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jeans. “Everyone can smile, Mr. Noble.”

      “Adam.”

      Oh, yeah. He’d told her to call him by his first name. She stared at the shoes scattered in her car. She needed to get busy.

      “You didn’t smile at Chas’s place,” Adam said.

      She put a pair of black ankle boots into a large shoebox. “I was working.”

      “You’re working now.”

      “Trying to work,” she mumbled.

      Her cell phone beeped. Rob. Anticipation at his quick response to her last text surged—the way it did on the day her copy of Vogue arrived in the mail. Maybe absence was making his heart grow fonder. Megan fought the urge to whip out her phone, but that would be rude with Adam here. She didn’t want to get in trouble for texting when she should be delivering the shoes. Not that Adam would tattle. Or maybe he would …

      Not worth the risk. She matched another pair of shoes.

      “I know why you’re smiling.”

      Adam’s playful tone drew her attention away from the shoes and on to him. “Why?”

      His green eyes twinkled with mischief. “I saw you with your phone. Your boyfriend is texting you.”

      In her dreams.

      Okay, Rob was a boy. He was also her friend. But he wasn’t her boyfriend. Not yet, anyway. Sometimes—a lot of times lately—he frustrated her. But she hoped once he realized how good they would be as a couple everything would fall into place.

      Still, who she exchanged texts with was no one’s business, especially Adam’s. “I’m sorry, but I need to get these shoes sorted and inside before the fittings begin.”

      “You’re discreet.”

      His charming smile sent her pulse skittering. She chalked up the reaction to tiredness.

      “I like that,” he added.

      His compliment made her straighten. She wasn’t used to being complimented. Most people in Larkville had pegged her as an oddity years ago. Being friends with Rob, who might be a geek but was also the mayor’s grandson, was the only thing that kept her from being an outcast.

      Megan reached for another pair of shoes. Her hand trembled.

      Uh-oh. She couldn’t let herself be affected by Adam. The guy was an actor, a player who had more lines than a pad of graph paper. The realization irritated her. “I don’t have time to talk right now. I’m running late.”

      “You have a mess on your hands.”

      Captain Obvious seemed as fitting a name for him as Adam. She searched for a red leather pump. It had to be here somewhere. “Yes.”

      “I’ll help.”

      “That’s not …”

      Her cell phone vibrated again. Rob.

      Adam held up the missing red shoe. “Where does this go?”

      Okay, maybe she could use the help. The sooner she finished this task, the sooner she could get back to Rob. “In the brown box.”

      Adam helped her sort the rest of the shoes. Having his assistance made the task go faster. She put on the lids, then stacked the boxes. “Thanks so much. I won’t have time to grab lunch, but I won’t be in too much trouble for being late.”

      “You haven’t eaten?”

      The concern in Adam’s voice surprised her.

      “I’ve eaten. Well, not today. I’ve been living off pizza, fast food and coffee. I was hoping to have a sit-down meal. Maybe tomorrow.” Megan picked up five boxes. The different sizes made balancing difficult, but she managed. “I’d better get these inside.”

      Boxes slipped.

      Adam straightened the stack with one hand while his other rested on the small of her back. “Be careful.”

      No kidding. The jersey knit fabric of her T-shirt kept their skin from touching, but awareness seeped through her. Heat, too.

      The imprint of his large, warm hand left her tongue-tied. She took two steps back. “Th-thanks. I’ve got them.”

      “You have a lot of boxes,” he said. “I’ll carry some in.”

      Megan’s brow knotted. “But you’re the star …”

      “I was trying to get a rise out of you by saying that.”

      “It worked.”

      “And now you’re not going to let me forget I said that.”

      “You are the star.”

      He shook his head, but looked amused.

      “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be able to remind you about it too much. I doubt our paths will cross much after filming begins.”

      “They call it shooting, not filming.”

      “I didn’t know that. Thanks.”

      Not seeing Adam would be kind of a bummer. He was the only person who had not only been nice but also offered to help her. That made Adam Noble the closest thing to a friend she had in Los Angeles. Not that she had anything in common with him.

      His eyes darkened. “I was a jerk to you at Chas’s place.”

      Megan drew back, careful not to let any of the boxes fall. She never would have expected Adam to own up to his behavior. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Him. Hollywood A-lister and all-around nice guy seemed to be contradictory terms, yet he appeared to be both. “I’m figuring out that’s how things work here when you’re new.”

      “That’s not how things should work.” Adam picked up several of the shoeboxes, enough to save her two trips. “Let me make it up to you.”

      Once again, Adam had done—make that said—the unexpected. His display of chivalry confused her. He seemed so different from everyone else she’d met this week. She wanted to know how he thought things should work in Hollywood, but he didn’t need to make anything up to her. Not really. “You are, by helping me.”

      “This is nothing,” Adam said. “Let me buy you lunch after the fitting. We can have a sit-down meal in the commissary. No eating on the run or in your car.”

      She hadn’t known what he’d meant by making it up to her, but a lunch invite hadn’t been it. A part of Megan wanted to accept. She could use some company and conversation. Both were sparse around here. Not to mention she was hungry. But his reputation as a ladies’ man made her wonder if he had an ulterior motive. Maybe he was the type of man who always wanted women to like him. “You don’t have to do that.”

      “I want to.”

      “I might not finish at the same time as you.”

      “I’m not in a hurry.”

      “I might be sent on another errand.”

      “You might not.”

      His attention flattered her. Until Megan remembered how he’d focused on each person at the table in Malibu. Maybe Adam was the kind of person who didn’t like to feel under obligation.

      “What do you say?” he asked. “Give me your number and I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

      If Adam felt he owed her, her accepting his invitation would make things square between them. If he had asked her out for more nefarious reasons, she could handle it. Him. Nate had taught her a few self-defense moves he’d learned in his military training. But she honestly didn’t think she had to worry about that with Adam.

      Truth was, having lunch with him appealed to Megan. Eating her meals on the go and alone was getting

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