“I know what it has,” she snapped, fighting the urge to stomp her feet. Or kick his shin. “I have a salad that I’m planning to eat for dinner. So, no, I don’t want your pizza.”Or your smile, or your brown eyes, or your hugs.
He grinned. “Sure?”
Damn him. “I’m so sure.”
“Because I have enough to share,” he said. “I know you love the Mediterranean-style pizza.”
Every part of her wanted to invite him in, to enjoy the pizza she knew he’d purchased for her. But if she let him in to eat, she’d let him in for good. Because on July 23, 2005, he’d changed her life for the better, because sixteen years ago she’d met a man who had encouraged her to be herself, to take the roles she wanted, and to never settle for a part just to work. But mostly because his friendship, their connection, meant everything to her.
Paige was angry when she returned to her apartment after a particularly challenging audition. After countless hours memorizing her lines, she’d stumbled in front of the casting director. But that wasn’t the worst part. When the director asked her to take her shirt off and show him her goods, she’d stalked off the set without another word. Maybe her mother was right? Maybe she needed a better agent? Maybe she needed her mother’s help, after all?
Groaning, she took off the black slacks and silk blouse she’d worn to the studio and put on a pair of oversized sweats and a T-shirt. Tonight was about ice cream and reruns ofA Different World.
Settling in on the couch, she turned on her favorite television show and tucked her feet into the cushions. Dwayne had just begged Whitley to take him back when her doorbell rang. Tossing her blanket off, she stomped to the door. “About time,” she grumbled. The pizza delivery guy was late and she was starving.
She peeked through the peephole. A man stood outside, holding her dinner. Unlocking her door, she grinned. “Thanks!” She put a ten-dollar-bill in his hand and took the box from him. “Have a nice day.”
Before she could close the door, he blocked it with his hand.
Frowning, she said, “What? I paid with my card.”
“I’m not the deliveryman,” he told her. “I just happened to get here when he did, so I took the pizza.”
She stepped back. “Who are you?”
He held out his hand. “Andrew Weathers.”
Paige stared at his hand, then back at him. And now that she’d gotten a good look, she could say beyond the shadow of a doubt that Andrew Weathers was super fine. Brown skin, brown eyes, strong physique.
A beautiful smile spread across the man’s face when her gaze met his again. “Your mother sent me. I work for Jax Starks.”
She blinked. “Oh.” Her eyes fell to her attire. “Oh no. Um, come in.” Paige gestured him inside and hastily straightened up her throw pillows and folded her blanket. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not a problem,” he assured her.
Pulling at her shirt, she said, “Have a seat.” She remained standing, after he lowered his big body onto her small couch. “So, my mother sent you?”
“Yes, she thought I could help you. But we can talk about that after you eat your pizza.” He smirked. “Smells good.”
Paige couldn’t help but smile. “It is good. My favorite. Want a piece?”
Andrew nodded. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Paige eyed the pizza and Andrew. After every successful audition, after every hard-won fight, they’d celebrated with pizza. Always her favorite, always together. What did they have to celebrate now?
Her stomach growled.Pizza or salad?Tomatoes on a bed of lettuce or tomatoes with mozzarella and dough—and garlic butter sauce? Eat alone or have dinner with him? Sighing, she let her hunger and her heart make the decision for her.
Without another word, she walked back into the house. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she said, “Come in.”
* * *
Andrew followed Paige farther into the house. The lake house was large, but wasn’t overwhelming. Windows offered stunning views of the lake. The furniture, decorative accents, and impressive woodwork filled out the space perfectly.
The kitchen was spacious, with white cabinets and a light granite countertop. He set the pizza box on the island and slid onto one of the barstools.
Paige opened the refrigerator door. Glancing back at him, she asked, “Want something to drink?”
Andrew told her he’d be good with another bottle of water. “The house is nice.” He scanned the kitchen, noting the indoor-outdoor fireplace and the window seat near the patio door. He imagined her sitting there on cool evenings, maybe watching the sunset or daydreaming or reading a book.
