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‘Comparisons with whom?’
She stared at him, her breathing rapid. ‘Nothing … this is a mess …’
‘For once, we agree.’ Nathaniel contemplated that truth with grim resignation. ‘You’re the female equivalent of an unexploded bomb. If I leave you here you could go off at any moment.’
Her spine was stiff. ‘If you’re implying that I’d tell them anything, then you’re wrong.’
‘I thought we’d established that you talk when you’re nervous.’
‘I don’t know anything to talk about!’
‘You know enough.’ He opened her wardrobe and pulled out a coat. Brown. Wondering why everything in her wardrobe was the colour of mud, he threw it towards her. ‘Get dressed. We’re leaving.’
‘Where are we going?’ Flustered, she pulled on her coat. ‘Being seen with you has already got me in enough trouble. We need to separate.’
‘Unfortunately it’s way too late for that.’
‘No, it isn’t too late. All you have to do is open the front door and walk out.’
‘Katie, they will crucify you.’
‘I’ll keep my mouth shut.’ She compressed her lips and drew her fingers across in a zipping gesture. ‘Silence will be the word of the day. Except I won’t say it out loud, obviously.’
Forcing aside thoughts of alternative methods of keeping her mouth occupied, Nathaniel focused on her eyes. ‘As a matter of interest, what’s the longest time you’ve gone without speaking? Not counting when you’re asleep …’
‘Actually, I talk in my sleep. If I’m really stressed about something, I talk about it.’ Her smile was obviously intended to be reassuring. ‘But don’t worry—I’m not going to sleep with any of the journalists.’
‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’
‘I’m just saying you have nothing to worry about. The press aren’t interested in me. I don’t know any details about Annabelle or Carrie. We spent an evening together and you said nothing—just sort of glowered a lot in a brooding Heathcliff sort of way. I’ve never known a man say less and I’ve known some uncommunicative types in my time.’
‘It’s hard for a man to get a word in edgeways with you and, Katie, they are interested in you.’ Intent on providing proof of that fact, Nathaniel removed his phone from his pocket and accessed the Internet with one stab of his finger. Following a hunch, he fed a series of keywords into the search engine and then clenched his jaw as the results sprang onto his screen. He held it up towards her. ‘Here is an example of how not interested in you they are. They already have all the information on you, including name, age and your Internet dating profile.’
She stood rigid, staring at the screen. ‘That’s my picture,’ she whispered. ‘Where did they get my picture?’
‘Here’s another—’
‘Wait a minute, when did they take that?’ Snatching the phone from him, she read the headline. ‘Is She the Reason Nathaniel Wolfe Walked Off the Stage Last Night? Well, of course I’m not the reason! I rescued you! We have to tell them the truth! Go out there and tell them the truth.’
He had no intention of telling anyone the truth.
‘The press aren’t interested in the truth. The best we can do is absent ourselves and hope they go and hound someone else instead.’
‘That isn’t very nice for the someone else.’
‘You’d rather they set up camp outside your flat? Stick cameras through your letter box? Interview your neighbours? Track down every boyfriend you’ve ever had?’
‘That would take them less than five minutes!’ Her face was pale. ‘I really hate having my picture taken. You have no idea how much I hate it. I don’t even share photos on Facebook.’
He frowned as he saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. Accustomed to spending time with actresses and models who would run their own mother over if it meant a decent publicity shot, he found it hard to believe she was genuine. But there was no doubting the misery in her face. ‘Why do you hate it?’
She dipped her head and fastened the buttons on her coat. ‘I just do. And I don’t see why anyone would be interested in my love life.’
‘Because you’re with me,’ he said gently. ‘People love reading about other people’s scandals and misfortunes over their breakfast cereal.’
‘I don’t. I hate reading about bad stuff happening. I like happy stories. Man Rescues Dog from Tree—that sort of thing.’
‘You’re not an average person. Which gives us a problem. Pack a bag and grab your passport. You’re coming with me.’
