Martyn grimaced and tucked himself into the available space, sure enough banging his head.
It was past two but the teenage girl said they served lunch any time, blowing her dark fringe out of her eyes as she passed out cardboard menus, cream with a line drawing of the castle gatehouse in brown. Honor chose something called Smuggler’s Pie, which seemed to be a pie of beef and ale and sounded right at home here in Sussex, England. And Martyn chose Chicken Balti and boiled rice, which didn’t.
He laughed when they banged knees under the table and even when he banged his elbow, twice, on the panelled wall beside him. ‘Ow! Have we wandered into a doll’s house by mistake?’
‘You’ve sure unwound,’ she observed. ‘You’re quite different in front of the camera.’
‘Oh?’ He looked faintly surprised. ‘I’m certainly ready to relax. Today there wasn’t much hanging around and we’ve wrapped everything up nice and early, but it’s amazingly tiring standing in front of a camera and doing nothing.’
‘It looks it.’
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘I’m not being sarcastic. You’re so concentrated and intense, having to put up with doing the same thing over and over, the make-up artist and the hair guy dancing around you. There were times I was reminded of Gulliver and the folks of Lilliput. They were trying to tie you down with a thousand threads of annoyance.’
Laughing, he shifted his legs and banged her knees again. ‘Ow. Sorry. They don’t annoy me. We’re all working together to get the best results. It’s a team thing. Also . . .’ His eyes crinkled, ‘I don’t want to come over like a diva. That gets you lots of hate.’
Sitting back to allow the waitress to place cutlery and water glasses on the table, Honor asked, ‘So why aren’t we eating with the crew?’
‘Because I’d rather eat with you.’
‘Or because you think I’ll save you from Lily?’
‘I don’t need saving from Lily.’
But something had flickered in his eyes. She tried not to act deflated. ‘You have history.’
His gaze steadied. ‘True. Because we were both free to hook up, so one night we did. But it was what it was. I didn’t invite you to lunch to warn off Lily.’
She gazed back. ‘But you didn’t want to spend time with her today, that’s why you held hands with me.’
A smile formed slowly, lighting his eyes. ‘It would have been a good excuse, if I’d thought of it. But I don’t need saving from Lily because we hooked up briefly and we parted friends. End of.’
‘I expect you have a whole army of make-up artists, stylists and models to pick from.’
‘Not an army.’
‘But you do go out with models?’
‘Of course.’ His eyes had half closed, gleaming at her from between the lids. He seemed to be enjoying her questions, as if intrigued to learn where they were heading. ‘Why wouldn’t I? But not exclusively. I love attractive women but I don’t have a “type”. A woman just has to interest me, not be a model or a six-foot-tall blonde.’
She didn’t ask about five-foot-five and sort of sandy. ‘Was Rosie-with-the-hidden-husband a model?’
He shook his head. ‘Flight attendant.’
She snorted. ‘Just another industry hot on physical perfection and beauty. And I bet you met her when you were flying home from some exotic location?’
‘The Maldives,’ he agreed. ‘Rosie was gorgeous, well-travelled and sophisticated.’
‘I guess you miss her.’
‘Not once I realised how short on honesty she was.’ His eyes became teasing. ‘And how unoriginal — she never once sifted through my sex life or got my attention by taking on teenage louts with a handful of hot food and a kickass attitude.’
The waitress arrived, easing the steaming and fragrant plates carefully on to the tiny table. ‘Not much room I’m afraid,’ she pointed out, unnecessarily. Martyn’s fragrant sauce came in a steel balti bowl, naan bread and white rice in another. Honor’s pie scarcely left room on her plate for peppery wedges of potato and a mound of peas, making her realise how hungry she was. She was never going to compete with models or flight attendants with that kind of appetite.
‘So,’ he said, inconsequentially, when her plate was nearly empty, ‘what do you really think about my job?’
She lifted her brows. ‘I think it’s great. You’re obviously sought-after and, I presume, earning good money.’
