New Zealand soaps aren’t your thing?”
“Afraid not.”
They walked another minute in silence.
“So, what’s the part you’re auditioning for?” he asked.
Savannah made a small sound in the back of her throat, a dull-pink flush appearing above her shirt collar.
“Charlotte Malone. She’s a college dropout with the same IQ as her bra size—with a heart of gold, of course.”
“Of course.”
Savannah dragged a strand of toffee-colored hair across her lips and out of her mouth, forcing Glen to wrench his gaze away and concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other.
“She drops out of college to play mom to her brother and sister—a teenage boy with attitude, and a pigtails-and-freckles seven-year-old. Yeah, it’s not razor-honed wit and originality by any stretch—but it’s a starting point.”
“You’re confident you’ll get it?”
“If I can lose twenty pounds by the time I fly out to audition.”
Glen’s gut flipped in a sickening tumble. “Twenty pounds? You’ll be skin and bones.”
She shrugged, her eyes front and center, jaw sharp enough to split logs on. He kept pace, a chill working its way down his spine. The whole low-fat-milk-drooling-over-his-muffin-eating-tofu-sausages made sense now. It also made him feel a complete ass when he knew first-hand, thanks to his baby sister, about the horrors of eating disorders.
“That’s a lot of weight to lose in a short amount of time,” he said quietly.
“Twenty pounds is to show the producers I’m prepared to work my butt off for the role—literally work my butt off.”
She flicked a glance down with a grimace, and he followed her gaze. Wasn’t anything wrong with her butt, so far as he could tell.
“If I get the part, I’ll have to maintain that weight for the duration of the series. In sitcom worlds, college students don’t come in sizes above a six.”
And lose all those delicious curves he couldn’t keep his eyes off? No-no-no-no. Glen gave himself a mental bitch-slap. Her curves—or lack thereof—were none of his business.
“I need to nail it,” she said. “Go hard or go home.”
Determination gritted her tone, layered over a hint of doubt that maybe she didn’t have what it took. She’d had that same edge in her voice the night a teenaged Savannah looked him dead in the eye and announced she’d be famous one day. He’d believed her, regardless of the fumes wafting off her breath that were potent enough to fail a breathalyzer test from ten paces.
She wasn’t the only one on intimate terms with the demon of self-doubt.
Glen squinted at the horizon and fought a surge of empathy. An offer of representation from a literary agent wasn’t in the same league as scoring a role in a hit sitcom, but he had his own agenda, his own needs. She’d blasted into his life only three days ago, and already his rigid schedule was disintegrating, because while she wanted to nail her audition, he wanted to nail her.
And if his below-par acting skills could convince his heart that sex was the only aspect of his distraction with Savannah, he’d get his damn book finished.
***
They made it to the cottage without bloodshed. Savannah heaved out a sigh. A good sign.
She patted the three dogs greeting them with yips and frenzied tail wagging. Glen walked ahead to speak to an elderly man with a bucket in one hand who’d appeared around the side of the house. The man laughed, slapping Glen’s shoulder before nodding behind him to the parked tractor.
Glen gestured her over and introduced her to Robbie, who offered her a toothy smile and a wink.
“No worries, love. You’ll join us for some kai while you wait for the tide to turn. Got a beauty cray and some tuatuas.” Robbie shook the bucket.
Claws skittered on the plastic, and Sav jumped, uttering a little squeak.
Robbie chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a frisky one all right. C’mon in, the missus will put the kettle on.”
They followed Robbie into the cottage, which was small but surprisingly cozy. Warmth enveloped the combination living and kitchen areas, thanks to an old-fashioned woodstove. The three dogs trotted over to their beds by the fire and slumped down as if they’d been for a hard run. A silvery-haired woman chopped vegetables at a counter beside the woodstove, and she laid down her knife with a welcoming smile.
“Got stranded, did you?”
“Yeah,” Glen replied. “And I’ll be hearing about it for the next ten years, at least.”
The smile he offered the woman caused Sav a little twinge. Charming, guileless, sincere. She hadn’t seen that smile on him before, just a wary or