“Ugh. I hate these things.” Angelica fidgeted, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of the sparkling gold fabric of her borrowed dress.

Gold to make the advertisers think of money, Leah had said with a laugh when she’d brought it over the day before. Leah had a friend who created the costumes for a TV show set in high society, and the network’s budget was big enough that she didn’t have to scrimp on quality. Conveniently, Angelica happened to be the same size as the actress who played the villainess, something she preferred not to think about. All of the “good” characters wore a size two, of course.

Angelica had never been a big enough name to have designers clamoring to dress her. And once she’d stopped starving herself to fit into sample sizes, she’d entered into an unspoken agreement with the fashion gods: she and high couture each politely pretended the other didn’t exist. When she’d officially retired from acting, she’d held a little ceremony where she’d burned the business cards from designers’ assistants she’d been collecting for years. It had felt good. Jai had been horrified, of course. She didn’t regret it, even though he’d been right in one respect: she did still need dresses occasionally. But she much preferred relying on the kindness of her friends—or to shell out her own money—than to beg for crumbs from snobby fashion folk.

“I love these things,” Jai said, glancing around. “Look, tiny sandwiches!”

“You’re just lucky I needed a date,” Angelica grumbled. “Greg would never have come with you to this thing.”

Her agent patted her arm. “That’s why I’m married to him, and not you, darling. He has other compatible interests. And he doesn’t complain nearly as much.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” Greg was a saint. How Jai had landed the shy architect was beyond her, and how the couple had stayed together for more than ten years was something she’d always envied. “It’s a good thing you have me. Wouldn’t want you to lose your edge over a lack of complaining in your life. Witty retorts are kind of your thing.”

Jai snorted as they made their way to a good vantage point for people watching in the corner of the room. “Trust me, sugar, I’ll never experience a lack of complaining in this industry.”

Jai’s client list ranged from ditzy to diva, and Angelica liked to think she was somewhere in the middle. He managed the entire roster with effortless ease, making him increasingly in demand. She was lucky to still have him, to be honest.

“Okay, tell me the plan.” She forced her hands away from her waist. The dress fit perfectly. No adjusting needed. She tucked her hands around Jai’s elbow to force herself to stop fidgeting and looked into his eyes inquiringly.

“Very nice.” He patted her hand. “These old white men are going to eat you up.”

She shuddered. “I’d really rather they didn’t.”

“Yes, I heard you’ve been busy being devoured by somebody else.” Jai grinned. “No secrets, Ang.”

She swallowed uncomfortably. She hadn’t talked to Noah since he’d come over to inexplicably yell at her and they’d wound up having sex instead. She’d meant to call him, but there’d been six different electrical problems and a countertop disaster to solve, plus filming and a promotional appearance. And it wasn’t like he’d called her either. The sex had been incredible—she could feel herself warming just thinking about it—but it hadn’t solved whatever bug he’d gotten up his ass about the Harvest Festival.

“It’s just sex,” she said, waving away Jai’s speculative grin.

Jai raised an eyebrow. “With that lumberjack who lives next door?”

“He grows wine grapes, Jai. Just because he wears flannel shirts doesn’t mean he cuts down trees for a living.”

Jai sniffed. “I’ll take your word for it. So why isn’t the not-lumberjack on your arm? Not that I don’t appreciate the opportunity.” He reached out with casual elegance and snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.

Angelica took one. “Why would he be?”

“No reason.” Jai side-eyed her over the rim of his glass as he sipped. “I mean, I know I’m beautiful, but if you wanted arm-candy—”

“I’m here professionally, not for fun,” Angelica said sharply. “I don’t need arm-candy. Can we please talk about what we’re doing tonight instead?”

“Fine.” Jai nodded toward a group of men in sharply tailored suits, being circled lazily by women in trailing, misty gowns that emphasized their youth. “Group one. Producers.”

“No, thanks.” Angelica shook her head. “I’m putting all my eggs in one basket, Jai. I don’t want to cozy up to anybody for future work. Just this one show.”

Her agent sighed. “Fine. Stay away from them, then. They’re terrible.” He tilted his glass toward several groups in succession, champagne sloshing but not spilling. “Car companies. Luxury winemakers. High-end fashion CEOs.” He squinted. “I think that’s the president of a cruise line. Take your pick.”

Angelica made a face. “You know, every time I attend one of these things, I feel like I’m being sucked back in.” She held her fingers near her mouth and wiggled them like tentacles while she made her best attempt at sucking noises.

“Will you please stop before somebody with money sees you?” Jai’s tone was fond but exasperated. “And may I remind you that the life you find so awful pays both my bills and yours?”

“I wish you wouldn’t. I like to exist in blissful ignorance.”

“Well, put on your blissfullest face and go make nice with some of these advertisers,” Jai said. “Who’ll it be?”

Angelica sighed. “Car companies first, I guess.”

“Give it a little shimmy,” Jai called after her as she strode toward her first target. “Pretend you’re in a leather seat.”

* * *

Three CEOs later, Angelica was starting to feel worn out and lacking in the charm department. She hated the hustle. She’d always enjoyed the acting part of her career and getting to know the technical teams behind the filming process, but the business end had never been her thing. She’d learned to do it, and relatively well, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it.

At least fake-flirting with businessmen at a charity gala was less dangerous than auditioning for producers in their hotel rooms. She’d heard far too many horror stories from other actresses about truly awful men doing really terrible things in the name of “helping” with their careers. The worst she had ever experienced was a few unwanted gropings and a number of suggestive comments, but then, she’d never aimed for superstardom. Apparently, when you built a career on secondary roles, you flew mostly under the radar. Which was fine by her.

