It's 4pm and Ethan Caldwell just swept into the gym like he was being followed by a wind machine; his hair blowing lightly in the breeze from the door being opened behind him. Every girl in the reception has stopped what they were doing just to watch him walk. His square set jaw and his pale lips against his tan making him look more Californian than Scottish. He's here to see me but my legs aren't obeying my brain – I'm stuck to the spot. Luckily he's obviously not so taken with the sight of me and gl...