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CHAPTER TWO
WomanBWarned
Top tips for surviving the dating jungle. What not to do on your first date …
Don’t drink—at least not much. Alcohol impairs judgment and you want to make safe, sensible decisions.
Don’t be too sexual—if it’s a possible relationship you want, not a one night hook-up, then keep a little mystery. You want to be taken seriously.
Don’t go on and on about your ex(es) or your ailments or how awful your boss is. Negativity is a downer.
Don’t go to the movies—it’s a cop-out. You want to get to know the person, not sit next to them in silence for two hours.
Don’t try too hard—just relax and be yourself.
ETHAN sprawled on the sofa in his apartment and laughed as he read, his laptop balanced his stomach. Oh, boy! OlderNWiser—the online pseudonym for one Nadia Keenan—really had her rules, didn’t she? There were a ton of little blog bits on her site, giving tips for this and that in the dating realm. As if she was some kind of expert.
He so didn’t think so.
The woman needed a lesson or fifty from a true master. And he knew just how he was going to do it—by taking over her own turf, of course. Fighting fire with fire and all that. Because anyone could set up a blog, right? And fortunately he was partner at a firm that didn’t have uptight HR princesses like Nadia Keenan. His firm believed in treating adults like adults, and didn’t care about what personal things employees decided to put up on the internet. There were no draconian, moralistic guidelines attempting to govern their workers’ private lives. So long as it wasn’t work-related, and didn’t impact negatively on the business, they weren’t interested. If the people he did deals with stumbled across it they’d most likely laugh and cheer him on. They were human, with senses of humour.
Yeah, it wasn’t because of his work that he was bothered by her reputation-shredding website. For him, it was the core injustice of having to prove innocence instead of guilt. That violation of a fundamental legal principle. Okay, there was an element of the personal too. They’d picked on the wrong Rush. Ethan didn’t deserve to be slated—it was his father who was the jerk. And Ethan refused to be anything like his father—not fickle, not deceitful, not hurtful. Ethan might play, but he was up-front and honest about it, and always nice to the women whose company he enjoyed. Mind you, he didn’t feel like being nice to Nadia Keenan.
He logged onto one of the major blogging sites and thought for a second about a title.
GuysGetWise?
Fantastic—not registered, and his to use.
And his tagline?
Taking on the Dirt-Dishing Dating Divette.
He could do alliteration too, see? And at least he could spell, rather than use basically illiterate abbreviations. The t-crossing, i-dotting legal writer in him detested those. Although admittedly “divette” was his own invention—but she was too itty-bitty to be a true diva. He filled in the little grid detailing “all about this blog” …
EthanRush—supposedly “shamed” as Mr 3 Dates and You’re Out over on WomanBWarned wants those women to get real and for guys to wise up to the dating reputation dross that’s online. Come hang out here, boys, and get clued up to the reality. And get way better dating advice than any you’ll read over there.
Because he was so much more of an expert on dating than Ms OlderNWiser, and she was going to know it. He chuckled as he composed his first entry. There was nothing like a direct challenge to get his blood pumping. Grin wolfish, he started typing the beginning.
GuysGetWise: The chick flick is your friend
According to the self-proclaimed guru over at WomanBWarned, OlderNWiser, going to the movies is a dumb first date destination.
Wrong.
A cinema is a nice, totally safe environment that can push the defrost button on even the most hardened ice queen—like OlderNWiser herself.
You can round it out more if you want by going for pizza before, if necessary—NOT the usual cheap delivery, guys. This first time it’s got to be gourmet. Be seen to be making an effort. But, as we all know, there’s nothing worse than being stuck at a pricey restaurant with a vacuous woman who has no conversation while waiting hours for two strips of potato, a fifty-pence-sized piece of steak and some weird green oil drizzled in dots on the edge of an oversized white plate. Instead go for pizza to say hi, and then ease off the pressure for a bit.
The movie gives you a couple of hours to settle into each other’s company—you’re close, but not too intensely focused on each other. Afterwards you’ve got something to talk about to start you off. And then, once she’s started, she won’t stop. Babes like to talk—and they will if warmed up. After a movie she’ll be in the mindset. So let her share with you.
Immutable dating fact: the more you let her share, the more she’ll want to be with you. It’s that simple.
