Dinner is nothing like the beginning of our night or the damn car ride where I felt like pretending to be auditioning for The Voice. Thankfully, he hasn’t mentioned anything about either incident, and we’ve moved on to strictly interview conversation. Noah is in actor mode, and I’ve fallen into the reporter role. It is as if a switch has been flipped for both of us as soon as I pull out my notebook, which is fine by me.

“And what about any possible love interests?” I ask as I continue down my list. Noah is quiet long enough that I look up. “Noah?”

He wipes the ketchup off his chin and leans back. “I wasn’t prepared for that one.”

“Oh?” I question. “I figured that’s probably the most common question you get asked.”

Noah is definitely one of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood. He’s attractive, smart, sexy, rich . . . did I mention sexy?

I’m surprised that isn’t the leading question on every reporter’s mind. I’ve left it for later because I felt like I’ve already done enough damage as it was. Might as well leave the juicy gossip questions until the end when I can run out and grab a cab if I have to.

“It is,” he clarifies. “I guess I wasn’t sure we were going to go there. I don’t want to lie to you, but at the same time, I’m not sure I should answer.”

“So, does that mean there is someone?” I try not to feel any sense of disappointment and fail miserably. A small part of me wants there to be no other woman. A larger part of me wants to not feel that way. I have no claim on him. I’m still married for fuck’s sake. Yet, I can’t help it.

Noah’s hand glides across the table, coming to a rest close enough to me that I could touch him. “It means I shouldn’t tell you, Kristin.”

My heart flutters at the way he says my name. “But you’re going to anyway?” I smile.

“I’ll say this part on the record, but only if you agree to go off the record after.”

I nod.

“I need you to say we’ll be off the record when I tap my fingers.”

“Okay, we’ll be off the record when you tap your fingers.”

I’m going to have an exclusive for my first interview. Oh, my could-be-my-child boss will be happy.

“There’s someone I have feelings for.” Noah grins.

“Care to comment more?” I urge.

“No.” He taps his fingers and falls silent.

Well, that sucks. I needed more to make it really juicy.

“Okay, we’re off the record.” I turn my recorder off and put the pen down. I hate that he’s going to say something, and I can’t write about it.

“I’m looking at her.” Noah pulls his hand back, grabs his beer, and smiles before taking a drink.

My lips part and I don’t say a word. Me? He’s crazy. I’m the awkward friend of his friend’s girlfriend who got drunk and passed out. I’m the nut job who pulled him into a pool, and he got stuck dealing with. I’m the unprofessional crazy lady he had to go out of the way to have dinner with because I failed the first time we met.

He must be joking. Maybe this is some kind of celebrity hazing experiment.

Screw with the new journalist.

That has to be it. Because I am a frumpy old housewife who couldn’t keep her husband satisfied.

“Did Heather put you up to this? Or Eli, because I called him old the other day?”

“No.”

I lean back as the air pushes from my lungs. “You don’t even know me. Other than I’m clearly a mess.”

Noah pushes his sleeves up and rests his arms on the table. “I know that even after Eli and Heather tried to warn me off, I couldn’t wait to pick you up for our date.”

“Working. Dinner.”

Maybe he has a memory condition and he doesn’t realize who I am.

“Semantics.” He smirks.

Oh, Jesus. Heather’s texts now make sense. She knew he was interested or whatever. Why he would even consider wanting to get to know me is baffling.

“Noah, you don’t know me. Trust me, I’m the last person you would ever want to think about. I’m going through what I can only assume will be a nasty divorce. I’m a single mom, who clearly can’t hold her liquor, and my job is to write gossip about you. Oh, and I can’t sing for shit.”

I figure it’s best to lay it all out.

I am the last person he should ever want to date.

Noah smirks before running his hand through his thick, dark hair. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”

A short laugh escapes me, and I look at my hands. “With the never-ending line of actresses dying to get with you, it’s crazy that you even blink twice at a hot mess like me. I’m no one special.”

“Hey.” He waits for me to look up from my hands before he continues, “We’re all messes. If you think anyone in Hollywood has it together, you’re wrong. I haven’t had a girlfriend in almost fifteen years, and I’m not asking you to date me. Heather already threatened to castrate me if I tried.”

There’s my best friend I know and love.

“But I won’t lie, I’m attracted to you, and if all we’ll ever be is friends . . . I’m okay with that.”

His words wash over me, and I’m not sure how to respond. It’s clear that I’m attracted to him, but then again, any sane woman would be. He’s Adonis . . . on crack.

And he’s one drug I’d like to be addicted to.

Instead of saying any of that, I lean forward, mimicking his position. “We can’t really be friends, can we? It’s my job to write stories about your life.”

He shrugs. “It means you’ll be around a lot. Lots of time to win you over.”

Okay, that’s going to be a problem I didn’t even consider.

“More like realizing you need a therapist more than I do.”

Noah leans closer. “Maybe, or you’ll see I’m just a normal guy.”

I laugh. “Yes, normal. Because most guys are on the cover of People and GQ?”

“In my world.”

“Yes, but I’m not from your world. I live in a world filled with bills, kids, an asshole ex, and a boss who thinks adding an emoji on every article gives it pizazz.”

He smiles while shaking his head. “She sounds interesting.”

“You have no idea.” I sigh. “She’s making a meditation room so that we can find our center when we feel stressed. According to her, my aura is messed up, and she wants to cleanse it. Whatever the hell that means.”

Noah extends his hand across the table and touches my wrist. “I’m not asking for—”

“Kristin? Is that you?” I look up to see Scott’s assistant, Jillian standing there. Her eyes move from me to Noah, and I quickly pull my hand back.

