She’d been expecting someone much better-looking, more imposing, a Cockney wide boy dripping with charisma, turning heads and joking with the ladies who lunched in this buzzing Notting Hill restaurant. Ryan’s character in his teatime soap was a ducker and a diver, a lovable rogue, whereas the real-life Ryan Jones looked . . . well, a bit short. She watched as the maître d’ pointed him towards her table. He was wearing an expensive-looking shirt unbuttoned too far and had flashy sunglasses perched on top of his head. He was cocky too, rolling his shoulders and pouting like a model, clearly expecting people to look up from their linguine. Anna noted his irritation when none of them did. ‘You Anna?’ he said, shoving one hand into the back pocket of his drooping jeans.Charmed, I’m sure, thought Anna, standing up to shake hands.‘Yes, I’m Anna Kennedy, I work at Donovan Pierce – I’m sure Hugh filled you in?’Setting up this meeting had actually been far less difficult than she had expected.