You might wince, but the chick flick in particular is your friend. She’ll get the warm fuzzy feeling. Go for the one-two punch—the chick flick followed by dessert. She’ll be as gooey inside as the chocolate pudding she’s spooning in. And, bud, you will benefit from the happy ending hormones she’s riding on.
Brace yourselves and get her to a rom-com, feel-good kissy flick. That’s what I’ll be doing with Ms OlderNWiser. It’s the perfect first date softener. And us guys like soft.
Ethan paused, his fingers hovering above the keyboard, his lips twisting as an evil urge gripped him.
Stay tuned for how to nail her on the second date.
He hit “publish” before he had second thoughts. Hey, he’d said it all along—there was a lot of rubbish out there on the internet. And she’d shredded his rep anyway, right? This was his way of reclaiming his own image. He didn’t really give a damn about what the anonymous readers on the ends of the ethernet thought, but he was not a cheat—yes, he played, but all the playmates had fun. And he’d get even the world’s most uptight woman to appreciate some fun.
His blood quickened, but he forced his brain to stay open for duty. He went into the WomanBWarned site and registered—under his own name—and then went to the Mr 3 Dates and You’re Out thread to comment.
EthanRush: Looking for another side to this little story? What happened to balance and verification of information? Neither of those things are apparent on this bitch-fest. So how about a challenge? The woman in WomanBWarned herself—OlderNWiser—has agreed to a series of dates with me, Mr 3 Dates and You’re Out. As she’s Chief Judge and Executioner around here, she’s agreed to give me a fair trial.
Three dates, of course.
She’ll play them her way. I’ll play them mine.
We’ll report back and you can decide—who’s the honest one and who’s the user?
Who’s the victor?
The comment appeared beneath all the others. He’d well and truly thrown down the gauntlet. What he needed now were some supportive comments to get traffic his way and stack the odds in his favour. Happily, he had some guys who knew him well enough to know his tongue was—partly—in his cheek. Guys liked sport, and he was a team player. His team would get behind him. He put the link on his social networking page, then shut the laptop and closed his eyes.
And then it hit him.
This was mad. This wasn’t what was supposed to have happened. He was supposed to have gone in there all guns blazing and torn shreds off her. Demand she take down the thread, take down the whole damn site, and totally threaten to sue her.
Okay, he had threatened that.
But only after he’d been struck by a far more entertaining idea. The threat had simply been a way to push her into accepting that far more entertaining idea. With her OlderNWiser handle he’d figured he’d be facing down some ancient hardened up crone, but in reality she looked like one of the fairies on his three-year-old niece’s miniature china teaset. All fine bones and fine features in her heart-shaped face, with her hair tumbling loose and kinking at the ends. And, yes, his thoughts had immediately kinked.
He’d have to be careful how he played this, because he refused to end up in a mess. He did charming and nice—never messy. But he’d teach her a lesson—Nadia Keenan was going down.
No, not sex—there’d be no sliding along sun-kissed limbs, no stroking delicate collarbones, no relentlessly touching ‘til she begged for mercy and then screamed her ecstasy in his mouth. No matter how vivid that fantasy was, an even bigger temptation bit. He’d get her hot and twisted and then be a total gentleman. Restraint all the way. And she’d hate him even more than she already did.
He couldn’t get over the contradiction—she looked sweet but she savaged people with her vindictive website. Who’d hurt her, and how? She’d said it wasn’t personal, but there had to have been a guy who’d broken what little heart she had. Her online ID even acknowledged she was OlderNWiser.
He flipped the laptop open again, went back to WomanBWarned and clicked on the archives link.
To win any game you had to be prepared. You had to understand your opponent’s weakness.
Nadia wished Megan was home, but she was in Greece for three weeks, meeting her boyfriend Sam’s family, meaning the flat they shared was quiet and empty and totally lacking in advice—the walls weren’t answering back.
She pushed aside the clothes-hangers in her wardrobe, desperately searching despite knowing exactly what items were there and that whatever it was she wanted wasn’t.
Because she didn’t know what she wanted and she didn’t have the funds to shop.
She had to ace it over Ethan Rush, but he had every angle covered. Good looking, intelligent, loaded—that was obvious from his clothes and his confidence. Everything came easily to him—even her acquiescence to his stupid idea. She had to shake him from his self-satisfied, smug little perch. But how?
She picked up the bag she’d tossed on her bed. Her phone rang just as she got hold of it. Megan—hooray for serendipity.
