As he entered the sitting room, she brushed her face hastily with her sleeve. It was too late. She could see by the expression on his face that he'd seen the gesture and thought the worst.

"You'd better call me if you're worried about anyone hanging around," he said almost brutally. Then he walked out of the front door, slamming it behind him.

Lucy decided that if the whole of the world's press started hammering on her door, Josh was the last person on earth she'd call.

Waking early after a terrible night, her eyes felt like she'd had all the sand on Tresco beach rubbed in them, so she got up and went for a walk by the shore. It was Sunday and a fine morning, so there were quite a few people up and about, exercising their dogs. At the far end, a tall man was throwing something into the sea for a dark-haired dog. She quickened her step but as she drew closer she could see it wasn't Josh.

The disappointment made her eyes sting so she started to jog, then to run, anything to try and shake off the realization that she might have lost Josh. By the time she'd climbed back up the cliff path, she still felt terrible and was out of breath too.

Josh was loading up the pickup truck with wetsuits and buoyancy aids. When he saw her, he shut the door and came toward her. She still cherished a glimmer of hope that he'd calmed down and wanted to talk. Her heart lifted momentarily until she caught sight of his dark, unsmiling face.

"Josh, we have to talk about what's happened. You have to believe that I never meant for things to go this far."

He swung round to face her. "You know what, Lucy? I never meant for things to go this far either. Not with Sara, not with you."

She was shocked but had to persist. "Why don't you just listen to me?"

"No, I think I've done enough of that. You listen to me. You know what? I don't give a toss that I'm going to be all over the frigging newspapers tomorrow. I don't really care that you chucked some bloke in front of every man and his dog. What I do care about is that you didn't trust me." He paused and Lucy was going to speak but he carried on before she could open her mouth to protest. "You know what I think hurts and disappoints me the most?" he said quietly. "It's the fact that I was so completely straight with you about my past and my family. I trusted you with stuff I don't share with people, Lucy, and yet you just kept on lying. When would you ever have stopped?"

"I had stopped. Long ago."

"Really? How can I ever know that, now? I trusted you, believed you. Everyone did. Jesus, you and Fiona must have been laughing at us all."

Lucy felt angry and frustrated now. "We were never laughing at you. Never for a moment! How could you think that?"

"How will I ever know where the truth begins and ends, more like? When we were making love, the things you said to me-how good I made you feel, how much you wanted me... how will I know that wasn't part of the act too?"

"Josh. Give me some credit. That was no act. I've never acted with you, not in the things that matter. Touching you, being with you-it was amazing."

The fleeting spark of tenderness in his eyes made her hope that he was about to throw her a lifeline but his next words stifled any hope.

"Lucy, I lied to you last night and it's been bothering me ever since. I had heard of Hot Shots. It's the kind of crap I turn off as soon as it comes on screen. And I know damn well what the newspapers are going to say about me and Luke but that doesn't bother me. It's the way you've betrayed me."

"Josh, I didn't mean to hurt you-"

He cut her off. "The way you betrayed me and kept on doing it. I always knew you were from a different world from me, but lately, I thought you might be growing to love this place, the people... Christ, I thought you really cared for me. You know what? I just can't handle this right now."

She had just enough dignity left to say, "No. I can see that. It's too soon."

"Lucy, I don't think soon is ever going to happen for us."

With that, he opened the door of the truck and got in, leaving her standing in the yard. As he started the engine, she realized the crushing sensation in her chest was Josh trampling on her heart.

Chapter 32.

It didn't take a genius to know that not everything she'd brought to Tresco would fit back in the suitcase and boxes, Lucy thought, as she tried to cram yet another pair of flip-flops into her case. It was midafternoon and packing up her stuff had taken her nearly all day but she'd been grateful for anything that took her mind off the feature that had appeared in one of the tabloid newspapers that morning.

They claimed it was a "follow-up" feature showing the "contrasting fortunes of the Hot Shots contenders and their 'hangers-on.'" "Nick's business," said the article, "was going from strength to strength while his ex, Lucy Gibson, was now forced to work as a cleaner for her new boyfriend, a man with a string of convictions for petty theft, motor offenses, and criminal damage." Funny how they made petty theft sound even worse than the big sort, she thought, hardly daring to imagine how Josh would feel when he read it.

