Reputation in Tatters

by Maggie Cox

  ‘Oh, Nash!’ Natural instinct made her go to him, but she froze in shock when he deliberately moved away from her, his raised hand indicating she keep her distance.

  ‘I’m not looking for sympathy, Freya. You asked me about my childhood and I told you. Now just leave it alone can you?’

  ‘But—my God! Your mother’s boyfriend attacked you with a knife? That’s dreadful!’ She twisted her hands together, distressed that he wouldn’t let her comfort him—even though she knew it was many years too late for the boy he had been. What had happened to Nash made her own story seem like a fairy tale in comparison.

  ‘I’m going out for a while.’ He backed towards the door, barely looking at her. ‘Don’t wait up for me. I don’t know what time I’ll be back.’

  ‘Don’t leave, Nash. Why don’t you just stay and talk to me?’

  ‘I’ve done enough damn talking, in my opinion! Just go to bed and think about something else, will you? How about the audition you’re going to tomorrow? You need to concentrate on that. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘No!’

  She was at his side with her hand on his arm before he could reach for the door catch and go out. He was staring at her as a wounded animal stared at a predator that had just appeared and cornered it—most of the colour seemed to drain from his face at the idea he might be trapped. It took every ounce of courage Freya had in her to keep her hand wrapped firmly round his strong wrist, but instinct told her she shouldn’t let him escape this time.

  ‘I just—’ She swallowed hard across the lump in her throat. ‘I just want to hold you, Nash… Won’t you let me do that?’

  She saw him grit his teeth, registered the stark mirror of pain that glittered back at her, and before he could shake off her hold moved in close to his chest, slid her arm round his waist. For a second or two he remained rigid as a fence-post, but then…incredibly…she sensed him relent.

  ‘Oh, baby, I hate that you got so badly hurt… I almost can’t bear it.’

  Reaching up, she kissed the side of his rigid jaw, felt his stubble graze her soft mouth then heard the harsh sounding exhalation he made at the contact. Euphoria and relief washed over her in a wild torrent when he caught her to him and held her so tight that her breathing was almost compromised. Sliding his hand up behind her head, Nash stroked her hair as he brought her face down onto his shoulder. Freya knew she didn’t imagine the shudder of emotion that went through him. She didn’t think she would ever forget it…

  CHAPTER TEN

  PACING the plush air-conditioned waiting room of the West End casting agents where Freya was having her audition, Nash mused that his position was not unlike that of an expectant father waiting for news of his newborn. An hour had passed already, and he thought if he had to wait another minute for her to emerge from Geoff Epstein’s gargantuan office he would honestly go nuts.

  Pausing for yet another glance out of the window, he saw that it had started to rain again. Watching the snail-like pace of the traffic inching down the long narrow street below, he rested a wary eye on the pedestrian access to the front of the building. So far he hadn’t spied any evidence of paparazzi, but he knew that if Freya’s audition hadn’t gone well she would understandably not feel up to facing cameras on the way out. He sighed. His need to protect her went way beyond a purely professional requirement. That was blindingly obvious. And after last night, the way she had held him and offered him the kind of comfort he had never allowed himself to receive before, he was a man in turmoil. But telling her the truth about his background had been cathartic as well. Something frozen for too long inside him was indisputably melting, and he felt like a changed man.

  Following the events of last night, Nash also couldn’t help reflecting on how he was supposed to withstand having Freya share his apartment and resist touching her. Every time he held her at the back of his mind was the realisation that one day soon his agreement to help her would be at an end and she wouldn’t need him any more. Perhaps he should try and start to let go of her from now on, to pre-empt any further pain her departure might cause him?

