Zach plucked the Sharpie from the fingers of another bubbly babe and scribbled Ian’s name on her arm. “There you go.”

The girl—or woman; Zach could only guess her age at somewhere between sixteen and twenty-six—had a breathy Marilyn Monroe giggle. “Thank you so much, Ian.” She held her arm to her breasts, barely contained in little more than a bikini top. “I’m such a fan. I’ll treasure it.” Then she pulled a piece of paper from inside her left bikini triangle and laid it on the table in front of him. “My room number at the Hilton and my cell. I’m available. Anytime.”

Zach smiled and nodded the same way he had with all the other women.

“You’re so much nicer than everyone says,” she said before she bopped away.

Zach caught Malo’s gaze. A local hired by the studio as a member of Ian’s security team, Malo read Zach’s silent message and stepped in front of the table, steering the girls away. “We’re taking a break, ladies.”

“Who said you could have a break?” Tucker jibed from beside him. Tucker, Josh, and Grace had spent the last three hours either making fun of him for agreeing to this or chatting about everything from their childhoods to travel.

Zach lifted his beer and finished it off, then looked at his watch. “I’ve got just under an hour to take a permanent break from this bullshit.”

“You’re giving Ian his money’s worth,” Grace told him. She and Josh had only been married a few months, and she’d come on the trip so they could squeeze in a quasi-honeymoon. “His reputation is going to skyrocket. He’s such an ass.”

Malo steered a few women away from the booth. When he stepped aside, Zach’s gaze fell on the bar, and the barstool where Miss Prim and Proper had been planted since before he’d arrived. She hadn’t moved when all the other women in the VIP bar had clustered around his booth for the shower of champagne. She hadn’t danced to the music ripping through the club beyond the VIP lounge. She hadn’t come forward for an autograph. And even on the occasions she’d been approached by others, she hadn’t given any man—or woman, for that matter—more than a few seconds of her attention.

Now, she ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her wineglass and scanned the club with a look that screamed bored to tears. When her gaze reached Zach’s table, she met his eyes for an extended second before averting her gaze with a sigh. Then she picked up her drink and sipped.

That had been happening for hours. Their gazes had met so often, he felt like they had a silent conversation going, though he had no idea what they were talking about. She wasn’t showing any sign of interest, which was both refreshing and odd considering the situation and present company.

“Yo, dude,” Tucker said. “Why are you looking at her when you’ve got babes willing to fight for your attention?”

“These aren’t babes,” Zach said, looking around. “They’re fuckin’ groupies.” And they were all so damn young. “He picked up the paper the last girl had offered and handed her phone number to Tucker. “Here’s another one for your collection.”

“Right on.” He pocketed it.

“Who are you looking at, Zach?” Grace asked.

“No one.” He pulled his gaze away from the cross of Miss Prim’s legs beneath the hem of her business skirt. He had a bevy of skin to look at—tight, tanned, curvy skin—yet he couldn’t stop looking at the shape of her legs or the way her heels made the muscle in her calf flex.

“The suit at the bar,” Tucker countered.

“I thought Zach was the only suit in this bar.” Grace leaned to the side and looked that direction.

“Stop,” Zach said.

Grace’s gaze pivoted to Zach, and she grinned. “That’s different. I thought you were a casual-island-girl type of guy.”

“She’s probably a studio exec,” Josh offered, “making sure everything goes smoothly.”

Grace tapped Zach’s leg under the table. “Maybe you ought to go cozy up to that studio exec, liven up her night a little, and see if you can get a scoop on Ian’s role.”

A spark teased the edges of his bored brain. “That idea actually has merit.”

“You sound surprised. Lots of my ideas have merit. Ask Josh.”

“Absolutely,” Josh answered without provocation, then tilted his head and kissed his bride’s neck.

Zach cast a look at Tucker, and they both rolled their eyes at the newlyweds. Then he turned his gaze on the woman again. Everyone swirled around her, talking, laughing, flirting, without giving her a second look. If she cared, she didn’t show it.

