“So, baby, do you come here often?”

A blond man in an expensive suit shot me a smug smile to accompany his horrendously outdated pickup line, and Angie waved a hand at him. “Move along,” she said. “We can see your wedding ring.”

He looked dejected but did as Angie said, slinking away to the other side of the bar. I sighed. “So much for men trying to snap me up in seconds. He’s the only one here who’s even looked at me so far. Do you think it’s the outfit?”

I sat up straight, patting my stomach, which felt hard as stone—not because I had killer abs, but because I had two layers of killer shapewear underneath my dress. Yep, tonight I was going full Bridget Jones.

Angie shook her head. “You look great. I just forgot that it’s sports night tonight. All the guys here are more interested in staring at that screen than staring at your tits in that dress.” She motioned toward a large plasma screen on the far side of the room.

“Maybe we should come back tomorrow,” I suggested.

Raffles was our favorite bar, and we’d been coming here at least once every couple of weeks for the last few years. The place had good food, good cocktails, and most importantly, it had good lighting. I was a firm believer in the idea that a woman should never underestimate the power of great lighting. As a great scholar once said (I believe it was Socrates) no one ever successfully picked up a man or a woman under fluorescent lights.

Okay, it wasn’t really Socrates who said that, but my point still stood.

“We need to keep trying,” Angie insisted with a shake of her head. “Surely there are some men in the world who couldn’t give a damn about sports.”

“Well, to be honest, I’m not sure I’d even be interested in a guy who hates sports,” I said. “Considering how I love them.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “You and that football addiction of yours… you may as well quit your job and run a fantasy football league full-time,” she said with a teasing grin.

I smiled. “I wish. If my current job didn’t let me talk sports so much, I probably would do that.”

“And I’d probably do that. Or him, I should say,” Angie said, her eyes gleaming as they wandered over my shoulder. “Don’t look now, you’ll make it obvious. Jacob Archer just walked in.”

“Who?” I asked, furrowing my brows.

She gave me an exasperated look. “Seriously? You claim to work in the movie industry and you don’t know who Jacob Archer is?”

I shrugged. “Remind me.”

“Tall, dark hair, nice eyes. I guess he’s more of a TV actor at the moment.”

“Well, that’s why you know him, then. You write for a TV show,” I said.

She shook her head. “No, I know who he is because he’s one of the biggest names in the city right now. You really haven’t heard of him? He’s the guy from that hospital show on CBO. Oh, and he’s been having threesomes with that bikini model and what’s-her-face from Saturday Night Social!”

Before I could reply to any of that, she huffed and grabbed her cell phone from her purse. With a few swift taps, she brought up a photo of the man on Google Images, and she handed the phone to me. “This guy! Remember him now?”

Oh, him. Tall, gorgeous, lots of muscle, dark hair, and piercing grey eyes. Yummy. I definitely remembered him now. I actually had a little crush on him for a few weeks last year when I had the flu and became far too involved in a medical drama called Code Grey while I relaxed on the couch with a seemingly never-ending bowl of chicken soup. The reason I hadn’t remembered him by name was because I knew him by his character’s name—Dr. Easton West.

I snorted as I recalled the name. Easton West? Ridiculous. But Code Grey had won all sorts of awards, so I guess people liked the silliness.

“You don’t think he’s hot?” Angie asked, misinterpreting the snort. She looked down at the screen and squinted. “Maybe it’s just a bad picture of him.”

“Oh, no, he’s definitely sexy. I was just laughing at his character’s stupid name in that doctor show.”

“I agree, it’s pretty stupid,” a deep voice said from behind my back.

Angie and I looked up and turned around, and with horror, we saw Jacob Archer himself standing there. Apparently he’d chosen to come and stand at this exact spot by the bar, and he’d seen the photo of himself on Angie’s phone, which was still in my hand.

My cheeks flamed, and I shut off the screen and handed the cell back to my friend. “Uh… sorry.”

He gave me a dazzling smile. “That’s okay. Like I said, I agree. For a while, I was actually worried they’d reveal that my middle name was North.”

“Well, if they did that, the ratings might go south,” I blurted out before clapping my hand over my mouth. “Oh my god, that was terrible.”

