‘Is that you, Katie dear?’
Katie gestured to Nathaniel to stay back. ‘It’s me, Vera. Everything all right?’
‘You’re home already?’ The door opened a little wider and the old lady peered through her glasses, ‘And with a nice young man. That was quick. I suppose that’s why it’s called speed dating.’
‘Vera—’
‘I said to Maggie in 22A, if those guys have any sense they’re going to all be taking our Katie’s number.’
‘Vera, I haven’t—’
‘And you brought him straight back home. No messing around. Good for you. I envy you modern girls. In my day we had to sit through long boring dates and we didn’t even get sex at the end of it.’ Vera leaned forward and squinted at Nathaniel. ‘You look like a man who can handle himself. And you have good shoulders. I like a man with good shoulders.’
Melting with embarrassment and terrified that the old lady would recognise Nathaniel, Katie leaned forward and gave her neighbour a hug. ‘Go back inside now. It’s freezing tonight and you’re letting all the heat out. I’ll come and have a cup of tea with you soon.’
Vera was gazing at Nathaniel. ‘You look a bit like that lovely young man everyone is raving about—that movie star. You could get a job as his body double or one of those lookalikes. We had a Tom Cruise lookalike at the Day Centre a few months ago but he was very disappointing. The eyes were all wrong.’
‘Vera, we have to go….’ Katie backed away.
‘Well, of course you do.’ Vera gave a knowing wink. ‘You have things to do. Speed dating. Just remember, not everything has to be done fast.’ She closed the door and Katie pulled her keys out of her pocket, so embarrassed she didn’t know where to look.
Flicking on the light, her embarrassment increased when she saw the state of the place. Pictures from her sketchbook were spread all over the floor from her late-night working session and dirty bowls and plates were still stacked in the sink waiting to be washed.
‘Sorry about the mess.’ Still not looking at him she closed the door behind them. ‘I did the early shift at the coffee shop yesterday and then I was working on a costume plot for a new production of The Taming of the Shrew. I didn’t have time to clear up.’
‘A shift at the coffee shop?’
‘I start at six. Mostly serving double-shot cappuccinos to tired commuters. Look, just give me a minute and I’ll clear the place up.’
Nathaniel dragged off the helmet and picked up the drawing closest to him. ‘Don’t you work on computer?’
‘Yes, but I prefer to draw when I can, especially in the early stages of design. It’s very important to understand what the costume says about the character.’
‘This dress says “I like hot sex.”’ He studied the drawing. ‘If that’s for Katherine I’d say Petruchio is in for a good night. So… you were supposed to be speed dating tonight?’
Katie snatched the drawing out of his hand. ‘I was just going to keep a friend company.’ She changed the subject quickly. ‘Do you think anyone followed us?’
‘I think you managed to lose them. You could give a few lessons to my security team.’ He was cool and relaxed, almost bored, as if the entire escape plan had been engineered solely for her entertainment. There was no sign of the desperation he’d shown at the theatre. Instead he strolled around her tiny living room, examining photographs, picking up a book she’d left lying face down, glancing at a stack of magazines.
Magazines.
Katie froze in horror, but it was too late. He’d already picked up the one from the top of the pile. The one with the photograph of him naked from the waist up as Alpha Man.
‘Why do you have pictures of me?’
Because she was human. Because she was a woman…
‘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 self-conscious 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