touch me, to tease me. If that knock on the door hadn’t interrupted us, things would’ve gone from sexy and simple to downright dangerous in a heartbeat.
There was no logical way to explain that I was more reluctant to work with Salinger than I was to sleep with him.
“Oh. This is my favorite picture of the day.” I almost forgot the photographer was there because I was so engaged in the back and forth with the mouthy assistant.
There was no possible way the kid was going to last. He really needed to find another line of work before he made the kind of enemy who would crush him.
I wasn’t aware the photographer was still shooting pictures while I’d been lost in thought about Salinger. I flicked a look at the image she showed me on the back of the camera. The only word that could describe my expression was dreamy. There was a softness in my face that hadn’t been there in a very long time. A faint smile touched my lips that no amount of posing or practice could put there. I looked like a girl who was infatuated, or rather, a woman who was willing to risk it all for the wrong man.
“Oh. That is nice. I don’t usually look very good in candid shots.” I wondered if the magazine would use it, or if they’d prefer one that was overly posed to show off the designer dress. It looked like something between a ballerina’s tutu and a sexy garbage bag. Fashion was weird. I would never understand how ugly clothes could cost as much as a house and have months-long waiting lists. I totally failed at being a fashionista. That was one part of being a star I skipped over unless I had an event or a pictorial.
And since my last stylist had started the avalanche of destruction that consumed my marriage, I was forever hesitant to bring on a new one. Half the time, I let Arrow and Lennon vote on what I would wear so I could blame them if I ended up on a worst-dressed list.
“You look great.” The photographer flashed me a wink and gave me a grin, probably trying to butter me up so I didn’t complain about the lack of professionalism at this shoot. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re much prettier than Kate Beckinsale. And you have better taste in men. If you’re going to hook up with a heartthrob who is a decade younger than you, Salinger Dolan is the one to pick.” She made a face and shook her head. “Though, I do find Pete Davidson weirdly attractive.”
I sighed heavily and gave my head a little shake. “Like I said, Salinger and I just work together.”
But even as I said the phrase again, I could tell that it sounded like I was trying to convince myself rather than the strangers in the room.
Salinger
I WAS TIRED, as always, and I wasn’t expecting company. So, when I heard someone moving through my house when I was supposed to be alone, my first instinct was to alert my security company. Jeno was out on a date. I didn’t expect him home anytime soon, if at all. I didn’t expect him to ever mention or see the girl again. The boy was doing his best to sleep his way through the greater Los Angeles area, and it wasn’t like I could tell him what a bad idea that was. When I was his age, I did the same thing, until I realized I was just as addicted to sex as I was to everything else that made me either numb or feel really, really good.
I took the act of being with someone much more seriously these days, but for the life of me, I couldn’t find the right words to explain to Maren why what happened in her hotel room wasn’t just a one-off. Part of me was convinced she wouldn’t believe me. Another part knew she would deny that she returned the attraction that simmered so close to the surface whenever we were alone together. She already played the ‘I was drunk’ card when I tried to talk to her about what happened. To keep the peace and make our professional association easier, I was willing to drop the encounter—for now.
What I wasn’t going to let slide was an intruder in my house. After some of the insomnia fog that forever swirled in my mind at night lifted, I roused