Page 24 of Mistaken Impression

I wasn’t very gentlemanly to her, but in all fairness, I hadn’t been expecting her to appear at the kitchen door and invite me to come to Ruby’s office with her. I’d been deep in thought at the time, and hearing her voice took me by surprise. Even so, my response wasn’t what it should have been, and it set the tone for what followed… which was yet more acrimony.

Did Ella need to imply I hadn’t been doing my job? Probably not. Was it true? Absolutely it was. I’d been drinking coffee and avoiding her. But I didn’t need to make that sarcastic comment about her keeping the conversation between professionals. I don’t even know why I said it… other than the confusion that was rolling over me at the time. She was mocking me – or that was how it felt – and that jarred with the thoughts that had been running through my head. I wasn’t about to explain that to her,although I didn’t need another half-hearted apology either… not when I’d barely recovered from the first one.

When she turned away, I had to go after her, and although I did little more than continue our argument, that was a cover. At least it was for me. I wasn’t really offended, so much as I was completely bewildered. Her accusation of sulking might have been inaccurate, but what was I supposed to say? That sulking had been the last thing on my mind, because it was full of thoughts of her? That I’d spent the last twenty minutes wondering how she could wind me up, and turn me on at the same time, and with so little effort? Or maybe that I wanted to close the narrow gap between us and kiss her? There was no way I was about to say any of that out loud, although what came out of my mouth instead was hardly helpful.

She pulled away from me then, and my initial reaction was to stay behind… not to lick my wounds, but to put some necessary space between us. Except that was when I realised she was right. She’d been doing her job, and I hadn’t. Admittedly, that was mostly because I’ve got no idea what my job is supposed to be. But while I’d been in the kitchen, day-dreaming about her, she’d been getting the work done. While I’d been wondering what it might be like to kiss her – and whether we might stop fighting long enough for me to find out – she’d been more diligent.

It was time to pull my weight.

So, I followed her out into the corridor. And when she asked – with customary sarcasm – if I was interested in what was going on, I couldn’t help myself. I had to tell her that I think I’ve always been interested. I don’t think for one second she understood what I meant. She didn’t get that the ‘interest’ I was talking about was in her. It hadn’t really occurred to me before that moment, but I’ve been interested in her since the first time I saw her. Is that because of her delectable backside? Possibly.I don’t claim to be any less superficial than the next man. But there’s more to it than that. I know there is. We might have done little more than argue since we met, but there’s something about her that I’m finding harder and harder to resist… and I wonder if it’s worth trying.

I reach Kennedy’s office, although now I’m here, I’m even less sure why I’ve been summoned. Is it because I’ve done something wrong? Or have they changed their minds and decided Ella’s right, and that they need someone who at least knows what to do with the sharp end of a knife? It wouldn’t surprise me. I might have boasted to Ella that I have a knowledge of TV production, but in reality, it’s very limited… and maybe they’ve worked that out.

I guess there’s only one way to find out, and although the prospect of not working with Ella makes me unusually depressed, I knock on the door.

“Come in.” Kennedy’s strident tones echo straight back at me, and I enter her office. It contrasts harshly with Ruby’s and I stand for a moment, taking in the size of it – which is enormous – as well as the slightly over-the-top furnishings. Her desk looks as though it would have been more at home in a 1960s spy thriller, with its modular design, and I have no doubt she – or someone, at least – paid a small fortune for it.

She doesn’t stand, but holds out her hand, indicating the two seats in front of her, and I close the door, crossing the room to sit.

“How are you getting along?” She seems genuinely interested in hearing the answer to her question, and I realise I’m not about to be fired.

“Fine.” I don’t tell her I haven’t done anything yet. I doubt that’s what she wants to hear, and it won’t do me any favours.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she says. “We know we haven’t given you much time to prepare, considering it’s the first show, but it can’t be helped, I’m afraid.”

I nod my head, feeling fairly sure she’s not expecting an answer, although I note she doesn’t take personal responsibility for the lack of preparation time. It seems that must be born collectively.

She surprises me by getting to her feet and smiling down at me. “I need you to come with me.”

I stand up too, unsure why she invited me to sit if she was only going to take me somewhere else almost immediately.

She doesn’t say another word, but heads for the door, and I follow, noticing when I turn around that, across the other side of the room, is an enormous white couch. It has the same retro feel to it as Kennedy’s desk, and although she doesn’t dress like someone out ofThe Man From Uncle, I can’t help asking myself if this is her style. It’s not mine… but each to their own, I suppose.

Out in the hallway, she turns to her right, walking away from the rehearsal studio and back toward the reception area, although before we get there, she stops at a door on the left, which she opens without knocking.

The room inside is quite large and, other than a couple of chairs over by the window, is devoid of furniture, although as I come further inside, I notice that, at the far end, there’s a dark backdrop and some lights, all set up around a man, who I assume is a photographer. He’s currently doing something with a tripod and has his back to me.

I look down at Kennedy, frowning.

“We need some publicity shots,” she says, clearly noting my expression and explaining my presence.

“Oh… okay.” I guess that makes sense.

She doesn’t wait for me to say anything else, and wanders over to the photographer, who turns as she approaches. He’s tall, although not as tall as me, with dark hair and a handsome face, and he smiles his greeting. She says something to him in a soft whisper, and he steps back, picking something up from a stool that’s positioned in front of the backdrop. He hands it to her with a nod of his head before he returns to his tripod and she comes back to me.

“We need you to wear this,” she says, holding out the ‘something’ in her hand. I take it from her, unfolding it to reveal a bright red apron with the words ‘Meal Master’ emblazoned on the front in bright white lettering. It’s incredibly tacky, but I suppose needs must, and I turn it around to put it over my head, just as Kennedy reaches out and grabs my arm. I stop, looking down at her, but she leaves her hand on my bicep, and I’m tempted to ask her to move it. She’s got my attention, so why does she need to touch me?

“What’s wrong?” I ask, and take the opportunity to step away from her, forcing her to release me in the process.

“You need to take your shirt off first.”

“Um… excuse me?”

“We’re going for a particular theme with this show, and we’d like you to take your shirt off.”

“What’s the theme? Cooking half naked?”

She laughs, although it’s forced and completely unnatural. “Of course not.” She steps closer again, and once more, she rests her hand on my arm, gazing up into my face. “But you’re a very attractive man, Blain… and we might as well capitalise on that.”

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