To See You by Rachel Blaufeld Read Free Book Online Page A

smiling too until I realized everyone in the spa was staring at me. Embarrassed, I sobered quickly and shoved my phone back in my purse, and pretended to be fascinated with the color of my toes.

 
    “T hanks, Tony,” I called out to my tailor.
    “No problem, Layton. Knock ’em dead tonight. Especially this young lady,” he said, clucking his tongue.
    I felt a blush creep up my cheeks like a college girl in love and immediately thought about worms and dirt. When my skin cooled, I turned around.
    “Nah, she’s just a friend, but it’ll be nice to see her.” I didn’t voice out loud my next thought. It’s been an ongoing fantasy .
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Tony shooed me out with his hand into the bright California sunlight.
    I shoved my Aviators on my face and headed toward my car. I needed a shower and to ditch the track pants for my tux. I hadn’t worn my penguin suit since the last awards show I attended, and it had desperately needed a little adjustment here and there, if you know what I mean.
    Earlier in the week, I’d braved the smirky salespeople and ran into Neiman Marcus to buy a new pair of loafers for this occasion and a crisp white shirt. I was skipping all the other accessories; they just seemed to accentuate my shape—or lack thereof.
    Once I got in my car, I cranked the AC and checked my phone. I’d sent Charli my phone number earlier in the week, but hardly expected her to use it.
    She’s not here for you. She’s coming for work. It’s a coincidence.
    I couldn’t help but whip off a quick e-mail. Corresponding with her had become my favorite pastime, an addiction I wasn’t willing to admit to having. I knew exactly what I wanted to send her—I’d been sending her funny outtakes all week from filming. She always wrote back the funniest comments like, “Even I could do that stunt without getting injured.” Our banter had turned into my favorite part of the day, and some days, I imagined it was hers too.
    After I hurt her feelings on the plane, it became a bit of a compulsion to try to make her smile. Flowers were one thing . . . now I was going to see her face-to-face.
    I didn’t expect much. Certainly nothing like my fantasies.
    Maybe she was a personality girl?
    I had that in spades.
    Or she loved the strong, gentlemanly type?
    I worked that too.
    Whatever she wants, I’ll be , I chanted to myself as I stepped into the shower.
    After scrubbing myself clean, I made sure to take care of things down below. No one liked an early blower.
    Shut up, Layton. Nothing like that is going to happen tonight .
    Well, I was ready in case we did get beyond talking this evening.
    Although it didn’t matter. The promise of an evening with Charli was enough to satisfy a guy like me.

 
    I smoothed my hand over my dress, checking for any last-minute creases or lint, and took a long, deep breath.
    Crap . I covered fitness, not Hollywood, yet here I was, sweating like a pig in the backseat of a limo. There was a good reason I was a health-and-fitness editor and not a paparazzi gal. I preferred running shorts to ball gowns.
    Dressing up made me nervous. It meant small talk and cocktails with people who always questioned my age and position. Everything was subjective.
    With writing and editing, there were rules for grammar and punctuation. With running and spinning, there were times finished, pace, calories burned, heart rate.
    Numbers don’t lie .
    The car made its approach to the theater and slowed before a red carpet spread out long and wide, filled with celebrities and surrounded by the media. Strobe lights lit the place up against the dusky sky. When the limo stilled, I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth once and then again before the driver opened my door. It was just another weekday here in Westwood—at least that’s what I told myself.
    I stepped out and felt bare as all eyes focused on me until they realized I was no one, and then they all went back to the hot guy they were