His mouth pulled into a shy smile. “Thank you, my love. Now I just need to convince someone to let me write and direct my own film and find the perfect actor for Richard Capel. Tom perhaps …” he mused.

Chloe had no idea which Tom he meant, but she was still pondering the idea of Archer writing and directing. She had no doubt he’d be brilliant, and surely some film executive somewhere would leap at the idea. He was Archer Frigging Tate, for crying out loud.

“Oh, and there is something else … about the film, I mean,” Archer said, his tone laced with mystery.

“What’s that?”

“Have you ever thought of producing?”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “A film?”

He laughed. “Yes, a film.”

“Uh, no. I can honestly say that the thought has never crossed my mind. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Well, I think you’d be smashing at it, with all your experience in event management and PR. And you did say you were thinking about a career shift. This could be a wonderful segue into something new. I mean, producing is ultimately about logistics and building relationships—both of which I think you’d excel at—particularly with how quickly you got my mother on side. She is a bit of a tough nut, I’ll admit.” Understatement of the century, thought Chloe.

“But you should hardly take my word for it. I was thinking,” he continued excitedly, “that I could connect you with a good friend of mine, Fiona. She’s a producer and she can tell you everything you need to know—share her insights, that sort of thing. So, what do you say? Will you talk to Fi?” It had all tumbled out so quickly that Chloe was momentarily speechless.

“Uh, yeah, of course, that sounds amazing. Thank you.”

Being part of a film production! There was no way Chloe could ever have imagined how things would turn out when she’d planned a quiet Christmas in a tiny town in England. She snorted a little laugh at the thought, leant her head against the headrest and imagined herself on a film set, clipboard in hand and … producing—whatever that entailed.

Chloe’s contemplation was interrupted by the sound of Archer’s phone ringing. He gave a voice command to answer it and put it on speakerphone.

“Hello.”

“Archer, thank god I’ve caught you. Are you free? Do you have a moment?” asked a very posh English accent.

“George! Absolutely. We’re just on the M40, heading back to Penham. I’m with Chloe and you’re on speakerphone, so behave.” He glanced at Chloe. “George is my publicity manager,” he told her. She nodded.

“Right, well, I’ll keep this brief—and I want you to know that I’m on top of it. I’m already penning a press release as we speak—”

“George, what’s going on?”

“Well, if you’re asking, then I take it you haven’t been on Twitter in the past couple of hours?”

Chloe and Archer shared a look across the car and Chloe reached for her handbag to retrieve her phone. “Uh, no, we haven’t. Why?” Archer replied.