"And that strategy has worked for you so far?" said Lucy, thinking of the times she'd had to salvage the wreckage that was Charlie after a failed love affair.

"Hmm. I suppose you do have a point. I hope this friend puts in an appearance soon but I'd advise you not to make a 'habit' of waiting in for people."

"Ha ha," said Lucy. "You will still go to the show?"

"Well, I'm all dressed up now and one doesn't get to wear a wimple every day, so I'm bloody well going."

When Charlie had gone with an audible kiss and another warning, Lucy flopped down on the sofa, her heart sinking. So far, Nick had her waiting by the phone, outside the cinema, and by her own intercom. Her neighbor, her sort-of-boss, and her best friend had all told her to steer clear of him which, naturally, had only made her want him more. She thought she knew why too. Nick offered a roller-coaster ride and while she knew it might be scary and uncomfortable, it promised to be exciting.

"Lucy!"

She shot off the sofa and pulled open the door to find Nick there, dressed in a suit and tie. His hair was slicked back like a merchant banker and he was carrying a laptop case.

"Who let you in downstairs?" she asked.

"Would you believe me if I said a nun with a beard?"

"Of course. Who else?"

Five minutes later, he'd abandoned the suit and they were in bed. Yes, the sex was definitely the high point of the roller-coaster ride, she thought later. Making love to Nick was pure unadulterated pleasure. It was like being able to eat a huge plate of profiteroles without worrying about the calories. Or spending a whole month's salary on shoes without the cost ever appearing on your credit card statement.

"So?" asked Lucy, playfully pinning Nick down on her bed. "You can't get away now. Where have you been?" she said, laughing.

"Converting sinners," he said, with a grin and a waggle.

"Tell the truth!" she cried, laughing, yet feeling an uneasy stir in the pit of her stomach again. Freeing himself, he shuffled up the bed and touched her cheek gently. "I've been to an audition. No, let's qualify that: a final audition."

"For a job?"

"You're getting warm."

"A part in a film?" she asked slightly sarcastically.

"Warmer, but still not red hot."

She frowned. "Now you're teasing me."

His expression became more serious and he wasn't waggling anymore, which Lucy thought was rather a shame.

"I've just been to the final round of auditions for Hot Shots. It's a new reality series for wannabe entrepreneurs made by an independent company. There are ten of us in contention and every week we have to complete a series of arduous tasks."

Lucy had a vision of Nick crawling through a pit of scorpions and shuddered.

"You don't have to catch and kill your own python or anything?"

He laughed out loud. "Much harder than that, I suspect. We have business tasks to complete-it's all top secret at the moment, but I guess we'll be setting up mock companies, cold calling, selling things, and all kinds of weird stuff. There are no snakes involved except Denby Sweetman. He's the judge."

Lucy's eyes widened. Sir Denby was rarely out of the newspapers and not just the business pages. He had a reputation for being tough as old boots and very outspoken. Lucy had always wondered if this was a front and that, in reality, he liked doing the dusting while his Amazonian wife stood over him with a carpet beater.

"Isn't he a real bastard?"

"A hard-nosed git? Yeah, but I like a challenge." Nick grinned. "And I'm going to get one. Sir Denby recommends one person to be booted out every week. The winner-get this-gets a quarter of a million to invest in the enterprise of his choice plus the full backing of Sir Denby for a year."

"Or her choice," said Lucy, in the interests of equality.

Nick pulled a face, "No, his choice. Because it's going to be me."

Lucy could feel the excitement fizzing through him; he was almost trembling with adrenaline. He took her hand. "I also have a confession to make that I'm not proud of."

Lucy had the strangest feeling she was about to plunge down to Earth very quickly. "Go on," she said, pulling her hand out of his.

He took a deep breath. "Don't hate me for this, but... I didn't get the wrong cinema last week. I got a recall for the program at the last minute. You see, I was the last to be chosen and I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I was on my way out of the house when they called. After that, they took my cell phone, and by the time I got home, it was three in the morning."

She blew out a breath. "Why didn't you tell me all of this at the time?"

"I thought you'd think I was mad or making up the whole story. The mix-up over cinemas seemed more plausible."

Actually, Nick, the truth is always more plausible, she thought as he began to open his mouth, but she shook her head. "Please. Don't say you're sorry. I've heard that one. Just tell me this. Were you with your sister? Did the accident actually happen, or did you make that one up too?"

"Sadly, the accident is all too true."

"I don't like being lied to, not even a little white lie."

