The Tortured Rake. Sarah Morgan
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‘And if they don’t?’
‘Then there’ll be a few less journalists following me. Haven’t you ever played chicken?’
‘I’m vegetarian!’ Katie squeezed her eyes tightly shut, coming to terms with the fact she was going to be the first person to get a speeding ticket on a
Vespa. All she could hope was that she wouldn’t earn herself a manslaughter charge to go with it.
Braced for impact, she thought to herself that the rumours about his physical strength hadn’t been exaggerated. His hands were locked on hers in a death grip and the muscles of his shoulders were a solid wall behind her.
‘Hang on,’ he growled in her ear, and Katie opened her eyes to discover that they were now close enough to the photographers to see the whites of their eyes. At the last minute the crowd scattered and the bike shot through the sudden gap and emerged onto the main road. There was a shriek of tyres as people swerved to avoid them, a cacophony of taxi horns and several warning shouts, and Katie was glad his hands were over hers because her palms were slippery with sweat and she knew that if he weren’t controlling the bike, then she would probably have just slid in a heap to the pavement.
She heard him laugh and decided right there and then that Nathaniel Wolfe had a sick sense of humour.
Outside the theatre there was a crowd of people, mostly women, many holding banners saying I Love Nathaniel Wolfe. They’d queued for hours in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Hollywood megastar as he left the theatre. They didn’t seem to care that he was notorious for not signing autographs. All they wanted was to catch a glimpse of those famous eyes.
If they recognised him…
‘Which way?’ The voice next to her ear was firm and decisive and now it was her turn to take the lead because she knew these streets well. Soon she was weaving through the London traffic, putting as much distance as possible between her and the journalists. She turned off the main road and took an elaborate detour, choosing back roads and side streets.
As her heart gradually slowed and her panic eased, the enormity of what she’d done suddenly hit her.
It took twenty minutes to be sure that no one had followed her and another ten to double back across the river towards south London and her flat. And all the time she was aware of the heat of Nathaniel’s body pressed against hers and his arm clamped around her waist.
He should have been cold, she thought, wearing only the leather jacket and black T-shirt that was the costume she’d selected for his contemporary portrayal of King Richard, but wherever their bodies touched, she felt warmth. Or maybe the warmth was hers. A fiery glow burned her skin through her clothing.
You’re as susceptible as every other woman, Katie.
Pushing aside that unsettling thought, Katie swerved into an alleyway adjoining a block of flats.
‘This is where I live.’
He swung his leg off the bike and unfastened the helmet.
‘Don’t take it off,’ Katie said quickly. ‘Someone might recognise you. Let’s get inside first. Walk as if you’re ordinary, not as if you’re a movie star or a Special Forces soldier on a mission. You need to melt into the background.’
‘I’m six foot two. Melting into the background isn’t easy.’
Katie rolled her eyes as she slid off the bike, her legs as floppy as string. ‘You drove like a maniac. I thought you were going to kill us both.’ She locked her scooter. ‘I’m on the second floor. Don’t look at anyone.’
‘I’m wearing the helmet.’
‘But you can still see your eyes.’ And those fierce blue eyes were known the world over. Slightly slanting and fringed by thick, dark lashes that simply intensified that hypnotic gaze, his eyes were designed for sin and seduction.
Katie tried not to look at him. It was easier to concentrate if she didn’t look. ‘Just… try and be invisible.’ Their footsteps echoed around the stairwell and a door opened a slit as they passed.
‘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