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Lizzie slid him a sideways glance. He looked so adorable, all stiff and awkward without his T-shirt. In Los Angeles men took their shirts off at the drop of a hat, only too ready to impress the ladies with their rippling, tanned physiques. Sure, Nick’s chest could do with a bit of sun, but it was hard and well defined. The lean muscles of an athlete, rather than the heavy muscles of a bodybuilder.
‘All you need now is a hankie on your head,’ she remarked lightly.
He snorted. ‘I said I was English, not an English stereotype.’ Threading a hand through his thick dark hair, he smiled smugly. ‘Look, no bald patch. I believe that’s why they put the hankie on the head. To prevent a burnt scalp.’
Because he looked so adorable, and because she ached to kiss his dimpled smile off his face, Lizzie had to turn away. She tried to concentrate on her book again, but it was impossible with Nick sitting next to her, his chest muscles glinting in the sun. A sexy trail of dark hair running down from his navel and disappearing into his plain black trunks.
‘I’m heading in for another drink. Do you want one?’
He looked surprised. ‘I thought you didn’t want a hangover?’
‘What, after two weak gins? I’m hardier than that. Besides,’ she nodded in the direction of the view, ‘it’s sinful to sit here and not drink a G&T.’
He laughed and her insides somersaulted. Heaven help her, it wasn’t the weak gin making her feel all fluttery. It was him.
As she made the drinks, she acknowledged what she’d known for years. Nick was special, and she was falling for him, hard. Was she deluding herself to think he felt the same way? She didn’t think so. That look he’d given her by the pool sure as heck hadn’t come from the eyes of a friend or a brother. Catherine’s bikini test had been right.
But even if he did feel the same way, was she right to encourage it? He was the closest thing she had to family left in the world. More than that, these last two weeks had shown her he was the most important person in her life, full stop. Was it worth risking losing him for a holiday fling? Because there would be no happy ever after, not for them. A long distance relationship, carried out under the curse of the media spotlight? She couldn’t see Nick enjoying either. When he settled down, it wasn’t going to be with a needy, limelight grabbing model with a sordid sexual past. No, it would be with someone like himself: smart, unselfish and self-reliant. Suddenly she thought of Sally again. A partner at his firm, so he’d said. A woman who appeared unclingy, secure enough to let him lead his own life independently from hers. Yet there when he needed her.
Shoving the gin bottle down with more force than necessary, Lizzie clutched the glasses and strode back outside.
‘What does Sally think of you coming away with me?’ she asked as she sat back down beside him.
He gave her a sharp look. ‘I’ve told you already—’
‘You aren’t serious, aren’t an item, just use each other for sex, blah, blah.’ His eyes narrowed and she realised the gin was making her tongue loose. ‘Sorry. I just don’t want to be the cause of any problems between you.’
His jaw tightened. ‘You think I’d have kissed you like I did the other evening if there was anything remotely serious going on between me and Sally?’
Of course he wouldn’t have. Nick was as honest, as straight, as decent as they came. ‘You’re right. Forget I said anything. It’s none of my business.’
If anything, his face tightened further. ‘We’re friends. It is your business. But you don’t need to worry about upsetting her. Our . . .’ He hesitated, as if unsure of the right words. ‘Our agreement is over.’
* * *
Nick cringed, and the look of bemusement on Lizzie’s face racked his embarrassment up a further notch. Had he seriously called his ‘thing’ with Sally an agreement? It sounded like a bloody business transaction.
‘I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear your description,’ Lizzie murmured, her eyes alive with amusement. There was something else there, too. Was he deluding himself to think it was relief? Maybe even delight?
‘Piss off,’ he muttered back at her and she laughed, a rich, spontaneous, joyful noise that wrenched all the angst out of him. He was left feeling only pleasure at how happy she looked.
And a deep, aching, pulsing lust at how damn gorgeous she looked.
‘I’m going inside for a bit,’ he announced, standing quickly, something he regretted instantly as the combination of alcohol and sun nearly unbalanced him.
‘Whoa, steady there.’ Giggling, she stood and clutched at his arm.
He looked down at her hand. ‘Is that to help steady me or you?’
She bit at the underside of her lip. ‘A little of both. I should go in, too. I don’t want to get sunstroke on our first day. Do you want to see if there’s a movie on?’
A film? Awkwardly he moved away from her grip. He’d just spent two hours next to her in a bikini. Now she expected him to spend two hours curled up beside her on a sofa? God help him, he didn’t have that sort of control. ‘Lizzie, I need to work. You might be on holiday, but I’m not.’ Desperation made his words far too sharp, and she flinched.
‘Fine. Maybe I’ll see you later.’ She slumped back onto the lounger and pretended to read.
‘It’s upside down.’
She frowned, followed the direction of his eyes, and, huffing, spun the book the right way up.
