“You must meet dozens of wannabe actors and models and the like every day, people who have migrated here with stars in their eyes,” she mused softly. “Do they ever ask your advice while you’re doing their makeup?”
“About betting on the ten-billion-to-one lottery called Fame?” he asked dryly.
“You did it.”
“No. I bet on my art. If fame was part of the bargain, I’d be miles away.”
For a moment, they sat in silence as his low, gruff voice replayed in her head with absolute certainty.
“You never told me what you did for a living in New York. Something to do with your major?” he asked, setting aside his empty water glass. “You lit up when you mentioned you studied history.”
Her gaze flickered across to a golden clock on a nearby table. It had taken them an hour and twenty minutes to get to the dreaded topic.
“My work does have to do with history.” She smiled at him and took the final sip out of her second glass of champagne. He arched his brows, waiting for her to continue. Silently demanding it, actually. While they talked, Gia had grown accustomed to some of his expressions. She sighed. “You can’t expect someone a few years out of undergrad to be as proud of her job as a person like you. New York isn’t the easiest place in the world to rise up the ranks—not that Hollywood is either,” she conceded.
His black eyebrows slanted. “Did you think I was bragging or something?” he asked, looking vaguely bemused.
“Of course not. I’ve had to pry every detail of your work life out of you, you’re so closemouthed about the whole thing. You’d think you were a spy or something, as hard as it is to get specifics out of you,” she joked, ignoring his narrowed stare. “I just meant couldn’t you give me the courtesy of letting me remain interesting in your eyes just a little longer by not asking me career questions?”
“There’s nothing you could say that could make you uninteresting.”
Her laughter faded at his quick, confident reply along with the frank male heat in his golden eyes.
“What do you have on under that armor?” he asked suddenly.
Her eyes widened in surprise at his unexpected question. A smile flickered across his mouth, as if he’d read her stunned reaction. “You’ve got to be uncomfortable. I wanted to bring it up earlier, but I was selfish. I didn’t want you to leave in order to change, for fear you wouldn’t come back.”
Heat flooded her cheeks at his compliment. “Oh . . . a tank top and shorts . . . along with the costume’s pants.”
He stood and set down his empty glass. He held out his hand to her. “Come on,” he urged. “Let’s get you out of it.”