“Nothing says single like black Versace,” Eve, my best friend, said from behind me as I stood in front of the mirror. “It’s like the dress was made just for you.”

I turned to check out the whole outfit, starting at the bottom where the fabric lay several inches above my knees, rising to hug my ass, molding across my sides, and finishing around my breasts. It was so tight; it pushed them high and gave me plenty of cleavage.

I smiled as I glanced at her reflection. “That’s because it was.”

“I thought your stylist dropped it off this morning?”

I shook my head. “That was Tom Ford. Versace sent this a few months ago for my eighteenth birthday.”

Before choosing to wear this one, I’d tried on the Tom Ford and several others. They weren’t right for tonight.

This one was.

Eve started fixing the back of my hair, and a sly grin came over her face.

“Spill it,” I said.

“Abel who?” She laughs. “Seriously, once everyone sees you in this dress, they’ll forget you two even dated.”

The trouble was, I hadn’t forgotten.

I’d met Abel on the set of my first sitcom when I was only thirteen. We were the same age, casted to be siblings, and we’d kept those roles until the series finale five years later. Our relationship had started almost immediately and ended six months ago when I caught him in our bed with Sophia Sully.

I turned toward her. “He’s on location, right?”

We shared friends. Favorite bars. A house that I no longer wanted.

I would die if he and Sophia were there tonight since the only reason I was going out was to make it look like I was completely over him and had moved on.

“Let me check.” Eve slipped her phone out of the top of her dress and opened a social media app. She held her cell in front of me, and the screen showed a picture that had been taken a few hours ago of Abel riding a fake bull. “He’s at some bar in Nashville. We’re safe.”

I took a few steps closer to the glass, so I could get a better look at myself. There was loose powder under my eyes that my makeup artist had missed. I caught it with my fingers and then smoothed out the chunks of curls to frame them around my face.

I’d been filming in Toronto for the last four months, and this was my first night back. While I’d been away, Abel and Sophia had made their relationship public. He’d moved her into the house we’d purchased together. They’d bought a puppy and named it Country, as though they needed to be reminded of the kind of music Sophia sang.

Because the LA crowd had barely seen me since the breakup, I was going to be hit with questions, and the paparazzi would be snapping my picture as soon as I got to the bar. So, I had to get it all right—the answers everyone wanted to hear, the dress, and most importantly, the smile. The same smile that the whole world loved. The one that earned me leading roles. The one that acted like a mask, so no one could tell I was hurting.

I could do this.

“Fuck Abel,” I whispered.

“Yeah, fuck Abel,” she repeated. She grabbed my clutch off the bathroom counter and looped her arm through mine. “Now, let’s go find you a rebound.”

“I tried that once, don’t you remember? I’m all set.”

Since ending things with Abel, I’d been with only one guy, and it was three months ago. I’d flown home from filming in Toronto to move out of the house I shared with Abel. Sophia had watched me the whole time I was there and again at the party I’d seen them at later that night. The guy was someone I had just met, and he was supposed to make me feel like I had moved on. I had gone with him to a hotel in Malibu, and after the next morning, we never spoke again.

“Then, let’s go get wasted,” Eve said.

“I can do that.”

She pulled me through the house and out the door, knowing I’d never feel fully ready to face this and dragging me was probably the only way she’d get me there. Once we got outside, the SUV was waiting in my driveway.

“Where to, Miss Ryne?” the driver asked as we settled and put on our seat belts.

“Chateau Marmont,” I told him.

As we made our way to West Hollywood, Eve filled me in on the gossip I’d missed while I was away, things that hadn’t made the celebrity news sites. None of the people she spoke about were good friends even though most of their numbers were saved in my phone. Not one of them had checked on me after the breakup, although they’d texted me tonight to ask if I was going out.

They wanted to be seen with me.

That was the way Hollywood worked, and I’d been playing this game since I was a kid. Except, when I had been with Abel, there wasn’t this pressure to go out and be seen in order to stay relevant. The public had loved our relationship, and that was enough to keep the paparazzi on our asses. But, without him, the media wanted to see what the single version of me looked like.

I was about to give them that visual.

The driver pulled up in front, and the backseat door was immediately opened. A hand was extended to help me out, and I waited for Eve, looping her arm through mine as she reached me.

We walked toward the entrance, and hundreds of cameras flashed in our direction.

Questions were being thrown at me.

“How are you feeling after the breakup?”

“What’s the next movie you’ll be starring in?”

And, “Should your fans stop listening to country music?”

The smile was glued across my lips as I glanced at both sides of the crowd, giving them a final wave before we disappeared inside the dark bar. The darkness was one of the reasons I enjoyed coming here. The red and gold back lighting didn’t just make it dim and sexy, but it also hid runny makeup and accidental nip slips—something certainly possible with a dress cut this low. And, as if those rich colors didn’t already set the most seductive vibe, the heavy wood furnishings and the smell of leather brought it right over the top.

