The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2) - Rosie Danan Page 0,27

Chemistry?”

“Physics,” he corrected, while Naomi sat with her arms crossed and her back to the wall, surveying the entire coffee shop like Tony Soprano and refusing to rise to what he suspected was bait from her friend.

“Ah yes. That’s right.” Clara let out a little hum around her straw. “Well, I certainly think we can do some press outreach. If you don’t mind me saying,” she told Ethan, “you’ve got human-interest piece written all over you.”

Naomi grunted into her beverage while Ethan covered his embarrassment with his cup.

“You know.” Clara tapped her pen against the table while she considered. “I think that’s where I’ll start. Pitching profiles and interviews. LA Mag’s preparing their list of hottest bachelors. You are single, aren’t you?”

“Clara,” Naomi said sharply.

“What?” Clara raised a shoulder, the picture of innocence. “I’m just asking so I know how to frame the narrative.”

Naomi gripped her coffee so hard her knuckles went white. “Focus on the synagogue and the seminar series.”

Ethan had spent most of his life surrounded by powerful women, but Naomi and Clara might be the most intimidating pair he’d ever encountered. This was due, largely, to the fact that they seemed to be conducting a silent, private conversation right in front of him. It was like watching a high-stakes tennis match conducted primarily through eyebrow raises and mouth twitches.

He wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it, but they’d likely make a killing as a team of con artists.

“Oh, fine.” Clara flipped over to a clean page in her notebook. “What type of promotion have you done for the series so far?”

Ethan shifted in his seat. “Well, I sent an email to our synagogue’s discussion list and posted the events on our website, as well as reaching out to some local Hillel groups at UCLA and USC.” It wasn’t much, but between his normal duties and all the new programming he’d added, marketing was so far down on his overflowing to-do list, it was a miracle he’d accomplished that much.

Clara circled something in her notebook. “So, you haven’t contacted any members of the media?”

He peeled the cardboard holder off his cup. “No. Not yet. You think we should?”

Naomi bristled. “I might not have the same lurid appeal as I used to—opening an LLC will do that to a girl—but I’m pretty sure the idea of partnership between a sex worker and a rabbi is worth at least page six.”

Ethan took a big swallow of his tea. Hearing her lay it all out was . . . a lot. He stood by Naomi and their work completely, but he wasn’t naive enough to think the Internet would give them the benefit of the doubt.

“You’re nervous about what the board will say if this gains too much attention,” Naomi said, trying to read his face.

That wasn’t even half of it. Mostly, he didn’t want anyone to punish Naomi for teaching for him the way they had at every other institution she’d approached. But he guessed the last thing she’d want to hear was that he wanted to protect her.

“The board is uneasy about our partnership and this new type of programming, but they also recognize how imperative it is that we appeal to a wider community. I’ve already made the gamble on these events. Promoting them is just doubling down.”

Naomi leaned forward, directing the full force of her gaze at him. “You don’t sound sure.”

He tried to match the intensity of her tone, the fire that made her cheekbones pop as she pursed her lips.

“I’m sure.”

Only Naomi would demand complete transparency from everyone else while simultaneously giving nothing away.

Ever since he’d met her, he’d worked to slowly chip away at her armor, only to find it all back in place the second they were in public. This slide back down the hill to friendship was probably an effective deterrent more often than not, but Ethan was a scientist and a rabbi. His life was oriented around asking better questions, not expecting easy answers.

Still, he was sweating in the hot seat. “I’m going to get a glass of water. Anyone need anything?” Ethan stood up abruptly, eager to escape the lingering moment of tension at the table. His foot knocked against the table leg, sending Naomi’s iced coffee splashing against her chest.

She jumped back, dripping, a huge stain blossoming along her formerly white top.

He closed his eyes.

It was one thing when his clumsiness ruined his own clothes, but quite another for it to spread to Naomi’s wardrobe. “I’m so