Project: Runaway Heiress (15 page)

Thirteen

One month later...

L
ily stood behind the counter of the Zaccaro Fashions store, staring out at the porcelain-white mannequins wearing her designs; the displays of other items, like Juliet’s handbags and Zoe’s
daZZle
line of shoes; and the handful of customers milling about. A sting of pain made her drop her thumb from her mouth as she realized—not for the first time—that she’d bitten the nail down to the quick. All of her formerly beautiful nails were like that now—short and mangled thanks to her apparent need to work off stress by destroying any chance at a decent manicure.

Clutching her hands together behind her back in an attempt to stop the troublesome habit, she turned her attention to the front of the store. Maybe she should rearrange the window displays again. She’d redone them twelve times in the past four weeks, when normally they changed them only once a month or so.

Her sisters were beginning to think she’d gone off the deep end. She knew this because Zoe had come right out and said, “Lil, you’re going off the deep end,” just a few days ago when the smoke alarm in their apartment had started shrieking yet again because she’d put something on the stove, then walked away and forgotten what she was doing.

She wished she could claim it was the spark of creative passion distracting her and making her borderline psychotic. What she wouldn’t give to have new design ideas filling her head and the need to get them down on paper or fitted onto a dress form keeping her up at night.

But no. Since returning from Los Angeles, she hadn’t sketched anything more than pointless, shapeless doodles that had nothing to do with fashion design, and she hadn’t sewn a damn thing. She’d tried, but her heart...her heart just wasn’t in it.

She was beginning to think it was because her heart was still in Los Angeles with a certain British CEO who probably wished he’d never met her.

Her chest tightened at the thought of Nigel and the expression on his face just before he’d told her to go. That she wasn’t welcome in his office, his company or his life any longer.

Well, he hadn’t said the last out loud, but it had been implied. And she’d heard him loud and clear.

She’d hurt one person in all of this mess; she was just grateful she hadn’t hurt more. Upon her return to New York, she’d spilled her guts to her sisters. Told them everything, from the moment she’d realized her designs had been copied, to her brilliant plan to find the thief on her own, to her ill-fated affair with Nigel. And as much as she hadn’t wanted to, she’d broken the news to Zoe that her friend Bella was behind the thefts.

Just as she’d expected, Zoe had been devastated. And angry. And guilty that she’d been the one to bring Bella into their apartment, their studio, and give her access to their work to begin with.

But Lily and Juliet weren’t holding anything against Zoe, in the same way Juliet and Zoe didn’t hold it against Lily that she’d kept such a secret and run off to Los Angeles without giving them a clue as to what she was up to. It wasn’t as though she’d known what her friend was capable of.

And after a long, exhausting discussion that had lasted well into the night, all three of them—Zoe included—had agreed to turn the evidence and information Lily had dug up over to Reid McCormack to let him do some further investigating. Juliet had even offered to take it to him personally, which surprised Lily, since she’d expected her sister to be angry with the detective for pretending to look for Lily while actually covering for her. That had taken a bit of explaining on Lily’s part, too.

Then, if Reid thought they had a strong enough case—and they all knew cases like this, concerning “creative license” or the theft of ideas, were hard to prove—they would proceed as necessary, even if it meant taking legal action against Bella Landry. As upset as she was, it was still something Lily would hate to have to do.

Thank heaven for small favors, she supposed. Her broken heart would eventually mend, and the guilt she felt over betraying and lying to a man she’d come to care for—a lot—would eventually dissipate. She hoped. But she didn’t know what she’d do without the love and support and forgiveness of her family. Especially her sisters, who were also her best friends.

“Lily!”

Lily jumped at the sound of her name being called very loudly in her ear. She blinked, turning to find Zoe standing beside her, looking extremely put out.

Brows drawn down in a frown, hands on hips, she shook her head. “I swear, you’re about as useful as a zipper on a pillbox hat these days.”

Then she sighed, her tone softening. Tipping her head, she said, “There’s someone over there who’d like to speak with you.”