‘What do I wear to a date I don’t want to go on?’ Nadia asked straight off.
‘A date?’ Megan’s high-pitched amazement was no surprise. ‘Why don’t you want to go?’
‘Because he’s a complete jerk who’s bullied me into it.’
‘Nadia,’ Megan scoffed, ‘no one bullies you.’
Ten hours ago Nadia would have agreed. ‘If I don’t date him he says he’s going to sue me for defamation and out me as the woman behind WomanBWarned.’
‘Don’t tell me he’s on it?’
‘Yeah—has his own thread. Mr 3 Dates and You’re Out. Totally smooth snake who’s only interested in sex. Moves on immediately after. Serial dating offender, seriously arrogant. More than one victim has commented.’
‘He used that to get you to agree to go on a date with him?’
‘Three dates.’
‘Three?’ Megan started to giggle. ‘Oh, he’s good.’
‘He’s not good. He’s mad.’
‘But he won’t waste money suing. Just tell Hammond you run the site. They won’t care. It’s in your own hours and on your own equipment.’
‘I worked too hard to get that job. I’m not screwing it up.’ Independence mattered—achievement mattered. Nadia wasn’t failing now, having secured a great flat and a great job when no one in her family had believed a “little thing” like her could—or, worse, should. They’d thought a big city was too bad a place for her, so she’d gone to the biggest city in the country and got employed by one of the biggest, most traditional-to-a-T firms. That was the only way she could to prove herself to them—they’d just be baffled by her blog.
‘I’m reading the thread. He sounds interesting.’ Megan drew in a long, slow breath. ‘Good sex. When did you last have sex?’
Nadia banged the wardrobe door shut. It was all right for Megan. She and Sam were still in that honeymoon phase, so she was getting it at least twice a day. Nadia hadn’t had it twice in the last year. Or two.
‘Nadia.’ Megan’s tone totally changed. ‘Did you see his reply?’
Nadia’s blood iced up. ‘There wasn’t one.’ She ran into the lounge, where her computer dominated the dining table. Praise be to highspeed broadband, because the thread loaded in a flash. And it only took a flash to realise what he’d done.
‘He’s made it public. The dates.’ Her throat clogged. ‘Why? Everyone is going to know we’re going out.’ And there was going to be a victor? Oh, she’d been right. This was war.
‘Well, they know he is.’ Megan morphed into the voice of calm. ‘You’ve still got your anonymous ID. There’s a link to a blog. He has a blog?’
‘It’s new, and I’m already reading it,’ Nadia said grimly, quickly skimming the post and growing all the more aggravated.
But Megan giggled. ‘I can’t wait for him to “nail” you on the second date.’
‘He’s a conceited jerk. He’s not nailing anything.’ Certainly not her. And she certainly wasn’t feeling a quiver of excitement at the thought. The quiver was suppressed rage.
‘He’s good-looking, right?’ Megan asked. ‘He must be to be this confident.’
‘If you like over-sized macho men who think they’re it and everything else.’ Physical invincibility didn’t do their personalities any favours, and she didn’t need the over-protec-tiveness that tended to accompany their delusions of demi-god status.
‘He sounds just the ticket.’ Megan had pepped up. ‘What are you going to wear?’
Nadia bit back her growl. She knew Megan wanted her to be as loved-up and happy as she was, but she didn’t want to be attractive to Ethan—she wanted armour. Fortunately high-pitched beeps interrupted whatever Megan was saying now.
‘I have to go, Meg,’ Nadia said quickly. ‘I’ve got another call.’ She jabbed the buttons. ‘Hello?’
‘Nadia.’
From the frying pan to the fire. Just her luck. ‘Ethan.’ Those infernal goosebumps smothered her skin. She refused to recognise the other instant reaction deep and low in her belly.
‘Wednesday night good for you?’ No preamble or polite chit chat—but his voice was caramel enough.
Wednesday. Mid-week and only two days away. She needed more prep time. ‘Actually, I already have plans for Wednesday,’ she lied. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Not at all.
‘Thursday, then?’
‘I could do Thursday.’
‘I was thinking a movie or something.’
Total fail on the originality front, but she’d get him back—because she’d read his stupid blog. She wasn’t going to let him know she’d read it. Damn. She suddenly realised that he would know if he checked his traffic stats and knew her ISP. Which he obviously did—he seemed to know way too much about her internet activity. She quickly took a screenshot and logged out of the site. She’d only check it from wireless hotspots now, at random coffee bars or something.
