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Olivia was over the moon when I called her back and told her that Orlando was back on board. Listening to her prattle on about how wonderful I was, while slightly enjoyable at first, quickly started to grate on my nerves, which in turn made me feel very, very tired. I told her in no uncertain terms that I had to go, and went into my bedroom to get some sleep.

But sleep eluded me. I laid in my bed, with Sherman purring contentedly at my side, staring out the window at the sky that would never be completely black because of the light from the still-bustling city, waiting for the blessed unconscious to take over, but it just didn’t come. My mind whirred, replaying the things Orlando had said, the way his voice changed when he was being charming, the flush I’d felt at his admission that he wanted to meet me.

That thought brought on a whole slew of others. Could I actually see him face-to-face? Could I let my guard down enough to leave my little hole in the wall and give him what he wanted? If I did, would he cringe away from me, or ridicule me for my less-than-perfect appearance? The questions just didn’t stop, and the ache that grew inside me at their answers made sleep a definite impossibility.

Sighing, I threw back the covers and padded out into the living room again. I paced the floor a few times, my fingers tracing my scarred flesh, and then headed into my office. I needed to vent my frustrations, to get rid of this energy that was suddenly scalding through my veins. It was after four o’clock now, but I didn’t care. I opened the document for my new book and went to work, my fingers flying over the keys as they struggled to keep up with the raging torrent that was flowing from my head.

I wrote like mad until the sun peeked over the city outside and made me aware that I hadn’t slept in almost 24 hours. Still I forced myself to keep going, to allow my fictional world to block out the real one, to stop me from thinking about Orlando and the meeting I wanted to have with him. My fingers started to cramp and my back started to ache from being in one spot for so long, but I didn’t care. The pain was a welcome distraction in itself, and I just kept pushing.

My eyes were starting to droop heavily and I was contemplating going to bed when the phone rang unexpectedly. The sound startled me, interrupting the peaceful silence I’d been enjoying for the past few hours, and I had to shake myself to get enough of a grip on my mind to actually pick the damned thing up. I was surprised to discover that it was almost nine o’clock already.

“Dominique?” Orlando’s voice sounded cheery and much too awake for that hour of the day. I’d mumbled some unintelligible greeting, and I was suddenly glad I hadn’t barked out ‘Grant’ like I usually did. I’d have to be more careful about checking the caller ID if he was going to spring these surprise calls on me. Not that I minded, of course.

“What are you doing up?” I managed after a few shocked seconds of silence.

“I’ve been asking myself that since I watched the sun rise a couple of hours ago,” he chuckled, his voice a bit deeper than normal, I assumed from exhaustion. Other than that there was nothing to give away the fact that he probably hadn’t slept much more than I did.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” I dared to ask.

“Nah,” he said, and I could picture him shrugging it off in my mind. I smiled. “Lauren and I got into it after you and I got off the phone, so there wasn’t really time for sleep, you know?”

My stomach clenched at the sound of her name, and at the idea that they’d been fighting. For some reason, that made me a little smug. I shook it off.

“Is everything okay?” I dared to ask.

“I don’t really know,” he confessed, but he didn’t sound upset or angry, just strangely indifferent. “She left shortly before the sun came up, and I haven’t heard from her yet.”

“And yet you’re surprisingly chipper,” I teased, amazed at how easy the camaraderie was becoming with him. I didn’t normally come across so light-hearted, and usually had to work to hide the annoyance I felt at being forced into contact with the outside world at all, but this came almost naturally. My stomach twisted again.

“There’s no point in being upset over the same argument we’ve been having for the past few months,” he said lightly. “She’ll cool off, she always does. Then she’ll come back, I’ll take her shopping, buy her some stupid token of my affection, and all will be well again.” He sighed. “Until the next time, that is.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to him, given that he was pouring his heart out again, much like he had the first time, and being all too aware of how that had ended, I wanted to tread lightly.

“Dominique?” he whispered when I’d been quiet too long.

“I’m here,” I said, my voice low. “I was just figuring out how to respond to that.”

“There’s not really much you could say about it, is there?” he said, as though he were pondering something insignificant like the weather. “I really need to let my head catch up with my mouth before stuff like that comes out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said quickly, not wanting him to feel like he was annoying me. I was coming to love the sound of his voice, and the little thrill I felt at his call was getting bigger with every passing minute. The last thing I wanted was for him to clam up on me again.

“Did you get much sleep?” he asked, smoothly changing the subject. “You sound a bit tired.”

“I’ve been working,” I admitted, shutting down my computer and going into my bedroom. I curled up in bed with the phone cradled against my ear, and fought the urge to sigh like Sherman when he found just the right spot on the carpet. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so nice, so accepted.

“You were writing all night?” Orlando asked, sounding very much surprised. “That’s a long time.”

