Rosamund managed to keep a smile on her face by the sheer fact that any actress can fake a smile when they needed to. In her case, it was a damn good poker face. Calling the look on her fact a smile was pushing it. It was more of a slightly disdainful curl of her lips. The cheap tossers in the meeting she had just gotten out of didn’t even deserve the effort an insincere smile would have cost her. As a matter of fact, it would take a few glasses of champagne over lunch and Crispin’s best efforts until she would get to the point of a fake smile. By tonight, she might actually get to the point of being world-weary.

They wanted her for scale, which was for actors who had never been part of a major project or needed money badly. With what they were offering that she could easily get the money by doing more print ads and taking a few more singing jobs in cabarets. But, she did get that meeting with bloody LeSexec, and that type of man was easy to figure out. Tight fisted sad git, like most of his ilk, but probably had a soft spot for an attractive face and a pair of legs.

Still, Rosamund was pretty narked when she walked out of the meeting. On second thought, she was going clubbing that night and not going home until she was too rat arsed to see two inches in front of her. All work and no play was exactly what made Rosy a dull girl. Truthfully, she was beginning to freeze herself and the ice princess role tired her. Unfreezing and spending a night having fun was so deserved, considering how much work it would probably take to get that prat LeSexec to pay her anywhere near what she deserved to be paid.

She started to come up with an excellently icy remark when someone bumped into her. Any gentleman would have held open a door instead of running into an office like a dog to cold leftovers. That was the difference between actors and aristocrats: chivalry and the knowledge that every woman was a princess in disguise. She’d say that and anything else that she could think of to burn off some steam before meeting Crispin.

Cor blimey, the bloke was cute, though. Scottish, which meant that not a single remark came to her lips. Dishy Scots didn’t have to be chivalrous. As a matter of fact, they were best in a rough state…one that involved being thrown on a horse and carried all over the Highlands. And her hormones had run away with her again, which was all it was. No more romance novels and bon bons before bed. Not smoking for two days…a new record which would be broken once she left the studio.

Still, it never hurt to be polite. The apology would just have to be accepted and few words of small talk were certainly civil. It wasn’t like she was going to fall at his feet when she could just be icier. Ah, scrummy Scot had a name. A rather odd stage name, but she most certainly wasn’t interested. Not interested at all, even if he did have quite manly hands.

And he seemed to be signing for the production too. Cute, Scottish…bugger ! She should tell Crispin now to get her out of this before she made a mess out of things. Still, she was being outwardly cool. No flushing and her skin had no increase in temperature. Good thing too. With her luck, he was gay, and even if he weren’t, he’d not last a week with her relationship rules. Probably didn’t have two pence to rub together, which meant the situation was getting more manageable by the moment. It would never happen and that was fine. There were two types of men according to Rosamund: the rogues she was attracted to and the urbane trust fund brats she dated. It was clear which category Mr. MacSwell was in.

She had a lunch date at Lucques anyway, which meant that she could end the small talk and meet Crispin. Okay, so she’d be a stroppy cow and snap at anything Crispin said, but he could deal with it. By the time she’d finished the steak frites with arugula salad, béarnaise and herbed French fries, she’d have totally vented and would move on to being amusing with dessert. Just no more romance novels for a while.

Indeed it was time for lunch. If she wasn’t in the car within the minute, she would be late. She was never late for anything. She was rarely a treat, but she would be having a good giggle at herself on the way and Crispin would be in for an actual fun time. She had to leave immediately before she started laughing then and there. Once she got going, it would be impossible to stop herself. Time to say good bye and walk out the door…then turn back to leave an impression and leave before the bloke got a word out.

“Oh ! My name is Rosamund Peacock, Mr. MacSwell… I’m sorry to have to dash, but I have a lunch date and I’m sure his driver has been waiting for me. It was a pleasure to meet you, and I’m sure we’ll enjoy working together. Do make sure that the people in there don’t beggar you.”