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Nick sat back and kicked himself. Now he’d thoroughly pissed off the one person he’d craved to talk to all night. Disgusted with himself, he swallowed down his beer. He might not be having a great evening, but really, did he have to spoil hers as well? One minute she was dancing without a care in the world, the next she was obviously upset, and all because of him. He was acting like a blinking wet weekend. Reluctantly he rose to his feet. Time to bite the bullet and get on that ruddy dance floor.
He was loitering on the edge, toying whether to wait for the next song or just barge straight on in there, when a soft Californian drawl came from behind him.
‘Are you ever going to ask me to dance?’
Nick didn’t realise the words were meant for him until a slim hand grasped him round the arm and started to move him towards the floor. Catherine.
‘Dancing isn’t one of my strong points,’ he blurted as she wriggled her way through the gyrating throng and into some space. Christ, dancing was bad enough. The thought of dancing with his Hollywood pin-up drained away any dregs of co-ordination he might have had.
She laughed and eased her arms around his shoulders. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to eat you.’
They started to move. Nick knew he was holding himself too stiffly, too formally, but he couldn’t seem to relax. He had a gorgeous woman in his arms, but he was praying for the music to finish.
‘You’ll take care of Elizabeth, won’t you?’ Catherine whispered into his ear as they skirted round the outside of the dance floor.
Her question took him by surprise. ‘Yes. Always.’
‘Good, because whatever else she might tell you, she needs you in her life, Nick. She really does.’
As he contemplated her words, the music changed to a slow beat and, miraculously, he found Lizzie beside him. ‘You’ve got no idea how grateful I am to see you,’ he told her, gathering her into his arms.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘But you were dancing with your favourite actress.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I was humiliating myself in front of her. But now I’m going to shuffle with my all-time favourite model while subtly plastering my body indecently against hers.’
For a second, just the briefest of moments, he felt her hesitate, as if she was coming to a decision. He held his breath, terrified, but then she relaxed against him and he breathed again.
* * *
Later though, as they got ready for bed, Nick felt Lizzie withdrawing from him. It wasn’t anything she said, rather the things she didn’t say. He was used to her chatting away ten to the dozen, laughing about what she’d seen, giggling over the antics of the people she’d met. Tonight she was eerily quiet. When she did speak, it was only to answer a specific question, and even then her replies were monosyllabic.
‘Are you still angry with me?’ he asked finally as he pulled off his boxers and slipped into the bed.
She turned away from him and slipped on a nightdress. ‘No.’
‘It sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. Look, let me apologise again for being a miserable git.’
‘You’ve done enough apologising, Nick,’ she interrupted, pulling back the sheet and sliding underneath it. ‘I know you don’t like parties. I shouldn’t have taken you. The matter’s over.’
Then she did something she’d never done before. She turned on her side, away from him. He was left staring at her long, slender back. A beautiful sight, but not one he wanted to be faced with. Tentatively he draped an arm around her waist. ‘Lizzie.’
‘I’m tired, Nick. Good night.’
Ouch. Her message was cuttingly clear. Smarting from the rejection he rolled onto his back and stared up at the immaculate white ceiling. Long into the night, long after he felt her fall asleep, he still stared. Only inches separated them, but he might as well have been back in England for all the closeness he felt.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nick woke from a restless sleep to find the bed beside him empty. In the short time they’d been together, he’d always woken with his arms wrapped around her. Then again, they’d never gone to sleep without making love, either. The sense of foreboding he’d experienced last night came back in full force. It wasn’t something he’d imagined, as he’d tried to kid himself during those dark, lonely hours. Now she’d seen him try to mix in her world, seen how embarrassing he’d been, how stiff, how awkward, how bloody dull, Lizzie didn’t want him any more.
Had Catherine, who’d seemed so warm, so welcoming, laughed quietly with Lizzie behind his back while she’d told Lizzie how he’d stepped on her toes while they were dancing? He shook off the thought. No. Catherine had been the one to point out how much she believed Lizzie needed him in her life.
It must have been Hank, who Nick knew damn well had stared pointedly over at him sitting in the corner while he’d been dancing with Lizzie. Had seeing the comparison between them, Hank so bold, brash, broodingly handsome, him so . . . opposite in every way . . . had that been what had convinced her?
Sitting up, Nick hung his head in his hands and tried to quell the feeling of fear. This outcome shouldn’t come as a surprise — he’d always known it was coming. It was why he’d wanted the clean break. Yet he’d still foolishly persisted in keeping a small kernel of hope alive. Sure she hadn’t chosen to stay in England when he’d asked, but she’d kept phoning him, hadn’t she? Kept asking him to come over. It had to have been his pathetic performance last night that had brought her hurtling back to her senses, because it was now pretty damn clear she wanted to get back on with her life. One that didn’t involve him.
* * *
Down the hallway, in the kitchen, Lizzie splashed cold water into the kettle and tried not to cry. The sooner she got this over and done with, the better. Drawing it out was just prolonging the agony. And if Nick put his arms around her once more, like he had done last night, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to have the strength to carry it through. She had to, for both their sakes. He didn’t deserve to be drawn any further into a world he didn’t want anything to do with. She needed to stop living a fantasy and face up to life without him.