“It’s no different than working an eight-hour shift somewhere,” I pointed out, shifting to make myself a little more comfortable. “And sometimes when I get started, I have a hard time stopping.”

“Are you enjoying your new book?”

“I am now that the writer’s block has lifted,” I said honestly. “I’ll be finishing soon, and then it’ll go to my editor for revisions, and the waiting game will start.”

“Then you’ll have more time on your hands.” His statement was very, very loaded, and I felt that if I said even one wrong word, everything would explode around me. I took a deep breath.

“Maybe,” I said, careful to keep my tone casual. “But with the After Midnight script in the works, I may not have as much time as I’d like.” I made sure this last part was very pointed, hoping he’d get the hint. I didn’t want to have another conversation about meeting him. I was too tired to keep resisting.

“Oh yes, speaking of After Midnight,” he started, and I was glad we were moving away from such dangerous ground. He seemed content to let the subject move to more neutral territory. “I spoke with Marcus this morning, and everything’s back on with that project.”

“How did you explain your quitting?” I asked, pretty sure he’d gotten an earful, just from the sheepish quality I was hearing in his voice now. “Please don’t tell me you told them the truth.” I groaned inwardly, hoping he hadn’t brought me into it.

“I told them I was looking at another project, but decided that I wanted to stick with my original commitment instead,” he said, and I could tell there was more to it that he didn’t want me to know.

“And?” I pressed gently.

“And I said that Lauren wanted a part in the other project, so I let her have it,” he said quickly.

“Is that true?” I held my breath.

“Not really,” he said, and the sheepishness in his voice intensified. I shook my head, pulling my blanket tighter around me. “The truth is, she wants a part in our movie, but I really don’t want her to get one.”

‘Our movie,’ huh? I paused for a split second at that. He was grouping us together, and it was a potent, heady thing. The idea of being part of something he included himself in was becoming very, very appealing. I rolled my eyes at my own foolishness.

“Why not?” I managed, not wanting to sound too eager. The truth was, I was glad he didn’t want her there, that he didn’t want her to be part of our project. Though it was stupid, her presence would taint the whole experience for me, and I didn’t want that. Admitting that to myself made me realize I was in very serious trouble.

“I try not to mix business with pleasure,” he was saying when I focused on him again. “The way things are going, it may be too much if I have to work with her all the time.”

“I’d think it would be great that you’d get to spend that much extra time together,” I said, cringing as the words came out of my mouth. I knew what I was doing, pushing to see if he’d talk more about their problems. I found myself wanting to hear that they weren’t getting along, and part of me became disgusted with myself. But that part was very small and easily silenced by the bigger part that was forming an unwanted crush on this beautiful man. I listened, perhaps too eagerly, for his response.

“Like I said, things haven’t been the greatest lately,” he said, and he suddenly sounded very tired. “I’m not sure if we’ll even be on speaking terms by the time filming actually starts.” He hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t have said that,” he said quickly.

“If it’s the truth, then what’s wrong with saying it out loud?” I was getting far too into this conversation, but I couldn’t make my mouth be quiet when it came to his personal problems. Now that I knew he wasn’t going to shut down on me again, I was curious about what he’d actually tell me.

“The thing is, I’ve never admitted that out loud before,” he said, and he seemed amazed at himself. “Dominique, you just make it too easy for these things to come out, you know that?” His voice took on a teasing quality that warmed me to my toes and I grinned even though he couldn’t see me.

“Maybe they’re coming out because they need to be said,” I suggested lightly, though inside I was thrilled at his words. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up as one of those stupid girls who couldn’t make coherent sentences come out of her mouth because she was talking to a guy she liked. To my own disdain, I found I was willing to take that risk.

“Maybe,” he agreed, but I couldn’t tell if he was convinced, or if he was humoring me.

We spent the next hour or so just talking about anything and everything, though I changed the direction of the conversation every time he started asking about me. That was one barrier I wasn’t ready to break down yet, so I avoided his questions rather than lie to him. It was bad enough he didn’t know my real name, I didn’t want to have to create a fictional life for myself as well.

When we finally hung up the phone, I rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to get the grin off my face. He was becoming addictive, and I knew that couldn’t happen. I couldn’t form such an attachment to someone who would probably take one look at me and either cringe with pity or run screaming in disgust. I wasn’t part of his world, I wasn’t one of the beautiful people, like he was, like Lauren was. She was absolutely the type of person he needed, someone who could hang on his arm and be beautiful for the cameras. I could tell from some of the things he said that he enjoyed that part of it, the arm-candy that she so readily was, but there was something in him that wanted more, that wanted a real, stable relationship with someone who wasn’t self-involved and superficial. The more I learned about that part of him, the more irresistible he became, and the more I wanted to get to know him better.

Sighing heavily, I threw back my blankets and headed into the bathroom. I figured a long hot soak in the tub would help me clear my thoughts, and if not, at least I knew I’d have plenty to think about.