Page 42 of About Last Night
He gave her a puzzled grimace. ‘You make it sound like a trial.’
Her gaze slid away from his. ‘Well, it is a bit, isn’t it? Having to make small talk with all those people hoping they’ll throw some benevolence our way. It just makes me uncomfortable, that’s all.’
‘I would have thought you’d enjoy being lauded as one of the brightest and best presenters in the land.’
She looked directly at him now. ‘Yeah, well, you don’t know me, do you?’
Damn him. Even the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he frowned were sexy.
‘Lula, what’s going on?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean why are you acting like I’ve killed your kitten? I know things have been awkward between us, but I don’t think I deserve this sort of treatment.’
Her shoulders slumped as all the misplaced anger rushed out of her. He had a point, she was taking out her frustration on him and it wasn’t fair. In fact, it was downright unprofessional.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’
They heard voices coming from the other end of the corridor and she straightened her posture, steeling herself for making more polite conversation.
Tristan tore his troubled gaze away from her to scan the corridor.
‘Quick, let’s nip in here.’ He pulled open a door to their right, ushering her in.
She caught the flash of grim determination on his face before he closed the door behind them, leaving them standing in the dark.
‘Tristan, we’re in a broom cupboard.’
‘Yeah, I know, but at least no one will think to look for us in here.’
She couldn’t help but giggle. ‘They wouldn’t be able to see us even if they did – it’s pitch black.’
‘There must be a light switch around here somewhere.’
She felt him bump into her as he groped around the walls.
‘Ouch! That was my toe!’ she said, as one of his feet landed on hers.
‘Sorry.’
He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded amused.
‘It’s no good, I can’t find it.’ The gentle rush of words right next to her ear made her realise he was standing right in front of her, only inches away.
Her heart thumped hard against her ribcage and her whole body tingled with awareness at his close proximity.
‘We probably don’t need light anyway. Considering you’ve barely looked at me tonight it’s not going to make a lot of difference.’ His voice was light, but she detected a twang of indignation, which made her stomach dip with guilt. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ he said earnestly now.
There was nothing for it, she was going to have to lay everything on the line; they couldn’t carry on like this, pretending everything was just fine and dandy.
She took a deep breath. ‘To be honest, Tristan, I’ve been worried about keeping up the “Hotshot Tallulah Lazenby” act here. I didn’t want to let you and the station down.’
‘What are you talking about?’ He sounded utterly confused.
Despite the humiliation burning up her neck to her face, she kept going, wanting to get it all out before she lost her nerve.
‘The thing is, the Lula you think you know doesn’t exist. I’m nothing like my on-air personality. The “me” that you saw that night in your hotel room was a fabrication. I was playing a game, pretending to be the person I project for the radio. And once I’d started playing that part for you, I felt like I couldn’t drop the act in case you changed your mind about giving me the Breakfast Show. I’m just not like that. I’m shy. I like reading and quiet nights in and hiding in a crowd instead of being the centre of attention.’
