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He took his time walking back downstairs, taking a few seconds to drink in the sight of his unexpected guest. She was curled up on his sofa, just where she used to sit. The last time she’d been here, they’d gone from friends to lovers. What were they now? Certainly not lovers, but not friends, either. Once more he cursed his weakness. He shouldn’t have slept with her. He’d known it would complicate matters and end in heartbreak. Being able to say I told you so wasn’t much of a consolation.
She looked up as she heard the stair creak and gave him a smile. One that reached into the depths of her stunning eyes and made his heart squeeze so painfully in his chest it pushed all the breath from his lungs. Transfixed, with every cell in his body crying out to him to run over and claim her, he stood on the final stair. She looked incredible. Unlike him, she definitely didn’t have the appearance of a woman who hadn’t been able to sleep. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was positively glowing with contentment, radiating happiness. ‘You look well.’ Inwardly he groaned. That was what you told an aged aunt, not a flaming supermodel.
Her eyebrows raised a fraction. ‘You told me that on Thursday, but thank you. Again.’
The silence stretched and Nick felt like he was wading through a deep bog. Every step he took made him sink further.
‘I made you a cup,’ she told him, indicating the mug on the table.
‘Thanks.’ His voice sounded scratchy and he coughed to clear his throat, taking up a place on the sofa opposite her. ‘So how long are you going to be in England?’
She smiled and took a sip of tea. ‘That depends.’
Was it his imagination, or was she acting coy? ‘On what?’
‘On how long the man I’m in love with wants me to stay.’
For a few desperate seconds, time stood still. He wanted to be mistaken, to have misheard her somehow, but the soft look in her eyes told him he hadn’t. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise you’d met someone new.’ He struggled to sound normal, and not like a man whose heart was being trampled on. ‘I thought you said you were too busy for men.’
‘I haven’t. Met anyone new, that is.’
‘Oh.’ This wasn’t making any sense. His tired, dazed brain couldn’t work it out. Then a cold shiver ran up his spine. ‘Bloody hell, it’s not Hank, is it?’
* * *
If Nick’s face hadn’t looked so anguished, Lizzie would have burst out laughing. ‘Hank? God, no. Give me credit for having some sense.’
‘Good. Because you deserve a damn sight better than a man like him.’
He said it with such utter conviction, her heart turned to goo and she couldn’t seem to stop grinning. ‘You know there was a time, not that long ago, when I wouldn’t have believed that statement.’
He stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that for a couple of years after the accident I didn’t think I deserved love and happiness, or a man who could give me both.’ She moved forward so she could perch on the edge of the sofa and look directly into his eyes. ‘I didn’t think I deserved you.’
‘Me?’ He gaped at her in open-mouthed astonishment. ‘You didn’t think you deserved me?’ he repeated, clearly confused. ‘How the hell did you work that one out?’
‘I figured I wasn’t allowed to be happy when my parents were dead. Especially when I was the one who—’
‘Stop that,’ he cut in forcefully. ‘We’ve been through this. You didn’t have anything to do with their deaths. You loved them. They knew that, just as they loved you.’
‘I know.’ She put the mug down on the table, her hands trembling too much to hold it. ‘Thanks to you, and the lovely psychiatrist I’ve been talking to, I’ve finally begun to accept that. I’d been so wrapped up in my own thoughts, I’d forgotten to see things from their side. As you pointed out, they would have wanted me to be happy. I’m not just paying lip service when I say I know that now. I’ve always known it, but somewhere along the line I lost sight of it for a while.’
‘And are you happy?’ His voice was rough with the emotion he was clearly trying to keep contained. ‘Does this man you love make you happy?’
His face was so earnest, his eyes blazing with a love he couldn’t hide, but there was also anguish. He really didn’t have a clue. ‘He would make me happy, if he stopped staring at me and kissed me instead.’
For a second he looked baffled. Then she had the satisfaction of seeing the truth finally dawn. Anguish and confusion left his eyes, astonishment and wonder filling their place. ‘Lizzie, I . . . I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t need to say anything.’
* * *
Before Nick had a chance to think, to work out the implications of what she’d just told him, she was sitting on his lap, her hands round his neck. His response was sharp and immediate. In a kind of mesmerised trance he watched her lips descend onto his and her hands drift under his shirt, running over his chest. He groaned out loud at their touch. Shifting so he could have better access to her, he pulled apart her blouse, revealing a sheer lace bra. Could she have worn anything sexier? Anything more capable of sending him hurtling into a frenzy of desire? But even as he fumbled for the clasp, a part of his brain was holding up a red flag, warning him to stop. As his body clamoured to get closer to her, to lose himself in her, his mind was dragging him back to reality.
‘Ahh, Lizzie.’ He gently pushed her back. ‘I’m going to hate myself forever, but I can’t do this.’
He felt her stiffen. ‘What is it? At the fashion show you told your sister you loved me.’ Pain clouded her eyes. ‘Weren’t you telling her the truth?’