"I know and it won't happen again. I promise," he said as she still hesitated, but he couldn't disguise the little-boy excitement in his eyes. "So, what do you think about the TV show? I haven't even been home and told my family yet."

Lucy couldn't help but be carried along by his enthusiasm. She'd have to have a heart of stone not to be pleased for him and it might even be a whole lot of fun to be part of it. "It's a lot to take in, Nick; I'm gobsmacked, in fact. If you win, it means you could set up your catering business, make a fortune, change your life, save the world..." she teased.

"I know. I can be king of the world," he declared, but his eyes were still gleaming with happiness. "How do you fancy going down the pub to celebrate?"

Still reeling from his announcements, Lucy managed a smile. Inside she was fizzing almost as much as he was. Nick a reality TV star. Her boyfriend: famous. Except, he wasn't her boyfriend. They hadn't even been out on a date yet, technically speaking. He was just a guy from a deli she had slept with.

"Why not? It's not every day you get the chance to be rich and famous and humiliated in public."

"I hope it won't come to that too often," he said with a wink. "Come on. Let's go."

Later, as they lay in bed after returning from the pub, he kissed her and whispered, "From now on there will be no secrets. I'm determined to make it all up to you."

Over the next few weeks, she had to admit, he was as good as his word. Despite frequent trips to the studios, he still managed to find time to take her out. Nothing fancy, of course, which was how she liked it. Just fun stuff. A picnic in the park complete with bubbly and what seemed to be the entire stock of Marvin's deli. A visit to some obscure cinema in the sticks just to track down the film she'd missed. A night at a club where Nick had managed to get VIP tickets from "a bloke" at the studios. Then one night, as she lay in his arms in bed, he'd stroked her hair and whispered. "Lucy..."

"Yes, Nick?"

"I know we haven't known each other long but I want you to be part of this adventure. Support me, help me through it, have mad passionate sex with me when I get chucked out in the first round."

"You won't," declared Lucy, and she meant it. She had a funny feeling that Nick was going to achieve everything he'd said he would-and more.

Chapter 5.

A month later, Nick had resigned his job in the sandwich bar and moved into a massive mansion in Notting Hill which had been rented by the TV studio. During the week, he was locked away preparing and carrying out the tasks set by the program makers. Then, each Friday night, the candidates would gather in Sir Denby's study and have their performances analyzed, ridiculed, and derided. Then one of them would be "let go."

Unlike most reality shows, the victors were allowed home for part of the week. Nick suspected the studio couldn't afford the staff to keep them there every night. Lucy's theory was that the contestants were being secretly watched by the crew while they were "at large," as Sir Denby put it.

"That's just your suspicious nature," laughed Nick as she told him of her theory one Friday evening. He'd got into the habit of visiting his family for dinner before heading over to Lucy's flat where he'd spend the night. That was all he had time for apart from the odd phone call and Lucy tried very hard to understand. After all, she kept reminding herself, they still barely knew each other. She understood that the show had to come first, even though it took its toll on him. After the first sacking, he virtually crawled into her flat.

"This isn't going to be easy," he'd said as they'd lain in bed at five in the morning, too fired up to sleep, eating bacon sandwiches.

"No. I never expected it to be."

"But I need to do this. All my life I've felt I've been waiting for this chance. It's like I've been sleepwalking through everything until now. As if I've never lived up to what I promised."

"You don't have to live up to anything," mumbled Lucy through a mouthful of bacon sandwich. "No one expects you to take over the planet."

He smiled and touched her cheek. "Ah, Lucy. You are so sweet. You have no idea. Did you know what my dad gave me for my twenty-first birthday?"

"A train set?"

"The telephone number of an old school friend of his who ran a food-processing factory. They made frozen fries."

"Happy Birthday to you..." she sang, thinking he was joking.

"Yeah. He told me if I hadn't made it onto the board by the time I was thirty, I'd never get anywhere, so I went for the interview and, despite trying very hard to come across as a complete idiot, I got a job as junior manager in the lab."

"Maybe your dad was just trying to look after you," she said, thinking of what she'd received from her dad on her own twenty-first birthday. It had been a card asking her to contact him. She'd thrown it in the bin. She and her mother hadn't spoken to him for three years and after her lack of response to the card, she guessed he'd given up. He'd brought it on himself-as she'd told herself a thousand times.

"But he must have meant well. Lots of fathers don't bother with their kids at all."

