“Ethan! Ethan! Over here! How’s it going, man?” The voices of the paparazzi overlapped in an incoherent roar. As he pulled Grey’s door open, the noise faded into the background as she turned those wide blue eyes on him. God, she really was beautiful. Her hesitant expression he had seen just moments ago had vanished. She looked calm, even regal. He held out his hand to her and she took it, her soft fingers clasping his as he guided her out of the car.
“How chivalrous,” she murmured with a sly smile. She let him lead her past the photographers into the restaurant. The hostess greeted them and whisked them through a well-hidden doorway to the private dining room. The noise of the restaurant dampened to a hush when the door closed behind them. As the hostess seated them and handed them menus, Ethan exhaled. He had made it. Now all he had to do was make it through an intimate, one-on-one dinner with a beautiful and charming woman he was undeniably, disturbingly attracted to. Piece of cake.
Grey was studying the menu.
“Have you been here before?”
She looked up.
“Yeah, a few years ago. With, um. With my ex.” Her mouth twisted and she looked away. He flashed back to the pictures of her crying and felt a twinge of anger.
He needed a drink. Now.
“Should we get a bottle of wine?”
“Sure. I guess. I’m kind of a lightweight, though,” she admitted. He nodded, pursing his lips in mock seriousness.
“Oh yeah. Me, too.”
He thought that would make her laugh, but instead her eyes flickered with a look that almost seemed like concern. Before he could parse it, she went back to the menu.
The waitress came by to take their drink orders and he ordered them a Cabernet.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Ethan said once the waitress had left.
She looked up at him, eyes wide.
“What?”
“Is Grey your real name?”
The trepidation on her face dissolved as she laughed.
“No. Well, sort of. It’s my middle name. My mom’s maiden name. My first name is Emily.”
“What’s wrong with Emily?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. Renata suggested I change it, thought it might be more marketable. I booked my show right after, so I guess she was right.”
“Does anyone still call you Emily?”
She looked at him closely, as if trying to figure out his angle. “Um, my mom and my brother. My friend Kamilah, sometimes. I think that’s it.”
“What should I call you?”
She took a moment to consider it. “It’s up to you, I guess. I was never that attached to Emily, though. I don’t mind it when people who knew me before use it, but…I think I feel more Grey these days.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Even though I look like a blonde.”
“I’m never gonna live that one down, am I?”
“I’m kind of shocked I don’t hear it more, honestly.”
The waitress came back with the bottle of wine, pouring a little in Ethan’s glass. He swirled it, took a sip, and nodded. She poured them both generous glasses.
“Are you ready to order? Need a little more time?”
“I’ll have the wedge salad and the rib eye, medium rare. What about you, baby?” He tenderly placed his hand over Grey’s. She didn’t miss a beat, meeting his eyes with unmasked adoration. The waitress smiled down at them.
“I’ll have the beet and burrata salad and the scallops, please.” Grey returned the waitress’s smile, then interlaced her fingers with Ethan’s, turning her gooey gaze back to him.
“Great choices. I’ll be right back with your salads.”
As the door shut, Ethan leaned in and stage-whispered, “Bet she’s on the phone with TMZ already.”
“You think? I’m sure everyone here is very discreet.”
“Knowing Audrey, she has every waiter in this place on the payroll.”
Seemingly at the same time, they realized they were still holding hands. They froze, staring at their intertwined fingers. Ethan didn’t want to be the first to pull his hand away. He didn’t want to insult her. At last, Grey eased her hand out and picked up her wineglass in one smooth movement. She made a little noise of approval as she tasted it. When she set the glass down, her lipstick left two perfect, crimson half-moons on the rim. He stared at them, hypnotized, imagining the marks she might leave elsewhere.
He forced himself to snap out of it. “Speaking of Renata, is she for real? She’s kind of a character. Have you ever thought about switching agents? That might be part of your problem. I could get you a meeting with Paul, if you want.”
Grey’s face dropped. “No,” she said flatly. “Not interested.”
Ethan was surprised at the vehemence of her reaction. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend.”
Grey took another leisurely sip from her wineglass. Ethan was transfixed by the long line of her neck as she tilted her head up to drink. Fuck. He was in big trouble.
She seemed like she was internally debating something. Finally, she spoke.
“When I went to my first wardrobe fitting for Poison Paradise, the costume designer told me I needed to lose fifteen pounds. Immediately. He kept…he wouldn’t stop pinching me. Everywhere I was…bulging.” She toyed with the stem of her wineglass. “Renata called me to check in about how my first day went and I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t want to tell her, I was so scared I would get fired. She told me she would take care of it. The next day, the producers called me in. I thought that was it. I was out. I’d never work again. I don’t know what she said to them but…they had fired the designer. They apologized to me.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll never forget it.”
Ethan was stunned. “I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with his sympathy. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago. I mean, at the end of the day I’m still a youngish, skinnyish, white, blond girl. I generally have it pretty easy in this business. And the world in general.”
Ethan sipped his own wine. “I guess the only one who has it easier is me.”
She met his eyes, her expression placid and unwavering. “I guess so.”
The waitress came back in with their salads.
“What about you?” Grey asked after the waitress had disappeared again.
“What do you mean, what about me?”
“I don’t know. Anything.” She pressed the side of her fork into the burrata and watched it ooze over the rest of her plate. “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Everything?”
She flushed and drained her glass. If she was as much of a lightweight as she claimed, she was going to be on the floor by the time this meal was over. “I mean. A normal amount. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you’re very famous. It’s hard not to know.”
“Tell me.”
She speared a beet on the end of her fork and nibbled at it, careful to avoid smearing her lipstick.
“Well. You’re from Queens. You got started in bad teen movies. You wrote and starred in a movie with your friend Sam Tanner that made you both super famous. You won an Oscar. You married your costar, Nora Lind, and you had two daughters. The three of you did some more movies together, and some apart. You got cast in the Lone Sentinel reboot. You…” She trailed off. The air in the room seemed to thicken. Grey stilled. Ethan ate a loud, crunchy bite of his salad.
“Don’t stop now,” he said, his voice light. “It was just starting to get interesting.”
Grey’s eyes darted from side to side. She poured herself another glass of wine to stall. She sighed and met his eyes again.
“You…Sam had…an accident. You and Nora got divorced. You…you didn’t make the movie.”
“Why didn’t I make the movie?”
“You got fired. You got fired from the movie.”
“And then?” His eyes drove into her. She was silent for a moment.
“And then…you got set up with me?” She batted her eyes and tossed her hair. The tension evaporated instantly.
He laughed, shaking his head a little, as if trying to clear out the last dregs of gloom that had threatened to overpower the evening. “So what you’re saying is, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in the last five years?”
She shrugged, taking another sip of wine, seemingly relieved that her attempt had worked. “Unless I missed something.”
He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving her face.
“No. No, you didn’t miss anything.”
* * *