‘That sounds great,’ she said with zero enthusiasm. ‘Can I choose the movie?’
‘Of course.’
She paused. ‘How did you get my number?’
‘Same way I found out you’re the woman behind WomanBWarned. There’s a lot of information out there on the internet.’
‘But it’s secure.’
‘Never as secure as you think. I’ll pick you up from your place.’
‘You know where I live?’ Now, that was scary.
‘Sure.’ She could hear his smile. ‘On the corner of Bitter and Twisted Street, right?’
‘What a shame you won’t get lost.’
‘I don’t plan to,’ he drawled, in a way that made her shiver more. ‘Text me all your details and I’ll let you know what time.’
‘Oh, I can’t wait,’ she cooed, just to get the last word in.
She tossed her phone onto the sofa and stared at the words frozen on her huge screen. It was the “divette” that did it. The patronising, belittling, condescending bastard.
Damn it, she was going shopping. She wanted to look more than nice. She wanted to look hot. So hot he couldn’t help but want her and make his one move too many. The possibility was there—she’d seen the flash in his expression when he’d looked her over so boldly in her office today. Definite sparks. And she didn’t deny she’d responded on a basic level. But she could control her own reaction while blowing harder on those sparks. Get him hot. And then—when he made his move—she’d refuse him. And that would be so incredibly satisfying.
Nadia wasn’t conceited, but she didn’t underestimate her potential strengths either. She knew she had a little something that intrigued some men. Little being the operative word. A lot of guys liked petite women. Funnily enough, it was often the taller guys who liked petite women most. Nadia figured it made them feel all the more manly. Men like that loved to be looked up to. Literally.
Ethan the Arrogant would definitely like being looked up to.
So she’d do the pretty little woman thing and emphasise her femininity. She went back to the WomanBWarned thread and looked at the comments from the women who’d dated him. She was curious to know more—as moderator she could e-mail them and surreptitiously try to get more info. A possibility she’d definitely keep on file. But if what they said was true then a move from Ethan was probably inevitable, no matter what she wore. Sexual conquest was as natural to him as breathing. It wasn’t that he was interested in the individual woman—it was the chase that thrilled him. Pure predator.
But she wanted to turn the screws on him as hard as she could, so she had to make herself more attractive prey. Because she was going to be the woman to put him in his place.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE had found the best ever dress. Not evening formal, but floaty, floral and ultra-feminine. A little pricey, but it was worth it. She teamed it with soft ballerina flats rather than strappy heeled sandals, to really highlight the height thing. She normally never wore anything less than two inches outside her front door, but she was prepared to make a few sacrifices for this mission. She left her hair loose, wearing a slim scrunchie as a bracelet in case it got hot on her neck and she wanted to tie some of it back. She had a soft wrap for her shoulders and a dainty little bag hanging from her shoulder. Minimal make-up—mascara, a little eyeliner, and pink-tinted gloss on her lips.
Fresh, feminine, an innocent at large—that was the look she was going for.
As she’d expected, he turned up right on time. When she heard the knock on the door she had an overwhelming urge not to answer, but she flicked her hair back and faked a smile. It died the second she saw him, and anger flared in its stead. How dared the guy be so hot-looking? Staggeringly perfect, in a steely, square-jawed kind of way—not to mention tall and broad and big in terms of presence. Immaculately dressed in casual jeans and a cotton tee that showed off his shoulders and abs, he just didn’t seem real. No wonder he thought he could sail through women without a care—it happened all too easily for him to realise otherwise. Her confidence evaporated in the face of his undeniable attractiveness. Who did she think she was kidding? Could she really play with fire this hot?
‘I thought we could get some pizza before we go to the movies,’ he said. Amusement and satisfaction lurked in his eyes.
She stiffened as she saw the smugness, and her game plan zipped back. The urge to better him overwhelmed her. She’d do it whichever way she could.
‘Oh, that would have been great …’ She let her voice trail and frowned a little.
‘But?’ he prompted.
‘Well, the thing is, a movie I’ve been wanting to see for ages is on, and to catch it we need to go straight to the theatre.’ She deliberately bit her bottom lip and looked up, up, up at him, with wide, wide eyes. ‘Do you mind?’ she asked, as softly and breathily as a 1960s screen starlet—she hoped, anyway.
