When I told my friends that I was taking Mick Hucknall for lunch, the response was remarkably consistent, and more than a little daunting. So well established is the Simply Red man's reputation as playboy and seducer that everyone was convinced "lunch" must surely be a euphemism, a mere appetiser for the amorous banquet that would be spread before me.

It was useless to protest that I was meeting him because he is a famous food-lover, and an expert cook to boot. His conquests were admiringly enumerated, from Steffi Graff to Catherine Zeta Jones, and someone remembered a kiss-and-tell story in which a former partner had described him as a lover with the "strength and stamina of a panther". Even my mother went all wobbly at the prospect.

Mick chose the venue for our lunch himself, rejecting my own suggestions with the legendary single- mindedness that has kept Simply Red at the top for over 13 years. There didn't seem to be anything particularly romantic about his choice, it has to be said. Maroush is one of the best of the many Lebanese restaurants on London's Edgware Road, a bustling thoroughfare as grimy and traffic- snarled as any in downtown Beirut.

A group of men smoking huge hubble-bubble pipes at a pavement table watched me as I chained up my bicycle outside the restaurant - I'd cycled because I felt that that Mick, as a committed Labour supporter, would approve of my integrated transport policy. On the down side, however, it did mean that I was probably the only woman ever to turn up for a date with Mick Hucknall wearing cycle clips.

There are six branches of Maroush in central London, but this is the longest-established. Upstairs is a narrow cafe-juice bar, its booth seating filled by day with families and tourists, and by night with swinging parties of Middle Eastern youngsters. Kebabs are cooked over open charcoal grills and fresh pittas are made to order, emerging puffy and fragrant from the oven.

When Mick arrived, quietly charming in semi-beard and snugly tailored grey suit, he guided me downstairs to the restaurant with an almost imperceptible touch of hand to elbow, while solicitously carrying my glass for me. So that's how it's done, I thought.