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His dark words were a sickening reminder of how, despite the statement of admission from Charles, the memories of that sordid episode would be hard to exorcise. Most people she’d mixed with since her return had been sympathetic and kind, but there would always be the Hanks of this world. Ready to bait and needle her. ‘I’ll do my job with you, Hank. Nothing more.’
He laughed, his black eyes glittering. ‘What’s wrong? One man no longer enough for you? I can assure you, I’m all the man you’ll ever need.’
Her stomach churned and a cold sweat pricked at her skin. What type of woman had she turned into that she’d nearly slept with Hank? Had actually slept with the cold-blooded blackmailer, Charles? The Lizzie of old — secure, bristling with confidence, happy, albeit with the occasional bouts of loneliness — wouldn’t have given men like Hank and Charles the time of day. But the woman who’d emerged from the agony of her parents’ death was chillingly different. Not outwardly, perhaps, but inside, in her head. She was riddled with such heavy guilt it was like a poison, eating away at her mind. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t have known the tragic consequences of her simple plea for her family to visit her. In her head, their deaths were her fault. Since then she’d started to punish herself, dangerously associating with men she knew would treat her badly. Back in England, her time with Nick had been a special treat. Something she hadn’t deserved but had snatched at greedily, hoping his goodness would rub off on her. Now she was in LA again, and terrified of falling back into her old ways.
‘Elizabeth, Hank, we need you for the photo call.’
Hank arched his eyebrow and smiled cynically, holding out his arm for her to take. ‘Come along, sugar. It’s time to drape adoringly over me for the cameras. Later I might let you do it for real.’
Gritting her teeth, Lizzie took his arm, knowing it was what the company needed from her, and what the media were expecting. Innocence and Sin. Two new faces for Astella’s two new perfumes. As Innocence she had to stand and smile sweetly, looking coy while Sin tried to tempt her down a different path.
The cameras flashed as Hank smouldered down at her, draping his arm possessively round her shoulders, his grip biting into her skin. Next to him she stood tensely, trying to imagine it was Nick, not Hank, who was holding her. But the arrogance of Hank’s tight hold, the cruel, knowing smile that played across his lips as she flinched, was so far removed from the quiet, gentle intensity of Nick it made her want to weep.
As soon as she was able to escape, Lizzie excused herself and dashed off to the Ladies’. There she stood, hands braced against the sink, trying to quell the nausea swirling around in her stomach. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to pretend to like a man for the cameras. It was part of her job, part of the fantasy she was paid to create. So why now was it such an ordeal? Was it because it was Hank? Or would she have felt the same revulsion towards any man who held her in such a possessive way? Any man who wasn’t Nick.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nick couldn’t get the images he’d seen in yesterday’s paper out of his head. Lizzie with a tall, dark, dangerous-looking man, holding her as if he owned her. The quintessential brooding hero. Bronte’s Rochester. Austen’s Darcy. Involuntarily his hands clenched and he tried to remind himself that it was simply a carefully posed photograph to launch two new perfumes. Any sexual chemistry between the models was created purely for the cameras.
Wasn’t it?
He let out a deep, long breath and forced his fists to unclench. He’d know soon enough. Just as he’d know whether he was making this trip as her friend, or her lover. He was damned if he knew what he was supposed to be any more.
The taxi dropped him off outside her apartment block. The same one he’d found her hiding away in only a couple of months ago. He felt he’d lived a lifetime in the intervening weeks.
After checking in with the downstairs security, he called for the lift, his mind still back on the last time he’d been here.
‘Nick.’ He’d barely set foot in her corridor before she flung herself at him, hugging him in a vice-like grip. Silky blonde hair brushed against his cheek. ‘I can’t believe you’re finally here.’
He sighed with pleasure as her familiar scent swept through his nostrils. She felt wonderful. More than wonderful. Bloody, amazingly, magnificent. ‘Lizzie.’ There were so many things he longed to say, but he could only just manage her name.
Taking hold of his hand, she led him into her apartment. ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to the airport to greet you. The media interest isn’t as bad as it was — they’ve found another target for a while, thank God — but I didn’t want to risk being noticed and dragging you into this crazy world. Well, not any more than you might have to be, because, you know, if they see you with me while you’re here, they’re bound to start taking photos and asking questions . . .’ She trailed off, obviously realising she was babbling. Was it possible she was nervous?
He shot out an arm and grabbed her round the waist. ‘Are you going to stop talking long enough so I can kiss you?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered softly. ‘Most definitely, yes.’
And then he did what he’d imagined doing all those nights they’d been apart. He placed his hands on either side of her gorgeous face, lowered his lips to hers and planted a tender kiss there. ‘Hello.’
Her arms wrapped round his neck and she pushed her mouth more firmly against his. ‘Hello back.’
She didn’t seem to be letting him go. In fact she was opening her mouth now, her tongue darting out to dance with his. To hell with it. He angled his head and kissed her deeper, longer. With more heat. Women who wanted to be just friends didn’t put their tongues down a man’s throat.
* * *
Lizzie’s fears that Nick would be distant, that he’d only come because she’d pestered him to, just as she’d pestered her parents two years ago, vanished as his hands rested on her hips, drawing her against his very obvious arousal.
‘I think the unpacking can wait,’ she announced huskily.
‘Too damn right.’ His mouth descended once more, devouring her with a hunger that took her breath away.
He’d gone from achingly tender, to scorchingly passionate, in the blink of an eye. Dazzled by the change of pace, Lizzie clung to him, moaning with delight as his hands crept under her blouse and teased their way over her breasts. Undone by his touch, she reached for his shirt, desperate to feel his skin and the tight, hard muscles underneath. When the small buttons started driving her mad, she opted to rip the thing off instead. It was much harder than she’d bargained for. ‘In the movies, these stupid buttons fly off,’ she mumbled in frustration, resorting to undoing each one in turn.
‘In the movies, I’d be the one ripping your clothes off,’ he countered, ignoring the buttons on her blouse and pulling it over her head. ‘There, at least I’ve got further than you.’
She undid the final button and had the satisfaction of pushing back his shirt and burrowing into the warm, hard chest. ‘Did I tell you how much I’ve missed you?’
He reached down and lifted her up into his arms. ‘I think you might have done, once or twice. Now it’s my turn to show you how much I’ve missed you.’ With that he strode purposefully towards the bedroom.
