Chapter Four

As Nick drove through the country lanes, Lizzie felt the tug on her heart. The villages they drove through looked very familiar.

‘We’re not far from where we used to live, are we?’

He shook his head, though his eyes remained fixed on the road. ‘The barn is about half an hour from your parents’ old place.’

The ache in her chest, the one that never really disappeared, just quietened when her mind was busy, started to gnaw at her. It felt wrong to be driving to another home. To know that even if they were heading to her old home, her mum and dad wouldn’t be there.

Another family would.

Suddenly a warm hand found hers, clasping it tightly with his strong fingers. She glanced up and Nick gave her a quick, understanding smile, his eyes full of sympathy. I know, he told her silently. I’m here for you.

Emotion shot into the back of her throat and she took a deep, steadying breath. For the first time in years she realised she didn’t have to cover up what she was thinking. Pretend everything was okay. Not with Nick.

That thought alone was enough to steady her.

Ten minutes later, Nick turned the four-wheel drive down a dirt track. Ahead of them was a stunning glass-fronted barn conversion, nestled between the rolling hills. As a place to hide away from everything, and everyone, it was damned near perfect.

‘Wow, is this really it?’

He nodded.

‘But it’s gorgeous.’ She was already itching to jump out of the car and take a look inside. ‘You let me rabbit on about the places I’ve bought, all the while knowing you were taking me to this.’

Nick gave her a sideways glance. ‘Property isn’t too expensive out here. It’s not a big deal. Not compared to what you have.’

Was there a trace of bitterness in his voice? She studied him as he manoeuvred the car round the potholes. No, it wasn’t that. He’d never coveted what others had. Yet there was something. Resignation? Anger? Sadness? ‘Don’t put yourself down. You’re a partner in a thriving accountancy practice. It’s what you always wanted to do. I can’t imagine you’d be jealous of my career.’

‘Jealous? No. It’s just you live in a world a million miles away from mine.’ The wistful tone to his voice had her scrutinising his face, but he quickly masked whatever he was feeling with a quick smile. ‘Anyway, there’s no way I’d want to earn a living by taking my clothes off and pouting at the camera.’ She delivered a smart thump to his arm. ‘Ouch.’

‘It’s the least you deserve,’ she told him, opening the car door. ‘I’ll refrain from delivering the riposte you warrant, which goes something along the lines of who on earth would pay you to do that anyway, because I’ll be relying on your generous nature for a while.’ Jumping down from the car she took in a lungful of fresh air. ‘Wow, you can’t beat the smell of the English outdoors. A combination of grass and sheep poo. So, are you going to show me round this country pad of yours, or do I have to nosey by myself?’

Nick fetched her case out of the boot, commenting, ‘Mulberry, I see,’ and went to open the front door. ‘Nosey all you like. I’m going to check what there is to eat.’

Lizzie needed no further encouragement and dashed towards the barn like a greyhound after a hare. It was definitely different from the sleek modern places that littered LA. The door opened into a small hallway, but her eyes skipped over the flagstone floor, the local paintings that lined the wall, drawn instead to the room at the end. Her mouth gaped as she walked into the main living area. Weathered oak beams dominated the vaulted ceiling, and huge windows looked out onto the garden and across to the neighbouring fields, flooding the interior with light. To one end was an inglenook fireplace, complete with wood-burning stove and lined with row upon row of neatly stacked logs. The sight made her smile. It was so Nick: prepared for a blizzard, even in spring.

To the side of the living room, where Nick was opening various cupboards, was the kitchen. All granite and gleaming stainless steel, with windows overlooking the hills.

Comfortable yet tasteful was how she’d describe it, which wasn’t a huge surprise. Just as Nick himself was good-looking, yet understated, traditional but not dull, so was his barn.

‘Am I allowed upstairs?’ she called out.

‘As it’s where you’ll be sleeping,’ his voice floated back to her, his head now inside the fridge. ‘It’s probably a good idea.’

Eagerly she climbed the sturdy oak stairs to the first floor where she found two bedrooms, both with en suite bathrooms. It wasn’t hard to guess Nick’s bedroom. The biggest, dominated by a giant wooden bed, the navy duvet stretched neatly across it without a single wrinkle to be seen. Feeling slightly sneaky she opened the wardrobe door. Jumpers and T-shirts were meticulously folded on the shelves, ironed shirts and several smart jackets hanging from the rail.

Smiling again to herself she took a peek at his en suite – and her heart stuttered at the Clinique bottles on the shelf by the window. The second toothbrush in the holder. So he did have a woman in his life. Not one who stayed here often enough to leave her clothes in the wardrobe, but a regular enough visitor to leave a second set of toiletries in his bathroom.

