Page 62 of The Sun & Her Burn

“What?” I demanded. “You’re lucky they didn’t have horse on the menu because I could eat one. I’m famished.”

His laugh felt like a gift, rough-edged with disuse and deep from his belly.

Oh no, I thought, watching the handsome grump soften with humor,I’m in trouble.

Why was it so intimate sharing a moment of genuine laughter with someone? Why did it feel as if, every time I won his smile, the threads stitching us haphazardly together tightened into something substantial?

A backstitch.

Something that might last beyond the next three years of our contractual obligation.

“By all means, eat whatever you’d like,” he allowed magnanimously. “You have to understand, most women I take to dinner order a salad and leave most of it untouched.”

I waved my hand. “Unfortunately, being a woman in this industry is brutal on self-image. Not to mention being a woman in general, in this day and age of social media? I dare you to find a female who doesn’t experience moments of self-hatred in their own body. It’s horrific, really.”

Adam arched a brow and leaned against one elbow, his fancy silver watch glinting in the sunlight, his visage everything noble and haughty. Something about those cool good looks made me want to get on my knees to serve him.

I wondered what “good girl” might sound like in those clipped British tones.

“Yet you suffer from none such insecurities?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question because he thought he knew the answer.

I shrugged one shoulder while I fiddled with one of my rings, a silver band hammered to look like coral and studded with sea pearls that a Hawaiian jeweller friend had made for me.

“Yes and no. I have moments of doubt, but I try not to let myself wallow in them. I’m healthy and young with the ability to surf and do it well. I may not be conventionally beautiful like a lot of women in Hollywood, but I also know the industry well enough to say I probably got the few jobs I’ve landed because I’m pretty enough and not for any serious acting chops.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You were unfairly charming inSwamplands,given the fact you were supposed to be a villainess.”

The tightly furled bud of confidence that had been underfed and underlit my entire life softened and arched into bloom.

“That’s high praise coming from the Great Adam Meyers,” I said lightly, but there was no mistaking how deeply that praise resonated within me.

Adam inclined his chin regally and tipped his glass to me. “Raise your glass and let’s have a cheers, shall we?”

“To our mutually assured professional successes?” I guessed, mimicking his habitual use of raising a haughty brow.

His full mouth, a pale pink that looked petal soft amidst the bristles of his golden-brown stubble, pursed. “To us, I think. In all our iterations for the next three years.”

“To us,” I echoed, clinking our glassware together.

His other hand lay on the table, and I nibbled my lower lip for a moment before I gave in to the impulse and slid my fingers over the backs of his, linking them together.

When I gazed up at the Brit, his gaze was warm.

“I thought that was you.”

I blinked at the familiar voice, wondering for a moment if I was hallucinating.

Of course, Ihadto have been, given that only someone with truly bad luck would bump into their fake boyfriend’s ex-wife on a lunch date.

But really, I should have known something like this would happen.

I’d never been particularly lucky, and from the soured but unsurprised look on Adam’s face, perhaps neither had he.

“Savannah,” Adam greeted flatly as the woman in question stepped by me to stop beside our table.

I had always found her exquisite, as she meant me and everyone else to. Her grace and sophistication were evident in every lithe line of her petite body, as well as in every item of designer clothing, all in varying shades of off-white. Even her expression, looking down her nose at Adam, small mouthperfectly painted a shade of raspberry that offset her wide blue eyes, was calculated for maximum effect.

In any space, at any age, Savannah Richardson was a queen holding court, and no one, absolutely no one, deserved a place on a throne at her side.