I fidget in my seat. Somehow I thought this was going to be a quick lunch. Dylan and I would realize we had nothing in common except for our business arrangement, I’d drive him to a few sights around town, and that would be it.
“Let’s see if we have enough to talk about to get us that far,” I say.
“I think we will.” He winks at me.
My insides turn over, and all the guy’s done is make niceties. And I’m sweating again even though I went out this morning and bought myself a new deodorant, the kind I use at home, the kind that always keeps me dry even when I’m making presentations at work. If I keep seeing Dylan, I may have to get that special prescription deodorant that prevents sweating altogether.
“Anyway,” I say in a soft tone, “I guess I thought you were used to something fancier than this.”
“I don’t always do fancy.” He leans closer to me, so close I can see sparks of gold dancing inside his dark brown eyes. “I thought this would be a good place for our first date.”
“Good guess.” My voice comes out breathy, and I fight to regain my composure. “So, Dylan,” I say in a clinical voice. “Tell me about yourself. What are your parents like? And your friends? Are you dating anyone back in L.A.?”
He laughs. “Trying to get a flaw out of me right off the bat, huh? Well, don’t worry, I’m not perfect. Just like the rest of us.”
* * *
But as our conversation goes on, and we laugh and talk and don’t run out of things to say to one another, Dylan Wild seems pretty damn near perfect to me. And he’s down-to-earth. The truth is I wanted to believe that he was more than a famous football player—more than the entitled Neanderthal stereotype with a shinier finish. But I definitely had my doubts. His genuineness puts me in my place without him even realizing it. We talk about our jobs and the pros and cons of being residents of Los Angeles. I make sure to keep the topics as light and non-personal as possible.
We’re interrupted five times for Dylan to sign autographs and take pictures. Three kids and two adults.
“Do you ever get tired of that?” I ask him after the fifth one leaves.
“Sometimes it’s hard. Like when I’m trying to get to know someone. But, you know it’s flattering. It really is.”
I nod and take another sip of my wine. If I weren’t driving, I could try to drown my feelings of lust in alcohol, but instead I’m stuck nursing my first glass.
“So, to finally answer your earlier questions,” Dylan says to me as the waiter hands him the bill. “I’m not dating anyone.”
Our eyes catch. I want to keep my mouth shut. But as usual, it opens and fires.
“I saw you on Hollywood Now! with that Natalie woman. The show said you’re dating.”
He frowns. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a tabloid believer, Jasalie Gordon.”
I don’t like the way he says it. Like he’s disappointed in me.
“I believe what I see,” I say stubbornly. “And I saw you with your arms around some woman.”
I’m not sure why a wave of displeasure sweeps through me at the memory, and I try my best to ignore the feeling.
“It was one date,” he says, the growing flush on his cheeks the only sign of his emotion. “Our publicists set us up. We went back to her place afterward, and I fell asleep. She was angry—I guess—that I wasn’t interested enough in her to stay awake. So she took photographs of…intimate parts of me.”
I gasp. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes. She sent them to my agent, thank God, instead of to social media, which is where she was headed. She decided to blackmail me with them. If I didn’t do what she asked, she vowed to sell them to a tabloid or to post them herself.”
“But that’s illegal!”
“It may be illegal, but stopping someone from doing something like that is damn near impossible.”
I stare at him. “So what did she want? Besides to try to ruin you?”
“She didn’t want to ruin me, not really. Natalie wanted a part, and she needed some free publicity. She wanted me to go out with her so she could be seen. So we went on two public, planned dates where the paparazzi were called and told where we’d be. They got their pictures, she got her role, and I got out of there as fast as I could.”
I stare at him. “So it’s no different than this thing between us. This is just another deal for you. I understand you were coerced into that one, but still—it’s all business.”
He sucks in his breath. “I can see why you’d say that. The difference here is I like you, Jasalie. I want to go on a real date with you if you’ll let me. If you won’t, I’ll take what I can get. And I really do appreciate you considering helping me out with the charity.”
