"Morning!" he called cheerfully.

Lucy blinked. "Nick?"

"Yes. Who did you think it would be?"

"What are you doing down there?"

"Hoping to say it with flowers?"

"Shhhh! You'll wake up the neighbors!" she said, crossing her fingers and praying that Charlie, who lived below, had enjoyed a hard night and was dead to the world.

"So am I forgiven?"

No, actually, she thought, he wasn't. Not even if he did have a great body and a cheeky smile and more flowers. She wasn't going to forgive him unless he had a very good excuse for last night's no-show. Closing the window, she pulled on a robe, debating whether to go down and let him in. She waited a few minutes before padding slowly down the stairs. He deserved to be kept waiting. It was only a shame it wasn't pouring down outside.

"Sorr-ry," he mouthed as she unlocked the door and poked her head round the jamb.

"And you actually expect me to let you in?"

His face fell. "Well, I was kind of hoping. I know you must be surprised to see me-"

"Surprised isn't the word I'd use."

"Pissed off, then."

"You're getting warmer."

He nodded. "I don't blame you, but I do have an explanation."

"Involving what? Alien abductions? A multiple pile-up on the North Circular?"

At this last suggestion, he heaved a sigh. "Now, I'm afraid, you're getting warmer."

His last comment had her interested enough to open the door a little wider. Nick tugged at an imaginary forelock and held out the rose. "I really am most dreadfully sorry, Miss Lucy, but if you let me in, I can try and explain myself."

He managed to sound both contrite and sexy and, to her annoyance, Lucy felt her resolve thawing a fraction of a degree. She reminded herself that, ultimately, she was in control of the situation. There would be no harm in letting him say his piece, surely. If she didn't buy what he had to say, she could still kick him out. She also realized she was clutching the front of her robe tighter.

"We'd better go upstairs and this had better be good."

"Lucy, I can promise you it will not only be good, but it will also be true."

She raised an eyebrow, determined not to be taken in by his charm.

"Yeah? Don't make promises you can't keep."

Once in her flat, Nick flopped down on her sofa and laid the rose on the coffee table.

"I owe you an apology-again," he said as she perched on the edge of a chair, trying to keep her distance from him. "I know you'll find this hard to believe, but I was actually on my way here last night, when I got a call from my sister. Harriet is as ditzy as they come and she'd crashed into a lamppost in her car."

She was taken aback. This wasn't what she'd expected at all. She could hardly go all righteous on him now if he was telling the truth. "Oh. Is she OK? I hope it's not serious?"

"No. It's not serious. She'll be fine. It turned out to be just a few cuts and bruises, in fact, but she's still pretty shaken up. The paramedics were there when I arrived and they insisted she be checked out in the hospital. I spent until two this morning in the ER with her, surrounded by winos and druggies."

Lucy resisted the urge to sympathize just yet.

"By the time I realized I'd left my cell phone in her car, it had been carted off to the garage and after that, well, I didn't dare phone you in case I woke you up," he went on. "I really do feel awful. I can only imagine what you were thinking about me."

Lucy didn't bother telling him what she'd been thinking. She was too busy wondering if his story was true. It certainly seemed genuine, and it was a fairly major tale to make up. And one she could check up on, if she really wanted to. Besides, while the accident was awful for Nick's sister, at least it meant that he hadn't stood her up.

"I don't like being messed about by anyone, Nick, but it's fine. I mean, not the bit about your sister crashing the car, but the not phoning," she said at last.

"Are you sure? Because I would have been completely pissed off if I were you. I bet you were thinking I was an unreliable, lying git of the first order."

She gave him a rueful smile. "Now why on earth would I think that?"

He rolled his eyes. "Hmm. Come to think of it, you did seem less than welcoming when you opened the door..."

"It is six thirty on a Sunday morning. I don't do mornings that well or being stood up," she said.

His stomach rumbled like a mini train. "God. Sorry. What am I like?"

He looked so embarrassed, Lucy bit back a smile. "I don't suppose you've had breakfast?"

"Nothing more than several gallons of disgusting hospital coffee and, now you come to mention it, I am fairly ravenous."

She hesitated before making her next offer, knowing what it might lead to. "Well, I could do you some toast, if you like. I've even got some marmalade somewhere."

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't really fancy toast, and I'm, er, not a big fan of marmalade," he said, pushing himself to his feet. He pulled her to her feet and rested his fingers lightly on her upper arms. "In fact, if I was forced to choose, I'd say I'd prefer something sweeter and more substantial."

"Then you should head back to the deli," replied Lucy, removing his hands from her arms. His skin was warm under her touch and every sensible brain cell told her he was a presumptuous, cheeky sod who didn't deserve a piece of toast, let alone anything else from her. The trouble was, other parts of her were saying she'd like to give him much more.

He held his arms out, palms upward. "OK. Just say the word and I'll be out of here for good. It's your decision."

Lucy felt the heat rising to her face. All she had to do was show him the door and he'd be out of her life. But why should she? He'd made a couple of mistakes and there seemed to be perfectly reasonable explanations for both. Why should she push him away? Why should she throw out the best-looking guy she'd seen for years?

"Of course, it's the last thing I want," he added.

It was the last thing she wanted too. She was bored sick of being a good girl and was ready for some good old-fashioned fun.

"I'm not sure if I'm making a big mistake here, Nick..."

If he'd fed her a cheesy line, she'd have thrown him out on the spot, but he just replied softly, "Maybe it's time we both took a chance?"

