The Love Square (3 page)

“Hell no,” she said. “I’m way too inebriated for the tango. Perfectly happy doing the drunken sway.”

As the song reached its midpoint, Alex tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. “I had fun hanging out tonight,” he said, suddenly nervous again. He rubbed a thumb over her waist to remind her of his presence.

“Me too,” she said, intertwining her fingers through his. In her heels, she was almost his height, and when he leaned closer, her hair tickled his nose.

The music ended, but they stood there, still linked. “Are we ever going to see each other again?” he asked, trying not to sound desperate.

She pulled away and smiled but didn’t answer his question. Instead, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for the dance.”

Alex followed her back to the table, disappointed to see most of the guests wrapping things up. Pete stood at the cousins’ table gulping down the last of his coffee. Nearby, Scott held Jenna’s handbag and tapped his foot, and Uncle Nino stood at the doorway entertaining a line of departing relatives.

When Alex reached the table, Pete shuffled him away from Jenna toward the door. As Alex looked back to find her, she caught his eye, shrugged, and then waved. “Bye,” she mouthed, smiling as Pete pushed Alex outside into the night.

Chapter 2

Jenna

Jenna jolted awake on Scott’s futon when her obnoxious alarm buzzed the morning after Uncle Nino’s party. She had stupidly scheduled a full Sunday, including a meeting with the realtor for more apartment hunting, and dance rehearsal with Scott. As her head pounded, she wondered if she could actually die from lack of sleep.

What was I thinking, drinking so much?
She’d known she had a busy day ahead of her, but that didn’t stop her from gin after gin after gin. Damn Scott for not controlling her alcohol intake. And Alex.

Alex.
Flashes of cute, witty, and adorably nervous flipped through her mind, blurred by alcohol. By their dance at end of the night, she’d been so buzzed that she hadn’t fully appreciated the color of his eyes or the sturdiness of his shoulders.
He certainly made the night worthwhile
, she thought as she dragged herself to the shower.

Jenna sighed as she stepped under the hot water, bracing herself against the walls, willing her head to stop pounding. When she heard the bathroom door open, she peeked around the shower curtain.

Scott held out three pills. “Take them,” he ordered. He looked as bad as she felt.

“You’re an asshole for letting me drink so much,” she barked in her throaty morning voice.

“You were having fun, God forbid.”

Based on the intensity of her headache, Jenna was sure she was having a stroke. She gulped the pills with a mouthful of shower water, then picked up the shampoo and squeezed some into her hand. Her self-administered scalp massage made her feel a bit better.

“Are you trying to cook yourself? It’s about a hundred and fifty degrees in here,” Scott complained.

“Then get out.”

“Grumpy.”

The sound of male peeing inspired Jenna to get moving for her appointment with the realtor. She couldn’t wait to have her own apartment with her own bathroom.

“Alex was a cutie, huh?” Scott asked.

Jenna moved out of the stream of water, waiting for him to flush the toilet. “Yeah, he was nice.”

“What color would you call those eyes?”

Jenna had imprinted the image of Alex’s eyes in her head and answered right away. “Teal.”

“Teal. You’re right.”

Time to distract the gossip queen.
“What about you? What happened with the guy from across the room?”

“I told him I was involved.”

“Good—”

“—then I went to his hotel.”

“Oh,” Jenna said. “What about Dom?”

“I have a problem keeping myself away from cute boys,” Scott admitted. “I may need therapy.”

“We all do, Scotty. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You and Dom will have your happily ever after. I just know it.”

“Fairy tales don’t always happen.”

“Of course they do.” They had to. Achieving her happily ever after was what got her out of bed some mornings. “There are princes out there for us.”

“Maybe yours is teal-eyed. Save me some hot water, Princess,” he said as he shut the door behind him.

Jenna shut off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. She then dripped her way through the apartment and rummaged through the pile of her clothes on his living room floor. She dug out a pair of clean jeans and a short-sleeve, button-down shirt, applied lip gloss, and tied her hair up into a ponytail. Soon, though, she winced from the pain and released her hair, opting for a soft headband instead.

