and firmly on the wagon.”
She managed a smile, wondering if it was true. If it came down to it, would she do the same thing all over again?
“Seriously,” he continued, “there’s no crime in wanting to focus on your career.”
“I know. But I’m sure he thinks I left him for Tyrell, not for Tyrell’s job offer.” She sighed. “Besides, fat lot of good it did me. I came out here expecting to return to L.A. in triumph, and look at me. I’m going back now with less in my checking account than when I was fresh out of school.”
“I don’t think Ken’s going to care about your checkbook.”
“Except to feel some smug satisfaction that I blew it.”
Greg’s smile was patient. Clearly he knew she was in one of her moods. “The way you’ve described him, I don’t think he’s the holier-than-thou type.”
She wasn’t ready to concede. “Maybe not five years ago, but he’s Mr. Big Shot now.”
“And a damn good-looking Mr. Big Shot, too,” Greg said.
“He’s not your type.” She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“Too bad.”
“Do you know I went to the opening of Oxygen? That was the night he was going to ask me to marry him. Of course, I found that out later, after I told him I was moving back to New York. Not a very happy memory, and now I’m supposed to go back and ask to film there? Do you have any idea how many old wounds this is going to open?”
“So don’t take the job.”
“Ha, ha.” Taking a fortifying breath, she latched her suitcase and tugged it off the bed. “Wish me luck. I’m off to beg a favor from my ex-boyfriend.”
“Good luck.”
She paused in the doorway. “Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
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