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‘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.
Chapter Five
When she woke the next morning, Lizzie’s first thought was that she was at home. Not the apartment in LA, but the home she’d once shared with her family. It was the sound of the sheep that tricked her. She’d grown up in the country, accustomed to waking to the bleating of lambs and the chatter of birds. The regret, when she realised she wasn’t waking up there, indeed that she’d never wake there ever again, was sharp and painful.
Needing the distraction she quickly drew back the blue and white check curtains. Okay, she wasn’t at home, but this wasn’t a bad place to wake up. There was a similar sense of peace to home. In fact the longer she stared at the tranquil country view, the more she could kid herself the shambles going on in LA was just a bad dream. And Lizzie was pretty good at kidding herself. If she was capable of pretending her family were still with her, then she could have a bloody good go at putting all that chaos to the back of her mind. At least for a while.
Shrugging on her robe she walked onto the landing, wondering if Nick was awake yet. As she tiptoed past his study, she heard him talking to someone on the phone. The door was ajar so she carefully pushed it open. He was sitting behind his desk, his back to her, but turned and smiled when the creak of the door gave her away. Quickly she backed out, shutting the door after her.
How stupid, she berated herself as she walked down the stairs. Worse, how selfish. Wallowing in her own self-pity, thinking only of what she wanted, what she needed, she’d conveniently forgotten Nick had a job to do. One that probably didn’t fit too easily with having to drop everything, jump on his white charger and dash across the Atlantic to rescue her, then babysit her.
Sighing deeply, she filled the kettle. It was, what, Thursday? Well, she’d stay till Sunday. That would give her long enough to get her head screwed back on, whilst not causing Nick too much further disruption. On Monday he could go back to his office, and she . . . the kettle wobbled in her hand. Cold dread, the type that had clung to her in LA, curled its way into the pit of her stomach. She would go back to hell. But hopefully, by then, she’d be feeling strong enough to face it.
‘You look very pensive,’ Nick remarked as he joined her in the kitchen. ‘Did you sleep okay?’
She glanced over. He had the look of a man who’d been up for a while — clean-shaven and dressed in jeans and a crisply ironed sky-blue shirt. He seemed to fill the kitchen, looking taller and broader than she’d remembered. And smelling gorgeous. It drifted up her nostrils: a hint of ocean, a sniff of fresh air, a waft of something sexy. The question, Lizzie. Answer his flipping question. ‘Err, yes thanks, I slept like a log.’ She indicated to the kettle. ‘Do you want a cup?’
‘Sure.’ He sat on the stool and waited while she poured the water out into the mugs, frowning when he saw her hands weren’t quite steady. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking about Charles and those flaming pictures again?’
Carefully taking the tea bags out of the mugs, and adding the milk, Lizzie pushed one over to him. She had been, yes, until he’d come into the room. Perhaps she was better off thinking of Charles.
‘Coming here is great, Nick. Exactly what I needed, but I’ve got to go back and face it all some time.’ She took a sip of tea. It was hot enough to almost scald her lips. Just how she liked it. ‘So I was thinking, I’ll go home Sunday. If that’s okay with you, of course. Me staying here until then.’
Slowly Nick put down his mug and stared at her. ‘That’s really what you want to do?’
His eyes drilled into hers and she almost told him the truth. No, of course it isn’t. But she’d been selfish and needy before and it had cost her parents their lives and Robert any sense of normality. Abruptly she spun away. ‘Do you want some toast?’ She began to forage in the bread bin.
‘Lizzie, forget the flaming toast for a moment. I want to know what your plans are. I had thought, well, I’d hoped . . .’ He let out a deep sigh. ‘Heck, I intended for you to stay a lot longer than that.’
‘Really?’ She nearly squeaked with joy.
‘Of course, really,’ he replied quietly. ‘I don’t want you going back until we’ve sorted out this mess. Hell, I won’t let you. If I need to, I’ll lock you in your bloody room. The speculation won’t stop until we’ve proved what Charles did, Lizzie. You can’t go back to living like you were when I found you.’
Tears threatened again, tears she didn’t want him to see because she’d drowned him enough already. ‘But you have a life,’ she told him haltingly. ‘I can’t expect you to suddenly stop everything to help me out. I know you think you have a duty to look after me. Some sort of promise to Robert.’
‘Rubbish.’
His vehemence rocked her back on her heels. ‘Well, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to let you know I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me already and—’
‘Lizzie, will you shut up for one blasted moment and give me a chance to speak?’ His voice was still raised, the words enunciated slowly and clearly. Perhaps he wasn’t angry, but exasperated.
She shut up.
‘Firstly, yes, I do have a life, but there’s no reason I can’t continue it with you here. On the days I need to go into London, you can choose to come with me, or stay at the barn. It’s up to you.’ Though he was back to calm and controlled, an edge of steel ran through his words. ‘Secondly, how on earth can you think I’m only helping out of duty? I’m doing this because I care for you, Lizzie. I care and I want to help. Okay?’
