Page 10 of Heart Set on You

“It is. The camera was my mother’s. She took it with her everywhere she went. I guess I’m sort of following in her footsteps.” Photography is a hobby that I took to not long after I lost her. I thought if I took pictures with her camera, I would feel closer to her. I think it’s helped.

He picks up the Canon, taking a closer look. “What do you take photos of?”

The room suddenly felt too small. Miles looks so handsome standing there, wanting to know more about something that interests me. I’m not sure why he cares, but it feels like he actually does. I swallow hard, trying not to get caught up in it all. Trying not to lose my cool.

“Anything really. Landscapes, architecture, portraits. I find inspiration in the simplest things. You’d think I’d run out of things to capture but it never seems to happen.”

“I’d love to see some of your work one day,” he says.

His genuine interest leaves me flustered. Why in the world would he ever want to look at my photography? I’m not sure how to answer him, so instead I stand there like a dummy, my clothes soaked through and my hair still dripping, mascara probably smeared under my eyes. I fiddle with a necklace I’m wearing, suddenly incapable of speech. I’m sure I’m making a really great impression on him.

He must notice the silence that’s fallen over the room, because he sets down the camera and turns to face me. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

“A little,” I answer without thinking. Then it dawns on me. Wait. Why is he asking me if I’m hungry?

“How about sushi? There’s a great place not far from here with small rooms that offer privacy,” he stumbles. “From fans and the paparazzi, I mean, not…” He lets the sentence trail away, suddenly flustered. It’s the first time I’ve seen a crack in his calm, cool demeanor. It’s cute, and it makes me cringe a little less about my own nervous fumbling.

“Are you asking me to go with you?” I say, feeling a bit bolder now.

“I’m asking you on a date,” he says flirtatiously, once again all charm. “What do you think? Game?”

I’ve never felt anything like this before. There’s a flicker in my chest, a warm, tingly sensation covering my skin. I try to shake it off. Clearly, going on a date with a man like Miles would be a mistake – one I know better than to make. For him, dating a girl like me would be a fun distraction. For me? Falling for Miles Bennett would shatter me into pieces.

I open my mouth, resolved to give him the safe answer, the one I know that I should. But when he absentmindedly runs his hand through his hair, I lose my resolve.

“Okay, game.”

Before I have a chance to change my mind, I grab some dry clothes from the closet and quickly slip into the bathroom to change. I pull my still-wet hair into a bun at the nape of my neck, apply a fresh coat of lip gloss and then return to the room, where Miles is waiting for me.

With a fluttery feeling in my chest that I can feel right down to my toes, I walk out of my hotel room for a lunch date with Miles Bennett.

* * *

I’m sitting in a little room across from Miles in a tucked away Japanese restaurant. We’re hidden from other diners behind walled panels, sitting on top of floral-printed pillows on wooden benches. With his baseball cap pulled low, I doubt either the hostess or our server has a clue who just walked into their restaurant, and the other diners didn’t seem to notice Miles as we slipped by.

“Is it always this easy for you to be out in public?” For some reason I thought Miles would be mobbed every time he stepped foot out of his house.

“A hat and sunglasses usually do the trick,” he says looking at me over his menu. I thought being alone with Miles would make me feel awkward. Instead, it’s comfortable and easy. “Unless the media has been tipped off, I can usually blend into a crowd.”

“It’s not what I would have expected. I just assumed you wouldn’t be able to leave your house without being mobbed everywhere you went.”

“It seems that way when you see photos of celebrities in magazines or on TV entertainment shows but typically an agent has tipped off the photographers for publicity. I guess it’s the name of the game in show business.”

Miles flips his hat so it’s backwards on his head and my pulse races. I had no idea a backwards hat could spark a physical response in me, but apparently it’s my thing.

Luckily our server arrives at our table to take our orders, so I have something other than Miles to concentrate on. When it’s my turn, I can feel Miles looking at me. The waitress takes my order, collects the menu and leaves. When I turn my attention to Miles, he’s grinning.

“What?” I blurt, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have a bug in my hair? Food in my teeth?”

“No, not at all,” he laughs. “The opposite, actually.” He pauses, clearing his throat, looking down at the table then back up at me. “You’re beautiful, Rylee.”

You’re beautiful, Rylee.

He can’t really mean that. I need to remind myself not to fall for his charm. He’s used to gorgeous blondes with size zero bodies, perfect boobs and oversized, injected lips. This man is just the world’s biggest flirt and I happen to be in his vicinity. I shift my gaze away from him and remind myself that a man like Miles will always end up with a girl like Violet. That’s who he really wants. But just the thought of Miles Bennett and Violet Michelson together gets me annoyed. I try to shrug it off.

I know I should thank him for the compliment, that would be the polite thing to do, but I can’t quite get the words out.

“You’re making me blush, Miles,” I say honestly. “I’m not great at accepting compliments.”

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