Preview
Too Damn Nice

by Kathryn Freeman

PROLOGUE
Eight Years Ago

It was her eighteenth birthday and Lizzie had just signed with an illustrious modelling agency. Really, did life get any better than that? Following a gleeful pirouette she peered curiously at her reflection in the mirror. Silky blonde hair framing an oval face and a small straight nose. Definite plus points. She was also tall, a modelling prerequisite, and slender, another given. But then there was the pointy chin, the cheekbones that were too sharp and the blue eyes that were far too large for her face. Not beautiful then. If she was generous, she might say her looks were striking. She certainly wasn’t most people’s idea of a model, but then Lizzie had never cared much for what most people thought. If she had, she’d have let the taunts of the boys at school, Here comes Daddy Long Legs, crush her ambition a long time ago. Instead she’d laughed in their faces and continued to send her portfolio of photographs off to modelling agents. One day, she’d told herself, what her school friends thought of as ungainly and odd, a modelling agency would see as eye-catching and unusual.

And they had. Here she was, two years on, signed with a modelling giant because of those very same quirky features. Now, as far as Lizzie was concerned, anything was possible. And she was going to try her hand at it all.

With a final grin to the image in the mirror, she slipped on her favourite silver sandals. She’d practised walking in high heels since the age of five, so the journey down the stairs and into the garden in these five-inch sweeties was a doddle. She pushed open the back door and stared in delight at the large marquee in the garden, decorated with twinkling fairy lights and silver balloons, erected in her honour. Tonight was her night. Two celebrations in one. The first, reaching the landmark age of eighteen, her friends all knew about. The second, being signed by the modelling agency, was a secret to all but her family.

‘Hey, come and dance with us, Lizzie.’

Her eyes followed the direction of the voice, resting on a group of giggling girls shimmying on the dance floor. Her best friends. Lizzie waved and went to join them.

Nick hovered in the corner of the marquee, watching the girls on the dance floor. Or make that girl, because there was only one who caught his eye. Lizzie. She had done so ever since she’d hurtled into the world eighteen years ago. He knew her by virtue of her brother, Robert. Being best friends with Robert had meant spending a huge chunk of his childhood hanging round the Donavue family home. In the early days, Lizzie had been in the background: the cute baby he and Robert had laughed over as inquisitive five-year-olds; the long-limbed girl with pigtails and big blue eyes. But then she’d grown up. For the life of him he couldn’t work out how it had happened, but while he’d been working and touring round Europe with Robert in his gap year, she’d turned from gawky to pretty. Then, during his visits home from university, she’d gone from being his friend’s kid sister to the girl he most wanted to kiss. At sixteen she’d been too young for him to act on his feelings so he’d kept quiet, finished university, sowed some wild oats and unknowingly broken a few hearts. As he watched her on the dance floor, he was forced to acknowledge his own heart had been captured years ago.

Now he was back, settled in a job, living in his own place.

Now, surely, it was time to do something about his feelings for her.

Yes, she was eighteen to his twenty-three, but this was Lizzie he was talking about. A girl far older than her years.

Tonight, he was going to ask her out. He was happy to take things slow – the last few years had given him a lot of practice at slow – but he needed her to know his feelings went beyond those of an honorary big brother. Quite how he was going to do that was another matter. If he didn’t know her so well, if she’d simply been a girl who’d caught his eye tonight, he’d know the moves. Oh he wasn’t smooth – if only – but he’d acquired a fair bit of experience with the opposite sex. Enough to know how to buy a girl a drink. And, if he liked her, how to move onto stage two. He’d taken a few knock backs over the years, but other than a bruise to his ego, it hadn’t really mattered.

With Lizzie, it mattered, and not just because he loved her. Her friendship was as important to him as Robert’s, and tonight he could seriously screw up both. He had no clue what Robert would think of him fancying his sister. And he had no clue how Lizzie felt, either. She liked him, sure. But liked was a long way from how he wanted her to think about him.

Nick took a final swig of beer, straightened his back, and walked purposefully towards her. He was willing to risk Robert’s wrath if it got him Lizzie.

She was dancing with her friends, lost in the music, totally unaware of his approach. He watched, mesmerised, as her tall, sinuous body twirled to the beat. God she was gorgeous. The most stunning creature he’d ever seen, or was ever likely to see. And it wasn’t only he who saw it. Scanning the room he noticed other men watching her, young and old alike. She stood out from the crowd. She was unique.

‘Nick, there you are,’ she said with a smile, holding out her hand to drag him onto the dance floor. ‘I wondered where you’d got to.’

He allowed himself to be pulled towards her. Hell, he was so besotted he’d follow her wherever she led him. Off a hundred foot high cliff? No problem. Across an alligator infested river? Bring it on. Even onto a blasted dance floor. Never his forte. Getting his body to dance to a rhythm was well nigh impossible. Call it his reserve, or shyness, or maybe his total lack of musical ability. Whatever it was, next to her he looked stiff and awkward.

‘I was trying to avoid dancing,’ he replied, shouting to be heard above the sound of the music. ‘But it seems if I want to talk to you, I have to dance.’

She laughed, the soft, rich sound rippling through him. ‘We can talk anytime. Today I turn eighteen and I want to dance all night.’

He nodded back, though his heart sank in his chest. If she planned on fixing herself to the dance floor all evening, how on earth was he going to get her to himself?

The music moved on to the next track and still they danced, Nick doing a kind of shuffle to the beat while Lizzie whirled around him, her movements graceful and fluid. She danced in the same manner she did most things in life, vivaciously, possessing the confidence of someone twice her age. In contrast he danced awkwardly. He could manage a formal fox trot – set steps that could be learnt – but the loose-limbed gyrating of disco was beyond him. Aware of this he hung back, desperately hoping the music would turn slower. He’d have no problem holding Lizzie in his arms and gliding slowly around the dance floor. No problem at all.

His hopes were dashed as the next high tempo song blasted through the speakers. ‘I want to talk to you,’ he shouted across at her.

She smiled over at him, her blue eyes glittering and he felt his heart flip in his chest. ‘Go ahead, I’m all ears.’

He shook his head. ‘No, later. Somewhere quieter.’ Declaring his love for her in the middle of a crowded dance floor wasn’t what he had in mind. It had an advantage – it would be pretty easy for her to pretend not to hear him. Save them both the embarrassment of her turning him down. But shouting out his intimate feelings on a noisy dance floor wasn’t his style. No, he’d take the hit in private, thank you. That’s if she ever got off the ruddy dance floor.

