"Who was that?" I ask, shivering, my breath steaming.
"No one you know," she murmurs, and then, barely audible, "yet."
I'm lying on my side now, running my hands slinkily across the floral print of the comforter, drawing attention to my hands because of the way they're moving, and my shirt's become untucked in a not-too-suggestive way and when I look down "sheepishly," then back up with a seductive smile, Jamie is glaring at me with a noxious expression. When I revert to not being so studly, she relaxes, stretches, groans.
"I've got to get something to eat," she says.
"Baby, are you famished?"
"Beyond famished."
"Hey, I saw that movie." I grin, faux-mischievously. "What about room service?" I suggest, my voice deepening.
She stands there, contemplating something, glances back at the TV, then her eyes carefully scan the ceiling. Finally she murmurs, "Let's get out of here."
"Where to?"
"Let's go out for dinner."
"Now? It's only five," I point out. "Is anything open yet?"
"I know a place," she murmurs. Something on the ceiling, in the corner, dominates Jamie's attention and she moves toward it, reaching up, then-realizing something-stops herself. She turns around, tries to smile, but apparently she can't help it: the room seems to worry her in some way.
"Baby, it's just a set," I'm saying. "Forget about it."
11
Though the restaurant doesn't serve until 6 Jamie gets us into Le Caprice at 5:30 with a cryptic phone call she makes in the cab on the way to Arlington Square.
"I was supposed to have dinner with Amanda Harlech but I think this will be much more, er, interesting," she says, tucking the cell phone back into her handbag.
"That's me," I say. "A blast from the past."
While sitting across the table from her in Le Caprice I'm aware that Jamie Fields is so beautiful that she's starting to blow away whatever residual memories of Lauren Hynde I might have held on to and after knocking back a martini and some white wine we order crab-and-corn chowder and a plate of chargrilled squid and the two of us start relaxing into the moment, only briefly interrupted on Jamie's part by a few giant yawns and a slightly deadened look behind those very cool blue eyes. I order another martini, momentarily thinking, This is gonna be so easy.
"Where did you go after shooting today?" I ask.
"I had a Himalayan rejuvenation treatment at Aveda in Harvey Nichols," she says. "I needed it. I deserved it."
"Cool, hip."
"So what arc you doing in London, Victor?" she asks. "How did you find me?"
"Baby," I'm saying, "it was purely accidental."
"Uh-huh," she says somewhat dubiously. "What were you doing on the set this morning?"
"I was just browsing, doing some shopping in Nothing Hill, minding my own business and-"
"It's Notting Hill, Victor," Jamie says, motioning to a waiter for more bread. "Notting Hill." Continue."
I stare at her, sending out vibes; some hurtle back at me, others land softly, sticking.
She's waving a hand in front of my face. "Hello? Victor?"
"Oh yeah," I say, blinking. "Um, could you repeat the question?"
"How-did-you-find-me?" she asks tensely.
"I just stumbled onto... things, y'know?" I squint, making an airy motion with my hands, hoping it clarifies.
"That sounds like you but I'm not buying it."
"Okay, okay," I say, grinning sexily at her, leaning in, seeing how far I can push this mode. "Someone at a party-"
"Victor," she interrupts, "you're a very good-looking guy. You don't need to push it with me, okay? I get it."
The sexy grin fades and I sit back and take a sip of the martini, then carefully wipe my lips with a napkin.
"Proceed," she says, arms crossed, staring.
"Someone at a party I was at mentioned, um, something," I say, distracted, shrugging everything off. "Maybe it was at the Groucho Club. I think it was someone who went to Camden with us-"
"You think?"
"Baby, I was so loaded-"
"Oh shit, Victor, who was it?"
"Wait-I'm sorry, I think it was someone I bumped into at Brown's-"
"Who, for god's sake?"
I lean in, grinning sexily and purring, "I see I have your full attention now."