He didn’t answer for a long moment, that lurking light of amusement completely snuffed. ‘That’s … not a problem.’ He half turned away. ‘Shall we go now, then?’
‘Oh, come in for a moment,’ she said with a sweet smile, aiming to appear as accommodating as possible. ‘I need to get my wrap.’
It was a warm summer night and she so didn’t need the wrap—she was boiling. But after half an hour in the movies she always ended up freezing, and she had no intention of snuggling next to him for some heat, despite her plan to fire up the flirt between them.
‘Thanks.’ He sounded surprised. He looked surprised. She glanced back and saw him taking in the bright surroundings. She knew the flat was stylish and welcoming. But he made rooms shrink when he stood in them, and he made both the background and colours fade—so her focus was forced towards him.
‘You’ve got a nice place.’
Nadia picked up the pashmina that she’d artfully draped on the edge of the large, soft sofa. ‘You thought I’d live alone in some dreary bedsit?’ Like the lonely, bitter spinster he believed she was? She’d known he’d think that, so she’d deliberately put a slide show of pictures from one of her and Megan’s riotous trips to France on her computer. What was it with people pigeon-holing her? Her own parents had told her she shouldn’t move to London—that the city was too big for her. The only thing that was too big was the price of the rent. But she had a job at a fabulous firm and sharing this place with Megan was worth it.
His smile grew as he watched a few pictures glide across the screen. ‘I’m a fast learner, Nadia. And I’m learning to expect the unexpected with you.’
‘Really?’
‘Sure.’ He faced her. ‘So let’s get going.’
Adrenalin zinged. She followed him out and locked the door. They walked down the path a few metres before he hailed a cab. She was surprised—for some reason she’d thought he’d have a car.
‘You don’t like to go by cab?’ He caught her hesitation as he opened the door.
Truth was, she didn’t want to sit in the back with him. It felt intimate—she’d have preferred to be in separate seats, with a drinks holder between them. Sharing this one space made all kinds of inappropriate images flash—namely, snogging in the back seat.
She banished the wild idea, crossed her knees and ankles, and crouched into the corner, firmly telling both her body and her thoughts to settle down. He relaxed across his half, not taking up more than his fair share. But it felt like it. He was angled towards her. She didn’t look at him but could feel him willing her to. She sighed and gave in, registering his slight smile.
‘You look lovely, by the way,’ he said suavely. ‘Very beautiful.’
‘Thanks,’ she said without meaning it. ‘You look good too. But you already know that.’
‘Well, you know you look incredible no matter what you wear.’ His smile teased. ‘But isn’t it nice to be told anyway?’
She just rolled her eyes.
‘Compliments don’t work for you?’ He looked all the more amused.
‘Not from you,’ she said bluntly—despite it being partly untrue. ‘This whole date thing is a really stupid idea, don’t you think? I’m not going to believe a word you say because all you want to do is impress me so I’ll say you’re a great guy and how wrong all those women are.’
‘The circumstances don’t matter,’ he argued calmly. ‘I bet you’re a tough woman to impress at the best of times.’
‘What makes you say that?’ She shrank into an even tighter ball.
His gaze locked on her, and she stiffened at the dispassionate, intensely assessing expression.
‘I think you live life according to a list of rules,’ he said. ‘Many lists of rules. Like the first date protocol you posted on your forum. You have rules for everything—like the uptight HR assistant you are. And anyone who doesn’t meet those rules is an auto-fail. There’s no room for human error in your life.’
‘That’s not true.’ Her life was strewn with human error—mostly her own.
‘No?’ A faint smile. ‘You’re saying sometimes you don’t follow your own advice?’
‘The little advice I offer comes from my own experience. I’d be a fool to repeat my past mistakes.’
He nodded as if she’d confirmed something. ‘So you’ve turned into a coward.’
Nadia’s blood heated even more. ‘I’m not a coward, but I am cautious. And I’m not going to apologise for that.’
‘Yes, but it strikes me you’re a very intelligent, capable woman. Maybe you should have more faith in yourself.’
‘Oh, please.’ He was back to the complimenting already? This was all part of his charm attack.
‘Seriously, you should give your instincts free rein—let yourself go.’
‘Oh, you would say that,’ she said witheringly. ‘That’s your aim—for women to let down all their defences in your arms.’ She shook her head. ‘So you flatter and listen and smile your charming smile—and wait for the cherries to fall right into your mouth. It’s all so damn false.’