The sun peeked into the apartment, and Jenna doubted her alcohol-laden body could handle the brightness. She snagged Scott’s sunglasses off the kitchen counter and grabbed her bag. “See you later,” she yelled through the apartment. “Rehearsal at noon?”

Scott mumbled something from his bedroom as Jenna locked the apartment door behind her and headed out into the world.

After stopping for a much-needed cup of coffee, Jenna headed for the subway, en route to Brooklyn and her realtor, Linda, in an attempt to find herself a place of her own. For two hours she stumbled through apartment after apartment with no luck. Somewhere near the Brooklyn Bridge, Jenna’s cell phone rang and Scott’s face glowed at her.

“What’s up?” Jenna answered, collapsing onto a bench in the busy neighborhood. She looked toward the bridge to Manhattan’s skyscrapers in the distance, silently reciting a quick prayer in hopes that Scott was calling to cancel rehearsal.

“Pete just called. Alex wants your number. Can I give it to him?”

Jenna hesitated. They’d had a nice time at the party, but now what was she going to do with him? She thought about his shoulders and conjured up a list of a couple of things to do with him but none were very…productive. “From what I gathered last night, he’s not the prince I’m searching for,” she told Scott, rubbing her temples. “Nationals, work, blah, blah, blah.” She was too busy for casual dating.

“Well, whatever you want, Princess. I’ll only say this—nice ones don’t come around often. Especially nice ones with teal-colored eyes. You don’t have to marry the guy.”

Jenna didn’t feel like a lecture, and she knew Scott would never let this go. “Fine. Give him my number. Are we still having rehearsal later?” She crossed her fingers, hoping he’d say no.

“Yep,” he said, but added, “I have to warn you—I’m pretty useless today. Maybe we’ll just work on choreography.”

“Sounds good to me. Maybe we should skip the whole thing and work on a nap instead.”

“Jen…” Scott started.

“I’m joking. Choreography. Yes. See you then.”

She disconnected and texted Linda to return so they could continue the never-ending search for her new home…and then her phone lit up with an unknown number.

My teal-eyed prince.

***

Dylan

Dylan left the movie set, joined his agent for a dinner meeting, then drove his rental car downtown to the Books, Etc. store. The insurance company needed Clare to sign off on paperwork, and although Dylan had no intention of using her insurance to pay for his car, he took advantage of the opportunity to see her again.

He’d been thinking about Clare since she’d dropped him off after the accident, feeling sympathetic to her West Coast adjustment issues, and for some reason, responsible for her happiness. There was so much more to California than Downtown Los Angeles.

He snagged a prime parking spot and darted into the busy store, glancing around, scanning the aisles for Clare. When he couldn’t find her, he headed for least populated part of the store, which happened to be the art section.

Dylan peeked over the stacks toward customer service and spotted Clare dwarfed by the giant circular desk. She crushed an earphone into her left ear as she tucked her short, blonde hair behind her right. Her bright green eyes searched the computer screen, and her freckled nose looked pink from too much sun. Her name tag read,
‘Clare—Ask Me Anything!’

Dylan walked to the customer service line and listened to Clare assist a customer. Her fingers pounded the keyboard as the man, who appeared to be about a hundred years old, stared at her.

“Sir,” she said, “I am not pulling anything up with the title of
Henry Porter
. Are you sure that’s the right name?”

The man scratched his balding head. “
Henry Porter
. Yes.”

Clare typed again. “I’m getting an author named Harvey Porter, who wrote a book called
Zen as a Way of Living
. Could that be it?”

“Zen? Heck no! I was in the war! No, this is about some kid. I think there’s a witch in it. And a train.”

“A kid?” Clare stared at the ceiling as she tapped her fingernail on the keyboard, then her face lit up. She pointed at the man. “Do you mean
Harry Potter
?”

“Yes! Isn’t that what I’ve been saying?” the old man answered in a shaky voice. “You kids today have no focus. That’s why this country is falling to the Chinese.”

Dylan smirked into his fisted hand, and Clare finally noticed him. She smiled and held up the “one minute” hand signal.