Even after all she'd read in the papers, she thought this article rated as muckraking of the lowest kind. There was a picture of Josh about to hurl the camera at the photographer and one of Lucy herself, her mouth wide open in a shout of what looked like rage. She'd been trying to stop Josh from launching himself on the reporter, of course, but in the photograph, she looked like she was urging him on. She'd come across as a gold-digging bitch. Josh had been portrayed as an aggressive thug and Luke as some sort of criminal.

"It's vicious and it's just not true. God knows how Josh must be feeling," she told Fiona on the phone after pouring out the whole sorry story.

Fiona gave an audible sigh. "As far as I can tell, they haven't actually said anything libelous. I mean, this stuff about Josh and his brother-I presume it's based on fact?"

"Based on, just about. From what he's told me, I suppose some of the stuff about his background is true but all that stuff happened years ago. You know what Josh is like now and he was hardly a hardened criminal back then. He'll hate this, Fi, I know that much. He's a private guy. He keeps his business to himself. And when he sees this, I don't know what he'll do."

"Maybe he'll see it for what it is: vicious tabloid dirt, but I don't know him as well as you do, hon. Why don't you ask him?" said Fiona tentatively. Oh dear, thought Lucy. Fiona treading on eggshells was always a sign that the situation was dire.

"Even if I wanted to ask Josh, I couldn't. The pickup's not outside the farmhouse and no one at the sailing club seems to know where he's gone, other than 'away.'"

There was a short silence before Fiona replied, "I knew I should never have left you down there with him. You needed saving from yourself."

"It's a bit of a mess, Fi."

"I'm afraid it is, hon, and I don't have an answer other than giving Josh time to cool down. I suppose there is one consolation. Nick's obviously refused to comment. It says: 'Nick Laurentis maintained a dignified silence when asked for his thoughts on his former girlfriend's new man.'"

"I know. That was big of him."

"Least he could do," said Fi. "Ohh. Stop that... I'm talking to Luce."

"What was that?" asked Lucy, perplexed.

"Um. It's Fergus, my toxicologist. We're doing some research."

"After office hours?"

"Naturally. Fergus is far too busy during the day. Now, Lucy, do you want me to come down to Cornwall? Just say the word and Aunty Fi will be there with the gin and Kleenex balm."

"Gin and tissues sounds good," said Lucy, eyeing the almost-used-up loo roll by the bed. "And thanks for the offer, but you'll see me soon enough. I'd decided to come home before all this happened and I'm not going to change my plans now. I'll be back on Friday."

Later, having finally managed to squeeze the flip-flops into her case, Lucy bumped it down the stairs and into the hall. While she was debating whether to take the case to the car or leave it in the hall overnight, there was a knock at the door that made her almost drop the case on her toes. She could see a man's figure through the glass and her stomach did a flip. Without hesitating, she pulled the door open.

"Hello, Bagel Girl."

Her stomach plummeted as she got a proper view of the handsome man standing on the doorstep. His dark hair was long and floppy; he was paler and, somehow, he seemed slighter than she'd remembered, yet he was still the same old Nick.

"Nick?"

"Yes, Nick. Who did you think it was?"

"No one. It's just such a shock to see you here. I-I don't know what to say."

He flashed a smile. "You could ask me in for a start."

She kept her hand on the door. The very last person she had ever expected to see after all that happened in Cornwall was Nick, least of all a Nick who was now smiling at her gently, apologetically even.

"Look, I can understand you're surprised to see me and that maybe me turning up unannounced isn't a pleasant surprise."

"Well, I definitely didn't think you'd be coming all this way down here after all that's happened."

"I won't blame you if you don't want to see me, but I've spent a long time thinking about what happened at the studio. It was very wrong of me to put you on the spot like that. And what went on afterward was, frankly, shitty."

"Yes, it was... but I appreciate that what the press did wasn't your fault."

He smiled disarmingly. "Perhaps not, but I have to share some of the blame for causing it and for not doing anything about it. Now I'm here. Several months too late, maybe, but I'm here."

Lucy hesitated. "I don't know what to say. Things have changed so much. I've changed."

"I can see that," he said, shooting her an appraising look. "You look great, Lucy."

She should have felt flattered but she just felt embarrassed and she certainly didn't feel great. "What's made you decide to come here?" she repeated, determined not to be sidetracked by his charm.

