“THANKSfor meeting me,” Hilary said, settling into the chair across from Steve. She took a small metal disc from her purse, unfolded it, and used it as a hanger so her bag wouldn’t touch the floor.
Steve raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh? Is that how it’s going to be now? Are we here for business only?”
“Ugh.” Hilary groaned at herself, then shook her head as she picked up the menu. “Sorry. Force of habit. You know most of my lunches are working ones. And in my defense, my assistant’s on vacation, and the temp just isn’t the same. I’ve been working double time.”
“I’d say you should take a break every now and then, but I’ve spent the past few days either skipping lunch or penning rewrites while I eat, so I guess I’m not qualified to give advice.”
Their server arrived to take their drink orders, and they opted to split a pitcher of sangria. While they waited for it to arrive, Hilary sipped her ice water and gave him an appraising once-over. “So. By all accounts you’ve been working your ass off, but youlookhappy. Acting wasn’t a terrible idea after all?”
“It’s actually a lot more fun than I thought it would be. Though, God, it has its moments.” He’d lost track of how many takes Nina demanded for a simple blocking scene yesterday, and it didn’t even have any dialogue, just him and Drew walking toward Morgan’s car. Unfortunately the weather didn’t want to cooperate—the wind kept blowing things into the scene, or catching the car door and pulling it out of Steve’s hand, or completely ruining Drew’s hair.
On the other hand, he got to spend all day with Drew, so he couldn’t complain much.
“I’m sure,” Hilary said. “Actors—I work with them all the time. I know what they’re like.”
Steve decided not to rise to the bait. “How’ve you been?” he asked, changing the subject. “Broker any good deals lately?”
“You know I never ink and tell,” she said sunnily. “But hey, lunch is on me.”
He snorted. “Congratulations, but I can pay my own way.”
“Call it a belated thank-you for keeping my client happy in a way you didn’t have to.”
Oh, if she only knew how Steve wanted to make Drew happy. Too bad they were too busy to go on actual dates. When filming finished for the day, Steve generally had the energy to take a shower, grab a bite to eat, and fall into bed with the script to try to finish.
He decided to let it slide. Their families had always traded off treating the other growing up—competing to see who could pick up the check in the sneakiest manner. Steve’s mom had actually donned a disguise once. “You’d never have let me hear the end of it if I’d said no.”
“True.”
The sangria arrived, and they put in their lunch orders.
“So how’s your mom doing?”
Steve plucked a cherry from his sangria and set it on an appetizer plate. “You probably talk to her as much as I do.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t share the juicy dating gossip with me.” Hilary made a sad face.
“Want to trade?” Steve wouldn’t mind getting the sanitized version every now and then.
“As if you would. You live to hear her fabulous stories.”
“I just like to know that she’s happy. She wasn’t for a long time after Dad, you know?” He paused. “Although I don’t know if all the boyfriends make her happy, exactly. More like they keep her busy.”
Hilary sampled the sangria, made a pleased noise, and took a longer sip. “How many are there now? Three? I barely have time foroneboyfriend.”
“Just two, I think. Rico didn’t work out—too clingy, wanted exclusivity, not available for her bimonthly retreat to Palm Springs. Oh, and Rita didn’t like him. Mom cut him off.”
“Harsh. That’s life, though. Can’t go on without Rita’s approval. How is she, anyway?”
“Good. Mom says she misses me, so at least the pining is mutual.” But as empty as Steve’s apartment felt sometimes, it wasn’t big enough for both of them. She was better off at his mom’s place in the Hills, where the housekeeper doted on her and she had space to run around.
Hilary hummed. “So we talked about your mom’s love life….”
Uh-oh.
Before Steve had to think of a way to divert the question, their server appeared. “The grilled salmon with rice pilaf and mandarin broccoli slaw?”
Hilary moved her napkin and sangria out of the way, but Steve could tell by the way she was still watching him, rather than their server, that she hadn’t let him off the hook. Damn. He spread his napkin in his lap and picked up his knife and fork for an excuse to break her gaze.
