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Sophia blinked. “Which part?”
“You know which part. The second thing I thought when we met yesterday was that you are gorgeous.”
“Let me guess. The first thing you thought was that I was crazy?”
“Well…”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I know it. I thought it myself while I was driving to my other job yesterday. And all day yesterday. And last night too. I never thought I’d be standing here again. I thought you’d have a restraining order out on me by now or something.”
“You weren’t that bad yesterday.”
“Come on.”
“No, seriously. I know the difference between loony fangirl and starstruck fan.” I smiled down at her. “Although it’s nice to see you’re over the second one.”
Her cheeks flushed and she shook her head. “It doesn’t feel that way to me. Honestly, this all feels like a dream. A really, really good dream, but definitely not reality.”
I couldn’t deny that I felt another zing in my chest when she said that. But I battled it back. “With words like those, I really doubt your rom-coms are as bad as you say.”
“Oh, they are. Believe me.”
Sounded to me like she was the kind of person who had a hard time accepting a compliment, but I let the comment slide. “Is it the genre then? Maybe you need to write something else.”
“I’ve always wanted to write a hidden treasure story.” She looked away and bit her lip. “I love watching those kinds of movies—Goonies,National Treasure, Indiana Jones. I love the mystery and adventure and the puzzle. And the relationship of a group of people working together—or against each other. But it’s daunting to write your own, you know? I feel like what makes them interesting is having a McGuffin based in popular lore. And I’m rambling. Sorry. I’m sure you don’t care about any of this—if you even know what a McGuffin is.”
I laughed. “I am in films, you know. I’m familiar with McGuffins—the thing that drives the movie and the motivation of the characters. Like One-Eyed Willy’s treasure or the Ark of the Covenant inRaiders of the Lost Ark. But if you thinkNational Treasurehad any basis in reality, we might need to reevaluate this little plan of ours.”
Sophia smiled. “No, but the objects in the movie were familiar to the audience—the Declaration of Independence, Benjamin Franklin’s bifocals. You see what I mean?”
“Sure, but One-Eyed Willy wasn’t real. I think you’re getting too bogged down in details. Yes, you need an interesting McGuffin, but it doesn’t have to be real. The writing and the acting are what sell it. Well, technically, you have to have an interesting story first, but from what little I know about you, I bet you have all the tools to get there.”
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Well, look at that. Maybe she could take a compliment. That or she just really wanted to talk about something—anything—else.
Although that didn’t seem to be the case as we walked along the beach, trailing Pongo, in silence.
But it felt good. For the first time in a long time, I could just be. No rushing to get to my call time or catch a plane or anxiety about what was waiting for me. I had a few minutes to just be a man walking with a pretty woman on the beach.
And it was nice.
I didn’t want to think about how long it’d been since I’d felt this comfortable with a woman. It wouldn’t be a good idea to think of Sophia in those terms. Keep it professional and leave any and all feelings out of it. Speaking of, what could I say to make her agree? I had to get her on board with my plan.
I turned to her, tugging on her hand to get her to stop. Now facing her, and yet for some reason still holding her hand, I cleared my throat. “Do you have any more questions about the agreement?”
The sparkle that had been in her eyes dimmed. “The agreement. Right.” She shook her head and muttered something I didn’t catch. “You mentioned compensation.”
“Yes, we can go over numbers, but I think—”
“No.” She tugged her hand free of my hold. This time the spark in her eyes was different from before. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at me. “I’m not going to accept money. That’s a serious line for me. I think you introducing me to whoever in the industry is compensation enough.”
I laughed incredulously. “’Whoever in the industry?’” I repeated. “Are you serious? That’s not how you negotiate. Do you have any idea what you’ll be giving up in order to do this?”
Sophia studied my face for a moment that seemed to stretch uncomfortably long. For once, I couldn’t tell from her expression what she was thinking. Finally, she shrugged and walked along. “Can anyone really know the price they’re paying in a situation like this?”
I didn’t know what to take from that cryptic statement. I trailed along after her like a lovelorn teenager. Not that I felt like that about her. Don’t get me wrong—she was hot—but this was a business deal only. And I was well known in Hollywood for not mixing business with pleasure.
Still, I smiled as I watched her take a stick from Pongo and toss it into the surf. Pongo looked from her to the floating stick then took off after it. Seconds later he brought it back, dropped it at her feet, and shook all the water off. Sophia squealed, shielding her face, and her laughter washed over me.
