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While Preston circled back to why he was actually the right person for the role for the hundredth time, I pushed my empty martini glass across the bar and checked my phone. To my surprise, I’d missed three calls in a row from Halley.

“Hold on a second,” I said, cutting Preston off mid-stream. I got off the barstool and walked to an empty corner of the bar to call her back. I was relieved when she answered immediately, sounding fine.

“Hey, is something wrong?” I asked anyway. It wasn’t like her to call multiple times.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she said like she couldn’t fathom why I’d worry. She didn’t understand it was a habit I’d developed when I was younger than she was now, trying to raise a two-year-old on my own. “I was just calling because no one picked up Lily at the airport.”

I frowned and checked my messages. I’d missed a call from Maureen, too, and a text that told me she’d had to go to the hospital. Contractions. Another text telling me not to worry, false alarm. Fucking Preston, distracting me. “Tell her to take a cab,” I said to Halley. “The company will reimburse her.”

Across the bar, Preston was ordering another martini. The fucker. I wasn’t going to watch him marinate in gin all afternoon. I made a throat slashing motion to the bartender when his back was turned and missed what Halley was saying. Something about making Lily feel welcome.

“I’m making her feel welcome,” I countered. “With a job most new college graduates would kill for and a free place to live in one of the most expensive cities in the world.”

“Dad,” Halley huffed. “Don’t throw our privilege in her face. I told her you were glad she was coming. Making her take a cab doesn’t exactly say welcome to LA.

“Well the job and condo don’t exactly say get the fuck out,” I replied, ignoring the bit about privilege. But I already knew it was a lost cause. My daughter could harangue me like no pompous, obnoxious, arrogant, over-blown actor ever could. Besides, it was a reason to get out of this interminable lunch. I spoke over whatever indignant diatribe Halley was delivering. “I’m on my way.”

Luckily my office was only a few blocks from lunch. I went straight to the valet stand and was on the road within minutes. Not that it mattered. Rush hour traffic in LA was practically an all-day affair. It took me a while to get to the Westchester area. I used the time to make a few follow up calls. Somehow, soothing neurotic actors and telling them I was sure their audition had blown the fucking socks off whoever they were auditioning for made the drive go by relatively quickly. Before I knew it, I was standing in the terminal.

I glanced around impatiently for someone standing alone. All I saw were a few families, a student group, some couples, and what had to have been a model or an aspiring actress. A tall, sunny, gorgeous blonde in tight jeans and a short, loose shirt that didn’t hide the generous curves of her breasts. There were so many skinny, flat-chested models in LA that a woman with curves was a refreshing sight. I eyed her speculatively as I called Halley. When she picked up, I asked, “Where the hell is Lily? If she took a cab after all…”

“She said she’d be by the coffee shop.”

“Well she isn’t.”

The model/actress pushed back long, wheat-colored hair. Her short-sleeved shirt rose up, revealing a slice of flat, tan stomach. An actress, I decided. She had too much shape to be a model. An hour-glass figure, like one of the fifties starlets. Landon had told me to keep my nose clean, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t talk to a woman, did it?

Exasperated, Halley said, “Yes, she is. I just texted her. She’s wearing a gray shirt and dark jeans, she has a red suitcase, and she’s standing right underneath the sign. You can’t miss her.”

Just then, the blonde lifted her eyes from her phone to mine.

A punch of lust followed by a nasty shock went through me.

The beautiful woman was Lily.

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