Page 31 of Private Lives

The scene was short, nailed on the second take, and as Erica and her leading man had writhed beneath the sheets, Matt was convinced that her modesty had been preserved throughout.

He watched as the actress climbed off the bed and allowed herself to be helped into a white robe. She caught him looking at her and Matthew made a show of putting the contract back into his briefcase and preparing to leave.

‘Thanks for doing that.’ She smiled, tying her hair back in a ponytail. ‘I know it’s a pain for you, but you wouldn’t believe what some directors try to get away with.’

‘Just watching your back,’ he said.

She looked at him for a second and then laughed.

‘Funny,’ she said. ‘I thought you lawyers were always serious.’

‘Laugh a minute, that’s us.’

‘Really?’

‘No, not really. You’re right, most of us are actually deathly dull.’

‘Gee, you’re really selling yourself to me,’ quipped the actress.

‘Sorry,’ said Matthew. ‘It’s just I’m not used to doing nude scenes.’

She giggled. ‘Not quite a nude scene, thanks to your eagle eye.’

‘Well, I think we got it just right. Enough coverage to protect your modesty. Just enough to get the audience going.’

‘Get the audience going?’ she chided.

‘I didn’t mean it like that. Not in any porno way.’

‘Porno?’

‘Not porno. Obviously not porno. Look, I’m sorry . . .’

She started to chuckle, her broad smile lighting up her face.

‘Really, you English guys are funny.’

‘Funny with bad teeth. All the clichés are true.’

‘Your teeth look pretty good to me.’

Were they flirting? he wondered, snapping his briefcase hurriedly shut.

An officious-looking girl approached them. ‘Ms Sheldon, the car’s here to take you home.’

‘Sure, just give me a minute,’ she said, never taking her amused eyes from Matthew.

‘Do you live around here?’ he asked, hoping to deflect her probing gaze.

‘Santa Barbara, actually, so no.’

‘Actually I meant . . .’

‘I know, I’m just teasing,’ she said. ‘I’m renting a house in Richmond. It’s pretty handy for the studios, lovely garden.’

‘Oh, whereabouts? I don’t live far from Richmond myself,’ he said, feeling himself slip into dinner-party mode.

‘At the top of the hill, by the park. Say, are you going home now?’