“Hi, Jill. Long time no see.” I stand and give her a hug. “This is Noah Frazier. I’m writing an article on him for my new job. Noah, this is Jillian Cruger, she’s my husb—ex-husband’s assistant.”

Her cheeks flush, and she giggles. “Of course. Nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan.”

Noah shakes her hand and gives her a smile I haven’t seen before. It’s forced and almost looks fake. “Thank you. It’s great to meet you.”

She looks back to me and touches my arm. “I’m so sorry to hear about the divorce. Scott told me a few months ago, and I was so sad for you guys. I thought about calling you, but that would be really awkward.”

“Yes, awkward would be a good word.”

It must be awkward for a woman to come face to face with the wife of the man she’s been vying to sleep with.

Scott may have treated me like shit, but Jillian walks on water. I’d listen to him constantly praising how she anticipates his needs and ensures his life is in order since I constantly missed things. In his eyes, the woman is perfect. I don’t think for one second she’s sad. Now she doesn’t have to hide that she wants to sleep with him, if she isn’t already.

“I just mean with all our history.”

“Yeah, it’s been tough, but the kids and I are moving on and are happy.”

Jillian nods. “I’m glad. He’s holding up well. I’m taking care of everything and making sure the weekends he has the kids are clear. I’ll keep him in line.”

Oh, I bet she will.

“Thanks, I’m sure the kids will appreciate their father’s secretary making sure to pencil them into his schedule,” I say and look back to Noah. “I’d love to catch up, but I should get back to my meeting.”

“Yes, of course, sorry to have taken so much of your time. My friends and I are heading to another bar . . .” She looks at Noah with a coy smile. “Anyway, I should get back, but maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Sure.” I plaster a smile on. “It was great seeing you.”

Lie.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” Jillian fake hugs me again, waves to Noah, and walks off.

I watch her head back to the table, where she points to us and giggles. Her friends all move around, trying to get a peek at us.

“How do you handle that?” I ask Noah, looking back over my shoulder at them.

“The stares?”

“It’s invasive.”

Noah grips the back of his neck. “Are we back on the record?”

Crap, the interview.

“No, I would never . . .”

“Let me say this, and then we’ll get back to the interview.” Noah reaches as if he wants to touch me, but then rethinks it and picks up his drink instead. “The stares are part of my life. I accepted it when I went into acting and live with it because, if they’re not staring, then I’m irrelevant. But more important, you’re ten times more beautiful than she is.” He lifts his chin toward Jillian’s table.

Confusion fills me with his statement. It came out of nowhere. “What?”

“I saw the way you looked at her, and I’m telling you if your husband ever touched her, he downgraded. You’re by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and he’s a fool. Now, we’re back on the record.” He grabs the recorder and turns it back on.

“I-I—” I don’t know what to say. “You . . .”

Noah slips back into work mode. I see the difference in his eyes, but I can’t find my own bearings. He was able to see in just a moment what I thought and felt, then he said something that would comfort me. Who is this guy? Surely he can’t be this perfect.

He probably has a small dick.

If my drunken memory is correct, I already know he doesn’t.

Still, he has to be overcompensating for something.

“You’re sure you want to go for a walk?” Noah asks again.

“Yeah, I haven’t been here in forever.”

I could use the fresh air. We finished dinner, and my mind keeps spinning back to what he said about being interested. I pull my shoes off and grip them in one hand as we head toward the water.

“I’ve noticed that most people who live by the beach barely ever go,” he notes.

“One word: tourists.”

He nods. “Makes sense, but then why live here?”

My laugh is a mixture of wonder and sadness. “I don’t know. It’s like I want the option of going to the beach on the off chance that people aren’t here.”

There’s also the fact that my entire life is here. However, I can’t remember the last time I took the kids to the ocean. Finn used to love it, and Aubrey was little the last time we came, but they have this right in their town, and they don’t get to enjoy it.

“Like now?” he asks.

“Exactly.”

The sun is setting, painting the sky in beautiful orange hues, and the little beach area is empty. Noah and I walk along the shoreline, allowing the water to cover our feet. He tells me a little about the upcoming audition he has and how his agent is pushing him.

I listen, not for the story, but because he’s sharing pieces of himself. Noah’s hand brushes the back of mine as our arms swing. Each time our skin touches, a thrill runs through me, and after the third time, a part of my brain tells me this isn’t an accident.

Sure enough, his hand captures mine. My breath hitches, but I don’t pull back. I stare at our entwined hands and try to slow my racing heart.

Noah stops walking, pulling me to do so as well.

“Dance with me,” he requests.

“What?”

He takes a step closer, tugging gently so I’m only inches from him. His voice is deep and seductive. “I’ve always wanted to dance on a beach at sunset. Will you dance with me?”

I should say no.

“Yes.”

Or I can go the opposite.

Noah doesn’t wait, his arms slip around me as if they are meant to be there and my hands rest on his chest. We sway to the sound of the ocean, and my pulse races. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something happening between us. It scares me more than I want to admit, and still, I’m not pulling away.

I’m leaning a little closer.

We move as the sun dips lower and the pink sky darkens more. Noah’s hands splay across my back, and I stare into his eyes. I want to say so many things, but I’m afraid to speak.

His hand moves to my cheek as he pushes a lock of my hair away from my face. “I don’t know what it is about you.” His voice breaks the silence.

Needing to shift the moment from intense, I take a step back and laugh. “It’s because of the best sex comment. That’s all; I promise it’ll pass.”

Noah chuckles, pulls me to his side, and then releases me. “We’ll see. No guy would pass up the chance to see if it’s true.”

He nudges me as we start walking back toward the car. “I know of one,” I say under my breath so low I know he can’t hear me.