Page 68 of Heated Rivalry 1
“Oh. Well, you keep it then.”
The man shook his head, smiling. “It’s an honor.”
Shane smiled back and stuck out his hand. “Shane,” he said. “Please.”
“Maxime,” the man said, shaking his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Maxime. Are you having a good night?”
“This crowd? Are you kidding? Rose Landry is here, man!”
“Seriously?” Shane asked. He looked over his shoulder, almost involuntarily, searching the crowd for the famous actress. He quickly turned back to Maxime when he realized what he was doing.
Maxime was grinning. Shane shrugged and grinned back. He’d love to catch a glimpse of Rose Landry, but he was sort of enjoying looking at Maxime. He decided to put some space between them before that fact became obvious.
He spent the night mingling, letting J.J. pull him around the room. He stood in small circles of people and laughed at their jokes; he didn’t make many of his own. He avoided the bar and eventually found an empty table in one corner. He was ready to leave, but he just wanted to sit for a moment.
“Please tell me you’re hungry,” a woman’s voice said. Shane looked up and saw a slim woman with dark, glossy hair and a very expensive-looking top draped over equally expensive-looking jeans.
Rose Landry.
“The chef just handed me these fritters and they look delicious, but I can’t possibly eat them all,” she said, sliding into the booth next to Shane. She set a plate on the table that was piled high with Haitian salt cod fritters. She smiled at him, took one, and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes went wide with surprise.
“Oh mygod! These are so good! You have to eat some.” She belatedly raised her hand to cover her mouth as she spoke. Then she laughed at herself.
“Sorry,” she said, after she swallowed. “I’m a pig. I’m Rose, by the way,” she said, holding out her perfectly manicured hand.
Shane smiled and shook it. “Shane,” he said. “Nice to meet you. I’m a fan.”
“Well,” she said, leaning in a bit, “would you be surprised to know I’m a big fan ofyours?”
“You like hockey?” Shane asked.
“I was born and raised in Michigan,” she said. “Damn right I like hockey!”
“Oh! Well...thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Eat a fritter, Shane Hollander.”
Shane lost track of time as they sat in the booth and talked over (delicious) cod fritters. Rose was easy to talk to. Surprisingly so. They bonded over descriptions of the lakeside cottages where they had each spent childhood summers. She had an older brother who had played hockey in college, and then he became an engineer. Her parents, like Shane’s, worked in government.
“Have you been to Montreal before?” Shane asked.
“Once. I was shooting a role in a super terrible FBI versus terrorist whatever movie. I can’t even remember what it was called.”
“Under Dark.”
“Oh my god. Shut up. Yousawit?”
Shane shrugged, and grinned. It really had been terrible. “I fly a lot. Watch a lot of movies.”
“Thankfully it was only a small role. But I was only in Montreal for a week that time. And it was summer.”
“It’s a little different here in the winter.”
She leaned it and said, in a hushed tone that was playfully conspiratorial, “Michigan, remember? Winter can’t scare me.”
Something fluttery happened in his stomach. He felt his cheeks heat a bit, and then he asked, as smoothly as possible, “So, you gonna be in town for a while this time?”
