Emma stiffened, her eyes going wide. Was this a dream? Had she passed out?
“Sorry,” he said, hesitating. “You’ve got a little—”
Oh. Shit. Her fingers flew to her cheek. “Glitter?”
“Yeah.” Amusement played around his lips. “May I?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Sure,” she mumbled.
His fingers skimmed her temple, and every neuron in her body fired off like it was New Year’s Eve.
Darren Cole. Was touching her.
Emma went statue-still. She felt his eyes on her face, but kept her own glued to his shoulder, as if it was the single most riveting thing in the Western hemisphere.
Her mind, usually ten steps ahead, could only manage one thought at a time:Don’t move. Don’t breathe too loudly. Don’t ruin this.
“Thanks,” she said, aiming for casual, even though his fingers were still sending sparks against her skin. “Cosplay contest. There was a...Twilight-related incident.”
Darren laughed, pulling back his hand. A few grains of glitter twinkled against his fingertips. “That’s not a sentence you hear every day.”
Emma shrugged sheepishly. “Comic-Con.”
“Right.”
Silence fell between them for a moment. Emma glanced up at him. There was a strange, unexpected stillness in the way he held her gaze. For once, she forgot to scramble for something funny or clever. The air between them felt charged, fragile, like something about to break—or ignite.
He seemed to hesitate, something earnest flickering across his face. “You know,” he began, “I’ve actually been meaning to—”
A woman in a pea green maxi dress came up behind him, placing a hand on his elbow. She was beautiful enough to be an actress—delicate features, a sharp, honey-colored bob—but the no-nonsense approach signaled handler rather than peer.
“Hi, sorry,” she said to Emma. “D, Max needs you one floor down. He’s talking to someone from HBO. Casting opportunity.” Her accent was British too, effortlessly sophisticated.
Darren frowned. “Can it wait?”
The woman leaned in closer. “The female lead is already cast. And her name starts with Z.”
She took half a step back, watching him expectantly.
Darren sighed. “Alright. Thanks, Sienna.”
His eyes found Emma’s again.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” he said, voice dipping low. Hearing her own name in that voice felt almost indecent. “Duty calls. I’ll see you around, I hope?”
She managed a nod. “Sure. It was a pleasure meeting you.” The words made her wince as soon as they left her mouth.Office Emma strikes again.
But Darren smiled as he retreated. “Likewise.”
Then he was gone, the woman in the billowing dress marching behind him like a sentinel.
Emma let out a shaky breath. Giddy relief surged through her, almost making her laugh out loud.
Every cell in her body felt alive, vibrating. She’d done it—held a conversation, however brief, with Darren freaking Cole without making a complete mess of herself. And to think that even in her fantasies, she hadn’t imagined more than a fleeting, wordless glance.
Her thoughts finally snapped back into place. Well, she was glad it had happened. Now she wouldn’t have to go home wondering what it might’ve been like to meet him. Though she was still definitely going to at least kidnap Leah’s favorite Louboutins.
She put her sticky prosecco glass away and went to get a fresh one that she sorely needed—pointedly ignoring the other voice in her head, small and uninvited.
