To my own surprise, my heart is beating a little faster than usual when the doorbell rings, and I stop in front of the hallway mirror to make sure my hair looks good.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s bad hair days. My hair is my pride and joy. I still can’t get over the fact that the hair dude on the film set has not been fired.

As I unlock the door, I take a deep breath to calm down before I open it. I can’t understand my own reaction to my visitor. Usually I’m cool, calm and collected, not a nervous wreck.

“Hey,” I smile and take a step to the side.

Sophie looks stunning. My eyes take in her legs that are barely covered in an ultra-short miniskirt, and her white blouse, buttoned up to just the right spot. I can make out the pink lace of her bra. Quickly, I look her in the eyes. She’s smiling.

“Glad you came,” I say more to break the silence than anything else, but as I say it, I realize it’s the truth—I’m glad she came.

“Come into my castle.”

She laughs, and I bathe in her smile and eyes. Her face lights up when she smiles.

“Doesn’t look much like a castle,” she replies and follows me into my kingdom.

“Fair maiden,” I hold up my right. “Do not let your eyes deceive you. Have you not heard the saying ‘not everything is as it first appears’?”

Genuine belly laughter.

“I can’t say I have.”

I turn toward her and put my hands on my hips.

“And you call yourself a creative person.”

She just shrugs.

“Please take a seat while I prepare dinner.”

Gracefully, Sophie sits on my white leather lounge. One leg slides casually over the other. Her foot taps to some unheard beat in the air. She leans back into the plush black cushions and I wish Blake could paint her. The man sure knows how to capture a moment.

“So.” I pull out my phone.

“You prepare dinner with your phone?” She raises her eyebrows and her voice sounds like she’s mocking me.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

This has her bursting out in another fit of laughter. She shakes her head.

“I usually prepare dinner in the kitchen without the phone, just using pots and pans. You’ve heard of those?”

I pretend to think before I shake my head.

“Can’t say I have. As I was saying, for dinner I shall get us some take away.”

“I hadn’t really expected you to cook.” She laughs.

Crushed, I hold up my hands.

“What? An insult in the first five minutes of being in my home? I can’t believe it.”

Sophie shakes her head.

“Ok. So, what do you fancy?”

“You’re the master chef, you decide.”

I like this girl. I press speed dial. Naturally, my favorite takeaway place is on top of the list. After I’ve ordered, I head to the bar to prepare us a couple of drinks.

Sophie has left her spot on the couch and is meandering through my living room.

“I love these paintings.”

Sophie is standing in front of one of my favorite pictures.

“Look at the colors and emotions in this one. Reds, yellows and oranges combine in a dance of fury. Who painted these?”

“One of my childhood friends, Blake—he’s a painter. These are part of a series.”

“Wow.” Sophie sounds impressed.

“He’s very talented.” I agree and hand her a glass with a pre-dinner drink.

“What about your parents? They must be very proud.”

I lower my eyes and take a sip of my drink. Parents. Feelings. Touchy subjects I don’t discuss with anyone. And yet, there’s something about this woman that compels me to share my past with her.

“My parents were perfect.” I start, but I have to take a breath to keep going.

“A skiing accident took their lives away, just after my first big movie success.”

It’s difficult to keep going. I haven’t told many people about this.

“I’m so sorry.” She’s put a hand in front of her mouth. “I had no idea. I shouldn’t have asked. Please forgive me.”

Her compassion touches me. She seems to genuinely care.

I clear my throat.

“After they died, I think I caught a bit of attitude. You know, dealing with the death of your parents at a fairly young age leaves its mark. I felt treated badly, and so I acted out.”

Sophie nods and I think there’s a tear in her eyes.

“Oh, Todd. I can’t begin to imagine what that must feel like.”

Thankfully, we are interrupted by the delivery of our food. I don’t go for all that touchy-feely crap.

When I open the box of goodies, Sophie laughs.

“You go for cheesy, fatty food?”

I nod as I bite into my cheeseburger and slurp on my milkshake.

“Comfort food. I like my comfort food.”

Briefly, I wonder if Sophie is the type of chick to be on one of those new age diets, the one where you can barely eat anything other than bottled organic water. Just then, Sophie takes a bite of her own burger, a little bit of fat running down her cheek as she bites into it.

I lean forward and wipe the trail off her chin. She holds still and our eyes lock until she looks away.

“This is good,” she says with her mouthful of food.

After her burger is gone, she grabs a buffalo wing and resumes her tour of the room. She stops in front of my movie and CD collection. Randomly, she pulls out movies, making little comments here and there, until she stops and holds one up in the air.

“So,” she looks at me. “You’ve been researching the director of your current film.”

I smile.

“I had to. You gotta know what you’re getting into.”

She shakes her head.

“Todd Alexander, you really are very different from how the press presents you.”

I take a little bow.

“I hope that’s a compliment.”

Sophie chuckles and puts the film back.

“My, my, you have more than one of my films. You really have done your homework.”

I shrug.

“I had to see how good you are.”

Her right eyebrow arches a little.

“I knew you must be good because you are a Palmer, but boy, I had no idea how good you really are. Your last one, The Streets of Brooklyn, really spoke to me. I was in tears by the end.”

Now she’s embarrassed. Her cheeks are a light tinge of red, and all I want to do is go and kiss her.

“You are full of surprises…from the food you like to the way you approach your work.”

“I hope they are pleasant surprises,” I say and see her face go even redder.