  The door to Geoff’s office opened at last, and the woman who had been commanding most of his thoughts came out into the waiting room. She was wearing slim black trousers with a classic white shirt, a black fitted jacket and a minimal amount of make-up. With her dark hair swept up on top of her head and kept in place by a tortoiseshell comb her graceful appearance resembled that of a svelte professional dancer rather than a well-known movie actress. Catching the dark-eyed glance that gravitated straight to him, Nash experienced the most incredible pleasure explode like a skyrocket inside him. The sensation was getting to be a habit as far as Freya was concerned, he acknowledged, silently and broodingly.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he enquired, when she didn’t immediately address him. Before she could answer, a large middle-aged man with black wiry hair, wearing a striped shirt and braces on his trousers, emerged from the room behind her. He made straight for Nash and heartily shook his hand.

  ‘Nash! Good to see you, my friend! It’s been too long. We must have lunch together some time soon. How’s business? Still burning the candle at both ends? A rich guy like you can afford to take his foot off the gas from time to time, don’t forget!’

  The words burst from his lips like machine-gun fire, and Nash couldn’t help thinking it would be a good idea if he drew a breath from time to time…

  ‘That’s good advice. Business is good… How are you doing?’ The younger man’s smile was far from relaxed, and neither was he in the mood to indulge in polite chit-chat, even though it might be good PR. All he was really concerned about was how Freya’s audition had gone and how she felt about the performance she’d given. Watching him across the other man’s shoulder, her quiet steady gaze revealed nothing of what she might be feeling.

  ‘I certainly can’t complain!’ Laughing at his own joke—the plush offices with the signed movie-star photos covering its walls and the framed business awards a vivid testament to his own personal success—Geoff Epstein turned suddenly to include Freya in the general banter. Moving over to her, he put his arm familiarly around her slender shoulders and gave them a squeeze.

  Immediately Nash sensed rage boil up inside him at the sight. Another man touching her like that was anathema to him, and he wanted to rip her away from Geoff’s side immediately. But he didn’t want to scupper any chances Freya might have of winning the role of Nikita by a jealous display of temper. He was certain she wouldn’t welcome it, and might just think he was taking too much upon himself.

  ‘And business is starting to look up even more now that we’ve got this young lady on board to play the starring role in our film!’ the casting agent declared with avid glee.

  Shocked and surprised, Nash focused his blue eyes even more intently on Freya. ‘You got the part?’

  The briefest smile of acknowledgement touched her perfect lips. ‘It seems so.’

  ‘I’ve seen about twenty other actresses and I’ve got to tell you…there was simply no contest! The director and I were blown away by her performance! Freya is the consummate professional…born to play the role of Nikita Pushkova. And the backers and producers will be absolutely delighted to have her join us. Thanks a million for arranging for me to see her, Nash… I owe you.’

  At the bottom of the narrow elegant staircase, by the door that led onto the street outside, Nash laid his hand on Freya’s jacket sleeve to make her pause for a moment. For someone who had just won what could turn out to be a career-defining role, she seemed almost too composed to be believed. Especially when he knew intimately just how much that part meant to her in terms of resuming her career.

  ‘Congratulations. You must be elated,’ he remarked.

  She wanted him to hug her…or at least appear far happier than he did at that moment. But his expression appeared a bare degree warmer than stone-cold marble, and Freya wondered if he wasn’t already thinking about the next client he would be taking on a
nd was simply mentally letting her go. The thought made her feel sick inside, instead of elated by her good fortune. She didn’t want Nash to let her go…or to think about anybody else.

  Last night, when he had allowed her to stop him leaving and simply hold him after his reluctant confession about his past, she had been suffused with an overwhelming feeling of love for him that had made her want to hold onto him for life. It had taken great courage to tell her his story, and Freya knew intimately that it didn’t come easy when a person had been so profoundly and destroyingly hurt. She’d wanted badly to make love with him, but had sensed his need to retreat and recoup after what had occurred and so had accepted his ruefully offered goodnight and watched him go to his bedroom alone.

