The Importance of Being Married (22 page)

The debt of gratitude was forgotten as soon as we poked our noses in the bar. It was heaving with people, the music was too loud, and there was nowhere to sit. You couldn’t stand still, either, because people kept brushing past you like you were standing in their way, so after being pushed around for twenty minutes we ditched our drinks and left. Helen had suggested a restaurant called Figos that was meant to be super-hip and
the
place to be seen, but we looked in the window and it was really crowded, too, and there was a doorman looking people up and down like a bouncer as they walked in.

“This one of your flatmate’s suggestions, too?” Anthony asked, turning away from the window and raising his eyebrows.

I nodded. “She’s more…well, she’s the one who goes out, more,” I explained.

“You don’t go out so much?” Anthony asked curiously.

“I…I don’t always have time,” I said tentatively. “I mean, I’ve got a lot on at work and…”

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Anthony said, grinning. “I tell that to Max all the time but he never listens and look what’s happened to him. Wouldn’t know how to have a good time if you took him to a strip club and shoved a fistful of fifties in his hand!”

I looked at him, slightly shocked. “A…a strip club?”

He winked. “An expression, that’s all,” he said quickly. “I can’t abide the places. But you take my point about Max? Obsessed with work. And if you work in a creative industry like we do, you have to live as well as work. You need external stimuli to get inspiration. Need to see people having fun so we know what they’re looking for, how to sell to them.”

“You mean that going out is like research?” I asked seriously.

He laughed. “Exactly. Research. In fact, perhaps I should expense this evening’s entertainment!”

I didn’t know if he was serious or not, so I didn’t say anything. He, meanwhile, looked around thoughtfully, then nodded to himself. “How about,” he said, “we go to a little place around the corner I know? There’s no DJ as far as I know, but the food’s great and the wine list’s as long as your arm.”

I nodded with relief, then frowned. “I thought you didn’t know Islington?”

“I don’t. I mean, not really. But I came here once with a girl…a friend.” He blanched slightly. “I’m sure the restaurant’s up here somewhere.”

“You had a girlfriend in Islington?”

Anthony shrugged. “Not a girlfriend. Nothing that serious. And it was a long time ago.”

I nodded. Of course he’d had a girlfriend in Islington. He’d probably had a girlfriend in every district in London. Immediately I thought about the girl in the car, the one with the sunglasses, but I forced her from my mind. It wasn’t important; Anthony was out with me now.

“So why wasn’t it serious?” The words came out before I could stop them.

“Why? God knows. She wasn’t my type, I guess.”

I nodded again and there was a brief silence. Questions, I thought. Ask more questions.

“So what’s your type?”

“My type?” Anthony grinned. “Now, there’s a question. You know, I don’t think I know. I mean, I’m not sure I’d be able to put it into words. And sometimes people surprise you. I mean, you don’t think they’re your type and then something happens and you think again.”

“You do?”

“Yes, you do.” His arm was around my shoulders, and my skin felt hot underneath it. Much as I looked down on women who depended on men for their happiness, I could certainly see the appeal. “Now, I hope you’re hungry, because we’re here.”

He held open a door, and we walked in. It was tiny, just ten or so tables jostling for space as waiters slipped between; there seemed to be more wait staff than diners.

A short little man immediately glided toward us.

“I’m afraid we have no booking,” Anthony said, immediately disarming the man with a smile. “But I’ve been telling Jess here about your wonderful restaurant—I came here a year or so ago—and if you could squeeze us in you really would make our night.”

The man smiled, then turned to scan the room. “It won’t be easy,” he said in an Italian accent. “But I see what we can do, huh?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Best restaurant in London,” Anthony said loudly, winking at me. Seconds later a table had been brought into the room and space found for it, next to the window.

“Please,” the maître d’ said, holding out my chair. “Please.”

I sat down and remembered Ivana’s advice.
Be appreciative. Make him feel like a million dollars.
“That was incredible!” I breathed.

Anthony grinned. “You can get a long way by flattering people,” he said, sagely. “Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” I said, allowing myself a slight smile. “I really won’t.”

The menus were handed to us, and as I tried to make sense of mine, I found my eyes wandering around the restaurant. It was the sort of place where no sooner do you take a sip out of your wineglass than someone is there refilling it for you. Where they call you “sir” and “madam” and tell you what a great choice you’ve made when you pick a wine from the list just because you like its name.

“So,” Anthony said when we’d ordered. “Tell me about Jessica Wild. The real one, not the one who acts like Jessica Rabbit at work, all quiet and demure.”

“Jessica Rabbit?” I frowned.

“Frozen in the headlights,” he said. “You always look so earnest, so worried. But now I’m getting to see your other side and I like it.”

“My…other side?” I asked uncertainly.

“Jessica Rarebit.” Anthony grinned. “The Jessica who wins presentations, who drinks whole bottles of wine for lunch, who pretends she isn’t a party animal but knows all the most crowded bars in Islington. Tell me about her.”

“Oh, well, I mean, I don’t know about that…,” I said, blushing awkwardly. I had to get off this subject—it was littered with land mines.
Don’t talk about yourself. Don’t disagree with him.
“I mean, there’s really not much to say. But you…you must have a lot of stories to tell. About all these girlfriends, for starters.”

I looked at him hopefully, and he laughed. “You don’t want to know about all my girlfriends.”

Not particularly, I thought.

“Yes,” I said. “I do.”

“Really?” He looked at me incredulously, then shrugged. “Well all right then, I’ll tell you,” he said eventually, his mouth creasing upward and his eyes twinkling. “But this just reinforces my view of you, Jessica Rarebit. You are unlike any woman I have ever had the pleasure of having dinner with. So, shall I start at the beginning and move forward, or start with the most recent and move backward?”

