Heroes Live Forever (Knights in Time) (24 page)

He kept hold of one of her hands and drew her back as she started to move away. "I'm Ian Cherlein."

“I know. Your photo’s in the lobby, Mr. Cherlein.”

“Call me Ian.”

Miranda watched, transfixed, as he brought her hand to his lips and grazed her fingers with a light kiss. The man had her completely muddled. She finally gathered enough of her wits to comment on how fortunate she was he happened by.

The corner of Ian's mouth curved up ever so slightly. "I wasn't walking by."

A rush of panic shot through her. How long had he been there? Had he heard them talking?

"You haven't told me your name."

"Miranda Coltrane. Out of curiosity, how long were you standing in the hall?"

"Long enough.”

Kiki uttered something unintelligible.

Miranda gathered the first tapestry. "Again, I appreciate the rescue Mr. Cherlein...Ian, but I have to go now. I need to get these props to the set designer for Hugh’s show."

"I'll take them for you."

What would Hugh say if he saw his guest moving scenery for her? Concerned, she declined the offer.

"No, please, I can manage. Thank you anyway."

Kiki found her voice and introduced herself, stepping on the hem of Miranda’s tapestry in the process. “Hi, I’m Katherine Kingston but everyone calls me Kiki.” She stood frozen as a statue and owl-eyed as Ian kissed her hand too.

Pressed for time, Miranda had to physically shove Kiki off the prop to get her to budge.

Ian took the tapestry from her in spite of her protest and then bent to grab the other one.

Miranda reached for the smaller second tapestry. "I'll get this. It's only painted canvas and not heavy.” She held the tapestry up and out. "Beautiful isn't it? It's called-"

“
La Belle Dame sans Merci,
by Frank Dicksee."

"Yes, that's right. How did you know?" The minute the question left her lips, Miranda could've kicked herself. She'd just asked Ian Cherlein, medieval expert how he knew a famous painting of the period. "Sorry, of course you'd know this picture and artist. We'd better go." She started down the corridor before she blurted out some new idiocy.

Julian, the set designer dashed over as they entered the studio, miffed, judging from the tight white line of his mouth. The short, balding man squinted at her, "It's about time. We have less than an hour until the show, stupid girl."

"Yes, I know when the show is," Miranda said with a grimace, embarrassed.

He started to make another snippy remark when Ian stepped forward and fixed him with a stony stare. "I'm Ian Cherlein, Hugh's guest, and I delayed her. If there's a problem perhaps you'd like to discuss it with me."

The designer shook his head, mumbled everything was okay and then wandered off with the property. Ian watched the man's retreat, "Wanker."

Miranda laughed, "Oh, absolutely. You didn't have to do that you know. He always has his knickers in a knot. I ignore him." She extended her hand. "Thank you for your help. Hugh's office is past the next corridor and the makeup room is at the end of this hall, on the right. It's been nice meeting you."

Ian stopped her as she turned to leave, "Do you work for Hugh?" He'd wrapped his hand around her arm and idly rubbed his thumb across the area just above the elbow.

The tiny caress made her heart pound so hard Miranda suspected Ian could see it through her clothes. "No, I'm a researcher for the channel.” With a self-conscious sigh, she added, “The resident bookworm."

Most men rolled their eyes or even yawned in her face when she mentioned her job. Ian didn't.

"Those pieces you found are quite good."

"Thank you; I've always had a penchant for knights."

Something sparked in Ian’s eyes, his gaze intensified and Miranda wondered if all women found it as hypnotic. Did they all stand like rooted trees, unable to walk away until he blinked or something and released his hold? Probably.

"Will you be watching the interview?"

“Most of the time I don’t.” The soft rubbing on her arm felt strangely erotic. No one ever said the elbow was an erogenous zone. Distracted to the nth degree, speaking with a modicum of normalcy demanded all of her concentration.

Goose bumps rose from her wrist to the nape of her neck as he slid his hand down her arm. Her pulse fluttered like hummingbird’s wings. Once his fingers found her wrist he'd feel it too.

"Would you stay this afternoon? I'm interested in your opinion on the topic." He smiled seductively when his fingers reached her wrist.

"Um, sure, if you like, I'll just go up to the sound booth. I can see the stage from there."

"Can't you watch from here, off stage?" He gestured to an area behind the curtain with his hand clasped around hers, their two arms side by side as he pointed. It was a silly thing, the way she mirrored his movement. One look at his grin and she knew he intended to tease her into relaxing and it worked.

"What beautiful green eyes you have." With his other hand he brushed aside the hair that had fallen in her eyes.

"Isn't that what the wolf said to Little Red Riding Hood?"

Ian leaned close so his lips brushed her ear and whispered, "Yes. Just before he mentioned he wanted to eat her."

Miranda groaned but couldn’t help smiling.

"I’d best head up to the booth."

Ian held onto her wrist. His gaze shifted to the sound booth, then back to the stage area. He glanced over to where the set designer directed the grips. "What's the wanker's name?"

"Julian."

Her hand was still in Ian's firm grip as he pulled her close and called out, "Julian, do me a favor."

