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Nathaniel stared up at the ceiling, reliving the moment when he’d been stranded in the spotlight, staring trouble in the face while a flabbergasted audience watched in shocked fascination.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he found a text from Annabelle, sent in the cold dark hours of the night. Just two words.
I know.
Nathaniel stared at the message, wondering what state she’d been in when she’d sent it.
Chased by his own thoughts, plagued by that feeling of powerlessness, he sprang from the sofa and stood for a moment in the centre of the tiny living room, forcing himself to breathe. He’d never been in a room where the walls were so close together. He was trapped with only his thoughts for company.
And he hated his thoughts.
A shout came from outside and Nathan moved silently to the window and glanced through a gap in the curtains to the street below.
Journalists and photographers were gathered four-deep, lenses poised, a sense of excitement in the air.
They were calling his name.
Nathaniel leaned back against the wall, cursing fluently, wondering why he was surprised. It was part of his life, wasn’t it? In no country in the world could he walk down the street unrecognised. And there was always someone willing to sell his whereabouts to a gossip magazine.
He glanced towards the closed bedroom door, his mouth tightening as he remembered how much she’d talked the night before.
‘Nathaniel! Katie!’
Hearing her name shouted alongside his, Nathaniel felt a flash of anger and launched himself towards the door she’d closed between them the night before. Without bothering to knock, he strode into the room. ‘Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We’ve got crowd control issues.’
She came awake in an instant, her tousled dark curls spilling over her bare shoulders and her green eyes still dazed with sleep. ‘What? Who?’
Beautiful, Nathaniel thought, momentarily distracted by the arresting sight of a sleepy female. For a moment he thought she slept naked and then he caught a glimpse of the tiny lace straps of a camisole through the soft tumbling hair.
‘Thanks to your inability to keep a secret, we have company.’ Gripped by a vicious attack of lust, Nathaniel turned away and banged his elbow sharply on the wall. Pain arced up his arm and through his shoulder. The place was so cramped he could hardly move. He eyed the narrow single bed in disbelief. ‘How do you have sex in a bed that narrow?’
‘What do you mean, crowd control issues?’ She ignored his question. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Photographers.’ Three sketchbooks were stacked by her bed. Everywhere he looked there were sketches of glamorous dresses and yet he’d never seen her in anything other than jeans and boring tops. ‘Our own little pack of journalists have hunted us down and now they’re staking out the place, waiting to get a really revealing picture. You’re looking particularly savoury this morning, wardrobe. If you stand in front of the window like that you might even make the front page.’
‘Journalists?’ His words finally penetrated and she shot upright, her eyes wide. ‘Here? How did they find us?’
‘Surprising, isn’t it? Or perhaps it isn’t so surprising given that you warned me you talk too much when you’re nervous. They’re also yelling your name,’ he drawled, ‘so don’t waste your time pretending you don’t know how they got here.’
‘My name?’ She froze and stared at him, her lips parted as she drew in uneven breaths. ‘Oh, no—’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘I did not call the press.’
‘Well, someone did, angel, because they’re banging on the door as we speak.’
She flung the covers back and he had a glimpse of legs long enough to make a man lose his grip on reality. Dragging his eyes from slender perfection, he encountered pretty lacy underwear and then she was pulling on the same brown jumper and jeans she’d worn the day before. Sexy underwear—boring choice of clothes, Nathaniel thought abs
ently. Strange.
‘Stop looking at me.’ With a flick of her hands, she freed her hair from her jumper. ‘Give me some privacy.’
‘Like you gave me privacy?’ Ruthlessly shutting down his libido, Nathaniel folded his arms and watched her performance with grim-faced anger. ‘I need to know what you told them.’ The thought of what discovery might do to fragile Carrie sent a blast of cold anger through his system.
He’d promised he’d protect her and instead he’d exposed her.
‘You think I called them?’ She pushed her feet into brown pumps. ‘Are you mad?’
