Page 71 of A Secret Escape

She shut down that thought. She was not letting Richard or Avery intrude on this evening.

Tonight was special, and she intended to enjoy every moment.

A burst of laughter from a table close by made her turn her head, and she noticed a woman casting surreptitious glances in Brendan’s direction.

She seemed to be making a decision about something, and then she stood up and approached the table.

“I know this is an intrusion, but I just had to say I love your books.” Her face was scarlet. “Would you sign my menu? I’ll use it as a bookmark.”

To his credit Brendan was gracious and charming and signed the menu, and the woman returned to her seat flourishing her prize.

Brendan gave Milly a look of apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry.” She almost confessed that she was used to it because her best friend was Nicole Raven, but she stopped herself in time. Even if Brendan and Nicole had worked together, there was no way she’d reveal her friend’s presence. “Do you get hounded by the press a lot?”

“The press? No.” He shook his head. “More that I’m hounding them because a certain amount of publicity is useful when a book comes out.But I don’t get followed down the street or anything. Occasionally a reader recognizes me, but when they do, I’m grateful. Without readers I wouldn’t have this job.”

She’d looked him up and read a couple of detailed features on him, so she knew the public were interested in the man behind the books.

And in that moment the reality of the situation hit her. She was here, on a date, with Brendan Scott. And she felt like an impostor. In her head she could hear Richard’s voice telling her she was no fun. She tried to block it out, but the words were imprinted on her memory. The pressure to be entertaining company almost had her walking out of the restaurant.

When Brendan had suggested dinner it had sounded like a good idea, but now she was here, sitting across from him it felt intimate and awkward and totally different from the encounters they’d had when he’d been wearing cutoff shorts and four days of stubble.

Flustered, she studied the menu without seeing anything on the page.

What was she going to talk about? The weather? She was going to bore him to death before the main course was served.

Brendan put his menu down. “I probably ought to warn you that there is every chance I’ve actually forgotten how to do this.”

“This?” She looked up and tried to look natural and not as if she was close to having a panic attack. “You mean eating dinner?”

“No. I never forget how to eat. That’s a talent I was born with.” He smiled. “I mean being sociable. I’ve been trapped indoors focused on the book for so long I may have forgotten how to talk to an actual person. Most of the people I’ve been relating to over the past couple of months have been fictional. I’m not sure I can remember how to converse with a real human being, so you’ll have to be patient and forgive me if I’m less than scintillating company.”

He was worried thathemight not be good company?

She almost laughed. “It’s a new experience for me too, but for different reasons.”

“You haven’t been out much since your divorce?”

“No. When you’re a single working mother, life has a tendency to get in the way.” She didn’t tell him that she’d had no wish to go on a date with anyone until he’d invited her.

And she was still wondering why she’d said yes.

“Well, that’s good, because now that we’ve both admitted we’re very out of practice neither of us has to try and impress the other.”

Really? It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it?

The waiter arrived at their table, and they both placed their orders.

“Do you always work that intensely when you’re writing?” Milly thought about all the notes stuck around the cabin and the fact that the fridge was usually empty. “It must be exhausting. Not very healthy.”

“It’s not healthy at all, but over the years I’ve discovered what works best for me. If I keep walking away from the book and taking time out, it’s harder to get started again when I sit down at my laptop. I prefer to immerse myself, work so hard I forget to eat and tidy up—” his brief look of apology was an acknowledgment of the fact that she’d witnessed the state of his cabin “—and finish a draft. Then I can relax and take my time over the revision process. I’ve learned that if I live with those characters day in, day out for a few months I stay locked in the story. Creativity doesn’t always respect office hours.”

“So you emerge at the end of your few months and discover that the world has ended and your bins are overflowing.”

“Something like that.”

It fascinated her to hear about a life that was so different from hers. “Still, it must be very satisfying writing a book that people love to read.”

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