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fridge. ‘I told him they weren’t what they looked like. That doesn’t mean he didn’t believe me. He was just a bit annoyed. His ex cheated on him so, you know, it’s hard for him to trust people sometimes.’

      ‘But you’re not his ex,’ James squeezed a chunk of lime into his beer. ‘And you haven’t cheated on him.’

      ‘No but, well, I was dating someone else when we met, but no I haven’t cheated on him. On anyone. Ever.’ I slipped a napkin under his bottle. At least I’d have experience in bar work for when I lost my job at The Look. ‘I would never cheat on Alex.’ I looked up confidently. ‘I would never cheat on him.’

      ‘Then he’s got no right to make you feel bad about some paparazzi shots,’ James reasoned. ‘He should just take your word for it and think himself lucky that he has such an amazing girlfriend.’

      ‘I wouldn’t go so far as amazing.’ I sipped my drink. ‘Just common or garden perfect would do it.’

      ‘Do you always make jokes about yourself?’ James set his bottle back on the bar. ‘Because you are amazing, you know. And your boyfriend should never make you doubt that.’

      ‘I don’t make jokes about myself and I’m not amazing.’ The bar was so quiet, I could hear my heart thudding. This didn’t feel as though it was essential to the interview. ‘Really. Anyway, I have more questions for you.’

      ‘You’re cute, you’re clever, you’re funny, you clearly love this idiot even though he doesn’t deserve it,’ James carried on, pushing the lime right down the neck of the bottle. ‘If you were my girlfriend, I would never let you be miserable. Ever.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ I said, examining my fingernails. ‘I don’t think anyone can make me feel better about the fact that I’ll never be America’s Next Top Model.’

      ‘Yeah, you don’t ever make jokes about yourself,’ James replied.

      The longer we sat in silence, the more awkward it became.

      ‘Has he ever cheated on you?’ he asked. ‘The boyfriend?’

      ‘No. Of course not,’ I said quickly. ‘He wouldn’t.’

      James studied me silently while he drank his beer.

      ‘Can we get back to the interview?’ I asked, my stomach dropping.

      ‘Because if you were my girlfriend—’ James started again.

      ‘The interview?’ I interrupted. Too much. This was just too much.

      ‘My video iPod, running shoes and a copy of The Great Gatsby.’ He knocked back the rest of his beer.

      I looked up.

      ‘The three things I can’t be without when I’m travelling,’ he shrugged. ‘What else have you got?’

      We passed another hour discussing James’s favourite designers, his favourite holiday spots, his favourite restaurants, and everything else a Look reader could feasibly want to know about her favourite actor, until my hand was cramping and my pad was full.

      ‘Do you know what?’ I said, jotting down his favourite place to buy bagels. ‘I think we’re done. You are released.’

      ‘You mean I have to go back to Blake?’ James asked, with mock horror. At least it seemed like mock horror; I would have been genuinely terrified. ‘You don’t want to do something this evening? I cleared my schedule.’

      I smiled and shook my head. ‘I actually just want to go back to the hotel and sleep. The last few nights have been late ones and I really should go and write all this up, send it over to the magazine. Prove we’re actually working.’

      ‘Fair enough. I can wait until tomorrow,’ James stood up and stretched. He really was very tall. ‘As long as you are going to be working and not just going into hiding. Promise me you won’t let anyone make you feel shit about those pictures?’

      ‘Brownie Guide promise,’ I saluted. ‘You’re right. I’m sure I’m just overreacting.’

      ‘Good. And if your boyfriend hasn’t sent a dozen roses to your hotel when you get back, he’ll have me to answer to.’ He opened the door back into the bustling sunshine. ‘I’m not having him making you feel rubbish for no reason.’

      ‘If I didn’t know you were a hateful, ego-driven movie star, I could be fooled into thinking you were actually quite nice,’ I said, shielding my eyes and looking up into his. ‘You must be a very good actor.’

      ‘Make sure you put that in the interview,’ James said, dialling his driver. ‘I am good but I mean it. You should never let anyone make you feel crap. I don’t have those people around me any more.’

      ‘No, you only have really positive people like Blake,’ I said, watching the limo appear around the corner. ‘He really makes your life easier?’

      ‘I know he seems like hard work to everyone else,’ he said, ‘but I don’t know what I’d do without him. Even if he is going to lose his mind after we binned him off again today.’

      ‘It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll just blame me,’ I replied. ‘Again.’

      ‘I’m sure he will,’ James agreed. ‘I’m sorry. Thank you for putting up with him. And me.’

      ‘Thank you for making this so easy for me,’ I slid on my sunglasses to get a better, slightly hidden peek at him.

      ‘I know you won’t believe it,’ he said, pulling out his own shades. ‘But I’m having fun. Hanging out with you reminds me of something I don’t have any more.’

      ‘What’s that?’ More than three per cent body fat?

      ‘I don’t really know,’ James said, pushing my sunglasses up onto the top of my head and looking down at me. I could feel his stare right in the pit of my stomach. ‘But it’s there.’

      ‘Then I’m choosing to believe it’s a good thing,’ I said, pushing them back down as the limo pulled up beside us. How was him being an absolute angel as well as all kinds of gorgeous, while Alex was being a total arse, helping me anyway?

       Chapter Nine

      Jenny was nowhere to be found back at the hotel, which left me free for the world’s longest nap. But after an hour of staring at the ceiling, I was forced to accept that sleep wasn’t coming. There was just too much on my mind and, to be honest, the vodka I’d necked at The Dresden hadn’t helped me clear it up.

      If I could just sort out one of the dramas in my mind, maybe I’d be able to get half an hour’s sleep. OK, first, Alex. Staring at my phone, I tried to replay our conversation but it all sounded so much worse in my head. If he would just call, if he would just tell me it was all right. If he would just bloody say that he loved me. But that wasn’t about to happen any time soon. And hello? How sad was I that I needed my boyfriend to tell me he loved me to make me feel better? OK, very, but it didn’t stop it being true.

      I added another pillow to the stack already behind my head and grabbed my BlackBerry from the nightstand. No missed calls, no new emails. Nothing from Mary about the blog entry I’d sent over that morning. No matter what James said, my job was still on the line. Once the interview was over, he wouldn’t have any pull at the magazine and if Mary thought I was going to shag every person I worked with, there wouldn’t be any more work. Plus Jenny was still in such a strange mood, she wasn’t exactly helping me out.

      And if that wasn’t enough, I had the most unexpected problem of them all to deal with. James was definitely flirting with me. Definitely. What was I supposed to do? My job was hanging by a thread, my boyfriend wasn’t talking to me, my best friend was one missed call away from kicking my arse

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