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“Amazing, isn’t it?” I grin. “She tells me it’s because I’m irresistible.”

I know immediately it was the wrong thing to say, since Charlie’s face turns to stone. Since I can’t take the words back, I rush to add, “Like a sad little puppy dog. Her words.”

I’m unsure if I helped myself or made it worse.

“Why are you here, Zander?” Charlie asks, covering her hands with her sleeves to ward off the cold.

“It’s the time difference,” I say, unwilling to admit that she’s the reason I can’t sleep. “It’s just after seven a.m. back home, so my body thinks?—”

“Not here as in why you’re awake,” Charlie cuts me off with an exasperated look. “Here as in”—she waves toward the moonlit mountains—“here. Australia. Doing this competition. And don’t feed me some line about it being fan service. I want the truth.”

To delay answering, I ask, “May I sit?”

She deliberates for a moment, then slides over on the bench, hissing quietly and grumbling, “You’re lucky I warmed that spot up for you.”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing, a near-impossible task when she wiggles her backside to heat her seat faster.

“Thanks,” I say as I drop down beside her. And then I proceed to lie through my teeth. “I’m here because I thought it might be a fun thing to do before I start shooting my next film. I’ve always admired Hawke’s show, and I love being in nature, so?—”

“Cut the bull,” Charlie interrupts, her eyes slitted. “I saw your face when you met Ember and me earlier today and realized I’m not some starry-eyed fan. You looked about two seconds away from full-blown panic.”

I swallow, before murmuring, “I thought I hid my reaction pretty well.”

“Then you’re not as good an actor as you think you are.”

Ouch.

I don’t reveal how much that stings, and instead lean in close as if to share a secret. “Has anyone ever told you that actors are terribly insecure?”

She cocks an eyebrow. “You don’t seem the type to be insecure about anything.”

Our gazes lock as I reply, pointedly, “Guess I’m not such a bad actor after all.”

To my relief, an amused light enters her eyes. I make a snap decision, knowing Gabe will murder me if he finds out, but also aware that it might be the only way to do as he instructed and get through to Charlie.

I tell her the truth.

“You’re right,” I say, straightening on the bench. “Your first words to me made it clear you weren’t a fan, and I did have a moment of panic.”

“Butwhy?”

“Because I need you.”

Her body turns rigid. “Excuse me?”

I stretch my legs out on the grass, casting my gaze over the darkened view. “From the way you act, I’m guessing you’ve seen the negative media reports about me.”

“You mean like how you were charged with a DUI?” Her tone is like acid. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

Her sudden hostility makes me long to defend myself, but I stay on track. “That—and a few other things—have meant that the next movie I’m meant to be shooting?—”

“Titan’s War?”

“That’s the one. The studio has threatened to cut me from the lead if I don’t clean up my public image. They’ve given me a fortnight.” I pause. “Less now.”

There’s a beat of silence, before a sound of bitter amusement leaves Charlie. “So the competition is a PR stunt. You need a fan to help make you shine; something genuine and not scripted.”

“Yes,” I confirm, impressed by how quickly she put it together. “I need the studio—and the world—to see I’m not just a bad boy with an image problem.”