OK, then.’ His eyes moved over her face, and lingered for a second on her lips.
She felt her throat tighten, her breathing restrict. She wondered suddenly what it would be like to be kissed by Nick, to be held properly in his arms, not just to be comforted, but caressed. He would probably be a fabulous lover. How could he be otherwise? He was so incredibly sexy and yet so tender. Her heart missed a couple of beats. Then she looked away from him, shocked by her thoughts.
‘I’ll go and get you that T-shirt.’
As he disappeared out of the room, Kate sat down on the side of the bed. Her heart was thumping as if she had been running in a race. She felt ashamed of herself for thinking such thoughts—if Nick knew what she had been thinking, he would probably be horrified. He thought of her as a sister.
Her reflection stared back at her from the dressing table opposite. She looked awful: her skin was ashen, her eyes swollen from her tears, her dark hair dishevelled. Nick would never be attracted to her; she just wasn’t his type. He went for leggy, very glamorous blondes…Natasha would be his type.
She closed her eyes. Why was she thinking like this? She was upset enough without torturing herself with wild imaginings. Maybe it was the brandy she had drunk.
‘Are you OK?’ Nick’s gentle voice made her eyes fly open again.
‘Yes…’
He put the T-shirt down on the bed.
‘Do you mind if I have a shower and turn in?’ She looked up at him, her eyes shadowed.
‘Of course not. Make yourself at home.’
A few minutes later as Kate stood under the forceful jet of the shower and poured shampoo on her hair, she dismissed the way she had thought about Nick. Her body was in shock—she wasn’t thinking rationally, never mind clearly. It was Stephen whom she had loved. And now it was over.
She stepped out of the shower and towel-dried her body. How long had he been having an affair? Did any of their other friends know? Tanya and David had come around for dinner last week and, come to think about it, Tanya had been quiet, very unlike her usual gregarious self. As Tanya worked with Stephen, presumably she knew Natasha.
Kate’s stomach churned. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that Tanya knew. Those looks she had been giving her over the dinner table had been looks of sympathy.
She groaned. How many other people knew? She felt like a total idiot.
‘Kate, I’ve brought you a drink.’ Nick’s voice coming from the bedroom made her jump. She wrapped a towel around herself and opened the door.
Nick was putting a coffee and a sandwich down on the bedside table.
‘You shouldn’t have done that, Nick.’ She tucked the edge of the white towel down firmly. ‘It’s very kind, but I honestly don’t think I can eat anything.’
‘You’re skin and bone as it is.’ His eyes flicked momentarily over her, taking in the long, shapely legs. ‘You can’t afford to skip meals.’
‘Yes, I can.’ She sighed. ‘But thanks for the compliment.’
‘It wasn’t a compliment.’ He grinned. ‘Come on, eat this and make me happy.’
‘Hold on a minute.’ She snatched up the T-shirt from the bed and retired into the bathroom again. Did Nick really think she was too thin? she wondered as she took off the towel and slipped into the white cotton shirt. Come to think about it, maybe he did prefer his women with a more curvy shape. Serena had been very well endowed.
Irritated that she was even thinking along these lines, Kate turned her attention to her appearance. The T-shirt was big on her and came down nearly to her knees. She gave her hair a quick blast with the hairdryer so that it sat in glossy waves around her face. Then she surveyed her reflection in the mirror; she looked a bit better, she supposed. There was a bit of colour in her cheeks now, and her eyes weren’t quite as puffy. Not that she really cared how she looked for Nick…it was just female vanity.
When she returned to the bedroom she found Nick sitting on the bed watching the small TV set which was on a stand at the far side of the room.
‘Nothing on, as usual,’ he said, flicking through the channels. He gave her a cursory glance before returning his attention back to the set.
She needn’t have bothered worrying about how she looked, she thought as she climbed onto the bed and sat behind him, reaching for the coffee.
‘Don’t forget your sandwiches.’ He grinned at her. ‘You’ll have nightmares if you don’t eat something.’
‘I’ll probably have those anyway,’ she muttered glumly. ‘I’ll probably see Natasha and Stephen walking down the aisle, hand in hand.’
‘That sounds like Stephen’s nightmare, not yours,’ he muttered dryly.
‘Just because you are frightened of commitment, doesn’t mean every man is,’ Kate retorted sharply.
‘So you think Stephen is suddenly going to turn into Mr Commitment, do you? Mr Fidelity?’
Kate shrugged and took a sip of her drink. ‘I don’t know what Stephen is going to do. I don’t think I know him any more.’
Nick switched off the TV and turned to look at her. ‘Get real, Kate. Stephen is having a fling. It probably won’t last two minutes.’
‘How do you figure that out?’
‘Well, for one thing he can hardly keep a job down for two minutes, never mind a relationship.’
‘We lived together for two years, Nick. Stephen isn’t that flaky.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ Nick retorted dryly.
‘At least he tried to settle down.’
‘Unlike me, you mean?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘That’s what it sounded like.’
She frowned. Were they arguing? She and Nick never argued…well, not real arguing—maybe they differed occasionally on small things, but they never snapped at each other. ‘I didn’t mean it to sound like that,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘But, you know, Stephen may not have been the most reliable of people, but he did try to commit…you haven’t had a serious relationship since Jayne.’
‘Yes, you made that point earlier,’ Nick muttered. ‘My relationships may not have lasted long, but at least I have always been honest with my girlfriends. I’ve never lied or cheated.’
‘I know—’
‘You need to stop romanticizing about Stephen,’ Nick cut across her before she could continue. ‘You’re burying your head in the sand. OK, he may have said he loved you once upon a time, but anyone can pay lip service to emotions. Actions are what matter in the end, and real life isn’t like it is in your picture-perfect, idealized dreams.’
