“I always thought ‘Bless your heart’ was Southern for…” Lucia winced.
“Eff you very much?” Blair supplied. “It can be. But in this case, I meant it sincerely.”
“I always wondered if your Southern accent was put on. Well, not put on, but you know, exaggerated.”
“It comes out big-time when I’m feeling strongly about something, and I’m feeling strongly aboutIn Time.”
“I know,” Lucia said. “I’m lucky to have worked on it.”
Blair didn’t miss Tiff’s tiny eye roll. Tiff didn’t do shmoopy, which was why she made such an excellent COO. But Blair meant what she’d said.In Timehad gutted her, in the best way.
And, more pragmatically, she needed to get a project off the ground. Her last one was… stalled. Dead? No, stalled. She had to believe that. In the meantime, she needed a win.In Timewas goingto be that. She texted Reggie to ask if they had champagne hiding among all the hipster beer he kept stocked in the property’s various refrigerators.
“Here’s Jack,” Lucia said. “You ready for me to let him on the call?”
“Yes.” Blair wassoready.
Ahh! He was so handsome. But also adorable as he fumbled with his camera and his microphone. He had sandy-blond hair that flopped to one side. He kept pushing it out of his eyes with one hand as he futzed with his settings. He wore a watch on that wrist—not a smartwatch but an old-school watch with a brown leather band. His faded gray T-shirt featured the wordsPurple Rainand what she was pretty sure was a picture of Prince that had gone through the wash a few too many times.
She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to be thankful for her divorce in progress. Reggie’s beer was here, but Reggie was almost gone. Or, more accurately, Blair was almost gone. Soon she would live in a house with only one refrigerator, and she could hardly wait. She was free to—secretly, covertly—ogle whomever she wanted.
This next phase of life was going to be Blair’s solo era. She’d done her years in the relationship trenches. Men, going forward, were going to be there for a good time, not a long time. And another rule: no good times with anyone she was working with. Which disqualified Jack Branksome.
Still, she had eyes. Could you blame a girl who had eyes for looking? She had to amend her earlier thought: the biggest perk of her job was working with literary geniuses who also happened to be smoking hot.
“Hi,” Jack said flatly once he’d sorted out his tech.
“Jack,” Lucia said, “I know I’ve been a bit cryptic about the purpose of this meeting.”
“Have you?” Jack said with a total lack of inflection.
“Let me get right to it. This is Tiffany Murphy, the chief operating officer of Moonpics, which you probably know is a film and TV development company, and this…” She trailed off, and Blair could hear the imaginary drumroll. She would have blushed, if she were the kind of person who blushed. The Blair of twenty years ago would have blushed, which was why it was good to be thirty-eight and not eighteen, even with the smile-line trade-offs. “Thisis Blair Kellermoon.”
Jack lifted a hand in a half wave/half salute and said, “Nice to meet you, Blair Kellermoon,” in a tone that suggested that it was not, in fact, nice to meet her.
“I assume you can guess why Blair Kellermoon is calling you?” Lucia prompted.
“You know what they say about assumptions,” Jack said.
Was he talking about thatWhen you assume, you make an ass out of you and mesaying? Rude!
Did Blair need to recalibrate her impression of Jack Branksome? She could do that. Lucia had said he was prickly. It probably figured that someone so unfairly good-looking and preternaturally talented would be a bit of an egomaniac. Fine. She knew how to deal with self-impressed men. She did it all day long.
“Blair Kellermoon does Books with Blair, you know?” Lucia prompted.
“Idon’tknow. Is that some kind of… TV thing?”
Some kind of TV thing?There, suddenly, was some inflection. A hint of derision, if Blair wasn’t mistaken.
“I don’t have a TV,” he said, back to the maddeningly mild tone.
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
Tiffany swooped in. “Blair is a Golden Globe–nominated actress and producer who runs a quarterly book club. She’d like to inviteyou to Books with Blair, specifically forIn Timeto be her spring pick next year. You would do an interview with her onThis Morningand some follow-up on Instagram, perhaps a Live with readers.”
“This Morning?” Jack asked.
“You know, the national live morning show?” Tiffany said. “Watched by upwards of two million people?”
