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As if she hadn’t heard him, Ali stayed rooted to her chair. Then she blinked, coming out of her stupor. She stood and came over to me. “Can I talk to you in my dressing room?” she asked under her breath.
Aw, hell.Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her the question about the date. I’d wanted to know and had taken advantage of the situation. Then she’d described the date I’d already taken her on. Before I could make sense of that, the director had put a stop to the interview, and now, I was following her to her dressing room, feeling like a child who was about to be scolded. At the time, I hadn’t thought the question was that personal, but the way her eyes had darkened had made it very clear that it was.
After she closed the door behind us, I sighed. “Ali, I’m sorry. I put you on the spot and—”
She put a hand on my chest and eyed me with a fierce expression. “Were you telling the truth? Just then?”
“Of course. Why would I lie?”
She shrugged. “For entertainment value. This is a television show. I just needed to be sure.” She fisted her hands in my shirt and went up on her toes to press her lips to mine. She pulled away too soon. “Are we doing this?”
She’d literally run from my bed the first time we’d slept together, so I’d played it cool the second time around, petrified she would be skittish again. It appeared that my fears were unfounded. A low grin stretched across my face. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“If you were telling the truth.”
She snorted. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m a bad liar and an even worse actress?”
“Thank God for that.” I’d had enough fakeness in my life—I was ready for the real deal.
