Page 46 of Doc Hollywood

“Not even with the ferret on my face. They used to tell me it wasn’t the sort of place a leading man would be seen at. And then I wasn’t allowed to go as they knew I’d drink beer and eat fries.” His voice sounded wistful.

“And your trainer and nutritionists would both have fits?” Clara parroted his words from the previous night.

Taylor groaned, “Absolutely. I have to go to places that will serve food that fits in with my diet. Or they can phone ahead and request that they cook special food for me.”

“Boring food?” She tried not to giggle.

“Really boring food,” he groaned louder.

“I know you’ve got to take your shirt off soon. But let’s go and drink beer and eat burgers. Then you can lie through your teeth to your team tomorrow.” Clara beamed.

“That sounds like an excellent plan. How long do you need to get ready? What time shall I pick you up?”

“No time. We should just go straight there.” Clara couldn’t see the point in going home to change. He knew exactly what she looked like, in her pyjamas, in her work clothes—also pyjamas—and topless—she cringed hard at that one.

“You don’t want to change?” he said hesitantly.

She shrugged. “No. I’ll just change into another pair of shorts and a T-shirt. The ones I wore this morning will be fine.”

“Or makeup?”

Clara’s hands flew to her face, and she flinched. He thought she needed to put makeup on. She obviously didn’t look good enough for him to be seen with her. She was so stupid; she should just go home.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to take me out to dinner.” She dashed away from him towards the changing room door.

“Clara. Wait. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired. This was a stupid idea,” Clara muttered, swiping her badge over the changing room door to let herself in and pushing it open.

Taylor caught her hand before she could leave.

“Did I do something wrong?” His voice was full of confusion.

Clara took a few deep breaths and was about to lie to him, telling him she had a headache, when she realised it didn’t matter. She would never see him again, so she might as well tell the truth.

“I’m sorry you’re embarrassed to be seen with me. You don’t need to take me to dinner. It was kind of you to offer. But I’m just going to head home.”

“Embarrassed? What? No! I just thought you might want to get ready,” he apologised, gripping her hand tighter.

“It’s okay. It was great meeting you. Although a little surreal. I promise I’ll go and see your next movie in the cinema when it comes out. And I won’t let anyone know you were here,” Clara mumbled and tried to step backwards out of his grip, but his hand tightened on hers.

“I want to take you out to dinner,” he said firmly, his blue eyes burning into hers.

Clara shook her head at him, unable to hold his gaze, whispering, “It’s fine.”

Realisation washed over Taylor’s face.

“Oh shit, no. I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t need to go and put makeup on or change clothes. You’re always pretty. It’s just, well, I’ve not taken out anyone for a long time who didn’t need at least an hour to do their makeup and hair and try four different outfits on. I just assumed you would want to.” He stumbled over his words in his rush to explain.

Clara’s head tilted as she stared at him, assessing if he was telling the truth.

She said nothing for thirty seconds before she sighed and muttered, “I’ll meet you at the pub.” She tried not to latch onto it, but Taylor Anderson had said she was pretty.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I really, really didn’t mean to cause offence.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “That’s the last thing I would want to do.”

“It’s all fine. I’m not offended. I’ll see you in about twenty minutes. If you arrive first, try and grab an outside table.”

Nodding, Clara opened the door to the changing room, gently pulling her hand out of his and walking away, sighing deeply when she was safely away from Taylor.

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