Lily followed her sister’s line of sight, her heart stuttering to a halt when she saw Nigel standing by the far wall, studying the shelves that displayed some of Zoe’s finest—and most expensive—footwear designs. Seeing him again made her breath catch. She forgot to inhale for so long that her chest burned and her head began to spin with little stars blinking in front of her eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” Zoe hissed.

Lily shook her head, swallowing past a throat gone desert dry. She couldn’t move. She was locked in place, even as every bone in her body turned to jelly.

With a sound of disgust, Zoe put a hand in the middle of Lily’s back and urged her out from behind the counter, then gave her a small shove in the right direction for good measure.

“Go,” she told her in a hushed voice. Then, in typical Zoe fashion, she grumbled, “And don’t screw it up this time.”

* * *

Nigel watched Lily walking toward him from the corner of his eye. He wanted to turn to her, cross the rest of the distance between them, grab her up and never let go. Instead, he remained turned slightly away, fighting to school his features, keep his heart from breaking out of his chest.

Blast it all, he’d missed her. As angry as he’d been at her...as hurt by the fact that she’d lied to him, pretended to be someone she wasn’t...he’d still missed seeing her, touching her, hearing her laugh, watching her lips curl into a smile. Every day since she’d left, he’d wished she were back...then cursed himself for being such a weak, pathetic fool, so easily swayed by womanly wiles. Again, since he seemed to be falling into many of the same pitfalls with Lily as he had with Caroline.

Yet here he was. He’d flown all the way across the country to see her again. And to get some answers to the questions he’d been too bitter and infuriated to ask before she’d walked out of Ashdown Abbey and returned to her real life in New York.

The question was, could he ask them and wait for her response without reaching for her and saying to hell with anything else?

When she was only a few feet away, he turned to face her fully. The sight of her punched him in the gut. If he’d been breathing to begin with, the air would have puffed from his lungs in a whoosh.

Fisting his hands at his sides, he forced himself not to react. Outwardly. She didn’t need to know that inside, a team of wild horses was running rampant through his bloodstream.

She stopped. An arm’s length from him, which didn’t bolster his resolve in the least.

“Nigel,” she said on a shaky breath. Then she licked her lips nervously. “I mean, Mr. Statham.”

Her tentativeness had a calming effect, letting him know she was just as unsure of this impromptu meeting as he was.

“Nigel is fine,” he told her, resisting the urge to shove his hands into his pockets and rock back on his heels. They were a bit beyond polite social etiquette, after all. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately.”

Licking her lips again, Lily glanced around. There was a handful of shoppers in the store and a blonde who bore a strong resemblance to Lily—a sister?—behind the counter, staring at them curiously. When she caught Nigel’s eye, she glowered at him. Definitely one of the sisters.

After Lily had confessed her true identity, admitting that she’d lied to him, he’d been furious, determined to find a way to punish her for her deception. So of course he’d hired a private investigator to discover as much personal information about her as possible.

She came from money, but had worked to open this store on her own, without a handout from her parents, who could easily afford it.

She had two sisters—one older, one younger—who were partners in the design business. They’d gotten involved after Lily had graduated from design school, but seemed to be no less talented. The oldest sister, Juliet, designed handbags and other accessories, while the youngest sister, Zoe, did shoes. Extremely sexy, fashionable shoes, most with enough heel and sparkle to be noticed from a mile off.

Lily designed all of the clothing for Zaccaro Fashions—and she did it quite well. If he’d known about her talent before all of this, he might even have offered her a design position at Ashdown Abbey. She certainly would have been an asset to the company.

And something else he’d been forced to admit after he and the private investigator had both done a good deal of research: she was right about her designs being copied at Ashdown Abbey. How it had been allowed to happen was still a bit of a mystery, but he’d found enough—a link between one of Ashdown Abbey’s employees and Lily’s sister Zoe, as well as a distinct similarity between Lily’s natural design aesthetic and Ashdown Abbey’s recent California Collection—to feel confident it wasn’t simply a matter of coincidence.

