Just Say Yes Page 5

  As she dumped her bags on the passenger seat of her car, Lucy caught sight of her reflection in the rearview mirror and wasn’t sure she recognized the person staring back.

  Later, as she laid the table in her little sitting room with a proper cloth and candles and even a vase with a rose in it, she couldn’t dispel the feeling of unease. Even as she opened the pesto, got the pasta out of the packet, and shaved the parmesan, she wondered if he would turn up. Then the door buzzed and he was there: half an hour late, looking devastatingly gorgeous and bearing champagne and a white lily.

  “Hello, my gorgeous Bagel Girl,” he murmured while gently stroking her cheek with his hand. “You know, there are times when I think that all I really need is you.”

  Then he’d led her to the bedroom as the pasta boiled dry in the saucepan. As his head disappeared beneath the sheet, Lucy could almost believe him.

  Chapter 7

  “And now, the moment we’ve been waiting for, for twelve long weeks. The moment when dreams come true for one of you. This is your opportunity of a lifetime! Your ticket to fame and fortune! Your chance, possibly your one and only chance in your entire life, to be a Hot Shot…”

  Lucy gripped the edge of her seat as if for dear life as dazzling Gerry Brigham, the presenter of Hot Shots, introduced the Grand Final. The day had come at last. The day they’d never thought would happen, the day Nick had worked so hard for and that they’d both dreamed of. It was here after four long months. Just minutes separated him from his dream.

  “Where does that man get his tan from—a bottle?” hissed Fiona, who was sitting beside Lucy in the audience.

  “Fiona, shut up!”

  Nick and his rival, Layla, sat opposite each other around a mock boardroom table. Sir Denby sat at the head of it, flanked by two of his assistants. Layla looked terribly serious. Nick was smiling but underneath, Lucy knew the truth. He’d thrown up in his dressing room as Lucy had wished him good luck.

  “In a few moments,” squealed Gerry, “we are going to know the identity of the woman—or man—who will walk away with a £250,000 investment in his or her business. Who will get the backing, the acumen, of Sir Denby Sweetman, the entrepreneur you all love to hate!”

  Boos rang out from the audience. Sir Denby grimaced. In front of her, Lucy could tell Nick’s family were feeling the tension as much as she was. Lucy had only met Hattie, his sister, twice before, once at Nick’s flat one Sunday evening and once for a snatched meal in a restaurant. She’d never met his parents until tonight. They were all sitting in a row in front of her. Hattie with her hands over her eyes; his mother twisting a handkerchief between her fingers; his father stiff-backed and impassive. Lucy’s own stomach was on the spin cycle.

  “And this is supposed to be entertainment,” murmured Fiona in her ear. “It’s about as much fun as the reading of a will.”

  On the screen at the side of the studio, the camera cut from Nick to his rival, back to Nick, then back to Sir Denby. Nick’s face was weird. Like she’d never seen him before. Pale and still, almost as if he’d gone into some other place. It wasn’t like him. It wasn’t Nick. Meanwhile, Fiona was squeezing her hand so tightly that Lucy could feel her rings gouging into her fingers.

  “So, Sir Denby, the time has come. Have you reached a decision by which one of these two candidates will get the glory—and who will go home with nothing?”

  Sir Denby glanced from Nick to his rival before turning to the audience. “Yes, Gerry, I have.”

  “So, will it be Layla, the financial manager, who, if we believe the press, says she’d sell her own mother to win?”

  Laughter and gasps erupted from the audience.

  “Or Mr. Popularity, Nick Laurentis, who gave up a promising career in a sandwich bar to have his chance at fame and fortune?”

  There were giggles from the audience. Lucy heard the girl in front of her murmur. “He’s gorgeous. Don’t know what he’s doing with that mousy girlfriend.”

  “Don’t do it, Fi,” warned Lucy as Fiona’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Put her in a book instead.”

  “As a victim,” said Fiona. “Horribly mangled.”

  “Shhh.”

  The presenter had paused. The audience seemed to collectively hold its breath. Nick was staring straight ahead. Lucy really thought she might pass out with the tension.