  Afterwards, she had mourned the too-great loss of his hard, strong arms around her, and the scorching ‘lock the door’ kisses that she’d so willingly become enslaved by. It had felt as if he was locking her out by keeping her at such a distance—even though he had finally accepted her need to comfort him. Now her only consolation was the surprising revelation that she still obviously had what it took to be a first-class actress and had won this coveted role…in spite of all her own personal anguish. Seeing as Nash seemed so resistant to allowing her into his heart, all the passionate feeling she was capable of would simply have to be focused on delivering a portrayal of the beautiful Russian doctor that would be faithful and true and show everyone what an amazing young woman Nikita Pushkova had been.

  ‘I’m so overwhelmed I can hardly take it in,’ she confessed now, smiling tentatively. ‘I think I gave a good performance, but it’s not always easy to tell. Anyway…it’s all really down to you that I’m in this enviable position. If you hadn’t brought the part to my attention and arranged for me to have the audition I’d still be wondering how I was going to get back into the business.’

  ‘You did it all on your own merit, sweetheart.’ The endearment slipped out before he’d noticed, and Nash followed it up by gently touching his palm to Freya’s cold smooth cheek. Seeing the startled look in her eyes, he wryly withdrew it again and held up the long black coat he’d been carrying for her. ‘You’d better put this on,’ he advised, even as she turned round to slide her arms into the sleeves. ‘It’s raining outside.’

  ‘I wish we could go somewhere and get a cup of coffee to celebrate.’

  A soft, regretful sigh followed this somewhat forlorn remark, and Nash thought, Why not? She was hardly asking for the moon to go and enjoy a cup of coffee in a café, like any ordinary citizen had a perfect right to do! Yet he knew if they started walking openly down the street it wouldn’t take long for someone to recognise her, and then the press would descend on them like a swarm of avid bees round the last blooms of summer. He frowned…then grinned.

  ‘Wait here,’ he instructed, taking the staircase two steps at a time as Freya spun round in surprise to watch him. Returning mere minutes later, he triumphantly produced a short blonde wig and a purple velvet scarf, courtesy of Geoff Epstein’s casting wardrobe.

  ‘Ta-da!’ He grinned. ‘Go up to the ladies’ room and put these on,’ he instructed, pulling his own coat collar up around his ears. ‘If we’re only out for half an hour or so we should be able to get away with it.’

  Sitting in a packed corner of a well-known coffee outlet just off Oxford Street, Nash watched Freya sip her frothy cappuccino with a pleasure that could not be measured on any scale that he knew of. She put him in mind of an excited child playing dress-up. She’d entered into the spirit of her disguise with real zeal—even affecting a Swedish accent that in his opinion would have fooled his own mother, who was from that country. Her lovely face—framed by ash-blonde instead of its usual ebony silk—was no less beautiful, and Nash barely touched his own coffee for looking at her instead.

  ‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed this!’ She leaned towards him across the small round table. If it hadn’t been for the fact she didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Freya could have hugged Nash right there and then in front of everyone. Her delight in this small, not insignificant pleasure almost overwhelmed her. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure. You’re a knockout as a blonde, by the way.’

  His voice was a little husky, she noticed, and the bedroom cadence of it made her shiver.

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘I’ll have to get you to play dress-up for me in private one day soon,’ he joked, but the laser-like heat in his crystal blue eyes burned her, and belied the humour in his tone.

  To deflect the answering swell of need that arose like a deep wave from the bottom of a deceptively calm ocean inside her, Freya quickly sought a less provocative subject to talk about.

  ‘When did you want me to do the benefit at the children’s home?’

  His answering glance was no less intense. ‘It’s on Saturday…just a few days’ time. I’m going to speak to the press soon, to let them know you’ll be making an appearance there. Did Geoff say when rehearsals start for the film?’

  ‘Next month. We’ll spend two weeks in London rehearsing before we fly out to Romania to look at some locations with the director.’

  ‘It’s going to be amazing for you.’

  ‘I know.’

  It was hard for Freya to rest her gaze on Nash and know that some time in the not too distant future he would no longer be in her life. She would be once more immersed in her film career, and he would be protecting and arranging more conducive publicity for another fortunate client who was overwhelmed by their predicament. The thought was almost too painful to bear.