You can’t have seriously expected him to live like a monk, she told herself crossly. She certainly hadn’t.

The sharp reminder of why she was here brought a sting to her eyes. No, she wasn’t going to cry. She’d done enough of that.

Closing the door to the en suite she walked briskly past the second bedroom, which she guessed would be hers so would check out later, and onto the last room. A study; clearly where Nick worked when he was away from the office.

She broke into a grin on discovering the framed rugby shirt on the wall and the antique leather ball in an oak display cabinet. He’d loved all sport, but rugby had been his passion. Robert’s too. Many an hour she’d spent on a field in the pouring rain, watching the pair of them being tackled into the mud. A wave of nostalgia swept through her. Happy, happy times.

Fighting back the emotion she took several deep, steadying breaths and started to walk back down the stairs. The sight of Nick bending down to light the stove made her hesitate. Suddenly she was struck by how intimate this was. She was going to be sharing his home. Just the two of them. Yes, he was someone she’d known all her life, a man she had once looked on as a brother. But that had been a long time ago. He wasn’t her brother, and the feelings he stirred in her were far from those of a sibling. There was still this incredible pull whenever she looked at him. Something time, and a string of supposedly gorgeous hot dates, hadn’t managed to dim.

As if aware of her presence, he turned round and smiled. That was also something that hadn’t changed. It still licked at her heart, turning his otherwise slightly serious face into one that was dimpled and boyish. It made her want to smile back and as she did, some of her unease disappeared.

‘Got your bearings?’

‘I think so.’ She shuffled herself down on the large scuffed leather sofa. ‘So, how long have you had this place?’

Nick turned to poke at the fire, more in a bid to steady himself than to encourage the flames. Lizzie was here, in his home. It was a dream come true.

But think why she’s here, you dimwit. Not because she’d suddenly realised she loved him. Not even close.

He forced his attention back to her questions. ‘I bought it a few years ago. I was fed up with living in London all the time. Great during the week, but at weekends I couldn’t turn off. I’d find myself popping back to the office for some reason or other. Before I knew it, Monday had come round and all I’d done was work.’ Satisfied with the fire, he stood and rested his arm against the mantelpiece. ‘Now I try to come here every Friday. If I have to work, I can, but mostly I try to relax.’

‘And what do you do here, with your precious time off? It seems it could get pretty lonely.’ She didn’t quite look him in the eye. ‘Of course that assumes you don’t have any regular company?’

He huffed out a breath. ‘You’re not usually so subtle. Ask the question you want to ask.’

This time her eyes looked straight into his. ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’

And now she’d asked, he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. ‘I have a female friend who visits occasionally,’ he said carefully.

‘A friend with benefits?’

He winced. ‘And now I’m wishing you’d stuck to the subtle approach. Sally is a fellow partner at the accountancy practice. We enjoy each other’s company,’ he added lamely, hoping it didn’t sound as shallow as it sometimes felt. He did like seeing Sally, even outside the bedroom. It’s just she would never be It for him.

And that was the fault of the woman staring at him now, he thought with a rush of anger. If only she wasn’t so damn beautiful. So strong and funny and refreshingly direct.

If only he wasn’t still so hopelessly in love with her.

With a quick, jerky movement he went to sit on the opposite sofa. Ignoring the unasked questions in her eyes, he made a play of stretching his legs out on the Union Jack footstool. ‘Anyway, I quite like my own company, as it happens. If I get lonely, I go to the local pub. There’s always somebody there ready to chew my ear off about all these city boys who come and buy up properties in the country.’ In a desperate display of nonchalance, he put his hands behind him and cupped the back of his head. ‘What about you, Miss Los Angeles? What do you do to relax?’

As if she was mirroring him, Lizzie stretched out on the sofa. ‘I go to the cinema, run along the beach, have a drink with my friends, party.’

‘That’s what you call relaxing? Don’t you ever stop and do nothing?’

Lizzie laughed. ‘No way. Life’s too short for standing around. I’m too scared I might miss out on something.’

‘That’s one of the many differences between us,’ he mused, wondering if she was already thinking what he was about to say. ‘You’re extrovert and party loving. Me? I’m a quiet night in front of the television type of guy.’ Abruptly he got to his feet. ‘Do you want a drink? Anything to eat?’

His swift change of subject earned him a questioning look, but thankfully she didn’t follow it up. ‘You don’t have to wait on me, Nick. If I’m staying here, I have to do my share of the chores. And since you cooked for me yesterday, it’s only fair that I give it a go today.’

He snorted. ‘I cooked scrambled egg on toast. I don’t think that counts.’