“Drink,” I said to Eve as I took in the room.

She brought me straight to the bar where the bartender greeted us with, “Good to have you back, James.”

If you were anyone in this town, you were called by your first name and you were never asked for an ID. I always tried my hardest to remember my favorites. Tony was one.

The smile still hadn’t left my face. “Two cosmos, Tony. Charge them to my account, please.”

“You got it,” he answered.

“Everyone is here,” Eve said, facing the opposite direction as me, so she could wave at the people passing.

There was a mirror behind the bar, and that was what I used to scan the room. I saw a group of regulars standing in the middle, who we’d chat with once we had our drinks. A few Hollywood old-timers were sitting on barstools around the high-tops. With the amount of celebrities here, this place was practically an audition, and I was sure they were scouting. Leaning around the front of the bar was a musician, a few LA hockey players, and him—a man who was four people over, whose eyes locked with mine.

Eyes that made my lips part.

Eyes that made my chest feel tight and anxious.

He was deliciously handsome—from his messy, gelled hair to his square jaw and the dark scruff that covered it.

I didn’t know his name.

I had no idea who he was.

But he had to be someone if he’d gotten in here.

Asking would give me a reason to look away, to take a break from those eyes that were holding me captive.

Since my attraction to him was already so obvious by the way I was staring, I turned toward Eve and whispered, “Who is he?”

She glanced in both directions. “Who’s who?”

“The hottie at the bar four people down from me. All dark everything—suit, tie. You’ll know him when you see him.”

A few seconds passed, and she said, “I have no idea whom you’re talking about.”

“Oh my God,” I sighed, glancing back at the mirror. “He’s the one—” I cut myself off when I realized he was no longer standing there. I looked across the bar, over the group in the middle, and on the side near the restrooms.

He was gone.

“Two cosmos,” Tony said, setting them in front of us. “Can I get you girls anything else?”

“No, thank you,” I said, grabbing my drink and holding it up in front of me. “Let’s toast.” I quickly gazed over my shoulder to see if the guy had come back. He hadn’t. “To tonight, being single, being back together after two months apart, and being best bitches.”

“To not remembering anything in the morning.” She hit her glass against mine. “Oh, and to Abel, fuck you.”

I laughed, and we each took our first sip.

Cosmo number one went down so quickly, and so did the second. After round three, I completely lost track, and I was sure our toasts had started to repeat. I knew it was time to switch to water when I was coming out of the restroom, and my heel got caught in the carpet. As I tried to take a step, my foot came out of my shoe, and I tripped.

Someone’s hands gripped my waist from behind and caught me before I hit the ground.

“Thank you,” I panted, using their fingers to steady myself.

Once I was sure everything was in place—the bottom of my dress was down, and the top was covering my breasts—I turned to see whom the hands belonged to.

My breath hitched when I saw his face. “It’s you,” I said.

I knew that made no sense to him, but it made perfect sense to me.

It was the guy who had been standing at the bar.

Whose eyes had held me hostage.

Who had made me feel anxious.

Who was making my chest tight again.

He laughed, and the movement showed me a smile that caused a tingle between my legs. A grin that would make him the most famous person in here if the world saw him on the big screen. That was how I knew he was either just starting out or wasn’t in the field at all.

“Most people call me Brett.”

Even though I’d slipped my heel back on, he was still about four inches taller than me and looked even sexier now that I was so close to him. The lines in his forehead and the crinkles just to the sides of his eyes told me he was in his late twenties or early thirties—certainly a lot older than me. All that meant was, he had experience, and that was the biggest turn-on.

“I’m James.”

He said nothing and made no attempt to move.

“I saw you at the bar, and then you were gone.”

“And?”

That voice.

If sex had a sound, it was Brett’s tone.

“Is someone expecting you to return, or am I about to get jumped by some jealous girlfriend or…”

“Or what?”

I started to speak and stumbled over my words.

How can I tell this man with the beautiful eyes that I don’t want him to walk away because I can’t get enough of the way he looks at me and the warmth I feel from his stare?

“Or maybe I could hear more of your voice,” I said.

He licked across the inside of his bottom lip, and when he exhaled, I tasted the whiskey on his breath and smelled the cologne from his skin. It was a mix of spice and sandalwood, and it made every pore in my body open up and want to suck him in.

“All you want is my voice?”

I broke our contact again, almost dizzy from the intensity, and took a step back to lean against the wall behind me. Brett followed. His arm went up in the air, his hand pressing on the space above my head. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to. Having him huddled over me, caging me in, did so much to my body that I couldn’t breathe.