She handed him her wineglass.

“Then yes, I’ll stay. And fuck it—I’ll take more wine, too.”

She admired his naked ass as he walked out of the room, and then his naked everything else as he walked back in.

Suddenly she realized something he’d said.

“You don’t have to drive me to my hotel in the morning. That’s what car services are for.”

He shook his head.

“Oh no. I know you’re famous and stuff and don’t remember how this works, but car services are all fine when you’re being picked up at your hotel, or your expensive gated home, but not if you’re being picked up at six-something a.m. on a random street in the Mission. Someone will definitely take a picture of you in your clothes from the day before and your hair not done, and I know you don’t want that.”

Right, of course. And also, how was Ben more knowledgeable and understanding of her need to have a glam squad before she went out in public than any man she’d ever been with—including the actors, all of whom were more vain than she was?

“Okay, fine, but I’ll owe you one for that. Don’t let me forget it.”

A very wide, very dirty smile spread across his face.

“Oh, I won’t. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.”

She smacked him on the shoulder, and he laughed.

As she was falling asleep, she thought about what she’d said. That she owed him one implied they’d do this again. She knew she should regret saying that, but instead, she felt gleeful.

She woke up the next morning, Ben’s hand on her hip. His touch did so many things to her—last night it had thrilled her, intoxicated her, but today it soothed and comforted her. That night she’d slept with him in Palm Springs, she hadn’t slept well, which was pretty common for her. But last night, she’d fallen asleep so fast, and slept so well. Maybe it was that she’d been yearning for human touch for so long, and Ben was so good at that. She’d noticed that about him early on—he was always touching shoulders, or clapping people on the back—but only people he had a relationship with, people who appreciated it. He hadn’t touched her once, though, until she’d made it very clear she’d wanted him to. And that made that heavy, warm hand on her hip feel all the more earned.

She turned over and nestled her head into his chest. His arms came around her, even though she could tell from his breathing he was still asleep. She knew it must be time to get up soon, but instead she breathed along with him and let her whole body relax. She didn’t think about the Varon film, she didn’t think about Vigilantes, she didn’t think about her dad’s health. She just breathed in and out, in the circle of his arms.

Too soon, her alarm went off. Ben slowly opened his eyes and looked down at her.

“It feels very early,” he said.

“It is very early,” she said. “But I have to get back to my hotel to meet my manager before I have to be on set, remember?”

He brushed her hair back from her face and landed a kiss on the top of her head.

“I remember. Unfortunately.” He yawned, then pulled her in for a tight hug before getting out of bed. “I’ll be ready in a second, I promise.” He gestured to the door. “You take the bathroom first.”

She jumped out of bed and went to the bathroom. She peed, splashed cold water on her face, brushed her teeth with the travel toothbrush she always kept in her tote bag, and pinned her hair up into a bun.

When she got back into Ben’s bedroom, he was fully dressed, and her clothes from the day before were piled neatly on his bed. He’d even found her underwear.

“You’re fast,” she said.

“Lots of practice,” he said with an exaggerated wink. She had to laugh at how corny he was. Even in the five a.m. hour, this guy could make her laugh. Ridiculous.

He disappeared into the bathroom, and she threw on her clothes and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was still messy, her eyebrows were barely visible without makeup on, her dress was wrinkled, and she had an enormous pimple on her chin. But she looked . . . happy. Actually happy, for the first time in a long time. She’d had a whole afternoon and night where she’d barely looked at her phone, where she hadn’t worked or thought about work, where she’d just relaxed and talked to Ben and had sex and watched Netflix and eaten food and had more sex, and those sixteen hours had been the best vacation she’d had in a long time.

Ben smiled at her when he walked back into the room.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She wasn’t, at all.

“Yep, I’m ready,” she said.

They walked out of Ben’s apartment, walked down the stairs, and opened the outside door. And then she stood, frozen, on the doorstep, until she whirled around and went back inside.

She turned to Ben with a glare as soon as the door closed behind them.

“Did you know that they’d be filming out there this morning?”

He took a step back.

“What? No, of course not!” he said. “Do you think I would have had you stay over if I knew there was going to be a film crew on my street at five thirty a.m.?”

She looked at him for a long moment. Some people absolutely would have had her stay over if they’d known that the next morning there would be not just a camera crew filming on his block, but a gaggle of paparazzi on the sidelines. Was Ben one of them?

No. He wasn’t. If he’d wanted to publicize that he’d slept with her, he’d had plenty of opportunities to do so since Palm Springs, and he hadn’t.

“No. Sorry. I don’t think that,” she said. “It’s just . . . some people would do that. It’s hard to . . .”

He put his hand on her shoulder.

“I get it.” He steered her back toward the stairs. “Let’s go back to my apartment while we figure out how to get you out of here.”

When they walked back into his apartment, she glanced toward his deck.

“There’s not a back door that way I just didn’t see last night, is there?”

Ben shook his head.

“Not unless you want to jump off the deck, and I kind of don’t think you’re the type who does her own stunts, no offense.”

Yeah, that was accurate.

“None taken. Okay. Shit. I guess I could . . . put on a hat?” She pulled out her phone to try to figure out what was filming outside. Maybe it would be over soon?

Nope, no such luck. And shit—that’s why she’d seen paparazzi: there were two big-name stars in that movie. One of whom had been in the tabloids a lot lately. Damn it.