Page 54 of Love Is…?

Journalists are dogs with bones as well as piranhas with clues.

Jayde could see the cogs turning in all four minds.

“Hmm, there’s quite a few people in the life of your profile subject,” Dylan began. “There’s Samantha, and Grace, and that personal assistant guy they have. Tom? Yes, Tom.”

Julian jumped in. “Then there’s Abigail’s agent, Isabelle, but I can’t see any education coming from that direction. From what I’ve read on the celebrity sites, she’d toss you out of the classroom window if you messed up your own name.”

Jayde cracked up, remembering her first meeting with Isabelle. Julian’s description was apt. She stared at Dylan, whose gaze was laser-like.

He hummed into his beard. “There’s probably a security guy, which sounds sexist but I bet it’s a guy and you’re very, very not into guys and wouldn’t listen to a word he’d say in any setting, educational or otherwise. I know there’s a driver. Has to be. Abigail doesn’t drive.”

Jayde wrinkled her brow. “How the hell do you know that?”

Dylan tapped his chest. “Editor’s superpower. I know things.”

Hayley rolled her eyes. “Pat Hellior wrote a listicle of weird celebrity facts,” she revealed and Dylan huffed.

“Fine. I was going for all-seeing all-knowing demi-god editor. Way to blow it up, Hayles.”

There was a laugh, then a pause, then Luce inhaled sharply.

“Oh! Who’s the new person that the celeb-goss sites catch every now and then? The nanny.” She flapped her hand as if trying to remember the name.

Jayde worked hard at keeping the smile from her face. “Tessa. She’s a chaperone, not a nanny.”

Apparently she was appalling at keeping smiles off her face, because Luce pounced.

“So, Ms I Don’t Believe In Love, is Tessa the one helping youlearn?” She put her glass on the table and air quoted the final word.

“She’s…she and I have decided to teach each other, in a purely educational, objective, pretend manner, the oppositional aspects of love and romance versus picking up.”

Luce rolled her lips in. “Uh huh. How’s that going?”

Everyone resumed their thoroughly-invested-in-the-conversation positions.

“Uh…okay?”

Dylan folded his arms. “So you’re teaching her to unleash her beast.”

Dylan’s statement produced gales of laughter. Then Luce leaned into Jayde’s shoulder.

“Is she passing?”

Like a high-speed PowerPoint presentation—all the touches, and the eye contact, and the quick wit, and the innuendo, and the flirting and the casual chats that lasted all of five minutes but said so much and that kiss—that kiss—flipped through her mind.

Jayde felt her cheeks warm. “Yeah.”

Julian grinned. “Excellent.”

Luce pushed farther into Jayde’s shoulder. “Areyoupassing?”

“Um…” Jayde swallowed and Luce grinned.

“Is it too soon to order lemon meringue pie?”

The next four days,including the weekend, consisted mainly of work, face-to-face meetings, and online interviews, which blurred together so cohesively that the highlights couldn’t manage to be attention-seeking disco balls. Jayde had decided quite late on Saturday night to head into the CBD to have a drink atQueerBeerssimply for something to do. She needed to clear her head, and apparently the claustrophobic space created by dozens and dozens of people in a small pub was just the place to gain clarity.

Jayde had sat at the bar, drunk a beer, and stared at gorgeous women. All things she could have done by staying home, flicking through Netflix and drinking the beer in her fridge.

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