The designer pranced over. In the most nauseatingly ingratiating voice she'd ever heard him use, he said, "Whatever you want Mr. Cherlein."

Ian ignored the moony look Julian gave him. "I'd appreciate it if you’d find a comfortable chair so Miss Coltrane can watch the show from backstage."

His lips compressed at the request and irritation registered on his face. "She can watch from up there." He indicated the sound booth with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"No, I don't want her that far away. She can sit off stage, over there," Ian said in a gracious but firm tone, pointing to a spot beyond camera range. "I'd really appreciate the favor."

Julian sniffed and raised a disapproving brow. His nostril might have been attached to his eyebrow so well timed were both actions. "Fine, we'll find her a chair." He spun around like some old movie queen, and ordered a grip to bring a chair.

Ian's thumbs ran along the edges of Miranda’s ribcage as his hands circled her waist. "I’ll pop in and say hi to Hugh, then run to makeup. Come to dinner with me after the show."

His dark eyes were luring her to some secret destination. Wolf eyes? Maybe. Maybe not. Without hesitation, she said, "Yes." She stepped back and turned to go the other way.

He didn't move.

"Go. I'll see you later," Miranda made a shooing motion then headed down the corridor. She summoned all her self control and kept walking, refusing the temptation to sneak another peek at him over her shoulder.

Once out of his sight, she sprinted to her office. After a quick check of her handbag and desk for the cosmetics she wanted, she hurried out the door. A rush of air blew over anyone in the hall caught in her wake as she made a beeline for the ladies room.

Kiki emerged from her office. Miranda was besieged by a barrage of questions.

"Well, you certainly have Ian Cherlein's attention. Did he ask you out? I told you he was hot." Kiki both asked and answered everything for herself. The rapid fire questions continued the entire way to the powder room.

“He invited me to dinner.” Miranda almost didn’t recognize her own breathless voice.

“Ahhh, you are so lucky. Where is he taking you? Tell me everything he said, start at the beginning."

They passed several staff members in the corridor who stared, their curiosity aroused by an animated Kiki, half skipping next to Miranda.

In the privacy of the bathroom, Miranda tried to answer the questions in the order asked. A tough task since Kiki still rattled on about Ian.

"Stop!" Miranda held up a hand in a desperate attempt to stop the mini inquisition. "We’re going to dinner after the show and I've no idea where he's taking me."

Kiki sat with one hip on the edge of the sink. Her expression was somewhere between a soothsayer and a Mother Superior. "Are you going to sleep with him? This is Friday. If he likes you, he'll probably stay the whole weekend." She crossed her arms with a smug smile like she'd just imparted the secret of the universe.

It was a good thing Miranda's mouth was filled with toothpaste. She couldn’t respond with the immediate acerbic retort on the tip of her tongue. The few seconds it took to spit and rinse gave her time to answer.

"I realize its Friday and the beginning of the weekend, thank you Mrs. Stephen Hawking. For your information, I've no intention of sleeping with him tonight. I may never sleep with him. As far as I know this may not go any further than dinner. Satisfied?" She meant every word.

Kiki stared at her as if she'd grown horns and a tail. "You're joking, right?” Kiki poked Miranda's arm with a finger, "Swear you aren't going to play hard to get. Men like that don't just happen along everyday."

"This may come as a shock to you, but I won't sleep with a man on the first date, even if the man is Ian Cherlein. If he's truly interested in me, then he'll ask me out again."

Miranda didn't owe anyone an explanation for her standards. And, damned if she'd allow herself to be put on the defensive. With a mix of anger and righteous indignation she said, "I'm not defined as a person by the men in my life."

Kiki pinned her with disbelieving eyes. "You're a fool."

She started to counter when Hugh's imperious assistant Zandra stormed into the bathroom and forced Kiki aside. She sidled up to Miranda. The poor lighting made Zandra’s mouse brown hair look even duller. Worn in a precision cut bob she never had a strand out of place. Miranda suspected it was a wig. Petite and thin, with a pointed chin and pinched features, in Miranda’s opinion, she appeared every bit the evil headmistress seen in bad movies.

"Well, it seems Mr. Cherlein has taken a liking to you," Zandra said in her snippy tone. The hollow sound of the rapid tattoo she tapped on the tile floor bounced off the walls.

"What do you want Zandra?" Miranda brushed her hair keeping a close watch on the stupid cow from the corner of her eye.

"You don't fool me for an instant. I know what an ambitious witch you are. If you think you're going to get the job of Mr. Cherlein's assistant by sleeping with him, think again. Hugh's already agreed to suggest me for the job." She inched closer. "You’ll do well to remember I'm on friendly terms with all the station executives. You could find yourself doing research for the culture channel...in Wales."

Nice and slow, Miranda put everything away and then wheeled around to confront Zandra. They'd have been nose to nose if Miranda didn't dwarf her.

"Now, I'm going to tell you something, you little piss-ant. I'm very tired of you. We're all tired of you." She loomed in and forced Zandra to take a defensive step backward. "What goes on between Ian Cherlein and me is nobody's business. I don’t plan to pursue the position of his assistant. If he requests me, it won't be Hugh's decision or Ian's whether I accept or not. It will be mine and mine alone."