She wriggled away. 'I'm fine. I'll book a massage if I need one.'
This dance of mock-courtship continued all week long. Kitty forgot about him and threw herself into a romance with the third assistant director instead, getting enough exercise in bed to allow a little slacking on the gym front. But Kat was enjoying the chase and continued to frequent Lincoln's kingdom, deflecting his attentions with skill and ingenuity.
'Are you married?' he finally asked bluntly at the start of the second week of filming.
'No, Lincoln, I'm single. Are you?'
Lincoln filled two paper cups with water from the cooler and handed her one.
'I sure am, baby. Until you say the word.'
'Lincoln, you can stop bullshitting me. I know what you're about. You just want to be able to say you've shagged Kitty and Kat. You're not the first and you won't be the last. But I'm not a trophy, so give it up.'
She looked at him expectantly, a little regretful to be ending the game. She could not deny that she had enjoyed his onslaught of attention, and his touch did bring the prickles up on the back of her neck. All good things had to end though.
Lincoln made a face of disbelief, shaking his head. 'Kat, baby, you know that's not true! I'm no kiss and tell merchant, I've got more class than that.'
'No, Lincoln, I don't think you'd kiss and tell. You'd just know. It would make you happy, for about ten seconds, until the next challenge came along.'
'I'd be lying if I told you I couldn't make your nastiest dreams come true, baby,' drawled Lincoln, inflaming Kat's senses despite herself. 'But I like you as a person, Kat. I'd like to get to know you . . . really get to know you. And I'd like you to get to know me.'
'Would I be the first?' asked Kat drily, trying not to feel too flattered. She had to keep her head around this man.
'You know, you just might be,' said Lincoln thoughtfully. Then, after a pause, he said emphatically. 'Hey, lady, you think you've got me pegged, but I am going to prove you wrong! Let me take you out. A date, no strings. You think I'm a gigolo but I want to show you who Lincoln Van Demeter III really is!'
'The third?' said Kat, cocking her head to one side. 'You mean there are two more of you?'
Lincoln chuckled. 'The world couldn't take more than one Lincoln Van Demeter III,' he said.
'You know, I think you're right. Let me get back to you about the date. I'd better change and get on set. See ya.'
Kat hopped off with a cheery little wave, considering Lincoln's proposition. A date. Dinner and conversation. Would he settle for that? If he would, then perhaps she might be tempted . . . No. She really shouldn't. He was so very arrogant, it would simply fuel his monstrous ego. But then again . . . he was so handsome. And he was fun. He would be good company. And Kitty was never off her back since taking up with that director boy.
Thus it was that Kat found herself staring into Lincoln's eyes across a circle of white linen interrupted by a slim vase containing a single rose stem.
'Do you come here often?' she asked politely, one eye on her escort, the other on the menu.
'Not really.' He sat back expansively, creasing the sharp white suit he had worn for the occasion.
'The women fall into bed with you that quickly?'
'Hey. I just don't usually do restaurants, OK?'
'I'm not letting you pay. We split the bill. No obligations, no guilt-tripping.'
'You ever heard of romance?'
'You ever heard of feminism?'
'Damn, I was hoping that was just a rumour.'
They smirked at each other, the awkwardness passing, and ordered the food.
'So what was wrong with Kitty?' asked Kat pointedly, her mouth set in a straight line.
'Man, she's beautiful,' sighed Lincoln, 'but I just didn't feel her. Do you know what I mean?'
'Not really. It seems to me that you felt her pretty comprehensively. And she certainly felt you.'