Page 5 of Show Off

“What’s wrong?”

It takes me a sec to see he’s talking to me. I swallow hard, glancing around. Thank God we’re alone, no cameras rolling. Patting my hair, I try to play cool.

“I, um—was just passing by.” Kill me now. “I needed to talk to you, but it can wait.”

He folds both arms over his bare chest. “Talk.”

Really?

Okay, we’re pretending I didn’t hear what I heard. Or maybe he thinks I just got here?

Pretending’s not hard, and it’s kinda my job, so I paste on a smile. “Actually, I should run. We’ll chat another time.”Maybe when you’re not naked in a garden. “How about I catch you at the restaurant before the dinner rush?”

“Now’s fine.” He’s not smiling, not blushing, though he did just glance down with a funny half smile.

Oh, God. She’s right there, isn’t she?

“Talk,” he commands again, and my idiot mouth obeys.

“Uh, so, the season finale.” I can’t believe I’m doing this. Does Dal even know my name? “Viewers loved it, and we’d like your storyline to be a big part of the new season.”

A silent glower is his only response, so I keep going. “We want to share your softer side and—” My voice cracks as I take in his tawny pecs. I’m not sure thereisa soft side to Dal. “Anyway, I’d like to haveEntertainment Weeklydo a feature on the gardens.”

I can’t look at Dal. Can’t stop imagining what he’s doing here. Drawing a breath, I jerk my gaze to the tomato plants, their plump fruit glistening. There’s corn next to that, and a blueberry bush to Dal’s left. I look anywhere but at him, though my gaze drifts back to those peek-a-boo spots between leaves.

“Oh.”

That’s reddish-blonde hair right at Dal’s crotch level and,Jesus save me, I’m discussing business with a guy getting a BJ.

I’m dimly aware it’s not the first time—Hollywood moguls are assholes, and Zoom calls make everything obvious, but this is Dal Yang we’re talking about. Deep down, the man’s a damn teddy bear. One with manners and grace and abs that look like?—

“Stop.” I’m talking tome, but Dal frowns.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.” I clear my throat. “I meant you don’t have to answer now. About theEntertainment Weeklypiece? Take some time, think about it.”Maybe when you’re wearing pants. “I’ll check back later.”

“I’ll be busy later.” Dal cocks his head with a curious look. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yep! Peachy keen.” I square my shoulders, determined to be professional. I’ve covered up movie stars’ jail stints. Put positive spins on actors’ divorces. Even at Juniper Ridge, I’ve kicked ass controlling the press. Throw me a story and I’ll steer it. It’s a gift. Ajob.

And if Dal Yang needs to pretend I’m not interrupting sexytimes, so help me God, I’m up to the task.

“Right, so.” I clear my throat. What were we talking about? “Entertainment Weekly.I’m reaching out to them about featuring the gardens.”

“Okay.”

He’s frowning now, arms at his sides. Through thick stalks of corn, I see movement. A roll of his abs, Dal’s fingers threading through silky hair. The woman moves and it’s just too much.

“Oh—I just remembered! I have a meeting.” I take two steps back, turning to sprint for my cabin. Not sprint,walk. Like a calm, rational person, playing my role, pretending I see nothing, I hear nothing, I?—

“Gah!” A stupid rock trips me—same fucking rock from before—and down I go, ass over teakettle, tumbling to the dirt as I scramble for purchase.

I’m down on my knees as footsteps thump the dirt behind me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I flail one hand behind me. “Dal, stop! Zip up your pants, put on your shirt, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

The footsteps stop. I keep my eyes pinched shut; his chance to escape. If I don’t see, it didn’t happen.

“Jesus.” His voice rumbles low, so sinfully hot even now. “Lana?”

---