Come again?

“Sorry, Holly, they want me?” I’m amazed I remembered how to speak.

“Sure. Your show’s a fucking hit. I’m surprised it took them this long to ask, but that’s showbiz.”

Holy shit. I drummed my own damned thigh.

“But wait, so Jack and I’d be at the same awards? This isn’t the same as us being at a party, same-place, same-time kind of thing,”

Jack started to fume. I put a finger to my lips to shush him. I wanted to hear this. It was something we had to consider.

“Well, that’s the real question, isn’t it?” Holly said. “How do you want to play this off? You know how I feel. I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you two to go public. Jack is a huge draw, and girls want to know anything and everything about him. Knowing that he is officially off the market? Won’t go over well.”

Jack was about to come out of his seat. Good thing I was sitting on him.

“And for the record, Jack, because I know you’re about to come out of your seat, I’m thinking about Grace too. Coming out publicly as your girlfriend affects her as well. You saw how much hate she got when people first just started thinking you weren’t single. You let everyone know she’s your main squeeze? That opens up a whole new level of bullshit for her.”

Jack came out of his seat. I signaled for the phone.

“Hey, Holly, let us call you back, okay?”

“Sure, sure. Is he pacing?”

“He’s pacing.”

“Are his nostrils flaring?”

“A bit. Let me call you back.”

“Grace, this is huge for you. You two do whatever you want, and you know I’ll support it. I work for you. Don’t forget that. But if you’re asking me my professional opinion, it’s to not go public. Pure and simple.”

“I hear you.”

“The Emmys, Grace. They want you to be a presenter. Next year? You’ll be nominated. I promise you that.”

My heart left my body, flew around the backyard, and starting picking lemons off the tree. Holy shit, this was big-time.

“Call me back and let me know, fruitcake.”

“Yep,” I breathed, and hung up, not taking my eyes off Jack, who had stopped pacing and stood before me, tense. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I think you should go. One hundred percent you should go,” he said instantly.

“And you? You still in?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I think maybe this is one you should do alone.”

“Now wait a minute. We both need to go.” I pulled at the bottom of his shirt and moved him in between my legs as I sat on the back of the love seat. “I bet Holly has a plan already of how we could both go and still keep up appearances. You know she’s thought this through from every angle.”

His hands went automatically to my hips, and he played with a loose string at the end of my skirt as different arguments were fought across his features, all without saying a word. “How do I say this without sounding like a pompous ass?” He took a breath. “I don’t want to make a night like this—a big night for you—about me. And if I’m there, I’m afraid that’s what it will be. That’s what they’ll make it into.” His eyes were sad.

“Oh, is that all? Pfft, I can handle that.” I took his hands and wrapped them more snugly around my waist. “I’m going to the Emmys, George, like, on purpose. Going to the Emmys. Presenting. At the Emmys—did I tell you that part?”

He smirked, letting me draw him in. “You mentioned something about that. I suppose I’ll have to go too, make sure you don’t get into any trouble.”

“Trouble. Ha. Not me,” I teased, raising my eyebrows as he wrapped his strong arms around me and picked me up, my legs crossed behind his back. “I’m glad you’re doing this. In fact, I think I’ll even wear a slutty dress for you that night, just to drive you crazy.”

“Fucking Nuts Girl,” he growled, racing me across the yard and into the house.

“I need to call Holly back. Wait, wait, slow down, slow down, slow— Mother-of-pearl, that feels good . . .”

True to form, Holly had indeed had a plan ready to go in the event we both said yes. Reluctantly (some of us more reluctant than others), we all agreed it was best for all involved if Jack and I continued to keep our relationship private and not for public consumption. Jack didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all, but when he looked at it objectively, he knew it was still the best course of action.

The plan was remarkably simple: We’d take Michael and Holly as our plus ones. Holly would arrive with Jack, which made sense. Actors took their managers to premieres and award shows all the time, and this way she could be by his side to help manage the questions he’d be asked on the red carpet, just in case a reporter forgot their manners. Michael would go with me, which was again something totally within the realm of the possible. As the creator and head writer of a hit show—a show I starred in and had been invited to the Emmys as a representative of—not to mention being lifelong friends, his walking the red carpet with me would not only make perfect sense, we’d also give them a great story.

We could both go. Separately. And together. Kind of?

And so we found ourselves together in the line at the biggest awards show in television—just in separate limos. We texted each other.

Nervous?

I smiled down at his words on my phone.

A little, you?

I looked out the window at the line of cars, wondering how close to the front we were.

Jack and I had spent the day at the Peninsula hotel getting ready, and by that I mean it took me all day to be buffed and sprayed, teased and twisted, then poured into a dress and sewn in place while he stepped into his suit ten minutes before we left.

And damn did he look good. He ran a hand through his hair, called it good, and was ready to go. Every female in the room sighed when we saw him. It was impossible to be that close to sex incarnate and not need to steal an extra breath or two.

But it seemed all he could see was me, in my not-so-slutty dress after all.

Dressed by a new designer who delighted in working with an actress with curves, I was draped in green silk that shimmered and slithered with every step. I was old Hollywood meets the twenty-first century, and my earlobes sparkled with emeralds that hadn’t been outside a vault since Eisenhower had been in office, on loan from Van Cleef & Arpels. The gems were big enough to choke a horse, and they hung heavy, dripping with sprays of diamonds and barely dusting my shoulders. An emerald the size of a quail’s egg sat on my left hand, catching the light.

And while I could’ve hung a rope of the same around my neck and played Dynasty with the big girls, I kept to what I knew. As Jack’s eyes moved over me again and again, I traced the necklace he’d given me, feeling the words he’d had engraved there.

After a moment, he grinned that wicked grin. “Brilliant,” he pronounced, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. My glam squad sighed in chorus behind me. “Quite a rock you’ve got there,” he remarked, his fingers pressing around the ring, feeling the band. He turned my hand over and pressed a wet kiss in the center of my palm, still fingering my ring.

“There’s a guard over there who came with the jewelry. He’ll have you up against that wall in seconds if you try to steal my bling,” I joked as his eyes flicked over my shoulder. Looking back at me again, he said in a voice low enough for only me to hear: “Speaking of up against that wall . . .”

I must have moaned louder than I thought, as the entire room burst into embarrassed giggles.

“Okay, you two, get it out of your system now,” Holly warned, breezing into the room, all business but dressed in a red sequined gown that said the opposite of business. This was the likely reason Michael’s eyes were bulging out of his sockets.