Maybe that was why he kept zeroing in on her. He could relate to that feeling of being invisible. Of being unworthy of attention because of all the shining stars hovering around. He experienced it every time Ian was within five miles. He’d also experienced it within his family his entire life.

Miss Prim picked up her phone and glanced at the screen, then scanned the bar again. And again, her gaze paused on Zach, searched the table, paused on Zach again. This time a little longer, as if to ask, What are you looking at?

A tickle of humor made him smile. She glanced to her left and right, obviously thinking he was smiling at someone else.

“Oooooh,” Grace hummed. “There’s definitely something happening there.”

“There’s nothing happening,” he told her. “I just find it refreshing to see someone who owns some self-possession for a change.”

“She’s not Zach’s type,” Tucker said. “Way too uptight.”

“Just because she’s wearing more clothes than skin doesn’t make her uptight. It makes her well-dressed,” Grace said. “And maybe if he raised his standards, he’d find a girl he’d want to hold on to.”

“I’m right here,” he told them.

“Whoever she is, she’s not here for the same reason everyone else is.” Grace grinned at Zach again with a teasing “She doesn’t seem particularly interested in you—or, I guess I should say, Ian.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Tucker said. “Maybe she knows he’s not Ian. I bet the studio heard Ian was going to bail, and she’s standing by to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“I don’t look that much like Ian,” Zach said for the tenth time in the last three hours. “Some of the women know I’m not him.”

“Um…really?” Grace chuckled. “I don’t think it counts when a woman asks if you’re Zach, you tell her no, and she chirps, ‘I didn’t think so,’ then asks for your autograph as Ian. And there have only been three or four out of— Hell, how many women are in this lounge, anyway? A hundred?”

“Just under,” Josh said. “Maybe ninety-five.”

“Maybe she’s not an exec,” Grace mused. “She’s not on her phone or running around ‘handling’ things. She’s searching the crowd, watching people. Maybe she’s waiting for someone. Maybe she’s in the wrong place.” Her brows shot up, and she grinned at Zach. “Maybe you ought to go give her a little help.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” Josh laughed and wrapped his wife in a hug, kissing her head. “Zach, would you just go talk to her and get her story so this little matchmaker will go home happy?”

Zach took the out. He was as bored as Miss Prim and uncomfortable stuck in a booth in slacks and a blazer. Grace’s idea of cuddling up to a studio executive when Ian’s role was about to hit the audition block wasn’t a bad one.

“Fine,” he said, standing from the booth to slide his blazer off and rolling up his shirtsleeves. “I need another beer anyway.”

The other three didn’t even wait until he’d left the table before they started making bets on who she was and what progress Zach would make with her.

He stepped past Malo with a pat on his shoulder. “Take a load off, buddy. I’ll bring you back a beer.”

Malo glanced back and grinned. “Can I work for you all the time?”

“Sorry, I can’t afford you.”

“Maybe soon…”

Zach laughed. He wasn’t the only one who wanted Ian off the set.

His stroll to the bar took three times as long as it should have with women stopping him to chat or ask for an autograph. By the time he reached the bar, he’d never been more sure Miss Prim was a fish out of water. Her suit was fitted over a slim frame, her hair twisted into a tight coil at the base of her neck, and those glasses—thick, dark frames—

“What can I get for you, sir?” A bartender about Zach’s age appeared almost before his elbows hit the wood.

He tipped his bottle. “Another.”

When he glanced toward Miss Prim, she was eying the table Zach had left. Hell, maybe she’d been looking at Tucker this whole time.

The bartender placed his freshly pulled beer on the bar.

“Thanks,” he said, then gestured to Miss Prim. “Can you refill her wine for me?”

“Every time I try, she rejects me.” The bartender smirked at her. “A guy can take only so much before he crumbles.”

“Funny, Jack,” she said with the flicker of a smile. Her voice was soft and warm. “Very funny.” She cast a look at Zach before facing the bar again. “Thanks, but I’m over my limit, and I’m leaving anyway.”

She refused him like a woman used to being hit on. His intrigue rose.

He angled toward her, leaning against the gleaming wood. “I know I can rub some people the wrong way, but this is a first.”

