Page 49 of Love on the Byline

“I’d have come out here to help even if he weren’t payingme.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“So is Bran.”

This back and forth between them felt familiar. He likedthat, too. Loved that they could get back here so quickly.

Blake did not look convinced, and Ollie didn’t want to push.Hopefully, she’d get to know Bran on her own. If the interview ever actuallyhappened.

It needed to happen soon. And he needed her to come to LaJolla.

“So, he called, and you came,” she said after taking a sipof her bourbon.

“Pretty much.” He sampled his own, welcoming the soft burnof the alcohol.

“Just like that?”

“Is this on the record?”

Another aborted smile. “Why me? There are a dozen otherreporters who would be better suited for something like this. Why did you wantme for it?”

“It goes back to the whole trust issue,” he said, leaningback to allow their server to place the hummus between them. The table wassmall, and he shifted, apologizing when their knees pressed together. Neitherof them moved.

“Bran trusts me?” She unfolded a napkin and laid it daintilyacross her lap.

“Well...no, but I do.” He offered her the basket of pita andtook a slice after she did.

“And he trusts you. Got it.”

“He does. Look, I know it isn’t ideal, but... I really thinkit’ll be good for everyone, in the end. Come to La Jolla-”

“La Jolla? I thought you were going after Bran finishedfilming.”

“That was the plan but...something came up.”

Her expression was completely without guile. She didn’t knowabout the photos, about the hack. He was ashamed of the relief he felt.Obviously, some small kernel of doubt had impregnated itself in hissubconscious.

He brutally snuffed it out.

“Wow, I...”

“I promised to make it easier on you. You can stay in thepool house, or one of the guest rooms. It’s a large house. Meals would be onus, of course.”

“Of course.”

Blake dragged the bread lightly through a pool of olive oilin the center of the dip and brought it to her mouth and he tried—hard—notto stare.

Tearing his gaze away from the drop of oil dotting her upperlip, Ollie dipped his bread in the hummus and put it in his suddenly dry mouth.The dip was savory, garlicky, and delicious.

They ate a while in silence, Ollie trying desperately not tonotice the way her lips moved as she chewed, or the way she fastidiously lickedthem after every bite, or—God—the way she moaned softly and let her eyes roll abit when half the plate had vanished.

“I must have been hungrier than I thought,” she said, almostsheepishly. “Sorry. You’ve barely had a bite.”

“No need to apologize. We can always order more. Tonight’son me.” It was ridiculous how happy it made him to watch her eat. What a weirdo,he thought. How would he get through a week of her sleeping down the hall oracross the patio? “You like charcuterie?”

Her eyes lit up at his question before she tried to tampdown her enthusiasm. “What’s not to like about salty meat?”

Ollie almost choked on thin air.

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