“Whichever you prefer,” I said, smiling brightly with no teeth. “I really don’t mind either way.”

It took the whole of dinner to get through them. I counted up to forty-two, but I could have missed a couple here or there.

“And you never wanted to stay with any of them?” I asked, genuinely interested now. “Like, not even to see what it was like?”

Anthony shook his head. “I stayed as long as it made sense to. But why settle? Would you settle, Jess?”

“Settle? I…oh, no, I mean I…” I smiled, feeling myself getting flustered. I’d spent my whole life determined not to settle, convinced I’d never even get married.

He looked at me intently and took my hand. “Would you settle for someone you knew wasn’t perfect? Or would you wait for the right person to come along?”

I gulped. “Oh, I think I’d wait,” I said, my chest tightening. He was stupidly good looking. Not that I was going to let a beautiful face turn me into jelly. I was far too strong for that sort of thing. I was just going to flirt, like I’d promised I would.

Anthony grinned and let go of my hand. “Exactly. People might look at me and say I’m a philanderer. But I’m not—I’m an incurable romantic, that’s all. All I want is the right woman to come along.”

“You…do?” I asked curiously. “You’re not just playing the field?”

The bill arrived and Anthony immediately put a card down, holding up his hand when I attempted to go halves.

“Not at all,” he said, looking intently into my eyes. “I want what everyone wants. Someone special to love. Is that naïve, do you think?”

“I don’t know. I mean, no, no, it isn’t,” I said tentatively. Of course it is, I was thinking. Completely naïve. At least I thought it was…I kicked myself. Of course it was naïve. I was getting way too carried away. The idea that there was some special love out there just waiting for you was insane. People built their lives around beliefs like that, then wondered why they were disappointed years later.

“Me, too.” Anthony smiled. “Although I’m sure some therapist would tell me I’m a hopeless case. Just trying to replace the love of my old mother.”

“Your old mother?”

“Dead mother.”

My eyes widened. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Anthony shrugged. “Why should you? It’s no big deal. Both my parents died awhile back. To be honest, we weren’t that close.”

“You weren’t?”

Anthony shook his head. “They were ambitious. Thought I should make more of myself.”

“More?” I asked incredulously. “But you’re a huge success.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Anthony said thoughtfully. “But unfortunately they never saw the rise of Milton Advertising. They…they were gone years before.”

I nodded slowly. I suddenly felt a kinship with Anthony, felt like maybe at some level I actually understood him. “My parents died, too. At least my mother did. When I was little. I…I never knew who my father was.”

“Really?” Anthony’s eyes crinkled in sympathy. “Poor you. Poor, poor Jess.”

I felt a lump in my throat. “Not poor,” I said quickly. “I had a grandma who brought me up. It was fine, actually. I’m very lucky.”

“How did she die? Your mother, I mean.”

“Car crash,” I said quietly. “Apparently a lorry plowed into her on the motorway. She didn’t stand a chance, Grandma said.”

Anthony nodded seriously. “I’m really sorry, Jess. That’s awful.”

“I guess.” I blushed.

“And what about love? Have you found the right person, Jessica Rarebit?”

I shrugged, a little embarrassed all of a sudden. There was way too much attention on me for my liking. I needed to change the subject and quickly. “No, no, I haven’t,” I said, scanning my brain for new subject matter.

“You mean this boyfriend of yours isn’t the one?”

My head jerked up. “Boyfriend?”

Anthony smiled reassuringly. “Max told me. It’s okay, I’m not judging. Actually I quite like that you have a boyfriend and you’re having dinner with me. I guess it’s all part of the Jessica Rarebit mystique.”

“Max told you I had a boyfriend?” I started to say indignantly.

“Don’t you?”

“No! Why would he say that? Why would he…” I trailed off as I suddenly remembered the funeral. The boyfriend I’d invented out of nowhere. What was it with me and imaginary men? “What I mean is,” I said hurriedly, “is that I don’t have one anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No. We split up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need,” I said. “Really. It was just…you know…one of those things.”

“So you’re young, free, and single?”

I smiled weakly. “Absolutely. Yes, I am.”

“Well that’s a turn up for the books,” Anthony said lightly, a smile playing on his lips. “So, after this, do you want to go home?” He smiled expectantly at me. “Or somewhere else?”

I smiled back nervously. “Um…home?” I said, feeling like I was on a game show.
Deal or No Deal. Winner Takes All.

“Home it is,” Anthony said. “What do you say we get a cab? I’m assuming those shoes are horribly uncomfortable because they look fabulous.”

“You think? But no, I mean, I can walk,” I said, even though the shoes were shooting needles into my toes. “You get a cab, I’ll be fine.”

Anthony frowned. “Me? Not a chance. We’ll get a cab and I’ll see you home.”

“But it’s completely out of your way,” I protested halfheartedly. “It’ll be really expensive.”

“Then it’s a good thing I own my own company, isn’t it?” Anthony said, his eyes twinkling as he stood up, thanked the maître d’ for a glorious meal, then pulled me out of the restaurant and hailed a cab.

“You know, I had fun tonight,” he said, leaning back into the leather seat a few seconds later. “I hope you did, too?”

“Definitely.” I sneaked a peek over at him; he was looking right at me. God, he was gorgeous. He was making my skin feel all prickly with anticipation. But anticipation of what? Was I actually hoping he was going to kiss me?

“I’m very glad,” Anthony said softly.

I sat back, every muscle and ligament on high alert. Of course I was hoping he was going to kiss me, I told myself, doing my best to rationalize the situation. I wanted him to kiss me because that was the plan. That was the point of the date. It was the next step of Project Marriage. And if I was getting a strange ache, an odd feeling of longing deep down at the bottom of my stomach, then it was just that I was in character, that I was taking this project very seriously indeed.