“Indeed,” Ethan said.
They went over the specifics of Ethan’s pitch for his show.
“I think we can make that happen.” Andrew surveyed the room, clearly searching for something or someone. “Let’smakeit happen.”
Ethan should’ve been over the moon, but he wasn’t feeling much of anything. He couldn’t give up on his dream, but somewhere along the line it seemed his ticker had given itself to Em.
“Love the social media hashtag campaign,” Andrew said. “Excellent attention-getter. And Em’s the perfect plus-one, isn’t she? Maybe she can pop into the restaurant sometime with the kids when you’re filming. Give the whole family-appeal angle.” Andrew was on a roll. “And when you get married, we can do a whole Nosh wedding. Really do it up. Program development likes you, Ethan. They love the blended family thing. We should roll with it.”
He held his hand to Ethan, and they shook again.
“What if, uh, Em and the kids don’t want to be on the telly?” he asked.
Andrew laughed as though this was the funniest joke he’d heard. Then he pointed imitation finger guns at Ethan. “Good one.”
Righto, so that was part of the deal. Resigned, Ethan headed for the table with Em, unsure of anything.
“Nosh is looking like a go?” she asked, buttering her roll.
He wasn’t so sure anymore. “I’ve been trying to get back in their good graces for years.”
He should mention the terms Andrew just laid out.
“Ethan…” Em said.
“Let’s eat.” He tried to be charming, but he missed the mark.
She said his name softer. “Ethan…”
“Not a big deal.” He forked some veggies. Then set down the fork without even trying to eat. “Will you have a dance with me?” he asked, standing and holding his hand to Em. “I mean, would you like to dance?”
She nodded. Not excitedly, mind you. And that did nothing to help his bruised pride one bit. But she gripped his palm with hers, and that touch held the hope he needed.
She stood and, secured together, they wound through the tables to the dance floor. She moved with him, off the wood grain floor, to the sealed concrete.
Glancing up, her gaze knotted with his and the string between them cinched, pulling their bodies together to slow dance. Nothing intrusive, a light brush of body against body as the band played Harry Connick Jr.’s “(I Do) Like We Do.”
There was an appropriate amount of dance floor space between them, but he appreciated the way she held on. Didn’t push him away. Not indecent, but not the way a woman danced with a guy she was into.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” she asked, taken aback.
“For being here with me.”
She gripped his shoulders. “We need to call it quits when we get home—”
“They want you to be with me,” he said. “The people at Nosh. It’s a package deal, it seems. They want you to be the angle. You and the kiddos. I’m the family man chef. That’s how they want to play it.”
She tensed, stopped moving her feet, and dropped her arms from his shoulders.
“Are you asking me to do that?” She didn’t stomp on his shoes, so that was definitely something.
“Tellin’ you what they told me, is all.” There wasn’t even an ounce of hope she’d play along. “I wouldn’t letthempush you to the side, if you‘re worryin’ about that part.”
She stiffened. Her face paled a little. “You can’t promise that. I’ve lived in this world. I know how it works. I can’t do it again.”
“You haven’t done it like this. Not with me.” Ethan squeezed her arm. “Your bad experience isn’t the only way.Wecan make this work.”