Her brows pulled a little. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean you’ve been here doing nothing for three hours, then decide to leave after I come up to say hi?”

“I thought you came up to get a beer.”

Her quick response made him grin. “And to say hello.”

She looked confused. “Why?”

He chuckled a little. “Because we’ve been looking at each other for hours, and because you’re hard to ignore. Like a shark fin in calm waters.”

One brow shot up above the rim of her glasses. “Did you just call me a shark?”

He tilted his head, trying to get a read on her. “It was a metaphor.”

She exhaled with a shake of her head. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

He was about to agree and steer the conversation that direction in hopes of getting to know her better, when she turned her head and deliberately met his gaze. Even held it with a curious edge. The moment’s hang time rivaled his Hail Mary aerial twisting flip and gave him the chance for a good look. Her eyes were light, crystal blue lined with long dark lashes. Her nose was slight, her lips pink and full.

“Do you know if or when he’s coming?”

Her question pulled Zach back to the conversation. “What? Who?”

“Your twin.” The impatient edge in her voice alerted him to the fact that he’d missed what she’d already said. “Your double. Your costar. Whatever you call him. He was supposed to be here tonight. Is he coming?”

The only guy who was supposed to be here tonight was Ian, which meant Tucker had nailed it—she knew he wasn’t the series star. It also explained why she hadn’t engaged with him and why she’d been sitting here all night. She was waiting for Ian.

Fucking figured.

He turned fully toward her and asked, “Are you with ABC Studios?”

“What?”

“The studio,” he said louder, unsure if she didn’t understand the question or if she couldn’t hear over the noise. “The film studio.”

She huffed a breath. “No. And I’m not a reporter or a cop or a librarian or a teacher. But I do need to talk to your other half. And it’s important, so I don’t want to leave if—”

“Hey there.” A blonde pushed in between them. Her lush breasts rubbed Zach’s biceps, her lower body pressed against his hip. And she smelled like a still. “We haven’t been able to get to you all night. My friends and I are staying at the hotel next door.” She flashed an inviting smile, then glanced over her shoulder toward two other women grinning his way. “Want to join us?”

“No, thanks, ladies,” he said. “I’m here with frien—”

One of the other two wet dreams slipped behind him, leaned her curvy body to his back, and slid a hand over his ass. “We’ll be real good to you.”

Her warm breath skittered over his neck, and Zach’s body reacted the way it should when two bombshells of the opposite sex were fused to him. Especially when he hadn’t had a woman’s hand sliding over his ass in months. Only, he didn’t want to have anything to do with these women. “Look, ladies, I’m—”

“Jesus Christ,” Miss Prim muttered just before she stood and wrapped her hand around the biceps of the woman between them, pulling her to the side. “He said no. Haven’t you ever heard no means no? Have some respect—for yourself and others.”

“Hey,” the girl whined. “Mind your own business.”

“Hello, you walked right into my business. Learn to take no for an answer, or wait your damned turn.”

Zach’s gaze snapped to her face, and he found her calm and confident. A strange hush fell over the conversations nearby. He cut a look around and found others equally stunned.

“Ms. Drake.” Malo’s smooth, authoritative voice boomed over the din, and space magically appeared around them. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine, thank you, Malo. These ladies were just going to give us some room to talk.”

Malo glanced at Zach. “You cool?”

“Sure.” After Malo dispersed the drunks, Zach told her, “That was—”

“Rude,” she said, easing to a seat. “I know. I’m sorry. I should go before I really lose my patience.”

“I’d kinda like to see you really lose your patience,” he told her, grinning. He was thinking he’d really like to see her lose a lot more—like those glasses, the bun, her stiff clothes, and every last ounce of composure. “And I wasn’t going to say rude. I was going to say amazing.”

Her head came up, her expression suspicious.

“If you’re not with the studio,” he said, “how do you know everyone’s names? Are you a local?”

“I wish,” she said with a little whimsy. “I got here early. We were talking about Malo’s daughter before the crowd came.”

How novel was that? A woman who took the time to get to know the help. She might be out of place and a little different, but she was growing on him.