The song ended and the music stopped altogether. With a surge of anticipation Nick reached for her hand and gave her a light tug. When she didn’t move, he stared at her, puzzled. Then he followed her eyes, catching sight of her father striding towards them, his handsome face beaming. As Nick looked on, the older man whispered something in Lizzie’s ear. She grinned in reply, nodding enthusiastically. With a wink at Nick, she let go of his hand and linked arms with her father. Together they walked towards the disc jockey and his microphone.

‘Friends,’ her father began. ‘As you know, we’re here today to celebrate my darling Lizzie’s eighteenth birthday.’ He looked over at Lizzie with the adoration only a doting father can bestow on his most precious daughter. ‘What you don’t know is we also have something else to celebrate. This afternoon Lizzie received a call from a modelling agency in New York. They want to sign her up.’ There was an awed hush as the crowd took in his words. ‘Yes, that’s right. My daughter is about to go and live her dream. New York here she comes!’

Nick stood, dazed, as Lizzie was besieged by cheering friends, all clamouring to congratulate her. He felt as if he’d been hit in the solar plexus by something large and solid. New bloody York? Could she go much further away? Numbly he watched as she revelled in the attention. He wanted to be happy for her. He really did. But the only feeling he could summon was anguish. There was absolutely no point in spilling out his feelings to her now. Not when she was off to start a shiny new life in America.

He’d lost her before he’d even had the chance to let her know how he felt. Later he’d tell himself it was for the best. That actually the announcement had saved him from almost certain humiliation, because he doubted she saw him as anything other than a friend.

But right now he felt as if life had turned around and spat in his face.

Lizzie couldn’t have been happier. She’d had to pinch herself several times tonight to make sure it wasn’t all one incredible dream. Going off to New York to model? Wasn’t that just a foolish fantasy? How could it actually be happening to her? Of course being signed by a major New York agency didn’t automatically mean she’d make it. She had years of hard graft ahead of her. An endless succession of go sees, hoping for the elusive contract, the chance to burst out of the pack of unknowns. That great big dollop of luck all top models needed. So no, it wasn’t going to be all fun and excitement. There would also be disappointment. And loneliness.

She was going to have to say goodbye to everyone here tonight. To her parents, her brother. To Nick. At the thought of the last name, her heart skipped a beat. Could she really leave him behind, without ever finding out what they would have been like together? God, she’d had a crush on Nick for … well, forever. While her teenage friends had been idolising pop stars, she’d gone to bed dreaming of Nick Templeton, with his tall, lanky frame, floppy dark hair and steel-rimmed glasses that framed soulful brown eyes. Then he’d disappeared. First had been the year away with Robert, then university. She’d only been thirteen when he’d left, yet she’d believed her life was over. Certainly it had been so much duller without him. As she’d grown older, modelling had become a new outlet for her dreams, but it hadn’t stopped her heart lifting each time Nick came home from university to visit her brother.

She watched him now, talking to Robert. At first glance Nick wasn’t an obvious choice for a girl’s first teenage crush. He didn’t have the dashing good looks and easy charisma that caused her friends to fawn over her brother. Neither was Nick gregarious and fun loving. He was far more of an enigma. With Robert, what you saw was what you got. With Nick, every time she looked, she saw a little more. And each bit she saw was even better than the last. He stood taller than Robert and broader, but leaner. The glasses he wore gave him an air of intelligence that wasn’t superficial. His first at Cambridge was proof of that. He was the quiet one. Reserved, often serious, but with a dry sense of humour that stopped him from being dull.

Above all, Nick was a strong, stabilising presence. She loved that about him, just as she loved the way his warm brown eyes had watched her tonight. As if she was the only person in the room. Was it possible Nick was finally starting to see her as a woman? God, she hoped so, but if she didn’t do something about it now, tonight, she’d be on her way to New York without ever knowing.

Taking a deep breath she walked over to the two men, putting an arm around them both. ‘Two of my favourite people.’

Robert tugged at her hair. ‘My baby sister, the glamorous model.’ He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t seem possible.’

‘Well start to believe it big brother.’ She gave him a playful dig in the ribs, making him grunt. ‘I won’t be around to tease for much longer.’ She turned to Nick. ‘You wanted to talk? Is now a good time?’

For a brief moment his expression froze, as if in shock. Then he vehemently shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he replied hastily, averting his eyes to scan the crowd. They rested on the bar. ‘I’m going to grab a drink.’ Leaning forward, he planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Congratulations, Lizzie. I pity the New York modelling scene.’ He gave her a slightly wonky smile. ‘They don’t know what’s about to hit them.’

Confused, Lizzie watched as Nick was swallowed up by the crowd. ‘Was it something I said? Why is he shooting off so quickly?’

Robert narrowed his eyes and regarded his sister. ‘If you don’t know now, Lizzie, I don’t think you ever will.’

‘What do you mean? Don’t talk in riddles; you know how I hate that.’

Robert simply grinned. ‘And you know telling me you hate me doing something is only going to make me do it more.’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the dance floor. ‘Come on, baby sister. I’ve always wanted to dance with a model. It’s every man’s fantasy. I can’t wait to be introduced to all your new model friends.’

She danced with her brother, staying on when others joined them. Only when her feet throbbed and her throat felt sandpaper dry did she finally give in and head towards the bar. That was where she found Nick, drinking beer and looking far too glum for a night like tonight. She walked purposefully towards him. Now was her chance. If what she’d read in his eyes earlier was real, and not just wishful thinking on her part, what she had in mind would put a smile on his face.

‘What are you doing all alone at the bar?’ she asked, draping what she hoped would look like a casual arm around his shoulders. He felt different now. His shoulders were broader and his body stronger than the last time she’d seen him. Every inch a man’s body. No doubt with a man’s passions. A man’s desires. Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Next to him, she still felt very much a girl. Which was exactly why she needed to be strong, she berated herself. A girl would chicken out now. A woman would go after what she wanted.

‘I’m drinking.’

It took her a moment to realise he’d finally answered her question. ‘And why is drinking making you sad?’

He looked surprised. ‘I’m not sad. Just taking some time out.’

She ordered a glass of champagne, wondering how many she’d already had. But, hey, if she couldn’t get drunk on her eigthteenth birthday, when could she? Besides, if ever there was a time when Dutch courage was needed, this was it. Her own courage was slipping away by the minute. Taking a deep gulp, she moved in closer to Nick. ‘Well, I’ve got a proposition that might put a smile on your face.’

His deep brown eyes looked wary. ‘Oh?’

Smiling she leaned over and whispered into his ear. ‘I want you to help me lose my virginity.’

A broad grin was what she’d been hoping for. A slight smile would have done. Even a confused look wouldn’t have been a total disaster. Nick did none of these things. Slowly he put down his glass and turned to her, his eyes flat, his expression shuttered. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’

Too late to back down, she had to brave it out. ‘I’m deadly serious.’

