There were two things that kept me from moving in on Peter’s date.

Florence and Peter.

I didn’t have a lot of standards, but Peter was my friend, and I wouldn’t do that to him. And while I wasn’t really that interested in Florence, we were attending this thing together—and even I wasn’t enough of a bastard to go chasing after another woman when I was there with her, even if I couldn’t stop looking at her.

The young woman sat next to Peter, across from me, and she kept shifting in her damn seat. The hem of her dress had ridden up, allowing me a glimpse of her stockings and garter...and a hell of a lot of leg.

“I’m so glad we’re going to this party.” Florence leaned in closer, resting a hand on my arm.

I gave her smile. “It should be fun.”

And I told myself to stop staring at her friend’s legs. Stop staring and definitely stop imagining what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around my waist.

Florence had introduced us once we were all sitting down in the limo: Maya Cruz. It was a sexy name. Maya. Exotic and different. Like an orchid you might find in the jungle. And with her raven-black waves, dark green eyes, and golden skin, it certainly fit her.

“We don’t go to enough parties together.” Florence was still resting her hand on my arm, watching me with her heart in her eyes.

I wished she wouldn’t do that. She was a sweet girl, but she seemed to think the two of us were destined to be together forever, and I couldn’t figure out why.

Aware that Peter was watching me like a hawk, I shifted in my seat and nodded. “No, I guess we don’t.”

We didn’t either. Most of our dates were to formal events, galas and banquets, opening nights, that sort of thing. If I was going to a party, I wanted to relax, not feel like I was supposed to entertain her.

Or take care of her.

Florence had that way about her. People wanted to take care of her. They wanted to be there for her. I was a selfish son-of-a-bitch, and even I couldn’t keep myself from feeling like I had to pat her back and make sure she was doing okay.

She just brought that out in people.

“Where are you from, Miss Cruz?” I asked into the silence.

It wasn’t just to fill that silence either, I realized with some surprise. I wanted to know. I wanted to have her look at me again like she had earlier. Like she’d never seen anyone like me before. Not like the groupies who threw themselves at me, or like I was some sort of ticket to a new life. Like she wanted to know me.

I wanted her to talk to me, wanted to hear that sexy, smooth voice.

“Philadelphia,” she said, voice slow and steady, her gaze steady on mine. A ghost of a smile lingered on her lips, and I wondered at the cause.

“So you moved out here to take an assisting position with Florence?” I pushed for more information.

“I was looking for…a chance,” she said, a brief hesitation in her voice.

“And have you found it?” Peter asked.

As she pondered her answer, Peter shot me a dark look. It was quick, lasting only a moment, but I got the message loud and clear.

Stop flirting with my date. Start focusing on yours.

Chastised, I turned my attention to Florence and we chatted quietly, mostly about work. It wasn’t like we had anything else in common. But I kept my ears focused on Maya, eager to learn everything I could.

Yes, she had found something different here in California. Yes, she missed home. Yes, she had family. Yes, she loved movies. No, she hadn’t seen one recently.

Every answer, I heard and remembered.

But if somebody asked me what I’d discussed with Florence, I wouldn’t have been able to recall.

* * *

“Want to dance?” I’d waited until Florence was swept onto the dance floor by somebody else before I approached Maya. I didn’t have to worry about Peter jumping on my ass because he’d disappeared with a couple other big whigs a few minutes ago. Maya was standing by herself, alone. I was just being friendly, after all—talking to her and dancing with her so she wasn’t by herself on her first night in Hollywood.

That was it.

Even I didn’t believe my own bullshit, but it was a logical, legitimate reason.

She looked at me from the corner of her eye as I approached. “I’m fine.”

I gave her my most charming smile. “Come on. It’s your first night in Hollywood. You can’t spend it standing against the wall.”

I took her hand, half-expecting her to pull away.

But she didn’t.

“So how did you end up in Hollywood?” Normally, small talk didn’t appeal to me, but I was curious about her, especially since she didn’t seem to want to talk much to me.

“Let’s just say…it was a very strange turn of events,” she said slowly, that faint, enigmatic smile returning to her face. “I sort of just…landed here.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Nothing terribly interesting,” she said and this time, she gave me a bright, toothy grin.

Except there was a lie in her eyes.

Huh.

“I find that hard to believe.”

Maya shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe half of it. And the rest…? Boring.”

I shifted my hand, and the bare skin in the middle of her back became quite a distraction. “Again, I find that hard to believe.”

“Hmm.” She cocked her head, studying me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem to be a man who gets terribly invested in what a woman has to say.”

The words were an unexpected slap, and I had to fight not to flinch. It wasn’t just their directness, but how brutally on-point she was. Still, I managed an easy smile. If nothing else in life, I could act my way through anything. “What makes you say that?”

“The very fact that every time Florence opens her mouth, you look like you want to be anywhere but next to her.”

The music came to an end, and she immediately stepped away. “Thank you for the dance.” She turned, disappearing into the crowd, and before I could go after her, Peter appeared out of the masses.

Dark eyes narrowed, he said politely, “Do I need to remind you again you’re supposed to be on good behavior? And do I need to reiterate that she’s here with me?”

Irritated, I moved toward him, angling my chin in her direction. “You’ll be delighted to know that she didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Nice to know she sees through your façade, Glenn, but that’s not the real issue.” He cocked a brow. “You’re supposed to be paying attention to Florence, convincing the studio execs that you’re changing your ways.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I gave him a sour look. “Besides, she was dancing with somebody else. She’s the belle of the ball, and you’d gone and left Maya alone. I was being friendly.”

Unfortunately, Peter had known me long enough to be able to see right through my bullshit.

“You haven’t been able to take your eyes off her. You’re supposed to be wrapped up in Florence—not her assistant!”

“I’ve danced with Florence,” I said, getting pissed off. “We’ve had our pictures taken together. I’ve spent so much time talking to her, I’ve run out of things to talk about. What else do you want?”

“How about you act like you’re happy to be here with her?” Without waiting for a reply, Peter turned and disappeared, leaving me alone in the crowd.

Shit. That would require acting.

I caught sight of Florence on somebody else’s arm, and I cursed under my breath. Then I started forward. This ‘good boy’ shit was already getting on my nerves.