With a tip of her head, Lily gestured for him to follow her, then led him to the back of the store and through a doorway marked
Personnel Only.

He was surprised to see that it was part storage space, part workroom. There were sewing machines, cutting tables, dress forms and supplies set up, but no one was using them at the moment.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Nigel turned to face Lily, who was standing with her back to the closed panel, hand clinging to the round brass knob.

Taking a deep breath that raised her chest and drew his attention to her breasts beneath the brightly patterned top he now recognized as one hundred percent her personal creation, she said, “Why are you here, Nigel?”

Right to the point. And regaining a bit of her natural confidence, he noticed. Just one of the things he admired about her, and had from the beginning.

“I thought we should talk,” he answered honestly. “You ran off so quickly we didn’t have a chance to discuss your true reason for being at Ashdown Abbey.”

Lily opened her mouth, clearly eager to set him straight, but he held up a hand, stopping her.

“I know—my fault entirely. I told you to go, and at that point, I was too stunned and angry at your confession to hear the whole story. But I’ve had some time to think and to calm down, and I have some questions that only you can answer.”

She considered that for a second, then offered a small nod. “All right. I really am sorry for what I did, for...lying to you. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

As simple as that, and suddenly he couldn’t think of a bloody thing to say. His mind had been spinning with questions for weeks, his body tense with the need for answers. Now Lily was standing in front of him, ready to bare her soul, and all he really wanted was to close the distance between them, clutch her tight to the wall of his chest, and kiss her until the rest of the world melted away.

Minutes ticked by, the silence almost deafening. Her glossy, periwinkle eyes blinked at him, waiting.

Blowing out a breath, he stiffened his spine, telling himself to man up and do what he’d flown all this way to do.

But again, only a single thought filled his head. Not the desire to kiss her...that was still there, but taking a close backseat to the one question he most wanted an answer to.

“Our time together,” he began, forcing the words past a throat gone tight with emotion. “In Florida, and then after we returned to Los Angeles...did it mean anything to you, or was that, too, part of your strategy?”

Seconds passed while she didn’t respond, and his heart pounded so hard he feared she could hear it from halfway across the room.

Finally, her lips parted and air sawed from her lungs on a ragged stutter. Eyes glossy with moisture, her voice cracked as she said, “It meant...everything.”

Relief washed over him. Relief and...so much more.

“Oh, Nigel.” Lily sighed, dropping all semblance of distance—physical or otherwise—and rushing to him. Her fingers wrapped around his forearms, digging through the material of his suit jacket to the muscle beneath.

“I’m so sorry about everything. I was only trying to find out what happened with my designs. I knew they had been stolen, but I didn’t know how or by whom, and I knew I would sound crazy if I started tossing out accusations without proof. I just wanted to poke around a little, see what I could find. I
never
meant to lie to you...not really. And I never,
ever
meant to hurt you, I swear.”

She shook her head, glancing away for a moment before looking back, the tears on her lashes spilling over to trail down her cheeks. Nigel felt emotion welling up inside his chest as well, and swallowed to hold it back.

“What happened between us...” she continued. “It was never part of the plan, but I’m not sorry. My feelings for you were completely unexpected, and they made everything so much harder, so much worse. But they were very, very real.”

Releasing her hold on his arms, Lily stepped back, not sure if her admission had made things better...or worse.

She felt better now that she’d had the chance to tell Nigel the truth, to tell him how much their time together had meant to her. Not because of her “investigation,” not because it absolved her of guilt, but because she’d wanted him to know all along that their relationship hadn’t been a casual one. Not to her.

He might not share her feelings. For all she knew, she had been beyond casual to him—disposable, even. But she didn’t want him to think, even for a minute, that she’d slept with him as a means to an end. That seduction had been just one more way of using him, lying to him.

At the very least, she’d been able to tell him as much and wouldn’t have to live the rest of her life with it hanging over her head. Already, her conscience was lighter for having come clean.