“He called me, Abby, not the other way around!” my boss shouts as I enter his office. “And it was Lucas Ford calling me personally, not his publicist!”

I clutch my heart, feeling like I’m about to pass out. “What’d he say?”

“He offered an exclusive interview about his Grammy wins and anything else we want to ask him about. He said no topic is off limits. Nothing. His only condition? None other than Penelope Pleasure has to conduct the interview and it has to be done today at his hotel because he’s heading back to LA tomorrow morning. He said he read your interview of Brandon Hanover and he wants ‘the exact same treatment’!”

My brain is short-circuiting. Lucas wants to see me? Today? And he read my interview of Mr. Movie Star and “wants the exact same treatment”? Gah! My mind is racing. Does that mean Lucas knows about my so-called relationship with Brandon? And if so, was his choice of words his way of telling me our one day has finally arrived? Or did he call my boss simply because he wants to help my career again, and nothing more?

“Do you know him?” my boss asks as we settle into seats on opposite sides of his large desk.

I shake my head like a little kid accused of stealing a cookie.

My boss smirks. “No? Huh. I thought maybe, just maybe, you were the ‘Abby’ from the song.”

I try to chuckle breezily but, surely, I sound more like a llama with bronchitis. “Nope. I wish.”

“Hey, it’s not ridiculous to think the song might be about you. You snagged Brandon Hanover, so why not Lucas Ford, too?” He winks.

“Aw, don’t believe those pesky rumors about Brandon Hanover and me,” I say coyly, but we both know I’m full of it. It’s become a bit of a running gag between us that I won’t cop to any manner of personal relationship with Mr. Movie Star. Not because Brandon would care, by the way. But because, one, I don’t want to be known as yet another one of Brandon Hanover’s many playthings, and, two, I’d always figured the less people knew about my so-called relationship with him, the less chance paparazzi would’ve kept me in the frame if he happened to be leaving a restaurant with me.

My boss looks at me sideways. “Are you sure you’ve never met Lucas Ford?”

“I’m sure,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to meet him, though. He’s my idea of the perfect man.”

“Mine, too,” my boss says.

“I had a massive crush on him as a teenager,” I say.

“Me, too. But as an adult.”

We both laugh.

“Did you watch the Grammys last night?” my boss asks.

“Of course. He deserved every award he won.”

“Yeah, I noticed he thanked a girl named Abby and mentioned time they spent together in Penthouse A.”

My face suddenly feels hot. “Oh, yeah. I saw that, too.”

My boss beams an adorable smile at me. “Wasn’t it Denver where you worked at a hotel before coming to New York?”

I nod, feeling like my throat is closing up.

“I thought so,” my boss says, a gleam in his eyes. “Did the hotel where you worked have a Penthouse A?”

I narrow my eyes and don’t respond.

My boss grins. “I did a little Googling last night and it turns out it was Denver where Lucas Ford had that meltdown of his. And then, a few weeks after that, he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at a concert in LA, telling everyone he’d just written a bunch of new songs over the prior few weeks. And then last night, I’ll be damned, he thanked a woman named Abby and referenced some magical time in Penthouse A as the inspiration for all the songs on the album.” He playfully mimics the glare I’m throwing at him. “And now, imagine that, he’s calling to say he wants Penelope Pleasure and no one else to interview him.”

I try not to let my face give anything away. “Imagine that.”

My boss continues. “And you want to know the weirdest thing that happened when I spoke to him? Something I forgot to mention?” He smiles deviously.

“Sure.”

“A couple times during my very short conversation with Lucas Ford, he referred to you as Abby, and not Penelope.”

I feel my eyes bugging out of my head but remain mute.

“And that kind of confuses me, to be honest,” my boss adds. “How on earth would Lucas Ford know your real name is Abby, Miss Pleasure? I’ve never seen you advertise that.”

I’m working very hard not to return my boss’s smug smile. “I have no idea,” I say. “But he’s Lucas Ford, after all. He’s obviously got people who know things.” I stand abruptly. “Anything else I need to know before I head over to his hotel? The Four Seasons, did you say?”

My boss’s smile broadens. “Yeah, he’s checked in under the name Jacob Knobhopper, and he’s staying in none other than Penthouse A.”

I don’t know what facial expression is involuntarily overtaking my features right now, but whatever it is, it’s causing my boss to let out a loud whoop of pure glee. “Oh, Abby,” he says affectionately. “Have I ever told you I love you more than life itself?”

I can’t help myself. I return his beaming smile. “Yes, you have, thank God. Many, many times.”

My boss comes around his desk and hugs me. “You never cease to amaze me, Penelope.” He looks at his watch. “Okay, you’d better get going, honey. You’ll get there on the early side if you leave now, but that’s good. I’ve heard Lucas Ford’s a bit of an impatient prick and we don’t want to keep him waiting.” At that, he flashes me another mischievous smile. Clearly, he’s trying to bait me into defending Lucas’s honor, the same way he’s tried to bait me for the past year to defend Brandon’s. But I’m not going to fall for it and he knows it.

I look down at my dress, relieved I happened to have picked out a particularly “Penelope-esque” dress today, and run my fingertips through my blond pixie cut. “Do I look okay? Am I Lucas-Ford-worthy, you think?”

“You’re perfect from head to toe, sweetheart. Seriously, honey, if Lucas Ford doesn’t fall head over heels in love with you the minute he sees you, then he’s secretly batting for my team.”