She wasn't sure who moved first but in a moment, they were both leaning forward and his hands were cradling her face. She was amazed by how thick his lashes were, how full his lips, the caramel-latte tone of his skin. He reminded her of some old movie star her grandmother used to have a crush on. Someone called Rock or Dirk, she thought, and she squashed down a giggle. The next thing she knew, he was sweeping her into his arms. Well, not sweeping, exactly, but he did manage to pick her up and he did a good job of hiding the grunt. Then they were lying on the sofa and Nick was sliding off her camisole.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

"Why?"

"Just do it, Bagel Girl."

"Ohh..."

She guessed the velvety sensation she could feel was the rose being drawn over her bare stomach and between her cleavage.

"Nick..."

"Hmmm."

She wriggled beneath him as the petals tickled her. "Ouch!"

"Thorns. Sorry."

His fingers slipped inside her pajama shorts and began to slide them down. By then she'd forgotten what she was going to say and, besides, Nick was doing something utterly delicious to her nipples with his tongue.

By the time they surfaced, the aroma of roast beef was drifting into her bedroom from Charlie's flat. Outside, she could hear laughter and chat ringing out from the pub beer garden down the street. Rumpled and crumpled, sated and sheened in the afterglow of a marathon sex session, Lucy fumbled on the bedside table for her watch.

"Whattimeisit?" Nick's voice was muffled by the duvet.

"Just after two."

There was a pause, then the duvet was thrown off and Nick jumped out of bed, stark naked and waggling.

Lucy giggled. "What's the matter?"

"I'm late! Where are my bloody boxers?"

The expression on his face was so different to the laid-back, slightly mad guy who'd sent her to heaven with a rose and his tongue that Lucy was taken aback.

"Jesus!"

In the middle of pulling on his jeans, he'd tripped over Lucy's exercise bike and got tangled up in a pile of shoes and handbags on the floor. "Christ, I'm going to be late. Where's my T-shirt, for fuck's sake?" he shouted, trying to unwind a beaded bag from his ankle.

"Hey! Chill out."

"Chill out? I should've been out of here half an hour ago."

Lucy grabbed her robe. Suddenly, being naked in front of Nick didn't seem like so much fun. He hadn't seemed like he was in a hurry when he was making love to her. Not after the first time, anyway, she thought with a blush.

"Here's your top," she said, rescuing it from the carpet and holding it out. Snatching it from her hand, he pulled it over his head.

"That's OK, it's a pleasure," said Lucy sarcastically.

Nick snapped round and for a moment, she could hardly believe the fury in his eyes. Then the anger disappeared and he raked his fingers through his hair in exasperation. He shot her a little-boy-lost look and said: "Sorry, I'm a real control freak, aren't I? I've no right to be acting like this."

"Your trainers are in the sitting room," she replied coldly, still reeling from his scary outburst.

He kissed her nose. "I'm a total bastard. Really."

She flinched away but the way he'd said it managed to make being a bastard sound almost sexy. Almost, but not quite. Planting a hasty kiss on her mouth, he grabbed his trainers and pulled them on. Lucy waited, trying to stay calm, hoping there would be a further explanation for his weird behavior, but Nick was intent on gathering up his belongings from a variety of locations around the flat.

"Have you seen my wallet?" he asked.

Lucy spotted it under a half-empty packet of condoms and her pajama shorts, both tossed carelessly onto the sofa.

"I think it's here," she said, holding it out.

Grabbing the wallet, he shoved it into his jeans pocket. "Sorry, but I have to go. I've got an appointment."

"On a Sunday?"

"It's an-oh, I may as well tell you the truth." He grabbed her shoulders, his eyes bright. "You'll have to know sometime, if we're going to carry on seeing each other."

Lucy's heart started racing. Here it comes, she thought. He's married. Or a member of a cult. She could feel his fingers digging into her flesh, almost hurting but not quite.

"I, Nick Laurentis, am going to be rich and famous!"

So. Not a cult. Not married. Just delusional. Delusional, she could live with. He could be cured and gently helped to see that ordinary mortals, even expert sandwich wranglers, did not become superstars in their Sunday lunchtimes. Not unless they managed to be snapped handing Victoria Beckham a large baguette.

"Right. Sorry to be dim, but can you run that one by me again? Did you just say you were rushing off to be rich and famous?"

His expression, as he pulled open the door to the landing, was one of total determination. "Yeah. That's what I said. Rich and famous. I'll see you this evening. I'll explain everything then."

Chapter 4.

Later, the Heart FM chart show had just finished and Lucy was seriously wondering whether to accept Charlie's invitation to a read-through for an all-male production of The Sound of Music when the door to the flat buzzed. She hesitated for a nanosecond, grinned, and then pressed talk. "If that's someone wanting to throw bricks at my window and ravish me, I'm sorry, but I've already been ravished very thoroughly today."

There was a pause. "Have you been at the hookah pipe again, Lucy?"

"Charlie! Sorry, I didn't think..."

"It was me? Clearly. Are you coming to this SoM bash, or do I have to put my nun's outfit back in the wardrobe?"

"Oh, Charlie, I'm sorry. I thought I'd wait a bit longer, just in case... a friend turns up."

"A friend? Lucy, I think I detect the fragrant odor of a teeny weeny fib here."

"There's no odor and I am expecting a friend. Hopefully."

"You don't sound terribly sure to me. I'd go out if I were you, and play hard to get."