  “Sir Denby, can you please give us your decision?” said Gerry.

  Sir Denby’s face was solemn. “It’s been an almost impossible task, but I’ve made my choice.”

  Lucy’s hands flew to her face. Like Hattie, she just couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

  “Before I announce my decision, I want to say a few words about each of the candidates. First, Layla Knightley.”

  Layla, clad in a purple power suit and six-inch heels, snapped to attention and fixed Sir Denby with a look Lucy could only describe as withering. She squared her shoulders, every inch the supremely confident entrepreneur. Nick looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. Layla was the wolf about to devour him.

  “Layla, you’ve astonished me. You’ve completed all the tasks. You’re a capable, talented, ruthless businesswoman and I’ve no doubt you’d sell your own mother if you thought you could make a profit out of her.”

  Layla gave a megawatt grin.

  “She thinks he’s joking,” said Fiona.

  “Now on to Nick Laurentis.”

  Nick sat up straighter and managed a smile but Lucy knew that he must be at breaking point. Yet she was proud of the way he met Sir Denby’s eyes. No matter what happened, she was so proud of him.

  “Yes, Sir Denby.”

  “Nick, I’ve had my doubts about you.”

  Boos rang out. Nick’s face fell a little but he recovered fast.

  “At one time I thought you were a lightweight, that you didn’t have the bottle to see this through. You’ve come a long way and you’ve got here on sheer balls at times. I admire you. In fact, I can see a lot of myself in you at your age.” He hesitated. “But I’m still not sure you’ve got the cool head needed to run your own business and be a real Hot Shot.”

  Lucy’s heart sank to her boots. She felt Fiona grip her hand. Nick’s dream seemed to be slipping away as Sir Denby hesitated, glancing from one candidate to the other, ready to bring down the ax on one of them and shatter their dream to smithereens. That ax looked like falling on Nick, and Lucy didn’t know how she was ever going to pick up the pieces.

  Sir Denby smiled benignly at Layla. “Layla, I said earlier that you’d sell your own mother to win this competition.”

  Layla laughed again, confident now that she’d got the vote as Sir Denby continued.

  “But I didn’t know you’d sell yourself.”

  There were gasps. Gerry held up a hand and a deep hush descended on the studio. Gerry perked up. Every ear strained to hear what was coming next. “It’s come to my attention that during the course of filming, you attempted to seduce both my PA and the producer of this show, and I won’t give my backing to someone I don’t trust as far as I could throw her. For that reason, Nick Laurentis, you are the Hot Shot!”

  Layla gave a shriek before launching herself, hands outstretched, at Sir Denby’s throat. Three technicians and a bouncer had to hold her back and carry her kicking and screaming from the studio. Nick seemed rooted to the spot, totally shell-shocked.

  The studio erupted like a volcano.

  A mighty blast of cheering, clapping, and stamping exploded, seeming to make the very building tremble. People jumped to their feet, screaming and whistling. Fiona threw her arms round Lucy and hugged her until she could hardly breathe. Hattie hugged Nick’s mum and even his father got to his feet and applauded.

  As for Nick, Lucy couldn’t see him for people slapping him on the back. For some reason, an ex-Hollyoaks actress and a Page Three model were also hugging him.

  “For crying out loud, where did those two come from?” shrieked Fiona as Nick’s head disappeared between a humongous pair of boobs.

  Lucy didn’t know and didn’t care. All she knew was that Nick had won! Nick was a Hot Shot! Nick was made for life! Nick was—

  “Get a move on, love, we want you on stage!” shouted a floor manager, grabbing her arm.

  “Ow!”

  A microphone was suddenly slapped in her face. “Wahhhhey! Lucy, pet! What do you think of your Nick, then? Isn’t he a megastar?” shrieked Gerry.

  “It’s wonderf—”

  “Aren’t you just so proud of him, petal? How were you feeling, waiting for the verdict? Wetting your knickers, I’ll bet.”

  “Well, not quite, but it was nerve-wrack—”

  “Wow! That’s great. Just amazing! Hey, Nick! We’ve got your Lucy here to see you!”