‘It does in my book. Do you have any requests, or shall I see what I can come up with, bearing in mind my limited repertoire?’

‘Why don’t we work something out together?’ He started to walk into the kitchen, turning his head to check she was following. ‘If you watch and learn from the master, you might even get to expand that repertoire.’

‘You, the master?’ This time she was the one who snorted, though it was more a delicate noise than he’d managed. ‘Since when did cooking become one of your areas of expertise?’

‘Since I had to fend for myself and became bored of takeaways.’ It had surprised him how much he’d started to enjoy it though, his stint in the kitchen turning from a chore into a world of discovery. It was one of the things he looked forward to about hooking up with Sally: cooking for someone other than himself for a change.

And now, for a week, maybe even two, he would have Lizzie to cook for.

The thought brought a rush of pleasure. He wasn’t going to think of the hole she’d leave in his life when she left. He was going to enjoy the time he had with her.

In the end Lizzie watched as he prepared his signature dish, prawn linguine, courtesy of a well-stocked freezer. Drawing up two stools, they ate in the kitchen at the granite-topped island.

‘I can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal,’ she said, in between mouthfuls. Not small ones, either, he noticed with satisfaction.

‘Seriously? I wouldn’t have thought models were great fans of takeaways.’

She gave him a slightly embarrassed shrug. ‘We’re not. I eat out a lot.’

He gave himself a mental slap round the head. Of course that was the other option to cooking or takeaways. ‘And this confession from the woman who was going to cook for me. Are you ready to concede my mastery in the kitchen then?’

She gave him a thoughtful study. ‘I am prepared to admit you make a fantastic prawn linguine.’

‘And the scrambled eggs?’

‘Okay, you’re a master of linguine and scrambled eggs. But for all I know, that could be all you live off.’

Nick considered her. ‘That sounds like a cunning move to get me back in the kitchen again, just to prove you wrong.’

Her lips twitched, telling him she knew exactly what she was doing. ‘Well, you do seem happy cooking. I’d hate to take that pleasure away from you.’

Shaking his head, Nick started to clear away the plates. ‘You always were an expert manipulator, even as a child. You had your whole family wrapped around your little finger.’

At the mention of her family, Lizzie’s smile faltered. He watched as sadness filled her eyes and cursed himself for mentioning them. It was something they needed to talk about, as was the situation with Charles and the photographs, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t raise either subject just yet. He wanted her to take time to simply relax and start to feel at home.

He scratched around in his mind for the right words to say but came up with nothing, so instead he went with instinct. ‘Come here.’

He held out his arms and, to his intense relief, she stood and moved unhesitatingly into them. ‘I miss them so much,’ she mumbled against his shirt.

‘I know. So do I.’ He lifted her head so she was forced to look at him. ‘I think it would help us both if we talked about them. Not now,’ he added hastily as she stared at him in horror, ‘not when we’re tired and jet-lagged, but maybe over the next few days.’

‘Okay.’ She studied him, her expression pensive. ‘I forgot you loved them, too.’

‘They were like parents to me, and Robert is the brother I never had. Yes, I loved them, too.’ Her face was pale, her eyes heavy. ‘Come on, you look done in. Why don’t we call it a night?’

Nick carried her case up the stairs and placed it in the spare bedroom. ‘I think there should be everything you need in here,’ he told her, poking his head into the cupboards to check there were spare blankets and towels. ‘Will you be okay?’

Lizzie sat tiredly down on the bed, glancing round at the room. Suddenly she burst into tears.

‘Hey.’ Alarmed, Nick crouched down in front of her. ‘I didn’t think the room was that bad. I even had my sister advising me on colours.’

She rolled tear-filled eyes at him. ‘It’s perfect.’

‘Then why the tears?’ God it hurt to see her so miserable. ‘We’ll sort it all out. You don’t need to worry.’

‘I know.’ She fished a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. ‘It sounds daft but I wasn’t actually thinking about all that crap. It just struck me how much better everything seems now, here, than it did when I woke up on my own yesterday.’

‘If you’d phoned me earlier you wouldn’t have had to go through any of it alone.’

‘You’re right, I should have buried my pride and done exactly that.’ She laughed softly. ‘Then again, you came anyway, even without the call.’ Gently she kissed his cheek. ‘You’re a special man, Nick Templeton.’

Nick swallowed back the lump in his throat. Special was good. If only he could be happy with that. If only he didn’t crave more. Giving her a last reassuring squeeze, he pushed himself to his feet. ‘Goodnight.’

He shut the door gently behind him. The next few days, maybe weeks if he was lucky, were going to be bittersweet. Somehow during that time he was going to have to work out a way to be happy with special.