These advertisers seemed perfectly okay with her level of fame, though. She’d smiled her way through descriptions of the show and effusive praise of the network, then complimented the wives and made a point of emphasizing River Hill’s many charm. She’d extracted several promises to contact the network for advertising space. In the few hours she’d been at it, she’d definitely earned her keep. She deserved a break, and there was a tiny sandwich somewhere with her name on it.

She hadn’t seen Jai since they’d parted ways, but she suspected he was somewhere in the producers’ orbit, reminding them of the many talented faces he had under his purview. He might pretend he was there as her date, but he was working, too.

Angelica found a pitcher of cucumber-infused water and poured herself a glass, sipping gratefully as she enjoyed not talking for a few minutes. She was perusing the nearby food stations and wishing Frankie’s catered events like this when she heard her name called in a surprised tone.

“Angelica?” The voice was familiar, but when she turned around, all she saw was a beautiful brunette she didn’t recognize on the arm of a tall, dark, and handsome man in an impeccably tailored suit. Even his shoes were expensive. Jai would be drooling over the stitching detail on the shiny ebony leather. Her eyes traveled up, her brain fighting with realization. The height was right, and the voice was right, and the hair was … well, it was far tamer than she’d ever seen it. How could it be? And here, of all places?

“Noah?” she asked, her voice coming out as a perplexed squeak.

He was barely recognizable. The suit—and the brunette—made him fit right in, a seamless part of the crowd of rich businessmen and society people. She gulped. “I … I didn’t recognize you?” Why had she said it like a question?

“What are you doing here?” His tone was faintly accusing, and she went straight from unnerved to annoyed—as usual.

“I’m working. What are you doing here?” She met the gaze of the woman on his arm, who was more amused than Angelica preferred.

Noah frowned. “I’m here because my mother asked me to be.” He nodded in the direction of an elegantly dressed woman near the bar, and Angelica followed his gaze.

Wait, wasn’t that the chairwoman of the gala? Jai had pointed her out when they’d arrived. Her name was Ber-something. Angelica searched the catalog of names she’d stashed away throughout the night. Bernice, yes that was it. Bernice … Bradstone, she realized with dread.

“Wait, your mother is—”

“—Are you telling me you honestly had no idea who I am?” he interrupted.

She frowned at him, her eyebrows furrowing into a deep vee. If Jai saw her, he’d freak and warn her about the dangers of Botox. “Are you somebody important?”

The woman beside him started to laugh. “Only in his own mind,” she said, and Noah scowled at her.

“How is that helpful?” he snapped.

“Oh, I’m not here to be helpful,” the woman said.

Angelica was starting to like her, much as she didn’t want to. “I’m Angelica Travis,” she said pointedly, since Noah didn’t seem inclined to make introductions.

At least he had the grace to look embarrassed. “This is—”

“—Naomi Klein,” the woman said, extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

“Finally?” Angelica looked to Noah, who just shrugged.

“I’ve known Noah for years,” Naomi explained. “I live in River Hill too, actually.”

Angelica stared at Noah. Nothing about this conversation made him come off in a positive light. “Really.”

Naomi grinned. “Feel free to eviscerate him if you want, but it’s not like that. We’ve known each other since we were kids. My family and his are close.”

There was that mention of his family again. Angelica held up her hands to signal a timeout. “Can I just get a quick update, here?” She was clearly missing some important information that Noah assumed she’d already had.

Angelica looked at Naomi, assuming the other woman would tell her the truth. “What’s the deal with his family?”

“They’re rich,” Naomi said cheerfully. “Disgustingly so. His father is Carter Bradstone.” She raised an eyebrow at Angelica, who shook her head. The name meant nothing to her. “Big name in wine. Like, huge.”

Angelica looked back at Noah. “So, you’re following in your father’s footsteps?”

“I’m trying to step out of them, actually,” Noah said. “My parents love this scene.” He waved a hand to indicate the sparkling festivities around them. “I just want to make really good wine and push the industry forward with innovative techniques. My dad’s not into it.”

“And my family is, shall we say, moderately unsupportive of my career, too,” Naomi added. At Angelica’s blank look, she explained. “I’m an artist. A sculptor, actually, though I do some graphic design to pay bills.”

“She does my labels,” Noah said.

“My dad hated the one with the half-naked woman,” Naomi said with relish.

“I thought it was very tasteful,” he protested.

“You and the disapproving Dr. Klein disagree about a lot of things.”

Their banter was quick, and Angelica didn’t have a place in it. And she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted one. Naomi seemed nice, but she was here with Noah. Which only served to underscore that he wasn’t there with her.

Jai’s words echoed in her head. If you want arm-candy…

It honestly hadn’t occurred to her to ask Noah if he wanted to come with her. She’d assumed he’d feel out of place at an event like this. He was so committed to rural life in River Hill that he’d blown up at her for just wanting to film the Harvest Festival. Not exactly the sort of man she expected to be lurking about a society gala in an impeccable tux, fitting right in with all the sleek trophy wives, CEOs, and politicians.

So which was the real Noah? Angelica had thought they were getting to know one another, but after their last argument, and now this? Well, she suddenly realized she didn’t really know him at all.

Completely flustered, she did the only thing she could think of—flee. “I, uh, think I see a … an advertiser,” she improvised. “Better go talk to them about the show.” She hot-footed away from Noah and Naomi as quickly as she could without tripping over her gown.

She needed time to think. And something to drink.