"I just thought you might need a friend right now after this latest business in the newspaper. I'm sorry the way things have worked out with you and John."

"His name's Josh. And we never really got started. In fact, I'm just packing to come back to London."

He raised his eyebrows. "Not staying to try and make a go of things with him?"

"No. The newspapers had everything out of proportion. He's not my boyfriend or my partner. They made all of that up."

"Ah. In that case, I really think you should let me come inside."

When she still hesitated he gave the little-boy pout she'd once found so sexy.

"After all, whatever's happened, it's just me underneath. Just a humble sandwich maker, and he's here asking you to bring him in out of the cold before he collapses on your lawn and is found eaten by crazed sheep," he said. "They do have crazed sheep here, don't they? Because there were a few over by that wall that seem slightly deranged."

She followed his gaze to the lane where three woolly faces peered through the fence at a sleek sports car. "You'll be OK. Most sheep are quite safe unless provoked."

"Even so, I still don't fancy being left alone in the wilds." His face became serious. "Isn't it time we had a proper grown-up conversation about what happened?"

"You're right. It is. More than time."

She made him a coffee while she tried to calm herself down and make sense of his reappearance. When she walked back into the sitting room, he was stretched out on the sofa, leafing through a copy of Horse & Hound. He brushed at his trousers. "The dog hairs are Fiona's, I take it?"

"Hengist's. I've tried to clean them up but they stick to everything," she said, handing him a mug. "Sorry, it's instant coffee and I've no brownies either."

"Sadly, I haven't brought any with me. No time for hands-on stuff these days, I'm afraid."

His eyes sparkled briefly and she waited for the flip, the once-familiar twist in her stomach, but there was nothing.

"Nick, you said we should have a proper conversation."

"Yes. Of course. The thing is, we've both managed to make quite a mess of the past few months."

"Apart from you winning Hot Shots, that is..."

"Well, yes, of course," said Nick, waving his hand dismissively. "But I've made a mess of us. I've been doing a lot of thinking, mainly about what happened in the studio. Now I see that I just got carried away by the moment and that was unforgivable. Lucy, I really cared for you."

"Then why wouldn't you talk to me afterward? I was desperate to talk to you."

He held up his hands. "Mea culpa. I was just too hurt, Lucy. Too raw and, let's face it, you made me look like a total jerk in front of millions of people. No man's going to enjoy that kind of humiliation."

"I just couldn't lie to you, Nick, but I never meant to hurt or embarrass you either. I cared for you too. In fact, I cared way too much just to say yes for the sake of appearances. I didn't want to lie. I hate lying... despite what the world may think. And you did put me in an impossible position."

"I'd like to," he said, winking.

Alarm bells rang in her head. He was still gorgeous, and now he was famous and successful too. Most women would fall into his arms. Most would think she was completely raving mad not to have accepted him, not to be melting now.

"How is your family?" she said, changing the subject and not even bothering to be subtle about it.

He frowned but took the hint. "They're fine. Hattie's engaged to a stockbroker so Mum and Dad are doubly happy. Both their offspring have finally made sensible career choices."

That brought a smile. Same old Nick.

"Lucy, do you have a bathroom? It's been a long drive from London and I don't have hollow legs."

"Upstairs on the right through the latch door. Don't bump your head on the beam."

"A beam and latch door, eh? And there's me thinking this place might have an outside privy."

"Not quite."

When she was alone, she sat back in her chair. Nick turning up had knocked her for six. He was genuinely apologetic about the proposal and some of the guilt she'd felt about turning him down crept back into her mind. To come all this way to see how she was, to have finally faced up to talking over what had happened-well, he was a better, braver person than she was in that respect.

She heard the creaking of the floorboards above and the flush of the antiquated cistern. As his footsteps thudded on the stairs, her cell phone buzzed. Lucy picked it up from the table and was about to press the answer button when she realized that it wasn't her phone. It was Nick's phone. And she recognized the name on the screen. Just one word but unforgettable all the same: Carmody.

She pressed answer and held the phone just away from her ear, too afraid to listen too closely, yet hearing the voice loud and clear anyway.

"Nick? It's Ross, mate. Any joy with the great reunion?"

Lucy's throat was dry.

"Nick, are you all right? Not got her into bed already, have you, you jammy bastard?"

She was still holding the phone as Nick entered the lounge. Seeing her expression, his grin melted from his face.