High Heels and Pink Glitter (18+) COMPLETE, FREE TO READ CHICK LIT

How to Prepare for Sex Scenes

She added quickly: "Is that okay Nate? I'll pay you the extra?" As if she had offered him the choice.

"Well, I'm no' sure Avril and you need the same kind of work-out." He stopped, trying to think of a way to phrase what he was trying to say carefully.

Mrs A laughed again. "I know! You're saying I need to do the fat-busting stuff, and Avril most definitely doesn't."

"Actually, you don't either Mrs A. You squat like a boss and you're in great shape." Possibly better shape than Avril Taylor, who had that wiry, gaunt look that Goonar Jaanssen tended to give his clients.

Avril smiled at him, her parted lips revealing very white, straight teeth. "Thanks Bet, and thank you Nate. I'm rather tired, though, so I think I'll give it a miss."

Years of living away from Glasgow and taking on the parts of people of various nationalities had almost extinguished her Scottish accent. Thankfully, though, she didn't have the weird mid-Atlantic twang that Scots who spent a long time in the US often developed.

He grinned back at her, and risked a wink. She gave him the ghost of a wink back, both co-conspirators in defeating the machinations of Mrs A.

Mrs A could, however, be remarkably single-minded.

"Avril's over here for the next six months. She's filming a new series."

"Oh, aye. Is it nice to be back in Glasgow?" Question asked, he cursed himself silently. It was hardly sparkling repartee.

The robe tightly pulled about her, Avril folded her arms around her narrow waist. "Aye, it is actually." She allowed the little colloquialism to slip through.

"Your usual trainer can't make it over here, can he Avril? He's busy filming the latest series of The Biggest Loser," Mrs A piped up, at which point Nate shot out a hand, clapping it over her mouth.

"Please ignore her. This has nothing tae do wi' me."

Mrs A gave a muffled shriek and pushed his hand off. "I'm just trying to help!"

"Bet, you never change," Avril said, shaking her head slowly. Her tone sounded fond, and not exasperated. "My mum used to clean for her years ago. That's how we know each other. She took me to my first audition."

She paused and then cleared her throat. "I do actually need a trainer. There's...quite a bit of nudity in this series I'm doing. I can't go to gyms anymore. I used to be able to do that when I came back to Glasgow, but..."

She didn't need to elaborate any further. It was obvious that a star of Avril Taylor's calibre couldn't use ordinary gyms. She'd be snapped looking sweaty and dishevelled, and the photos would go viral on Twitter. Or she'd have to put up with endless interruptions, the gym's patrons picking their way over dumbbells, kettle bells and mats to ask her if she was A) actual Avril Taylor, and B) could they get a selfie taken with her.

"I'd need you to sign an NDA." She cast an apologetic glance at them both. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound up myself, but that kind of thing is standard these days."

"That would be fine, wouldn't it Nate?" Mrs A jumped in.

"You might not believe this Avril, but Mrs A here isn't my manager."

Mrs A slapped his arm playfully. "I'm just putting two people together who need each other."

The line didn't quite come out right, and there was a second or so of uncomfortable silence.

Nate cleared his throat. "Aye, well – eh, Mrs A can gie you my phone number and you can let me know if you want tae go ahead wi' it." He didn't let the words sound like a question, and turned to Mrs A. "C'mon then you. Let's get you exercised."