She had been so completely in her head, she’d totally missed what he said as he pushed his coiled earpiece back in place. She hadn’t even realized he’d been without it for any length of time. The night was gliding by as swiftly as the current.
“You know, I have to say.” Max leaned his forearms on the rail and squinted out at the black water. “The first four nights of Hanukkah this year were kinda lame for me. But tonight…” He turned, giving her a half-smile. “No regrets. Like the fortune says.”
Tzipi smiled. “Same.” Except for this whole charade. But experiencing the Baller, helping Kara in theory, meeting Max? “No regrets here.”
Right here, right now.
“I’d like to think my luck will continue the next three nights. Although I’m not going to eat the foil, because I don’t want to die.”
Tzipi’s unbridled hoot carried right out to sea. Boy, this man could make her laugh. The kind of riotous laughter that made your face ache and your ribs hurt in the best way. She hadn’t felt that in forever.
There were a lot of things she hadn’t felt, in a long time.
“You never did say where Dr. Ackerman is tonight.”
His lips were close again, close enough to kiss.
“He’s –”
In love with my sister.
Tell him the truth.
“Tell me that hot doc is out of the picture.” A booming voice snapped her out of her spell. Familiar, jarring, unwelcome. “That you kicked him to the curb at last.”
Tall. Buzzcut. Teeth as bright and perfect as a white picket fence. Tzipi’s brain connected the dots and short circuited.
It was Kara’s co-star, Hannon.
From the movie whose entire marketing campaign hinged on “will-they-or-won’t-they” chemistry between the two actors who played Vanta Blackmore and Radian Prime.
Of all people. Of all the eight million people in New York City.
The last idiot standing.
Radian Prime on the Matzo Baller?
Not even remotely on Jonah’s Hanukkah bingo card this year.
From the look on Kara’s face, the guy didn’t appear to be on hers, either. The interloper had the balls to swoop between them for a cheek kiss.
“Kidding, kidding!” His cologne hung in the night air, foul and expensive. “Just messing with you, KK.”
“Hannon Kershaw!? What are you doing here?”
Yeah, what she said.
Something told Jonah he wasn’t here to commemorate the re-dedication of the Second Temple of Jerusalem.
“Great party, doll. Secret’s out!”
This event was than just ‘a party.’ Sure, there were non-Jews on board. But the Baller wasn’t like the St. Paddy’s Day parade, where everyone was Irish for the day.
He did not like the way this Hannon Kershaw guy left his hand lingering near Kara’s waist. He didn’t trust anyone with a Jarhead haircut whose hands were that lily smooth.
Hannon turned to the guy hovering next to him. “So this stone cold fox is Kara Koff, otherwise known as Vanta Blackmore. The yin to my wang.”
The guy nodded and scribbled in a notebook.
