A Night of Scandal

‘I used them for costume design.’ She fished around for a plausible reason. ‘I had to study your features—decide which styles and colours would look best for the part of King Richard.’ At least she hadn’t stuck the pictures to her wall.

He put the magazine down and picked up another of her drawings. ‘You’re good.’

Relieved that he hadn’t gone through the rest of the magazines and discovered just how many photos of him she’d collected, Katie stood rigid and selfconscious as Nathaniel looked slowly round her small cramped one-bed apartment.

‘Interesting choice of decor.’ He lifted one of the red silk cushions piled on her sofa. ‘What is this place—the harem? Are you auditioning for a part as the sheikh’s concubine or something?’

Katie felt herself turn the same shade as the cushion. She so rarely brought anyone back home that it hadn’t occurred to her to think how it might look through someone else’s eyes. ‘I don’t think I’m sheikh’s concubine material.’ She didn’t have enough experience to be anyone’s concubine. ‘The place was kind of tired and depressing when I moved in. I got a bit carried away trying to make it homely.’ She’d used her creative flair to make the cramped space welcoming. To conceal the damp patches she’d tacked fabric to the wall. The threadbare carpet was now covered by a large rug in deep shades of exotic red. Lamps provided subtle lighting and drew the eye away from the watermark on the ceiling. The single sofa had been left there by the previous occupants and she’d simply covered it with a bright throw and piles of jewel-coloured cushions that she’d made herself from scraps of fabric.

Imagining what he must be thinking, Katie blushed. ‘It doesn’t look like much, but actually the area isn’t too bad as long as you stay indoors after midnight. And it’s cheap—I’m paying off some debts at the moment. My dad died last year, which was devastating enough, and I only discovered after he died that he’d had a gambling problem for most of his life….’ A lump lodged in her throat. ‘Anyway, he’d borrowed money against the house and if I miss a payment the house gets repossessed and my mum loses her home … so I’m working pretty hard.’

He looked slightly stunned. ‘Do you always tell your life story to strangers?’

‘If they stand still long enough to hear it,’ Katie said lamely. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to bore you. I’m just trying to explain why there hasn’t been a lot of housekeeping going on around here.’

His gaze lingered on the unwashed cereal bowl in the sink. ‘Breakfast?’

‘Last night’s dinner.’ Katie replied without thinking. ‘If I’m home late I can’t always be bothered to cook so I just have cereal. Or toast. You know what it’s like when you’re on your own ….’ Remembering who she was talking to, she gave an awkward shrug. ‘Actually, you probably don’t. If you’re on your own you probably go to a five-star restaurant ….’ Digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole, she felt herself turn redder and redder. ‘Except that a guy like you is probably never on his own … and anyway, no one in Hollywood ever eats carbs, I know that, so cereal and toast would be—’

‘Do you ever stop talking?’ He was watching her with those sexy slanting eyes that made grown women lose their grip on reality. And his mouth—oh, God, his mouth …

Katie clamped her own mouth shut. This was her opportunity to intrigue him with scintillating conversation. At the very least she ought to be talking about something intelligent like films, global warming or space exploration. Instead she was talking about breakfast cereal.

‘Sorry. I’m just not used to having a movie star in my living room. It feels—’

‘How does it feel?’ The way he was looking at her turned her insides to liquid. His eyes slid to her mouth and Katie felt the blood pound through her veins. Being the focus of his attention was the most heady, exciting thing that had ever happened to her. He was looking at her as if, as if—

Oh, God, Nathaniel Wolfe was going to kiss her.

Why, oh, why, hadn’t she stuck to her diet?

Wound tight with sexual awareness, she swayed towards him. She saw him lower his head towards hers and then he gave a sharp frown and turned away abruptly, walking to the far side of the room.

Katie stood like an idiot, co

mpletely thrown off balance. What had she expected? Nathaniel Wolfe was a superstar. What on earth had made her think he’d want to kiss someone like her? Clearly she was delusional.

Delusional and untidy.

Absorbing the state of her flat in horror, she vowed that from now on she was going to be more organised in her home life. No more getting lost in work and losing track of the time. No more spreading her drawings over the floor. Taking advantage of the fact he had his back to her, she dropped stealthily to her knees and started scooping up papers.

And then he turned. Their eyes met and held.

The papers slipped from her hands. ‘I told you you’d be better off at The Dorchester. You probably think I’m a mess, but I don’t have a desk and I find it easier to spread out so that I can see the character progression.’ Realising that he was just staring at her blankly, she sat back on her heels. ‘You look awful,’ she muttered. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? You seemed pretty upset in the theatre. If something is bothering you it’s better to let it spill out, instead of bottling it up.’

Those famous blue eyes were blank of expression. ‘Nothing is bothering me.’

Liar. Katie remembered the way he’d looked in the theatre. ‘You don’t have to pretend with me. When Dad died last year I would have gone under if it hadn’t been for my friends.’ She gathered up the papers again and stood. ‘Do you want my humble opinion on the situation?’

‘You have an opinion on my situation?’

‘I can only give you the female point of view.’ Katie hugged the drawings to her chest. ‘You mentioned Annabelle and Carrie, so I assume you’re seeing two women at the same time …’ She paused, waiting for him to contradict her but he simply stared at her so she stumbled on. ‘That’s only ever going to end badly, even if you’re a movie star, but obviously that’s up to you, and frankly my love life is such a disaster I wouldn’t dream of passing judgement on anyone else’s, but I would say that I think it’s a seriously bad move to get involved with a married woman.’

A tiny muscle flickered at the corner of his mouth. ‘What makes you think I’m involved with a married woman?’

‘The way you rushed off the stage. You looked as though you’d seen Hamlet’s ghost and you said something like—’ Katie wrinkled her nose as she tried to remember. ‘‘He’s here.” Yes, that’s right, you said, “He’s here.” Then you were muttering about needing to warn Annabelle and something about Carrie not finding out, so I assumed that the “he” you referred to must be a jealous husband—and then you punched a hole in a piece of scenery.’ She glanced at his hand. ‘Which reminds me, I’d better get you some ice for that before it swells up.’ Putting down the drawings, she walked over to the fridge and pulled out a small packet of frozen peas.

‘You have an overactive imagination,’ he said harshly. ‘When I said, “He’s here,” I was referring to a theatre critic from one of the newspapers—really nasty guy. I suddenly realised that I wasn’t ready to play the part. Filming on my last project overran and that cut into the rehearsal schedule. We just weren’t ready. I stood there and it felt wrong.’