‘Jesus, Lizzie.’ He shook his head, looking down at his empty glass. ‘Your first time should be with someone special to you. Someone you love.’

‘You are special to me.’ Couldn’t he see that was why she was asking him? Mortified at the way this was panning out, Lizzie wanted to up sticks and run. She hadn’t reckoned on having to persuade him. Blithely she’d assumed he’d want this, too.

He sighed and something flickered in his eyes. An emotion she couldn’t put her finger on. ‘Am I special, Lizzie?’ he asked quietly. ‘Special in the way a man is to a woman. Not a brother is to a sister.’

She wanted the ground to swallow her up. He was making her feel like a silly girl who didn’t understand about sex. Why couldn’t he treat her like a woman? Her cheeks stinging with shame, she retaliated as she always did when cornered. She went on the attack. ‘I’m going to lose my virginity with somebody before I go to the States. If you’re not interested, I’ll find someone who is.’

It was as if she’d struck him. He flinched and his face drained of colour.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he replied coldly. ‘I gave you credit for being more mature than this.’

Ouch, his words hit home, adding to her misery.

‘Sex isn’t something you have to cross off a list in order to make you a woman.’ His eyes narrowed as they bored into hers. ‘I know what all this is about. You’re worried you won’t be able to act sexy to the camera when you’ve not actually had sex. That’s it, isn’t it?’

Maybe there was a grain of truth in his words – but there was also so much more to her invitation than that. She did want her first time to be with someone special. Him. Yet how could she let him see her feelings now? He’d not just turned her down, he’d as good as laughed in her face.

‘So what if it is? Lots of people have sex together for far worse reasons than that.’

Nick hoped to God Lizzie couldn’t see through the cold mask he was wearing and into the emotional pit lying beneath it. She was offering herself to him on a plate, and yet here he was, turning her down. And none too gently, at that. But damn it, this wasn’t how he’d imagined it happening during those restless nights when he tossed and turned, dreaming of her. If she’d told him she loved him. Wanted him, fancied him, liked him even, as a man, not a friend. That was all he needed. Heaven knew, his body was only too game. But this wasn’t anything to do with him. He was just a handy male she happened to trust.

‘Thank you for thinking of me,’ he ground out, ‘but I’m going to decline the invitation to take part in your experiment. You’ll have to find someone else. I’m sure you won’t be short of offers.’

Stiffly he stood up from the bar stool and walked away. Out of the marquee, out of the party, and into the night. He’d begun the evening planning to tempt Lizzie into a date. Maybe even a kiss. Hopefully, the start of a relationship. Though he hadn’t wanted to scare her off, in his mind he’d even pictured marriage and children one day. He was ending the evening walking into the night alone, having just turned down her offer to help rid her of her virginity. As if it was a hurdle to be overcome, not a prize worth savouring, keeping until she could give it to the right man. And God knows, he clearly wasn’t the right man. Not in her eyes. She had her heart set on bigger adventures than him.

With a sigh he pulled out his phone, punching in the number of the local taxi firm. He’d had enough of mooning over Lizzie Donavue. She was off to America to start a new life. It was about time he sorted out his own.

As he climbed into the arriving taxi, he was unaware of a willowy blonde figure watching from the house, tears running down her face. Sod Nick Templeton. She didn’t want to lose her virginity to a man who didn’t want her, anyway. She was off to New York, to the career she’d always dreamed of. She didn’t need Nick any more. She didn’t need anyone.

Two Years Ago

It hadn’t stopped raining all day. Perhaps it was fitting. A grim day to match the grim scene in front of them. Not one, but two coffins being slowly lowered into the ground. A simple wreath of white lilies on each. Nick reached out to put an arm round Lizzie’s shoulders, desperate to offer whatever solace he could. She flinched from his touch, just as she had when he’d flown out to New York straight after the accident. His heart tore at her rejection, but he pushed away the pain and continued to hold her, needing to offer the comfort as much as he knew she needed to feel it.

He glanced sideways at her face, wondering how she was still functioning. He knew what it was like to lose parents; his own had died during his first school summer holiday. When he and his sister had gone to bed they’d had parents. When they’d woken up, they were orphans, thanks to a faulty gas fire in the master bedroom. It had left him devastated, and he’d been too young to really understand the consequences.

At twenty-four, Lizzie knew exactly what the two oak coffins meant.

Once the brief graveside ceremony was over, the mourners began to move away. Lizzie stayed, head bowed, not bothering to wipe the tears that streamed down her face. Gently he tugged at her arm.

‘Time to go.’

Vehemently she shook her head. ‘No. I’m not leaving them.’

His heart crumpled. ‘You have to, Lizzie. People are going on to the house. They’ll expect you there.’

‘I don’t care.’ She glared up at him. ‘How can you expect me to leave them? They shouldn’t be there, not in that horrid cold grave.’ Her sobs grew louder.

He fumbled in his pocket for another tissue, but they’d all gone. ‘Look, I understand how you feel—’

She rounded on him before he had a chance to finish. ‘No you don’t. You can’t possibly know how I feel right now.’

‘I understand how it feels to see a parent buried,’ he reminded her quietly. And damn it, he’d loved her parents, too. Not like she had, sure, but he felt their loss.

‘And were your parents coming to see you when they died?’ she railed at him. ‘And was your sister in the car, as my brother was? No. So don’t tell me you know how I feel.’

Briefly he closed his eyes, the pain etched on her face too much for him. Robert had been in the same car as his parents that fateful night, all of them travelling from John F Kennedy airport to visit Lizzie. Her brother, his best friend, had been the only one to survive the crash – if you could call what he was doing surviving. It was early days, but the doctors weren’t hopeful of Robert ever being able to lead a normal life again. After seeing him in the hospital last week, wired up to machines and looking totally lifeless, Nick didn’t think a miracle was likely.

‘Okay,’ he conceded, fighting back his own tears. ‘I don’t know how you feel, but I do know standing here isn’t the answer. You need to say goodbye to your parents and come back to the house. Talk to the people who’ve come a long way to mourn with you.’

He started to pull at her arm, to guide her to the car, but she yanked it away. ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want you telling me what to do, Nick Templeton. I’ll go when I’m good and ready. You can bugger off.’

He bit back a reply, telling himself her rant at him wasn’t personal; he was the handy punchbag. Hell, he was happy to take the beating if it helped her get things off her chest. ‘I’ll wait by the car.’

Desolately he trudged back to the car, leaving her alone by the graveside: a tall, slender blonde, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

Lizzie couldn’t think, couldn’t function. Her mind was numb. Surely she was acting a role. That of the distraught daughter, the anguished sister. There was no way her parents could be dead. No way her brother could be in a coma, unlikely to ever come out.

