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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.’
