countryside agreed with her. She held a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand. Her signature blonde hair was partly obscured beneath a cap that, upon closer inspection, he realized was emblazoned with the logo of a rival ball club. Even so, the sight of her made him smile. Some of his tension ebbed away, only to be replaced with a different sort of restlessness when she spotted him and waved. He pulled the car over and got out, leaning against the hood while he waited for her to reach him.
When she did he asked, “Getting in a little exercise?”
“That wasn’t my primary objective, but yes.”
He was glad to hear she didn’t feel the need to walk off last night’s carbohydrate indulgence. The woman who just the day before had been racked with guilt over a couple of cannoli was making progress.
“Are you heading back?” he asked.
She glanced at her wristwatch. “Not quite yet. My landlady, Franca, is there. She insists on changing the sheets every day, though I’ve told her I’m not that picky. I left because I didn’t want to be underfoot.”
“Interested in some company?”
She fussed with the ponytail that spilled out the back of the hat. “I wouldn’t mind it.”
Initially, Atlanta had gone for a walk to clear her head. The day was perfect for it, so sunny and warm. But how was a woman supposed to keep her head clear when the man responsible for clouding it up was now asking to join her?
She could tell him no. She’d turned Angelo down more than once, and for things more consequential than a stroll down a country road. Despite the bruises he claimed his ego had endured, it hadn’t stopped him from coming back or from being a friend, even if it was clear he had more than friendship on his mind.
Still, the friendship was an unexpected gift. She’d never had a male friend before. For that matter, with the exception of Sara, Atlanta had precious few female ones. Hollywood wasn’t the sort of town where one could cultivate deep bonds of any sort easily. Too many people had an agenda or an angle to work. Very little was ever as it seemed on the surface, a fact Atlanta knew all too well.
“I want to thank you,” she said.
His brows shot up. “For what?”
“For being a friend.”
He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “That’s just what a guy wants to hear.”
“Sorry, it’s just that I don’t have many friends and I really need one right now.”
“I know.” His tone was serious when he said, “Same goes for me.”
“Oh.” She smiled, pleased.
“Just to be clear, though. I still want to sleep with you.”
She stopped walking and faced him. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Hide behind macho come-on lines.”
She expected him to deny it. Instead, he replied, “For the same reason that you fall back on your plastic Hollywood smile.”
She sobered.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I can tell the difference between a real Atlanta Jackson smile and the ones you manufacture for the masses.”
“Touché.” She plucked at the petals of one of the flowers in her bouquet.
“How about we make a deal?”
“I’m listening.”
“How about if we’re real with one another?”
“Flaws and all?” she wanted to know.
“Why not? What’s to lose? The way I see it, everyone thinks they’ve got us figured out based on all of the media hype. We both know they’re wrong.”
“So, you’re not an arrogant athlete with more testosterone than intelligence?”
“No more than you are a self-absorbed starlet who uses and discards men by the dozen.” At her startled expression, he said, “That was the quote I read on an Internet site the other day.”
Her eyelids flickered. “God, we’re a pair.”
“Only if you believe the tabloids,” he said. “So, deal?”
“Deal.”
They started walking again. A few minutes later, Angelo bent to pick a flower similar to the ones in her bouquet. He handed it to her.
“Thanks.”
“They’re pretty.”
“I thought so. I’m going to look them up online later, find out what they are.”
“Is that how you’re filling your time these days, trolling the Internet?”
“Yes, and, before you say anything, I’m loving it. I haven’t had a real vacation, and by real I mean a do-nothing sort of vacation, in years. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had one,” she said wryly.
All of her downtime away from a movie set was spent promoting a project, a product or herself. That was Zeke’s idea. Two birds with one stone and all that. Even the supposedly romantic getaways the pair of them had taken over the years had included jaunts to public places where the paparazzi were sure to spot them. Indeed, Atlanta sometimes wondered if Zeke wasn’t responsible for some of the anonymous tips to the tabloids that had divulged their locations and left her ducking for cover.
“Neither have I, and for good reason,” Angelo was saying. “Two days with little to do and I’m going stir crazy.”
“How can you be bored here?” She spread her arms wide.
“I’m not bored, I just feel…trapped.”
She turned, not sure she’d heard him correctly. His frown told her that she had.
“I know about feeling trapped,” she said quietly.
He was still frowning, but something in his expression had changed, softened in a way she couldn’t quite define. “I think you do.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“A friend to a friend?”
“That’s right.”
Though the way he was looking at her suggested more than friendly feelings.
“Then, yes.” His gaze grew intense as he studied her. Would he bare his soul and divulge some of his secrets? Would he kiss her? He did neither. Instead, he snatched the ball cap off her head. “You can set a match to this. God! The team manages to win one stinking World Series and suddenly everyone becomes a fan.”
She knew it was his intent to lighten the situation, so she allowed her laughter
