooked her a smile. ‘I guess I can manage it. Once every four years is about the right average.’

They spent the following morning visiting Robert and then driving along the coast to Malibu, dropping down onto the beach when Lizzie felt sure they were away from prying eyes. It was a stunning coastline and Nick could tell Lizzie was enjoying showing it to him, much as he’d loved showing her the countryside around his barn. Which did she prefer, he wondered, then stopped himself. Now wasn’t the time to go down that route.

They slipped off their shoes and walked along the sand, their footprints looking slightly incongruous. Hers so slender and dainty next to his hulking size thirteens.

‘When do we have to be at the party?’ He winced.

‘We don’t have to go anywhere.’ Ah, she’d picked up on his lack of enthusiasm then. ‘Seriously, I can phone and cancel. I don’t care what we do, as long as I’m with you.’

As he had done yesterday, when she’d greeted him so wholeheartedly, Nick felt another fluttering of hope. Could he dare to believe she was growing to love him? That they did have a future together? Sure her place was here, so he’d have to be the one to move, but if she really did love him, he could do that, couldn’t he? There were differences between accounting in the US and Britain, but he had a brain. He could learn. There was still the fact that the life she led, filled with parties and celebrity friends, would slowly drive him crazy, but again, he could try to like it. He wasn’t completely socially inept. ‘I’m fine with going,’ he replied, and it was almost the truth.

Her expression told him she doubted his words.

‘I’d have to be a fool to miss out on the opportunity of mingling with LA’s finest,’ he added in an attempt to reinforce his statement. ‘I presume I will see some stars?’

‘Well, Tom Cruise won’t be flying in, if that’s what you mean, but, yes, you’ll probably recognise a few faces.’

‘And the dress code? I’m not sure I packed the tuxedo.’ He’d intended the words to be tongue in cheek, but suddenly realised it could actually be a posh affair, for all he knew. His face must have registered his horror, because she laughed.

‘Don’t fret. It’s an informal do at Catherine’s house – she’s the friend who lent us the villa. You can keep the tux in your case.’ She took his hand and tugged. ‘It’s probably time we were heading back. If we go now, we might manage a little siesta before we need to get ready.’

Her eyes burned back at him, and desire kicked in, fast and hot. Lizzie knew exactly which buttons to press to get a reaction from him. She always had. ‘Sounds good,’ he croaked.

The siesta had come and gone – with no sleeping involved – and Nick found himself getting ready for a party. A phrase he didn’t use very often. Lizzie had said casual, but to Nick’s mind casual meant jogging bottoms and somehow he couldn’t see this LA set turning up in a bunch of shell suits. Instead he opted to wear a blue linen shirt, chino trousers and the one jacket he’d brought with him. It was part determination not to be under dressed and part armour. In a jacket, or even better, a suit, he became Nicholas Templeton, partner in a thriving accountancy firm. That man was self-assured and assertive. Confident of his place at the business table. Nick Templeton, sometime boyfriend of the glamorous supermodel Elizabeth Donavue, was an entirely different matter. It was a role he’d only ever played in his dreams before now. And in his dreams, he thought despairingly as he surveyed himself in the mirror, he didn’t look like a flaming stuffed shirt.

He let out a resigned sigh. To hell with it. There was no time to change now. Even if there was, his small holdall was hardly crammed full with hot party gear – whatever that was. Her crowd would have to accept him as he was. It wasn’t as if they’d be regularly running in to each other. Unless he moved here …

He gave his hair a final cursory comb and went to hunt down some Dutch courage in the kitchen.

Delving into the fridge, he smiled with relief when he found a bottle of cold beer. Easing off the top, he settled against the counter and waited for Lizzie to make her entrance. He wasn’t disappointed. Five minutes later she positively floated into the room in a soft, ice blue, silk number. He wondered why he’d wasted his energy worrying about what to wear. No one, absolutely no one, was going to give him a second glance when he turned up with that vision by his side.

‘You look …’ His mind fumbled for the words. Why was he so useless when it came to complimenting a woman? No, that wasn’t true. Complimenting this woman.

‘Ravishing? Amazing? Glorious?’ she supplied, giving him a twirl, eyes alight with amusement.

‘Yeah, all of those things,’ he agreed, taking her hand and pulling her towards him. ‘Add breathtaking, too.’ He nibbled the soft lobe of her ear. ‘And good enough to eat.’

Giggling, she wriggled out of his grasp. ‘Oh no, you don’t. I can see your ploy, distract her with flattery and kisses and we’ll end up in bed and miss the party.’

‘Sounds like a good plan to me.’

‘Only because you’ve not spent an hour doing your hair and make-up.’

He planted some teasing kisses along her neck. Wow, she smelt as fantastic as she looked. ‘I can be careful.’

‘I bet you can, but you’ll have to wait till later.’ Her neck was no longer in striking distance. She’d moved ahead and was pulling at his arm. ‘Come on, it’s time to party.’

Nick gave in to the inevitable and followed her out. Perhaps the evening wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.