But it had to be true, because today she’d watched as two coffins carrying her parents had been lowered into a hole and covered with soil. Relatives she barely knew had trailed through her childhood home, smiling awkwardly and drinking lots of tea. When the last of them had left, she’d scuttled upstairs to her room, looking for the peace and calm she usually found there. After an hour of lying on her old wooden bed, staring emptily out of the window, she still couldn’t find it. The house was eerily quiet, as if it, too, was in mourning.

A light tap on the door broke the silence. ‘Are you okay in there?’

Nick. Since she’d left to go to America she’d rarely seen him, and certainly not without the buffer of her brother or parents. Her anger at his rejection had cooled over the years, but the brush off still stung and the memory of it hung like an unwanted weight between them. A tension that, so far, time hadn’t been able to shift. Yet in those bleak moments straight after the accident when the kind policeman had asked if there was anyone they could call to stay with her, Nick’s had been the first, the only name her dazed mind had thought of. Later, waking from a sedative induced sleep, she’d been horrified and called him, interrupting his halting words of sympathy. ‘Thank you but I’m fine,’ she’d told him. ‘There’s no need to drag yourself across the Atlantic.’

He’d exhaled a long, deep sigh. ‘You’re not fine. And I’m in a cab, ten minutes away.’

Of course he’d already dropped everything and flown to see her. That was Nick all over. Kind, loyal. A man who put duty and responsibility before anything else. Even it meant having to deal with a grieving woman one who’d once asked him to take her virginity.

‘Lizzie?’

His voice cut through her thoughts and with a sigh she sat up on the bed. ‘It’s okay, you can come in.’

The door creaked open and his tall frame moved hesitantly into the room. ‘You’ve been up here a long while. I was getting worried.’

‘I was just thinking how the house feels too quiet.’ She felt a crushing pain in her chest and pressed her hand to it, despite knowing there was nothing that would soothe it. ‘Any minute I expect to hear Mum singing, and Dad laughing at her singing. Or Robert dashing in to ask me, for the hundredth time, when I’m going to introduce him to Kate Moss.’

A small, understanding smile flickered across his face. ‘I’m more of a Claudia Schiffer man myself.’ He nodded to the bed. ‘Do you mind?’

The way he perched carefully on the end furthest from her tugged a wry smile from her. ‘Finally I get you in my bed.’

Immediately his face flushed scarlet. ‘Look, about that—’

‘No.’ Horrified, she held up her hand. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. We’re not talking about it. Not now, not ever.’ Why the blazes had she mentioned it?

‘Well, obviously, I’d rather not talk about that sort of stuff, either, but …’ He sighed. ‘I hate the awkwardness between us now.’

‘They say a girl never forgets her first love. I guess she finds it hard to forget her first rejection, too.’

His eyes rested, dark and expressive, on hers. ‘It was six years ago. And surely, you have to know, turning you down hurt me far more than it hurt you.’

Then why do it? But she was far too emotionally unsteady to have that conversation. In fact, she doubted she’d ever be ready for it.

The quiet she’d started to hate descended on them once again. Outside there was a bird twittering on as if all was well with the world. If only it was. A chill shot through her and she began to tremble, her body juddering uncontrollably. ‘Would you mind holding me?’

He didn’t hesitate. One minute he was sitting at the end of her bed, the next he was beside her and cradling her in his arms. He smelt like Nick: classic, male, outdoors. He felt like Nick: warm, comforting, steady. ‘Thank you for being here,’ she whispered into his chest.

His arms tightened. ‘Where else would I be?’

He didn’t understand her gratitude. He couldn’t see how, in his quiet way, he’d got her through the last two weeks. Holding hands with her by Robert’s bedside. Arranging the transfer of her parents’ bodies to England. Helping her arrange the funeral. Others had pitched in, on both sides of the Atlantic, friends and relatives keen to help. Yet throughout it all, Nick had been the one constant. A rock in the storm of her heartbreak and loss. ‘Others came and went,’ she told him quietly. ‘You stayed.’

‘I’m waiting for you to kick me out.’

She smiled against his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart. ‘I thought I already did that earlier.’

‘What, telling me to bugger off? It will take a lot more than that to get rid of me.’ She felt his lips as they placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. ‘A lot more.’

Nick rested his chin on her soft blonde head, holding tightly onto the haunted woman he’d watched like a hawk all day. He desperately wanted to cry, but she didn’t need his sadness, too. She needed his strength.

‘I’ve decided, I’m going back to the States tomorrow.’

He loosened his grip so he could look at her. ‘So soon? Are you sure?’

Suddenly restless, she shifted away from his arms and jumped to her feet. ‘I can’t stay here, in this house, any longer.’ Her voice sounded thick, as if she was on the verge of further tears. ‘I need to get back to my life. Working again will do me good. Give me less time to think.’

‘Don’t you need time to grieve properly first?’ Or was he just thinking of his own selfish needs? It might have taken a tragedy to bring her back into his life, but he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

‘You really think it will help me to stay here and do nothing but think about what I’ve lost?’

‘I think it might help if you took time off work, yes. You don’t need to stay here, you can stay with me.’

Her eyes widened. Shock? Horror? It certainly wasn’t pleasure. ‘I need to go home. Robert is there.’

Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t argue with that one. ‘What will you do about the house?’

She sighed deeply and gazed around her room. When her eyes rested on his, they were filled with pain. ‘Would you take care of it? Sell it for me.’

Still the besotted fool of six years ago, he found himself nodding. Walk across burning coals? Sure. Sell a much-loved family home and all its contents? Yes, ma’am. ‘Is there anything in particular you want to keep?’

Her eyes clouded as she fought against further tears. ‘I don’t need things to remember them by,’ she replied brokenly. ‘They won’t be coming back. I have to accept that and move on. This isn’t home any more.’

As pain lanced his heart, Nick realised with a terrifying feeling of finality that this might be it. The last time he’d ever see her. Now her family was no longer around to keep their tenuous friendship intact, were they fated to drift out of touch?

‘You’ll still come back, though?’ His words sounded desperate, but he couldn’t stop himself. ‘Or am I destined to be only a name you write on a Christmas card once a year?’

She gave him a wan smile, but didn’t contradict his statement. And why would she? He was, and always would be, a reminder of her old life. One she clearly wanted to forget. She was now a high earning supermodel, moving in a glamorous world filled with show business stars and celebrities. It wasn’t hard to see why she’d want to focus on that instead of the pain and tragedy of her past.

Especially when that reminder came in the form of a dull English accountant who’d once had the stupidity to turn her down.