He shook his head. "I wish he hadn't bothered with me. He almost ruined my life. I stayed in that bloody factory for nearly six years until I'd had enough. One day, while we were having a meeting to work out how to reduce the size of the crinkle cut range by ten percent without the customers noticing, I finally saw sense. I mean, what kind of existence is that?"

The kind that a lot of people have to lead if they're lucky, thought Lucy. "It could be worse," she said a little impatiently. "You might have had to work in the factory, making the fries. It's not glamorous, but it's real life."

Nick shook his head. "I don't want real life. I want more. Much more."

"I know," she said, laying her plate on the duvet and stroking the hairs on his arm. It was useless trying to persuade him that she'd have respected him even if he wasn't aiming for the top-maybe even more.

He let out a laugh. "I told them to shove their fries where the sun doesn't shine and I left. The next week I was working in the sandwich bar and Dad threatened to disinherit me."

"Now I know you're joking. Threatening you with disinheritance sounds like something from a Victorian novel."

"My father is like someone from Victorian times. He meant what he said. He told me I'd humiliated him and I wouldn't get any more help until I'd seen sense and got a proper job again."

"But surely your mum and dad are proud of you now?"

"Oh, the old man's come round a bit recently, but he still thinks I'm a fool. This is my last chance, Lucy. It has to work. I have to win."

His face was taut with tension. No matter that he'd had a comfortable, even privileged upbringing. Lucy could see it would never be enough and, in one way, she genuinely admired his passion. You had to reach for your dream whatever it was. Maybe she shouldn't be settling for her marketing assistant's role. Maybe she should fire herself up and go for what she really wanted. Whatever that was.

"Nick? Are you still here?" she asked, seeing him staring into space.

"Hell, yes. Hey-I know it's early and I should get some sleep, but..."

She reached for him and the last thing she heard was the plate thudding onto the floor. That was one of the last times they had a chance to make love because, after that, even their weekends seemed to be taken up with Hot Shots business. Lucy went along to the studio to see a couple of the rehearsals, but their meetings became hurriedly snatched as the excitement built and the press attention mounted.

She'd understood when he hadn't been able to turn up for her birthday dinner. Instead, he'd arrived at the office midmorning in a rickshaw while the TV crew snatched a breakfast in Love Bites. Letitia had been highly amused but Mr. Lawson had said he hoped "her fame would not get in the way of efficient working practices."

Then there were the papers. Halfway through the Hot Shots run, Nick's face began to appear in the national press. Lucy thanked her lucky stars she was neither gorgeous, thin, fat, nor weird enough to attract more than the attention of a few local newspapers back in her hometown. Being ignored was fine by her. Nobody from the nationals phoned her up, so she tried to get on with her job. As long as no one bothered her mum or delved into her past, she convinced herself she was OK.

Week by agonizing week came and went and, somehow, Nick survived as the Hot Shots final approached its climax. The pressure grew and then one day everything exploded. It had all started when Nick had wanted her to go along to a party but Lucy had needed to visit her mum who'd had a minor operation. When she'd said no, he'd got so annoyed that he'd grabbed a vase she'd been left by her gran and hurled it through the air in frustration. It was an ugly glass thing that she hadn't realized how much she'd liked until she'd seen it flying through the air and smashing against the fridge. The moment he'd done it, he'd started to apologize, but it was too late. He bent down and started to gather the pieces together.

"Leave it!" she snapped, but he continued picking up the glass shards as if she hadn't spoken.

"Nick, stop this minute."

"I'm really-"

"No, you're not sorry! You wouldn't have done it if you were."

He let the glass slide from his hand back onto the tiles before standing up.

"I want you to go."

"Luce, don't be silly."

"Get out!" she shrieked.

His mouth twitched and his face darkened, then he shrugged. "Fine. If that's what you really want."

She heard him collect his jacket, open the door, and thump down the stairs. She was shaking with adrenaline but was too angry to cry, so she set to, clearing up the mess. It was dark before she heard footsteps on the stairs again.

"Bugger off!" she said, as the door buzzed.

There was a short silence, followed by a small voice. "Are you sure you mean that, darling?"

She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed to hear Charlie's voice on the other side of the door.

"Sorry, Charlie, I thought you were someone else," she said, letting him in. He kissed her cheek. "Excuse me for prying, but I was just wondering if the frolicking was getting a teeny bit out of hand. I heard a racket earlier then I saw Nick racing out of here like a scalded cat. I don't like to pry but I had to see how you were."

Lucy tried a grin. "It's OK. Just a lovers' tiff."

"Are you sure?"