  On stage, Nick had managed to break free of the actress and the model and was searching the audience, his face anxious as Lucy was led down the steps, wondering why the floor seemed to have been replaced with jelly.

  He broke into a huge grin as Gerry propelled Lucy onto the stage.

  “Awww… will you look at that, folks?” said Gerry as Nick rushed forward and Lucy found herself wrapped in a bone-crushing bear hug. They didn’t have to say anything. He just looked into her eyes, shook his head in amazement, and then kissed her.

  “What a guy! Gets the cash, clinches the deal, and gets the girl too! I’d like to be a fly on the wall of the Laurentis house tonight. Woo-hooo!”

  The clapping and cheering started again as they carried on kissing. Then, softly, Nick broke away. He stood facing her, still holding both her hands, and suddenly he was serious.

  Gerry leapt forward, beaming.

  “So, Nick, what do you have to say? What comes next?”

  Nick didn’t glance away. His eyes were glued to Lucy’s and he was looking so serious that she felt a tiny frisson run up and down her spine.

  “What comes next?” he echoed.

  He turned briefly to Gerry, his voice quiet. “Gerry, winning Hot Shots is a fantastic opportunity. It’s what I’ve lived and breathed for the past four months. It’s what I’ve always wanted, but there’s something missing.”

  The breath caught in Lucy’s throat. What something else could there possibly be? Was he going to say he loved her live on television? It darted into her head that she hoped he wouldn’t. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

  “Winning Hot Shots means more to me than almost anything else in my life, but there’s someone else who has come to mean even more. That someone is the woman standing in front of me now.”

  Gerry and the audience uttered a collective “ahh.” Lucy didn’t know where to look. It was flattering, it was… lovely, but she so wished Nick had waited to tell her in private. She’d hoped to share this intimate moment together, not with zillions of others. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

  Then, still holding her right hand in his, Nick sank to his knees. Lucy thought she was going to faint. No. No, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  “Lucy…” he murmured, looking up into her eyes.

  She shook her head gently. Her legs were about to give way. Maybe that would be best, then they might carry her off, away from the millions of eyes watching, waiting, expecting…

  “Lucy Gibson, will you do me the honor…”

  Oh, Nick.

  “…of being my wife?”

  The studio erupted. “Wooo-hooo!”

  “Way to go, mate!”

  She had to look away. Up and away from Nick’s expectant gaze. A few feet away, Gerry was dancing a jig of delight. Over his shoulder, she could even see a smile tilting the corners of Sir Denby’s jowls. When she glanced down again, Nick was still staring up at her, smiling.

  The studio subsided into an eerie silence. Lucy could hear the whirr of air-conditioning; she even caught the wail of a siren somewhere in the outside world. The perspiration was trickling down her spine, a lump had formed in her throat, blocking the air and making it hard to breathe.

  This was supposed to be the happiest moment of her life. The moment when the best just got even better. Nick had done his bit; he’d delivered what the audience wanted and now it was her turn. A shiver danced its way up her spine. Her hand in Nick’s was trembling as the seconds ticked by, each like a lifetime.

  Nick’s lips moved. He mouthed one word: “Well?”

  Her mouth opened but didn’t form words.

  “Lucy? Did you hear what I said?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “And?”

  “Come on, love! Put the lad out of his misery!” came a shout from the audience.

  “Yeah, get on with it, love. We wanna get to the pub.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Give her a break, she’s in shock. It’s not every day you see a man sign his life away in public,” said Gerry. Even Nick smiled, but the expectation was still there in his eyes.

  Lucy felt like a sideshow at the fair or an exhibit at the zoo. She and Nick were performers now and this happy ending, this perfect moment, was what everyone was demanding. What everyone needed. Everyone, it seemed, except her.

  “Lucy?”

  “I—I can’t…”

  His smile slipped.