The following morning he drove a deathly pale Lizzie to the airport, his mind crammed full of all the reasons why he shouldn’t be putting her on that plane. He loved her. He wanted to help her. No, he needed to help her. But what she needed was to return to America. To her work and to her life there. She didn’t need him.

As they stood in the departure lounge, just outside security, Nick dropped her small holdall on the floor. ‘I guess this is as far as I can go.’

With a glimmer of a smile, she leaned up to kiss his cheek. ‘Thank you, Nick, for being there these last two weeks. I couldn’t have got through it without you.’

With his heart breaking apart, Nick squeezed her tight. ‘I’ll always be there for you. Whatever you need, no matter how big or small, call me. Do you understand?’

She nodded and bent to pick up her bag.

Just before she went through the barrier, he called out to her. ‘And don’t be a stranger, Lizzie.’

She waved and disappeared out of sight.

CHAPTER ONE

Lizzie drew the duvet back over her head in a pitiful attempt to block out the sound of the buzzing intercom. Three days ago she’d turned off her mobile phone and pulled the landline out of its socket. Why the heck hadn’t she worked out how to dismantle the intercom? At least it was only the security desk phoning up. Never had she been so grateful to have moved to this eye-wateringly expensive, but highly secure, apartment bock. Pulling the duvet tighter round her ears, she waited for the noise to go away.

When at last it was quiet, she hauled herself out of bed. She needed to take another shower. It was fast becoming an obsession. Something even she, in her shock-numbed mind, could see. Despite the number of showers she’d had though, the stench of sex still surrounded her. It filled her nostrils and clung to her mind, stubbornly determined to hang around. A constant reminder of what had happened. What must have happened, even though she couldn’t remember any of it. Shivering with disgust, she turned on the spray, putting it up to maximum heat. If it was hot enough, the steam would surely blast the stench away.

The heat washed over her as she rested against the marble tiles of the shower wall. For three days she’d done nothing, yet she felt drained, physically and emotionally. With a passing interest, she watched the rivulets of water splash over the jut of her hip bones. She had to eat something soon. Even by the too thin modelling standards, she was becoming scrawny. But the thought of food turned her stomach. God, would she ever feel normal again?

Drying herself off, she padded back into her bedroom. She’d bought the apartment two years ago, when she’d made the move from the chaos of New York to the craziness of LA. All part of a determined effort to put the past firmly behind her. It meant not living in the same city where her parents had been killed. Not living in the city where, on every corner, there was a cafe or a shop she’d taken them to. For a short while the excitement of a new city and a new place had helped. Yet it had been a long time since she’d smiled at the plush cream carpet she’d agonised over buying, or grinned at the gigantic sleigh bed that had cost her a small fortune. A long time since any of it had made her happy. And that was before this latest gigantic, sleazy balls-up.

Clothes. She needed to find some clothes and get dressed. How many hours had she spent lying in bed, crying? She couldn’t waste any more time like that. She had to pull herself together. To be strong. Heck, two years ago her family had been all but wiped out on a single, tragic day. This wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to her. If she could cope with burying her parents, if she could cope with seeing her brother lying comatose in a nursing home week, after week, after week, she could cope with this.

With those thoughts in mind, she reached for the jeans she’d thrown carelessly over the extravagant cerise velvet chair. About to pull them on, her eyes settled on the crushed newspaper lying on the floor. The same one she’d read three days ago. With a wail of anguish she lunged for it, tearing it into shreds. Leaving the tattered remains on the floor she yanked on her jeans, pulled on the nearest jumper – a baby blue cashmere she’d spilt tea down the moment she’d opened the damn newspaper – and walked down the hall towards the kitchen.

‘Lizzie? Are you in there?’

She froze, the voice achingly familiar. Perhaps she was hallucinating. She hadn’t eaten for days. Her mind must be playing tricks on her.

‘Lizzie, it’s me. If you’re in there, open the damn door.’ There was a pause, and a further knock. ‘Please.’

In a daze, Lizzie walked slowly to the door. Nobody here called her Lizzie. She was Elizabeth Donavue. She hadn’t been Lizzie for years. In fact there was only one person who still called her by that name.

‘Nick, is that you?’ Her voice came out as a strangled whisper.

‘Thank God.’ She could hear the relief in Nick’s voice. ‘Come on, Lizzie. I’m the only one here. Open the blasted door.’

With trembling fingers, she fumbled with the locks. Three days ago she’d secured the door with every security device she had. Now it seemed to take an eternity to undo them all. She barely had time to register it really was Nick standing on her doorstep, before she was bundled into his arms and pushed back into her apartment. He kicked the door shut with his foot and then stood back to look at her.

‘What the hell is going on?’

She moved her mouth, but no words came. ‘I …’ Shaking from head to foot, she walked away from him. Oh God, she was going to cry. Again. It was all she seemed capable of. She’d only taken two steps when a strong arm reached for her waist and dragged her back, turning her round to face him before holding her firmly in his arms.

‘Shh, it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m here now.’ Gently he held her, smoothing his hand down her back, just as a parent would comfort a small child.

Lizzie was dimly aware of being lifted and carried to the sofa. Nick sat them both down, cradling her against him, murmuring words she couldn’t hear. Despite trying not to, she began to blubber like a baby, all over again. The more she clung to the familiar strength of him, the more she was helpless to do anything but let it all come out. In the end, that’s what she did, crying until the tears ran dry and her body stopped trembling.

‘I’ve made your shirt wet,’ she whispered, pulling away, totally embarrassed at her meltdown.

‘Excuse my language, but sod the bloody shirt.’ He narrowed his eyes and scrutinised her face. ‘Christ, you look terrible. What have they done to you?’

Tears threatened again. God, it didn’t take much. Just a note of concern in his voice and she was filling up again. ‘Why are you here?’ she asked, ignoring his question. Maybe his arrival was just a fortuitous coincidence. Maybe he hadn’t seen …

‘I read the newspapers, Lizzie. Saw the photographs.’ He fixed her with his serious brown eyes. ‘Why didn’t you answer my calls?’

Shame washed through her. Now she knew exactly why he was here. Not to see her, but because he’d seen the mess she’d got herself into and felt duty bound to come and dig her out of it.

‘Lizzie.’ He was still looking at her, pinning her with the force of his gaze. ‘At the risk of repeating myself, what the fuck is going on?’

She recoiled at his harsh tone. ‘You’ve seen the articles. You know what’s going on,’ she replied stiffly, edging away from him.

Nick grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her back to his side. ‘Not so fast. Not before you tell me exactly what happened to get you into this state.’ He held her face firmly between his hands, angling it so she was forced to look into his dark eyes. ‘Damn it, I know what I read isn’t the truth.’

