Page 3 of Please, Stay

“We can ride up and then down again. I do have somewhere to go, but I’d hate for you to have gone through so much trouble.” He motioned to her shirt. “For me.”

Even if it were out of sympathy, she’d take it. Juliana stumbled back inside, scrambling for her pad and pen. She swallowed before she drooled on her pad. At some point, she’d remember that a real journalist would own a tape recorder. “Did you see any of yourself in this character?”

He resumed his casual stance against the wall, but he watched her a little differently now. Her heart thumped in her ears. She scribbled down his answer, barely understanding what she wrote. Another thing she’d have to tell Becky. He didn’t reserve those sultry looks for Hollywood. He could switch them on without any effort since he currently shot a sexy look her way. She’d almost believe that he was attracted to her. Not in this lifetime.

“My turn. You have a cute accent. Where are you from?”

“Statem.” She waved her hand in the general direction of south. “A small town way south of here, close to Florida. But, I’m ‘fraid you’re mistaken. I don’t have an accent. You do.”

“I have an accent?” He laughed. The sound turned her insides into complete jelly. “I feel like I’ve heard of Statem, Georgia.”

“Not possible.”

“Is it quiet there?”

“Beyond quiet. It’s like Mayberry meets Smallville with half the population.”

“Is the town big into celebrating Christmas?”

“The Griswolds could take lessons with the number of lights used on our town’s Christmas Tree. And, Ms. Latham at the Crossroads Coffee Shop, thinks it’s her mission in life to use every single decoration she’s accumulated since the 70s all in one small space.” Juliana could go on about Statem all day, but she held up her pad and wagged her pen in his direction. “My turn.”

As the elevator passed the thirtieth floor, she focused on her interview and fired off three more questions before they reached the Penthouse floor again. This time, when the doors opened, the English guard dog waited.

Juliana winced when the woman arched that eyebrow. This wasn’t good.

“Is she harassing you, Mr. Moore? I specifically told her she missed her opportunity. If you give in to one member of the press, they’ll all be hounding you. I’ll call security.” She pulled out her cell phone.

Juliana’s mouth dropped open, hanging there, catching flies, but she couldn’t close it. The woman’s meanness overwhelmed her. Grayson’s relaxed smile faded.

“There’s no reason for that. I was asking her about cupcakes and her hometown.”

The guard dog tipped her nose in the air. “Cupcakes? You know perfectly well that you’re in training for your next film. Cupcakes are out of the question. I’m not sure why you even ate that sandwich today. Carbs are out of the question as well.”

“Cynthia,” Grayson said with an edge of anger that made Juliana step backward until her hip bumped the wall. “Are you my manager?”

Cynthia smiled, a little forced. “What an odd question. I have been for the past two years.”

“Not anymore.”

Juliana blinked a few times before realizing that Cynthia stared right at her. What did she say? Sorry, but you walked right into that one?

The elevator doors closed, and when it arrived at Ground level, the three of them still stood in complete silence. Cynthia stormed out ahead of them and out the lobby door.

As if nothing happened, Grayson slipped on his sunglasses and tapped on his phone as he strolled toward the exit.

Should she leave? Juliana stayed a little behind him. He slowed down until she couldn’t help but catch up to him. Like he wanted her to walk beside him.

Play it cool.

“Juliana, you just got Cynthia fired.”

Her mouth fell open even further than before if that was possible. “What? No, I didn’t mean—”

Grayson chuckled, setting a warm hand on her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. Really. Trevor never liked her, either.”

“Who is Trevor?”

“My agent and best friend. I should have taken his advice back when I hired Cynthia, but the studio thought I needed someone to keep tabs on me.”

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