“Oh, I must have misheard,” she said to the customer. “Let me show you where you can find that.” With a wink at Dylan, she led the man away.

Dylan leaned on the counter waiting for her to return when the inevitable happened. He felt the stare before he heard the voice.

“Oh. My. God. Maxwell Policastro?”

Dylan turned to see a lady dressed in scrubs watching him wide-eyed.
Crap.
He plastered on a fake smile and stuck out his hand. “Dylan Barnes,” he said.

“I love you! Love. You. I’m totally your biggest fan! I love
Sunrise, Sunset
. It was, like, my favorite soap until they killed you off. Will you sign my book? Ma,” she yelled, waving her arms.

Dylan took the woman’s book and grabbed a pen off the customer service desk as Scrubs explained how
Sunrise, Sunset
inspired her to be a dental assistant.

An older woman soon joined them, and Scrubs handed her a phone. “Get a picture,” she demanded. The older woman gawked at Dylan as he posed with Scrubs.

Dylan politely and quietly thanked her for being a fan, but the damage had been done. Soon, a slew of people descended.

These were the moments Dylan hated being an actor. He shook hands and posed for pictures, being as friendly as he could muster, reminding himself they were future movie-ticket purchasers. He loved fans. Really. Just not when he was trying to act normal and blend in.

As Dylan chatted with the group, he noticed Clare return to the customer service counter. He used his eyes to plead a silent “help me,” and Clare stepped forward.

“Okay, okay. Let’s let Mr. Barnes buy some books, please. He’s a paying customer just like you all. Let’s treat him with respect.”

People trickled away except an employee with a tag that read
‘
Mary.’

“Can I help you with something?” Mary asked, blatantly checking out Dylan.

“I’m here to see Clare,” he said.

Mary looked to Clare, who shrugged. “I didn’t know you had movie star friends, Clare.”

“Yes, well, Mr. Barnes and I sort of ran into each other.” Clare glanced at Dylan, and his face warmed.

Playful.
“Actually, she ran into me. Then I guess you can say we…hit it off,” he added.

Clare giggled and grabbed his hand. She dragged him through the store to her private office. “What are you doing here, Lusty?” she asked, pointing him to a chair by a cluttered desk and shutting the door behind them. “Do you cause chaos everywhere you go?”

“Pretty much these days. I needed you to sign some insurance papers.” Dylan took them out of his back pocket and unfolded them.

Clare’s hand brushed his as she grabbed the papers. She sat at her desk to flip through them, her green eyes scanning the legalese. He was relieved she didn’t react more harshly to his fans’ attention, considering he’d caused a ruckus in her workplace. She seemed generally laid-back, maybe because of her Midwestern nature.

“Did you get a new car?” Clare asked as she signed the papers.

“I will this week.” Dylan stood and walked around Clare’s messy office. Binders, printouts, and detailed-looking lists littered her desk. Boxes of books and supplies covered the floor. A photo of a fenced-in field hung on the wall behind her computer.

Clare caught him looking. “It’s my family’s farm,” she said. “Horses.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Clare smiled and handed the papers back to him. “I miss it,” she said. “Here you go.”

“You know, I was thinking,” Dylan said, folding the papers and shoving them into his pocket, “there are a lot of cool places in LA and in California in general. Maybe I can show you around sometime?”

“Don’t you have better things to do, being a model slash actor and all?”

“Not really. I try to lay low.”

“Wow, you sound as pathetic as me. Who knew that was possible?”

“Gee, thanks,” Dylan said. “Look. I remember when I was new to town, and I thought it would be a nice thing to do since I yelled at you when you smashed my brand-new luxury car, and then I used the Lord’s name in vain.”

Dylan shifted on his feet as he waited for Clare to accept his invitation. He wasn’t sure she’d say yes and suddenly felt like an idiot.

Finally, she shrugged. “Okay. Let’s be friends, Lusty.”

A friend sounded nice. He didn’t have many real friends.

“Can I still gawk at your billboard every morning?” she asked.

“Not if you are going to keep crashing your truck.”

Clare shook her head and grinned. “Good point. Maybe you can show me another route to work.”