Page 3 of Hot Shot

I stare at him.

Unconcerned, he clicks to bring up a new window. “I like this one where we get pictures of Beck and Hayden, cut them in half, and give everyone half a picture when they arrive. Then they have to mingle and talk to people to find the other half.”

I bite my lip. That actually sounds really fun.

“It’s better than bingo,” he adds dryly.

“I’ll give you that, Mr. Romance.”

“But I also like the newlywed game. Or in this case, almost wed. We can ask them questions about their sexual proclivities to see how well they know each other.”

I gawk at him. Who is this man? Is he appealing to my fun-loving side, hoping to get me on board by teasing me with embarrassing party games? I press my lips together. I can’t quite stop the smile, though, and it breaks free. “I kind of like that.”

“See? We’re having fun doing something nice for our friends. It’s not so bad.’

I narrow my eyes at him, but my smile lingers.

“Like, one of the questions could be how long after they met did they have, ahem, intimate relations.”

I choke. “We can’t ask that! It was, like, five minutes.”

Marco gives me an evil grin. “Heh. I know. Okay, we’ll just ask about sexual positions. Or their kinkiest fetish.”

A laugh escapes my lips and I clap a hand over my mouth. Damn. “How about this one . . .” I point at the screen. “If your first kiss could be described as a candy, what would it be: Starburst, Milky Way, Snickers, Zero, or Goobers?”

Marco laughs, and the sound is deep and smooth. It makes heat curl low in my belly. I haven’t heard Marco laugh very often. “Goobers. Christ, I hope not, for Hayden’s sake.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d answer Starburst.”

Our eyes meet, both of us smiling. And damn if I don’t feel a tiny little starburst in my chest. Whoa, whoa.

I quickly look back at the computer. “Okay, okay, a couple of games could be fun. Cheesy, but fun.”

What am I getting into? Planning a party with Marco means we’ll have to talk to each other. Possibly see each other. No, wait. I reach for my purse. “Give me your cellphone number so we can text each other about the party.” That way we won’t have to talk or see each other.

“My pleasure, belleza.” He rattles off the number and I enter it into my phone, then send him a text.

“There. Now you have mine too. So no more reasons for dragging me out of bed on a Saturday morning.”

“I’d never drag you out of bed on a Saturday morning.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “I’d rather keep youinbed.”

Heat rushes up into my face and I hop off the stool. “And you saying things like that is why we’re going to be texting each other.”

I stride out of the bar, my heart thudding. Why does he say things like that? He’s been making comments like that since the first time we met. It irks me no end that he clearly thinks I’m a piece of meat to be ogled and drooled over just because I use my face and body in my career.

I step out into fresh morning air and glance at my watch. I have a job this afternoon, a location shoot at Oceanside Pier for a local casual clothing shop. Much as I complained about getting dragged out of bed early on a Saturday, I need to get ready for that.

I stroll to where I’d parked my car, inhaling the briny ocean scent, turning my face to the sun. Another gorgeous day in Southern California. Perfect day to lower the top on my Mustang convertible and enjoy the wind in my hair. I’ll have to wash it before I leave for the shoot anyway.

On the short drive back to my place on Taos Drive I try to let the summer breeze blow away my irritation at Marco.

I’m really not sure why he bugs me so much. I’m used to being treated like an object. But that’s starting to get to me, too.

Hell. I gust out a sigh. Marco’s not the only one grouchy lately. My job, my best friend’s preoccupation with her new fiancé, and his friends are all annoying me. Not to mention my family. Jeez, they’re stressing me out lately, too. My mom, who’s having a hard time adapting to retirement and making me crazy. My oldest sibling, Lauren, who recently shocked the family with the news that she and her husband of sixteen years were splitting up. Lauren’s fourteen-year-old daughter who’s now acting out. And Grandma Garner, who created a stir in the assisted-living facility for having an overnight guest in her apartment. Male guest.

I love my family, but what happened to the days whenIwas the oddball nobody else understood? They’ve always been the perfect overachievers who made me feel invisible.

Feeling invisible might be the worst feeling in the world. And it’s ironic, considering I earn my living being extremely visible. But that’s not me. That’s just the external me, the makeup and hair and clothes I display for the world to see. The real me is inside. The real me is the one people don’t see.

---