His jaw dropped, then he shut it again. Had she actually hit home with that one?
‘All right then.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I won’t try to impress you.’
She should have felt a spurt of satisfaction, but the wretched thing was he didn’t need to try to impress. His very existence did that—he was beyond blessed with physical attributes, and had a voice that demanded attention. Even worse, some of what he said was of interest. Okay, compelling. She’d bet he was a brilliant lawyer.
Why was her stupid radar tuned to men filled with maximum virility when the simple presence of such sensual drive meant they couldn’t possibly keep it zipped? Giving in to her instincts would have her as easily obtainable as all the other women he’d encountered. So she’d have to fight against them all the harder.
‘So tell me about the movie.’ He switched to neutral ground.
‘I’ve been meaning to see it for ages.’ She hid her smile as she thought of what was in store.
They got to the small independent theatre and were directed to the smallest viewing room. There was only them and one other person at the screening. She’d done a whole five minutes of research to find the worst-sounding movie on in London, and within three minutes of the film rolling she knew she’d succeeded.
It was in French, with subtitles so crooked they were unreadable, and about the tortured lives of an artist, his wife and his lover. And it was torture to watch. Lots of scenes with the artist painting—they literally got to watch paint dry.
After only ten minutes Nadia was beside herself with boredom and hoping Ethan was going as insane as she was. But she wasn’t fidgety just because the on-screen action was mind-numbing. She was hyper-aware of him. They were too close in this darkened space. And the worst of it was the film was just over three hours in duration—that was why she’d picked it. But now she had to sit so near to a man who attracted her body as much as he repelled her mind. And three hours was beyond torture.
The artist scratched his thin brush on canvas for another hour or so. Oh, it was so bad—but it would be worth it. Ethan would hate it as much as she did. They’d both come out of it grumpy, and that served him right for thinking he’d “soften” her up with a movie. A chick flick? Hell no.
But wait a second. He was chuckling. She’d missed the wonky subtitle on that bit. She glanced sideways to read his expression in the flickering light. It appeared that he was completely absorbed in the movie, while she was almost out of her tree. The frankly useless artist worked for hours, mostly in silence. Occasionally he muttered in French. Hang on, that was Ethan muttering something in French—what? She glanced at him. He was smiling again, as if the movie was the most entertaining thing ever. How was watching paint dry even remotely fun?
And then, to her horror, the so thrilling action was finally interrupted—by an incredibly raw sex scene, featuring the artist and his lover. Not graphic, but so passionate and uncontrolled she felt like a voyeur. She sat completely still, as every cell burned up, and seriously wanted to escape. She shut her eyes but the sounds haunted her—and images popped into her head. But no longer was it the scrawny artist—no, it was the fit, filled frame of six foot several inches Ethan.
Oh, no, no, no—she was not imagining him. And her.
She was not.
She was so glad when the guy went back to his painting. Ten minutes of that settled her pulse again. But then there was another sex scene—a way more graphic one. The action was really ramping up now—this time with the wife. Only in the middle of all the puffing and panting Nadia’s stomach started rumbling—loud enough to be heard despite the sudden ecstatic shrieks of the woman.
Even though she’d known she was going to refuse Ethan’s pizza offer, she hadn’t eaten before he arrived—the butterflies hip-hopping in her stomach had made that impossible. So now she coughed to cover the uncontrollable gurgling sound, but that was somehow worse as the couple on screen kept right on rutting each other. She buried her face in her hand and simply wanted to die. Why hadn’t she checked the rating comments on the film and picked up on the high sexual content warning?
‘Are you not feeling well?’ Ethan asked solicitously—leaning uncomfortably close.
‘I’m fine,’ she ground out between gritted teeth, quickly glancing up, only to see total laughter glinting in his eyes.
Damn.
Finally the credits rolled—not fast enough—and apparently Ethan was a watch-them-till-the-end man. It wasn’t until the lights went on, bright and unforgiving, that he turned and gave her an even higher wattage smile.
‘Was it as good as you’d hoped?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ she lied as she stood and marched out of there. ‘So you speak French?’ Of all the rotten luck.
‘Mais oui, of course.’ He held the exit door for her. ‘Shame you don’t, because some of the subtleties were lost in translation, I thought it was a very interesting film.’
