Page 83 of Play Dirty

“What’s new?” he asks me. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been really good,” I say, and realize I’m telling the truth.

I’m still battling some demons but for the most part, I’m getting past it all.

“The video comes out in a few weeks. If you’d like to go to the premiere with me, we’re doing a party in L.A.”

I hesitate.

I like him but I have a boyfriend. I hope I didn’t give him the wrong idea by agreeing to join him for dinner.

“I have a boyfriend, ’Cuda.”

He nods. “You still dating that hockey player?”

I smile. “Marty. Yes. We’re trying out the living together thing.”

His dark eyes narrow slightly. “Make sure he’s good to you, Stevie. You been through a lot—don’t let anyone disrespect you.”

I hadn’t realized he knew anything about my past, and I’m startled for a moment, but he just smiles.

“You’re a good girl. You deserve the best. I’ve seen what that punk you were engaged to did. I’m just sayin’, you ever need help—anything at all—you call me. I live here in New York, but I can be in L.A. in six or seven hours.”

“You read about…what happened to me?”

“I almost always find out what I need to know about anyone I work with. And everyone I consider a friend.”

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

I never had friends like this before, and though this particular friendship is unexpected, I’m grateful for it, nonetheless.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I appreciate that.”

Impulsively, I lean over and hug him.

He hugs me back, and it’s one of those hugs that makes you feel good. Almost as good as Marty, but without the romantic undertones.

Which is nice.

Most guys don’t even try to pretend they don’t want to get in my pants.

“You’re a good soul, Stevie. I feel it. And good souls need to stick together.”

“That we do.” I smile.

“Now. Tell me about Marcie.”

I laugh. “She’s single but travels a lot. She’s a fashion photographer. She’s shooting me tomorrow for a new magazine. I’m going to be on their premiere cover.”

“That’s exciting. Marty didn’t come with you?”

“I have two long days in a row—we’d barely see each other and he’s getting ready for hockey season. Training camp starts in two weeks.”

“You think he’s the one?”

I grimace. “It’s too soon to know for sure, but Iamsure he’s special. Whether or not it has forever painted on it, we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Smart girl.” He grins and then motions to the waiter. “Bottle of Dom Perignon. We’re celebrating new friends and bright futures.”

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