The certainty of his words, coupled with the sincerity in his eyes, forced a lump into the back of her throat. ‘The girl in those pictures is me, Nick,’ she told him shakily, moving to snatch a tissue from the box on her glass coffee table. ‘I can’t deny that.’

‘Did they blackmail you? Force you to do it? Were you drugged?’

Oh God. Dear Nick. ‘Thank you.’ Another sob wrenched from her. Heaven above, was she ever going to stop crying?

‘What on earth are you thanking me for?’

‘For believing in me.’ She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. ‘The truth is, I don’t know exactly what happened. One minute I was having a drink with Charles and his friend. The next Charles was shoving these disgusting pictures at me, threatening to go to the press with them if I didn’t give him a hundred grand.’

‘Christ.’ Abruptly Nick stood and walked towards the open plan kitchen. ‘I think you’d better start from the beginning, but before you do, I need a drink.’ His eyes wandered clinically up and down her body. ‘When was the last time you ate or drank anything?’

She tried to remember, but the days were a blur. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted, sinking her head into her hands. ‘Oh, Nick. It’s all such a bloody mess. When I saw the pictures in the paper, I didn’t think of the implications. I just thought, what a bastard. Then the phones started ringing and the intercom kept buzzing, all with journalists wanting to speak to me, and suddenly I couldn’t cope. I didn’t know what to do.’

‘So you turned your phones off and went into hiding?’ He shook his head. ‘Maybe I can’t blame you, but it would have been a heck of a lot easier on your friends if you’d just screened your calls.’ Across the room, he sought out her eyes. ‘You had me worried, Lizzie. You should have phoned.’

‘I couldn’t. I was too ashamed.’ She’d reached for the phone a couple of times, but stopped when she’d begun to rehearse what to say. However she’d phrased it, the words had made her sound like a slut. ‘And anyway, I didn’t want to burden you.’

‘Burden me?’ he repeated incredulously.

‘Yes. I’m not your responsibility.’

‘Bloody hell, Lizzie, since when was helping a friend a burden?’ Obviously fighting for control he ran a hand through his hair before swearing again, this time more crudely. ‘Don’t ever do that to me again,’ he muttered finally. ‘Look, why don’t you go and finish getting dressed while I find us something to eat and drink? Then we can start again, from the beginning.’

Lizzie looked down at her stained jumper, conscious it wasn’t the only part of her that looked a mess. Her hair was drying in knots because she hadn’t bothered to comb it. She knew if she stared in the mirror she’d see a puffy face and bloodshot eyes.

Squaring her shoulders, she stood. The time for wallowing in self-pity was over. She was a model. Her career might be crashing around her ears right now, but that was no reason not to start looking and acting like one again.

As soon as Lizzie left the room, Nick dropped his head into his hands and sucked in a deep breath. He’d imagined all sorts of things since seeing those disgusting pictures in the newspapers. The photographs of Lizzie and two men, having sex in a hotel bedroom. Dear God, he’d even seen the video of it on the internet. Watched how they’d degraded the only woman he’d ever loved. Of course he’d known straight away it wasn’t really Lizzie. It might have been her face and her body, but it wasn’t her free will. Yet if he knew it, why did nobody else realise it? The way it had been reported had implied she’d been a willing participant. One of the men in the photographs, the one claiming to be her boyfriend, had expressed outrage at his private life being made public. Then gone on to announce they often enjoyed three in the bed sessions. That in fact the Elizabeth Donavue he knew was a raunchy sex kitten, very different to the angelic image she portrayed in the media.

Nick had wanted to wring his bloody neck.

Beneath all the lies though, one thing was true. Lizzie was no longer the young innocent girl he’d fallen in love with. In his heart he’d known that, but knowing and having evidence of it thrust in his face were two different things. Over the years he’d got used to seeing her linked to a string of good-looking men. Most recently to some her mother would have been shocked at. But whatever her dubious choice in members of the opposite sex, he was sure the raunchy image being portrayed in the press was a false one. Lizzie might have grown up, become more sophisticated, but at heart she was still the girl he’d loved for most of his life.

Clenching his jaw, Nick opened the fridge door, horrified by how empty it looked.

He wouldn’t rest until whoever was responsible for hurting Lizzie was made to pay.

Lizzie hesitantly brought a forkful of scrambled eggs to her lips.

‘Come on, eat up,’ Nick encouraged. ‘You’re nothing but skin and bones under those clothes.’

She gave him a small smile. ‘Thanks. Your lavish compliments always did blow my mind.’ But she nibbled at the toast, took another mouthful of eggs, and gradually began to find her appetite. Within minutes she’d cleared her plate and washed it down with a large glass of orange juice.

Feeling slightly more human, she sat back on the chair and glanced over at him. Despite the trauma of the last few days, she felt the familiar tug on her heart. Age had only made him better looking. He still wasn’t dashingly handsome, not by the standards of the models and TV stars she mixed with, but he was, oh so quietly, extremely attractive. In fact, he was more than that. He was quietly sexy, which was a pretty breathtaking combination. Tall and lean, his thick dark hair was shorter than the last time she’d seen him, highlighting his seriously deep brown eyes. His long thin face still shrieked of intelligence, even without the glasses she was used to seeing him wear. Now she thought about it, this new, glasses free face was altogether more eye-catching than she remembered. His brown eyes larger and more eloquent. So no, he wasn’t extravagantly handsome, but she’d take his serious, intelligent good looks over those of the men she’d dated any day.

He looked up and caught her staring. ‘What’s wrong? Have I got egg on my chin?’

For the first time in days, Lizzie found herself wanting to giggle. Sitting at this table with Nick might be escapism, but for a few short minutes she was going to push all the crap into the background and just enjoy him being here. ‘I was trying to work out what had changed about you. Where are the glasses?’

He dropped his gaze back to his plate and started clearing up. ‘I decided to give in to vanity and have laser surgery.’ He shrugged. ‘Mainly I got fed up with losing them down the back of the sofa. I still haven’t got used to the fact that I don’t need them any more. The first thing I do when I get up in the morning is reach for the blasted things.’ Having piled all the plates into the dishwasher, he turned back to her. ‘Feeling better?’

She nodded. ‘A bit, thank you.’

‘Strong enough to tell me what happened?’

Was she? Lizzie took a deep breath and reached for the glass of wine he’d poured. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘But let’s do this somewhere more comfortable.’

Nick followed her back to the sitting room. There she curled up on the end of the sofa while he chose to sit in the armchair. He leant back and made himself at home, throwing one long jean clad leg over the other. ‘Why don’t you start by telling me who the hell Charles is?’

CHAPTER TWO

At the sound of Charles’s name on Nick’s lips, Lizzie shivered. ‘Charles is a bastard. I’m ashamed to say, he was also my boyfriend.’

