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The first thing he did was switch off his phone, and that small gesture told her they would not be interrupted.
‘Well, here we are,’ Ethan said and they clinked glasses. ‘It’s good to be back.’
‘Back?’ Merida checked. ‘D you come here a lot, then?’
‘I meant back in New York. I’ve been away for a few weeks.’
‘On holiday?’ Merida asked, but he gave a small shake of his head.
‘Work,’ Ethan said. It always was.
The food was delectable, but it wasn’t the hors d’oeuvres Merida had consumed that killed her appetite, it was the overwhelming presence ofhim. He didn’t put her at instant ease; instead he kept her on a delicious edge.
Merida chose a burnt butter and sage ravioli, and Ethan ordered steak. She noted that the waiter didn’t ask how he would like it done. He already knew.
It was the tiniest detail, yet it served as a reminder for Merida that this was not new to him as it was to her.
‘So you’ve been at the gallery for nearly a year?’ Ethan prompted, as if their earlier conversation was still left unfinished.
‘For ten months,’ Merida said. ‘As I said, I’m just there part-time. I’m actually an actress.’
Ethan looked over, his dark eyes narrowing a fraction. He had dated more than a few actresses in his time, and was generally suspicious of them. Most wanted to hook their rising star into his or milk their fifteen minutes of fame when things ended between them.
As they inevitably did.
‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be,’ Merida admitted. ‘I wasn’t getting very far back home, so I decided to try my luck here.’
‘Home being England?’ he checked.
‘Yes.’ Merida nodded. ‘London. Although, as my father pointed out, if I can’t get work in London then why should New York be any different?’
Ethan raised an eyebrow. Her father didn’t sound particularly encouraging, but he made no comment, just listened.
‘Still, it’s the dream. Right now I’ve got a small part in an even smaller production.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘Near Miss.’
He gave a shake of his head, to indicate that he’d never heard of it. ‘And what part do you play?’
‘Arrow,’ Merida said, and then clarified a touch. ‘I’m an arrow. And I keep missing my mark.’
‘Are youdressedas an arrow?’
‘No. I’m dressed from head to toe in black. I wear a black leotard and tights and a long black wig.’
He looked at her lovely red hair and, although he knew little about acting or costumes, he was an expert at opinions. ‘I think they might have missed an opportunity there.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I’d have thought that a red-headed arrow would be more telling.’
‘The lead wears a red wig.’ Merida smiled. ‘The arrow is more like her shadow self. A smaller part.’
‘But averyimportant one,’ Ethan said. ‘Though of course I may be somewhat biased.’
Merida’s hand shook a little as she took a sip of water. He was so subtle, sosparingwith his words, that his suggestion of bias towards her had come from left field.
