To: Ben Stephens

 From: Dawn Stephens

 Re: Just checking in

Hey Ben! I’m going to be in SF next weekend for a friend’s baby shower, and I was wondering if you wanted to meet up? I’d love to finally get to meet you and chat in person instead of over email! Totally understand if you’re busy; just let me know if it works with your schedule.

xo

 Dawn

 

He and Dawn had emailed back and forth a few times since that email he’d sent her over the weekend. Nothing major, just stuff about their families and what their lives were like, though he still hadn’t told her about Theo, nor had he told Theo about her. He was going to tell Theo. He just hadn’t found the right time.

He’d gotten used to emailing with her. Then why was it such a jolt for her to suggest meeting up?

He slid his phone back into his pocket. He’d think about how to deal with Dawn later. Now he needed to concentrate on the end of the shoot.

Actually, he should set up a date for tonight. Anna was leaving, the shoot would be over, he needed to get his life back. He hadn’t been on an actual date in weeks! Well, that would end today.

Just as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to start swiping, a text popped up. From Anna.

How about we celebrate the end of a successful shoot tonight? Want to meet me at the rooftop bar at my hotel?

 

He looked across the room at her, waiting in between takes, and she met his eyes and smiled. How had she read his mind like that? A . . . celebration with Anna was exactly what he needed tonight.

Sounds good. What time?

 

Her reply didn’t come until after the next take.

8? Text me when you get to the hotel and I’ll meet you up at the bar

 

Okay, that gave him time to go home and change after they were done here. Depending on when they got out, he could maybe even get a haircut—he was overdue.

See you then

 

He let himself grin. No one had to know it was about Anna, after all. This was why he loved dating—the anticipation was fun as hell. Who cared what happened after tomorrow? He couldn’t fucking wait for tonight.

 

* * *

 

—

Anna paced around her hotel suite. It was seven thirty and she was completely ready, thirty minutes before she had to meet Ben upstairs. She was usually ready early, but this was early even for her. She hadn’t been able to help herself, though. She’d been on edge for hours.

Simon had only gotten more and more into this plan since he’d come up with it. Especially once he’d done some background searches on Ben. He’d texted her that morning.

Former backup dancer? Volunteers with Big Brother? Oh Anna, you chose so well. I couldn’t be more proud. Photographer is all set, he’ll be there by 8:30.

Oh, and I heard from Varon—she wants to meet with you in a few weeks, “just to chat” about the film. You’re so close, I think our plan just might put you over the edge.

 

That last text had finally convinced her—even though, as far as Simon was concerned, the plan had been in place as soon as he’d left her hotel room the day before.

She wanted that Varon film. After the last few years, she needed this win. She still had no idea what her part would be like in Vigilantes—despite all of the last-minute press she was doing for it, that movie might do absolutely nothing to raise her profile, or bring her closer to this role. The role she knew—she knew—would shoot her up into the stratosphere. She was tired of sitting back and waiting for good things to come to her; she wanted to take charge of her career again. She wanted the Varon film more than she’d wanted anything in years, and if this stunt was how to get it, then fine. She’d do it.

She’d make sure the pictures from tonight were fantastic, the tabloids would love it, and that studio would see just how much publicity Anna Gardiner could get when she wanted to.

Plus, it meant she’d get to keep hanging out with Ben, and that would be lots of fun. And he’d love this—why was she worrying about it so much? Only good things were in this for him! They would have a ton of fun for a month or so, and he’d made it clear he was the kind of guy who dated around a lot, so he’d be fine when it was over. Win-win.

Finally, it was 7:50. Time to leave her suite and head up to the bar. She wanted to get there before Ben, anyway, to make sure they had the best seat for her purposes. Granted, knowing Simon, he’d already called ahead to the bar and reserved the perfect location for her—and another for the photographer—but she wanted to be early, just in case. And Ben was always five minutes late, so even if the hotel elevators were slow, she’d still get to the bar well before him.

But when she got off the elevator on the top floor, she saw a familiar back walking away from the elevator bank.

“Ben?”

He turned around and smiled at her. He had on jeans and a gray button-down shirt, and . . . had he gotten a haircut?

“Hi.” He smiled at her and brushed his hand over his head. Yes, he’d gotten a haircut. “Um, you look great.”

She flashed a smile at him as they walked together toward the bar.

“Thanks.” She looked him up and down and winked at him. “So do you.”

He laughed and his grin got bigger.

“Always.”

She felt very smug as they walked down the hallway together. They would look great together in these photos—she’d flirt like hell with him and make him grin at her like that; she’d make sure her best smile was on high wattage the entire time; the photographer would have many great options to choose from.

The hallway was decorated with pictures of the California landscape, and he pointed out one ahead of them.

“Aren’t those the windmills on the way out of Palm Springs? Oh hey, speaking of, how’s your dad? Are you going to get to see your parents before you go back to L.A.?”

Those were the windmills on the way out of Palm Springs. The city Ben had driven her to, just because she was terrified, and he could tell. Where he’d soothed her and comforted her, even before anything had happened between the two of them.

Ben had been nothing but kind to her, and this was how she was going to repay him? With deceit, throwing his life into chaos for a month or so, and then just dropping him?

And, oh God, what would this do to his job? This could be a disaster for him. Why hadn’t she thought about that until now?

Fuck.

She knew why she hadn’t thought about that until now—because she’d carefully avoided letting herself think about it. And so many other things.

She stopped walking.