Drew blinked. “There’s a Bosses’ Day?”
“Oh, get out of here. Go home. Go find some pretty young thing and make the most of what’s left of the night.”
Without meaning to, Drew glanced over at Steve, who was talking to Flora. “Not really my thing.”
Nina eyed him shrewdly. “Oh? Like them a little older than you, do you?”
Damn it. “I don’t date.”
She let out a lewd chuckle. “Who said anything about dating?”
“Nina!” Drew hissed. Fortunately no one seemed to be paying them any attention, everyone dragging ass to get ready to leave for the day—or else hightailing it, fueled on some kind of postwork energy infusion Drew would very much like the recipe for. “I’m not going to screw around with a costar. I’m more professional than that!”
Nina raised one well-manicured eyebrow in an incredibly articulate retort. Okay, so she probably knew him too well to buy what he was selling. He didn’t date in the business, but that had never stopped him from hooking up with other actors and actresses who shared his philosophy.
Well. Maybe Drew should just be true to himself. “Whatever. I gotta go, Nina. See you tomorrow!”
If he hurried, he could catch up with Steve in Wardrobe.
By the time he got there to hang up his expertly tailored jeans and gossamer-thin T-shirt, Steve was unfolding his own cargo shorts. “Hey. You got big plans tonight?”
Drew winced. “I still have to hit the gym.” He’d skipped working out too many days this week. “But first, fuel.” He slipped his belt through the loops and set it in its cubby. “You?”
“I run in the mornings.”
Of course he did. Drew wanted to askAnd the shoulders?but he had too much self-respect.Okay, champ. Here’s your chance.“What about this Saturday?”
Steve paused with his hand on his fly. “I’m running then too?”
Drew narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if he was playing hard to get or being obtuse. “After that. Seven o’clock, eight if we want to be fashionably late and make an entrance.”
Steve paused, brow furrowed. “Are you, uh…?”
Not exactly the resounding yes Drew had been hoping for, but he injected his voice with as much confidence as he could fake. “I’m asking you to dinner.” And then abruptly his feigned confidence fled and he added, “My date canceled to go to Hawaii, and the idea of spending four hours in a tux eating canapés and schmoozing with people who spent a thousand dollars a plate to schmooze with me makes me hate humanity.”
“Gosh, you’re such a people person,” Steve said, drier than a stale saltine in Vegas. “I can’t imagine why you have trouble finding dates.”
Ouch.Drew probably deserved that. “Sorry, that just… ugh. Let me start over?” He unbuttoned his jeans and started shimmying out of them. The process took a few seconds. “I have an extra ticket to a fundraiser dinner at the aquarium. I guess the penguins need a new air conditioner or something. I always take Leigh to stuff like this because I know she’s not using me for publicity and she can hold up her end of the conversation without trying to get in my pants.” He finally got the skinny jeans down to his ankles, but he didn’t dare kick them off because Will would murder him if the seams ripped. Instead he bent to work them over his feet. “But she can’t come. And I like spending time with you.”
Damn it. When Drew glanced up, Steve still didn’t look convinced. He certainly wasn’t jumping at the chance to spend a night off with Drew. Maybe Drew had read him wrong.
But finally his expression cleared and he said, “Pick me up at seven.”
Yes!
There was just one problem, of course.
Drew still didn’t know if it was a date. Or even if he wanted it to be.
ASit turned out, Drew didn’t have just one problem. In fact, the act of thinking so had probably, in true Murphy’s Law fashion, directly led to many other problems, including forgetting his lines, missing his marks, dropping props, and spending twenty minutes on his lunch break wondering how to answer an email about filming on location.
“Rough day,” Nina said, sitting down across from him with a plate of food. She shoved an extra, smaller plate, this one laden with pickles, toward him. “Something on your mind?”
“Mulling over what to get you for Bosses’ Day,” Drew tried, but he couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm to pretend he thought he was funny.
“Ooh. Should I have gone for the chocolate instead of the pickles?”
He sighed. “No. You know chocolate makes me break out.” Besides, he’d already gotten the message that he needed to buck up. He couldn’t remember the last time a director had to sit him down for a heart-to-heart about why he was screwing up.