She risked a glance at Nick. His expression was serious, concerned, but there was no judgement. Whatever else had gone on between them, he was still her friend. He was on her side. He nodded for her to continue.

‘Charles started off as my personal trainer.’

Nick’s lips twitched. ‘Very show biz.’

‘Yes, I know, but, hey, I’m a model. I’m paid to look good.’ She fidgeted with her hands, more embarrassed than she’d thought at discussing her love life with him. And this was only the start of the story. ‘I thought Charles was different to the guys I’d been dating. Less shallow. Less inclined to make sure his best side was facing the camera when we went out.’

‘It wasn’t anything to do with his rippling torso then?’

‘Well, that might also have been a factor,’ she had to admit. ‘But, in all honesty, mostly I liked him because he was attentive and easy to be with. Don’t laugh, but he seemed genuine.’

‘Yeah, a genuine low life.’

She snorted. ‘Yes, well, clearly when it comes to men, my judgement is shot to pieces.’

‘You won’t get any argument from me over that statement,’ he muttered darkly. ‘Go on.’

‘A few nights ago Charles and I arranged to meet up in the bar of the Beverly Wilshire.’ Nick whistled and without thinking, she stuck her tongue out at him. It took her back to her childhood, when life had been simple, uncomplicated by the surge of puberty and emotions other than friendship. ‘It’s the only place in town, honey,’ she drawled. ‘Charles and I had a couple of drinks together and he seemed in good form. I remember thinking, this is pleasant. Then another man came up and introduced himself. One of Charles’s friends.’ The lightness of a few moments ago vanished and sickness and disgust crept back. She’d had sex with that man – someone she’d only just met – and she couldn’t remember any of it. ‘Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.’

Nick unfurled his body from the armchair and walked towards her, arms outstretched, but Lizzie jumped to her feet and moved away. How could she talk about the sordid things she’d obviously done with one man, while being comforted by another? Even more so, when that man was Nick.

A mixture of hurt and frustration flashed across his face as his rejected arms fell uselessly to his side. ‘I know this is hard for you, but I need to know what happened,’ he told her stiffly as he sat back down in the armchair. ‘If I don’t, I can’t help.’ His eyes pleaded with her. ‘I want to help.’

She understood, but God, on a scale of 1 to 10 of the most cringe-making things a woman could discuss with the man she had a crush on, this must rate somewhere near 100. Perching on the side of a small table, her legs like blancmange, she cleared her throat and tried again. ‘I can’t remember the friend’s name. Matthew, maybe? All I know is it wasn’t long after he joined us that I started to feel funny. Like I was drunk, though I’d only had two glasses of wine. My head felt as if it was spinning off my shoulders so I told Charles and he checked me into a room at the hotel, telling me I needed to lie down.’ Her hands were trembling so she clasped them in her lap. ‘That’s it. The rest is a blank until I woke up in the hotel room the following morning. There was a note on the bedside table from Charles saying he hoped I felt better and that he’d come round later that evening to check up on me.’

‘You don’t remember anything of what happened during the night? No flashbacks, no blurred images?’

‘No. When I woke I was naked and I knew I must have had sex. The smell …’ She shut her eyes, still smelling it now. ‘I remember wondering what sort of man Charles was that he’d made love to a woman so clearly out of it.’ Her voice grew smaller and smaller. ‘I didn’t have to wait long to find out. He came round that evening and handed me an envelope full of photographs.’ Finally she raised her eyes to Nick. ‘You said you’d seen them?’

He nodded. ‘And before you ask, yes the video clips as well.’

Swallowing hard, Lizzie blinked. There were thousands, maybe millions of people watching her have sex at this very moment. With not one, but two men. And Nick had seen it, too – Nick, who hadn’t even found sex with her appealing enough when she’d been a virgin. Right now he must be thinking she was only one step up from a whore.

‘Charles threatened to take the pictures to the press if I didn’t pay up.’ She rushed the words now, desperate to get to the end of the sordid tale. ‘I could have found the money, but I remember thinking bugger him. He’d already degraded me. He wasn’t going to make money out of me, too. I had no thought for the consequences. I just didn’t want to let him win.’

‘So you didn’t pay up and Mr Genuine followed through with his threat.’

She flinched. ‘I didn’t need the reminder of how gullible I was.’

He leaned forward and ran a hand across his face, instantly contrite. ‘No, you didn’t. Sorry.’

‘I wasn’t aware of what he’d done until I read the newspaper the next morning.’ For the rest of her life she’d remember the horror and disgust, the disbelief when she’d turned to that page. ‘The phones started ringing then and they just wouldn’t stop.’ Shaking away the memory, she remembered what had puzzled her earlier. ‘How did you get past the security downstairs? I explicitly told them not to let anybody upstairs without buzzing me first.’

‘The guard did buzz up, but you didn’t answer. I told him I was your lawyer, and that if he didn’t let me up, I’d have him done for kidnapping.’ His mouth curved at the memory. ‘It was the best I could come up with at the time.’

‘Are the press still out there?’

‘Oh yes, in force.’ He gave her a direct look. ‘I don’t think I realised quite how famous you are.’

‘After this fiasco I’ll be a damned sight more so, and for all the wrong reasons.’ Tears threatened again. Angrily she rubbed them away. ‘God, what a mess.’

‘Lizzie, have you contacted the police?’

Vigorously she shook her head. ‘No. What good would it do? I haven’t got any evidence to prove I didn’t wilfully go to bed with the pair of them. Charles was my boyfriend, for heaven’s sake. I can hardly cry rape. Not when the pictures show how much I’m apparently enjoying myself.’

‘You were drugged,’ Nick stated quietly.

‘Yes, I think I was. Either that or I’d had a lot more to drink than I thought.’ She let out a frustrated sigh. ‘I’ve got no proof of that, though. It’s been too long after the event. There won’t be anything in my bloodstream any more.’

Nick had done his best to sit quietly while Lizzie had been speaking. She would never know what it had cost him to remain outwardly calm, while inside he’d swung between wanting to shake her and wanting to find Charles and shove a fist into his smirking face. Then haul him up by his fancy lapels and punch him again. Why had she lowered herself so much to go out with that snake in the first place? Didn’t she realise how special she was? Far too special to be sleeping with a glorified bodybuilder.

He tried to rein in his anger, but some of it seeped out as he spoke. ‘Why didn’t you go to the police straight away? As soon as the bastard turned up with pictures?’

