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* * *
‘I think perhaps you did miss me, after all.’ Full of a warm, fuzzy contentment she traced circles on his chest with her index finger. ‘But maybe you could show me again, just so I’m sure.’
‘Always happy to oblige.’ He started to kiss her collarbone — who knew that was so sexy? — but the mood was interrupted by a ringing phone. ‘You could let it ring,’ he suggested, running his fingers down her sides.
The fact that she was tempted said a lot about the wonder of his touch. ‘But then I’d never know what I was missing out on. I’m far too nosey to do that.’
Smiling, she eased herself up and fumbled around for the phone on her bedside table. ‘Hey, Catherine.’
They exchanged the usual greetings, but Catherine being Catherine, soon got down to business.
‘Has that man of yours finally arrived then?’
‘He’s lying right next to me now.’ Oops, maybe she should have said sitting . . .
‘Oh dear, am I interrupting?’
‘No, no, you’re fine.’ Clearly bored of waiting, Nick eased himself behind her and began to kiss the nape of her neck. Her skin tingled. ‘Perhaps we could speed this conversation up a bit though?’
An amused chuckle sounded down the phone. ‘I’m having a party at my house tomorrow. Nothing formal, just a small gathering. I’d love you to come.’
‘A party tomorrow?’ she repeated, turning to glance questioningly at Nick. Head bent, poised to kiss her shoulder, he paused and looked up. The smile he gave her was so forced, it almost made her giggle. ‘Yes, we’d love to come. Thank you.’
‘You should have left it ringing,’ he mumbled when she came off the phone.
Smiling sweetly, she crawled back under the duvet. ‘Come on, cheer up, it won’t be that bad. A party, in Beverly Hills? Some people would give their eye teeth for an invite.’ She traced the corners of his mouth with her tongue. ‘You never know, you might even enjoy it.’
‘Perhaps.’
He still wasn’t smiling, so she planted a kiss on his nose. ‘When was the last party you went to?’
He wrinkled his brow. ‘Your eighteenth?’
‘You’re kidding.’ When he didn’t refute his answer, she shook her head in disgust. ‘Well, I’m not going to apologise for accepting then. Two parties in eight years isn’t much to ask of you, is it?’
Finally he crooked her a smile. ‘I guess I can manage it. Once every four years is about the right average.’
* * *
They spent the following morning visiting Robert and then driving along the coast to Malibu, dropping down onto the beach when Lizzie felt sure they were away from prying eyes. It was a stunning coastline and Nick could tell Lizzie was enjoying showing it to him, much as he’d loved showing her the countryside around his barn. Which did she prefer, he wondered, then stopped himself. Now wasn’t the time to go down that route.
They slipped off their shoes and walked along the sand, their footprints looking slightly incongruous. Hers so slender and dainty next to his hulking size thirteens.
‘When do we have to be at the party?’ He winced.
‘We don’t have to go anywhere.’ Ah, she’d picked up on his lack of enthusiasm then. ‘Seriously, I can phone and cancel. I don’t care what we do, as long as I’m with you.’
As he had done yesterday, when she’d greeted him so wholeheartedly, Nick felt another fluttering of hope. Could he dare to believe she was growing to love him? That they did have a future together? Sure her place was here, so he’d have to be the one to move, but if she really did love him, he could do that, couldn’t he? There were differences between accounting in the US and Britain, but he had a brain. He could learn. There was still the fact that the life she led, filled with parties and celebrity friends, would slowly drive him crazy, but again, he could try to like it. He wasn’t completely socially inept. ‘I’m fine with going,’ he replied, and it was almost the truth.
Her expression told him she doubted his words.
‘I’d have to be a fool to miss out on the opportunity of mingling with LA’s finest,’ he added in an attempt to reinforce his statement. ‘I presume I will see some stars?’
‘Well, Tom Cruise won’t be flying in, if that’s what you mean, but, yes, you’ll probably recognise a few faces.’
‘And the dress code? I’m not sure I packed the tuxedo.’ He’d intended the words to be tongue in cheek, but suddenly realised it could actually be a posh affair, for all he knew. His face must have registered his horror, because she laughed.
‘Don’t fret. It’s an informal do at Catherine’s house — she’s the friend who lent us the villa. You can keep the tux in your case.’ She took his hand and tugged. ‘It’s probably time we were heading back. If we go now, we might manage a little siesta before we need to get ready.’