  She’d believed that living with the day-to-day misery of a failed marriage, a ruined career and a mercenary and cruel ex who’d bled her dry every which way was the epitome of despair—but it would be as nothing to the pain of parting from Nash now that she knew she was hopelessly, emphatically, in love with him. Her love genuinely was hopeless, since she’d now discovered that the dynamic PR executive was a man who clearly kept any suggestion of love away due to the wounds of his horrendous past. How was such a man ever to be reached?

  ‘We ought to be getting back,’ she said jumpily, needing to disguise the sorrow that had insidiously descended and stolen her joy.

  ‘Sure. As soon as you’ve finished your coffee we’ll go,’ Nash agreed, his glance leaving her to diligently scan the room for anyone taking a too obvious interest in them, and also to check that there were no reporters or photographers waiting to pounce on them as soon as they set foot outside the building.

  Both the children and the staff at the home had come up trumps. As the applause for the final act of the afternoon’s entertainment died away—a charming rendition of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, no less—Nash speculated on what Freya had made of it. Judging by the completely enraptured expression on her face as she sat beside him on a hard plastic chair, she appeared as touched by the children’s bright shining faces, and their determination to excel in their performances despite the heartbreak that went on behind the scenes, as he was.

  Warmth crowded into his chest and rendered him almost too emotional to speak. But then Freya turned towards him, smiling her delight at the show they’d just witnessed, and Nash was struck again by how right it felt to have this amazing woman by his side.

  ‘That was just wonderful!’ she exclaimed with enthusiasm. ‘I was astounded at how perfectly they all remembered their lines! Especially the younger ones.’

  ‘They’ve been rehearsing for weeks to make it look seamless.’

  ‘Well, it definitely paid off!’

  A sense of hard-to-contain excitement was building up around them in the rows upon rows of seats occupied by children and staff alike, but at the back of the room the waiting press had been warned not to take any pictures until Freya actually got up to speak. Catching the eye of the principal of the home, Nash covered Freya’s hand briefly with his own.

  ‘They’re waiting for you to say something,’ he said lightly. ‘Do you mind going up unannounced?’


  ‘Not at all.’ She started to get to her feet, a vision of slenderness and poise in her pink Chanel suit, her perfume lingering in the air with seductive tones of amber and jasmine. ‘Wish me luck!’

  Nash’s answering glance was perfectly serious. ‘You don’t need it, angel,’ he murmured, and his keen gaze was unwavering as Freya made her way gracefully up the five wooden steps that led onto the small wooden stage.

  Her smile of greeting dazzled everyone present in that tiny hall—from the domestic staff and the children to the eager press and the principal of the home herself. She looked every inch the perfect ambassador of her craft. Something told Nash that Freya Carpenter would never, ever be the has-been actress that she had so derogatorily called herself when they’d first met. She had way too much talent and charisma for that ever to be a reality.

  Her short but enthusiastic speech—praising the children’s and staff’s efforts and pledging her support for any future fund-raisers in whatever way she could—all but brought the house down. Cameras whirred and flashed and, agreeing to pose with the children, Freya put her arms around the eager little bodies that pressed forward for her attention. She seemed to have a special smile for each and every child there, clearly not just making an appearance to help further her career.

  Nash realised she was genuinely happy to be there, and then—like a thunderbolt out of the blue as he continued to gaze at her beautiful joyful face—the truth hit him. In those few almost unreal minutes, when time seemed to strangely stand still, Nash realised he was in love. The realisation throbbed through him in a relentless tide of powerful emotion, and he shook his head in wonderment to try and relieve himself of the giddiness that had somehow seized his brain.

  After that, it was hard to concentrate on anything but the need to be alone with her, to somehow convey his feelings…if it wasn’t already too late. He had pushed her away so many times when she’d tried to get close. Would she believe his sincerity when he told her that he would never keep her at a distance again?