She recoiled sharply. ‘Oh sure, that was my first reaction. Charles, thanks so much for showing me those photos. Do you mind if I call the police while you wait here? Oh and do help yourself to a drink.’ She let out a humourless laugh. ‘I wasn’t thinking, damn it. I was too stunned, too shocked. And, oh God …’ Tears once again flowed freely down her cheeks. ‘I was ashamed. There were pictures of me naked, having sex with two men. I couldn’t bear the thought of talking to a starchy police officer about it. Heck, to anyone about it. Plus I never for one moment thought Charles would do as he’d threatened.’ She grabbed the last tissue from the box. ‘I thought I meant something to him. Even when I realised he only wanted me for a meal ticket, I stupidly believed what we’d shared would be enough to stop him from humiliating me. Guess I was wrong.’

Nick’s gut twisted as he stared at her puffy blue eyes, the blonde hair that hung limply around her shoulders. It was humiliating to realise he was as much in love with her today as he had been all those years ago, yet in her eyes they were so estranged she hadn’t even bothered to call him when all this had kicked off. He’d had to barge over uninvited, uncertain of his reception. He couldn’t even haul her into his arms because she was sitting on that blasted table, as far away from him as she could possibly be, her body language screaming leave me alone. He was left sitting on the armchair, looking at her helplessly. ‘We’ll work all this out, Lizzie.’

‘I don’t see how. I’ve been such a bloody fool.’ Agitated, she pushed off the table and began to pace.

‘If you’re guilty of anything, it’s being too trusting.’ He clasped his hands together to stop from reaching out to her. ‘What about your contact at the agency? Don’t you have a manager or agent or whatever the term is? Someone who can handle the press for you?’

‘Yes, yes I do.’ She laughed sadly. ‘I didn’t even think of calling her. Too terrified of her reaction, I guess.’

He scowled at her. ‘This isn’t your fault.’

‘No. Deep down, I know it’s more to do with one man’s greed than my naivety, but …’ She buried her head in her hands. ‘God, I’ve just signed a contract to be the face of a new perfume. Innocence.’ She began to laugh uncontrollably.

Simmering with anger he walked over and grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Get ahold of yourself, Lizzie,’ he told her tersely. ‘This will all blow over.’

‘Easy for you to say. You don’t earn a living from your face.’

He’d never hated her job more. ‘You’re worth more than just your face,’ he snapped. ‘Even if this ruins your career, so what? There are other things you can do. Jobs that use your brain instead of your looks.’

‘Like what, Nick? If you can think of another job for a woman like me, with no qualifications and no experience other than smiling in front of a camera, that can earn me what I’m earning now, don’t keep it to yourself. Spit it out.’

Great. Now he’d managed to make her angry. Still, better angry than feeling sorry for herself. He rubbed at his eyes. Crikey, he was tired. The time difference was finally catching up with him. ‘Okay, I’m sorry. It won’t come to that, anyway. For the time being you need to talk to your agent and get her to issue a statement that puts your side of things. We also need to talk to the police.’ He saw her look of horror, but didn’t back down. ‘Charles drugged you, raped you, then tried to blackmail you. Yes, the police need to know.’

‘I don’t want them involved.’

Her shoulders set in a stubborn line but he ignored them. ‘Tough. We’re calling them. And then I’m taking you back to England for a while.’

At that casually dropped bombshell, she gasped. ‘Oh, you are, are you? Who on earth suddenly made you my keeper?’

‘I’m not your keeper, but I am going to take care of you.’

‘Thanks, but I can take care of myself.’

He thought about retorting that on current evidence she wasn’t doing a great job of it, but held his tongue. She was no longer the young girl he’d dreamt of protecting. She was a grown woman, capable of making her own choices. Still, she needed to face the truth. ‘You’re a mess,’ he told her bluntly. ‘You’re not sleeping or eating properly, which means you’re also not thinking clearly. I’m taking you back to give you time to recover, both mentally and physically. The press won’t know you’re there. It will give you some breathing space.’

‘And if I don’t want to go?’ The stubborn glint that he knew of old was back in her eyes.

‘I can’t force you. It’s your decision.’ Then he fixed her with a glare of his own. ‘But make sure whatever you decide, you do it for the right reason and not because you don’t like being told what to do by me.’

Lizzie took a long, hard look at Nick’s strong profile. When she’d been young, she’d had him wrapped round her little finger. As soon as she’d grown up, that had stopped. Evident the moment she’d asked him to make love to her and he hadn’t. Now he was glaring at her, daring her not to do as he’d said. ‘I want to tell you to butt out,’ she admitted, surprised by the tremor in her voice. ‘I know I’ve made a spectacular mess of things right now, but up to this point I’ve done pretty well, actually. I’ve made it to the top of my profession in one of the toughest cities in the world. Without your or anyone else’s help.’

‘I know that. You’re strong and determined. Always have been. But admitting you need help doesn’t make you less capable. It simply makes you sensible.’

She acknowledged his comment with a small smile. ‘Low blow.’

‘I can fight dirty if the outcome is important to me.’

Beneath her chest, her heart fluttered a little. The thought of leaning on someone else for a while, especially if that someone was Nick, was making her feel almost giddy with relief. ‘Okay, I’ll come back with you, but because I want to, not because you’re telling me to.’

‘Good.’ His dark brown eyes warmed with amusement, as if he knew exactly how much it had cost her to say that. ‘First things first though. Call the agency.’

‘They’re going to kill me,’ she muttered as she plugged the phone back in. ‘My career has been built on a squeaky clean, ice maiden, butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth image. It doesn’t exactly fit with lurid newspaper photographs showing me engaged in three in the bed sexual romps. I’ll probably never work again.’

‘Bollocks,’ Nick cut in tersely. ‘You will. Charles isn’t going to win this one. If the police don’t have enough evidence to lock him away, we’ll attack from another direction. By the time we’ve finished with him, it will be Charles that nobody will want to work with again, not you.’

As she dialled the agency number, Lizzie wondered if she’d ever seen Nick this angry. He was the calm, mild-mannered one. As a child she’d soon learnt not to bother winding him up; he never rose to the bait. Robert, on the other hand, she’d been able to wind up like a top, getting him to flare into anger at the slightest provocation. What she wouldn’t give to have her brother do that again. ‘I don’t expect you to help me with this, Nick,’ she asserted, waiting for the agency to pick up. ‘I’ve got money. I’ll find an attorney to handle it.’ The last thing she needed was to be indebted to him even further.

‘I know you’ve got money,’ he replied tightly. ‘But I’ve got connections. I know a good lawyer, or attorney as you Yanks call them, and he happens to be based in LA. If anyone can get you justice, Dan Rutherford can.’

Just then the receptionist answered. Figuring now was the time to put her effort into saving her career, rather than arguing with Nick, she turned away and asked to speak to Maria. Agent and friend. At least she had been before this mess had hit the headlines.

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