  “I—I’m sorry. I mean, I can’t do this. Not like this…”

  What could she say, when every word she uttered, every tiny expression on her face, was being beamed live to millions of viewers? People were sitting on their sofas at home, in the pub, in the Chinese takeout, at the gym… all watching her. All waiting to see what her answer might be. They wanted that answer to be yes. Nick wanted a lifelong commitment. One she knew she wasn’t ready for, not by a long, long way… and not right now. The blood rushed in her ears, her heart pounded, Nick started getting to his feet, his face a mix of anger and anguish.

  “I can’t do this…” whispered Lucy through dry lips. “I’m just not ready for this, Nick, I’m so sorry.”

  Then she wrenched her hand out of his and fled from the stage.

  Chapter 8

  As Lucy stumbled off the set, a floor manager grabbed her arm. “Hey, wait. Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  Ripping off her microphone, she tossed it to the floor, tears almost blinding her eyes. “I don’t know. Home. Out. Anywhere…”

  Gerry appeared, his orange face beaded with perspiration. “Come back, love! Say you were overwhelmed. Tell them it was a dodgy green room sandwich or something, anything, I don’t care, just get back in there.”

  A makeup woman tried to dab his face with her brush but he batted her away. “Not now! I’ve got more important things to worry about than a shiny schnozzle. Look, Lisa, Lucy, whatever your name is. This is Nick’s big moment. Your big moment. Everyone out there is baying for blood—and it’s yours. Come back now and you can still be a hero.”

  “There’ll be cash in it,” said the producer. “The sponsors will cough up. The ratings will go through the roof.”

  “Come now, while the commercials are on. Crystal here will do your face.”

  Crystal aimed her brush at Lucy but she flinched away. “I can’t change my mind and it’s none of your business. No one’s business except mine and Nick’s.”

  Gerry shook his head. “Wrong. You made it our business when Nick signed up for Hot Shots. You’re public property now, love, and it’s too late to go back.”

  Lucy felt icy cold even though the studio was as overheated as an old people’s home. She realized Gerry was right; Nick had made himself public property and, by being his girlfriend, she’d bought into the drama too.

  “We’ve got the main sponsor on the line,” said the producer. “There’s an extra ten percent if she agrees to marry him live in the second half.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  Lucy twisted round to find Nick standing feet away, his face hard as stone.

  “She won’t change her mind, will you, Lucy?”

  “Nick. Let’s talk about this but, please, not in front of strangers.”

  “Over here,” he said roughly, grabbing her arm and yanking her toward some curtains. It was hardly private but the curtains hid them from most of the technicians’ prying eyes.

  “What is wrong with you?” he demanded. “I get a once-in-a-lifetime deal, I propose to you in front of millions, and you blow me off! What more do you want?”

  Not more, but less, she wanted to tell him, but it was hopeless. He’d never understand that all she wanted was normality. She didn’t understand it herself. Maybe she was a selfish cow. Or maybe it just wasn’t right. At no time had he ever got within a million miles of mentioning marriage, or, come to think of it, commitment. And she hadn’t expected it. What had just happened was so totally out of the blue.

  “For God’s sake, all you had to do was say yes!” he hissed.

  Anger rose within her. “Don’t speak to me like that. It’s not that simple, Nick. You’ve just put me in an impossible position! How did you expect me to react?”

  Heads craned to look at them.

  “Keep your voice down,” snarled Nick.

  “I’m not ready for this,” said Lucy, trying to keep her voice calm, yet shaking inside. “Not to be put on the spot in front of the whole world.”

  “Just the UK, don’t flatter yourself.”

  “I don’t deserve that.”

  “And I don’t deserve to be humiliated on national TV, Lucy. I thought you loved me.”

  Her heart almost stopped. He’d never said that word. He’d never come close. She didn’t know how to reply. Did it make a difference, the L word? It was supposed to make all the difference, wasn’t it?

  “Nick, I don’t feel that I know you. Not really, not nearly enough.”

  He curled his lip in contempt. “Our lack of acquaintance has never stopped you before, has it? I don’t recall you saying that when you’re moaning in ecstasy and begging me for more. You couldn’t wait to get your knickers off, could you? And now, when I’m offering you a chance that, let’s face it, Lucy, you’ll never get again, you say you don’t know me well enough.”