“I thought it was funny,” he replied, flashing grey eyes lingering on me. I almost gulped. “Can I buy you ladies a drink?”

“You can buy her one,” Angie said. “But I just remembered, I have that… thing.”

“What thing?” I asked as she grabbed her purse and stood up.

“You know. The thing. Sorry, I have to go,” she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good luck,” she whispered in my ear.

I glowered after her as she made a beeline for the exit. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for the night. Jacob Archer was simply being polite in offering to buy a couple of fans a drink, that’s all. He wasn’t going to be my rebound. Hell, I’d be lucky if he even spoke to me for longer than five minutes.

“What are you drinking tonight?” he asked, flashing me another panty-melting smile.

I figured I may as well enjoy his attention while it lasted. “Cosmopolitans,” I said with a sheepish smile.

“Sex and the City fan, huh?”

“I was when I was younger. Not so much anymore. But I still love a Cosmo.”

“Well, that’s because they have cranberry juice in them. Cranberries are amazing,” he said. “Best part of Thanksgiving is cranberry sauce, in my opinion.”

I smiled. “I agree. Best part.”

“Well, look at us, having things in common,” he said before nodding at the bartender and quickly ordering our drinks.

I laughed. “I doubt you and I have much in common apart from our mutual love of cranberries.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Sorry, how rude of me. I didn’t get your name.”

“Nora Valencia,” I replied. “And I already know you’re Jacob Archer.”

“That I am,” he said with a wolfish smile.

“So what are you doing here alone?” I asked as the bartender speedily set our drinks down in front of us. “Aren’t you meant to be having a wild threesome with a TV host and a model? Oh, there’s something else we have in common, by the way. I also have regular threesomes with models.”

He chuckled. “You’re funny. And no, that threesome rumor is exactly that. A rumor, and nothing more.” He clinked his tumbler of whiskey against my cocktail glass. “To answer your question, I was meant to meet a friend here, but he canceled at the last minute. I was about to go home, but then I saw you from across the room, and I had to come and talk to you.”

I looked down at my drink, embarrassed, and then I pretended to lean down and fix a strap on my left shoe for a second as my mind raced. Was this guy for real or was Angie paying him to hit on me? Yes, that had to be it. She worked as a TV writer, so she must’ve met him at some point, and then she must’ve slipped him five dollars to pretend to be my rebound tonight.

Wait, no, that didn’t make any damn sense. Famous actors didn’t need more money than they already had, let alone five extra dollars. I quickly rose back up to face Jacob. His interest in me was likely real, so I needed to enjoy it while I could.

“Sorry. Stupid shoe nearly fell off. Anyway, why’d you have to come and talk to me?” I said coyly, stirring my cocktail with the straw and looking up at Jacob through my eyelashes.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he said. “Sorry, that sounds shallow, but it’s true.”

“Well, I suppose you can’t exactly see someone’s personality from across the room, so it’s not that bad,” I replied, my cheeks turning warm from the compliment. “And thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s more honest than kind. You’re smoking hot. I’d really love to take you out for dinner sometime, if that’s not too forward,” he said.

Oh. My. God.

Jacob Archer was actually asking me out!

Shit, I needed to grab this bull by the horns while I could. What rebound date could be better than one with a famous actor? The mere thought made me giddy with excitement. Plus, on the off chance James saw me out and about with this sexy man, he’d probably feel like shit, thinking I’d easily upgraded from him to a Hollywood star. Total win for me.

“How’s this for forward?” I replied, leaning closer. “Why don’t we have dinner tonight? As in right now. It’s still pretty early. Your friend canceled on you and mine just left, so it’s not like either of us have other plans.”

Jacob raised his eyebrows as I spoke. He obviously wasn’t expecting such a keen response. Most women probably played hard to get with him, thinking that was the best way to ensnare a high-profile guy, but I wasn’t going to do that. Nope, I was getting on this ride as soon as I could and making sure I stayed on long enough to nab that rebound date.

“Sure,” he said, wide grin lighting his handsome face. “There’s a great seafood restaurant a few blocks down from here. It’s one of my favorites. Wanna go there?”

“I love seafood,” I replied, throwing back the rest of my drink. “Let’s go.”

And with that, I walked out of the bar and into Jacob Archer’s world.