“Look,” he said shifting closer. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the guy you’re waiting for won’t be here tonight.”

“Damn,” she exhaled. “I figured that about two hours ago. I was just hoping… Do you know where I can catch him? Your security is better than the Secret Service.”

Zach chuckled, but then winced. “Sorry—again—but he’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“I mean he flew to Los Angeles. He’s done with his part in the film, so he won’t be coming back.”

“No.” She stiffened, and her eyes widened. “No, no, no.”

“Yeah.”

Her frantic gaze held his for a second. Then her eyes closed on a groan, and she leaned her head into her hand. “Oh my God.”

Zach wanted to ask why she was so dead set on talking to Ian but wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.

“Jack,” he called to the bartender. “She’s ready for more wine now.”

She ran both hands over her face and groaned in an exhausted gesture.

When Jack came toward her with a wine bottle, she muttered a dejected “Oh, what the hell. May as well drink. I don’t have to keep my brain sharp for anything now.”

“Ouch.” Zach chuckled. “I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I can usually hold my own in a conversation.”

She sighed with a shake of her head. “Not what I meant.”

Jack held the bottle high and let the liquid stream two feet into her glass with a theatrical “Sparkling wine for my lady.”

She leaned away as the wine hit the bottom of the glass and splashed. With her hands up, she turned her head with a husky giggle, and the sound prickled the skin across Zach’s chest.

Jack offered a self-satisfied “Good to see you smiling again” and moved down the bar.

“What a showoff.” She laughed softly as she picked up her glass and used it to gesture toward Zach. “And thank you.”

Okay, that did it—the giggle, the ridiculous suit, her lack of interest, and some mystical quality he couldn’t pin down—he was officially interested. “Sparkling wine, in a club like this. You’re like a misplaced princess.”

“You have no idea.” Her next laugh was real, one that added color to her cheeks and sparkled in her eyes. Her smile was fucking electric. “Oh so misplaced.”

Maybe for the space and the clientele. But the way she stirred bubbles around Zach’s gut, he was beginning to think she was right where she belonged. His mind strayed to thoughts of what she might be wearing under her suit and what she’d be like when it was all stripped away. “Where do you think you should be?”

“DC.” She nodded as if confirming. “I should be in DC.”

“Washington, DC?” he asked. “Is that where you’re from?”

“Few people are actually from DC. But it’s where I live. Do you live here?”

“Temporarily.” Zach found himself a little disappointed that she lived across the country. “I have a shack in LA the rest of the time.”

“Hmph.” She laughed around a sip of wine. “Aren’t shacks outlawed in LA? I thought the streets were paved with gold.”

“Then you’ve obviously never been there.”

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Um…maybe once. Long time ago. Ever been to DC?”

“Nope.”

She grinned, and her expression was far friendlier now. “How did I know you’d say that?”

“One of my brothers lives there.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a campaign manager of some kind.”

“Has he managed any names I’d recognize?”

“I wouldn’t know. We aren’t close.”

“Oh.” Compassion softened her expression. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve made peace with it. I’m the black sheep. My parents are doctors, my sisters and brother all went into high-achieving white-collar professions.” He shrugged and refocused on figuring her out. “What could you possibly have to talk to my lesser half about?”

“Sorry, it’s personal.” She gestured to the club with her wineglass. “How do you stand all this? It’s maddening. And the women—” She cut herself off and turned that smile on him. “Oh, wait. You’re male. Never mind.”

Zach laughed, deep and amused. She was refreshingly different. Intelligent, grounded, quick. Just talking with her pulled Zach out of the bullshit he’d been dealing with for the last six months and planted his feet on the ground. He liked that. A lot.

“You aren’t at all what you seem, are you?” he asked.

“Evidently not. I’ve been mistaken for half a dozen different professionals today.” Her attitude had shifted from don’t-talk-to-me to you’re-adorable-but-I’m-still-not-interested in ten minutes, making Zach wonder if he’d ever be able to get her to the begging-for-more stage. He always did love a challenge.

But then she set her glass down and stood from her stool. “Well, thanks for my princess wine, but I need to get home.”