Free Covering Home by Heidi McCahan

perfume—probably from her own fragrance line—hovered over them like a cloud. “It’s been ages.” She let her hand linger on his arm.
    “Has it?” Caleb shrugged, feigning ignorance. As if he didn’t know seven hundred and forty-two days had passed since their last encounter.
    “Silly, you know it has.” She jutted her collagen-filled lips into a pout. “Why don’t you ever call me?”
    He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. His bag slipped off his shoulder and landed at his feet. “Call you?”
    “Yes, call me. Text, Tweet, FaceTime, whatever. We need to catch up.”
    “Right.” He nodded. “I guess I’ve been a little busy.” Putting my life back together.
    “I know, right? I’ve been in Vancouver since the Emmys—did you see me? I got to present with Jesse Tyler Ferguson. Love him. And I rocked that Vera Wang gown. It was—”
    “Sorry, I don’t watch the award shows anymore.”
    Lane gave him a blank stare. “Oh, right. Of course. Too many memories and all that. You know, I have the most amazing therapist. He costs an absolute fortune but all the stars see him. Even if—”
    “No, thanks. I’m good.” He glanced around, hoping someone would ask for an autograph, or even try and take a selfie. But the crowd streamed past, casting the occasional curious stare at the two Americans chatting in the middle of Tokyo.
    Lane’s phone chimed. She dropped her hand from Caleb’s arm and whipped out her smartphone. She scanned the screen and then smiled up at Caleb. “We’re filming a couple of scenes in the middle of the night, so a few of us are getting together for drinks. You should join us.”
    “Drinks?” This day already felt like three. “I just finished a game, so I need to—”
    “Oh, come on. Don’t be a party pooper.” She edged even closer now and fluttered her eyelashes. The sequins on her shirt tickled his arm. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to run .
    “Lane, seriously.” He picked up his bag and stepped away.
    “There you are.” Britt emerged from the crowd, a knowing smile on her face. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thanks for waiting for me. I had to take that call.”
    Caleb’s mouth went dry. Her touch, that gleam in her eye … he had no idea what she was talking about but he intended to cooperate. “No problem.”
    “Oh, hi. I didn’t even see you there.” Britt glanced down at the actress, removed her hand from Caleb’s arm and extended it toward Lane. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Britt Bowen.”
    Lane’s countenance morphed from flirty to disdainful in less than three seconds. “Lane McCallister.” She glanced at Britt’s hand and sniffed. “Sorry. I don’t do handshakes. Too many germs.”
    “A germaphobe in Tokyo? That should be fun.” Britt clasped both of her hands together, unruffled by Lane’s snub. “Listen, Lane, we’d love to stay and chat, but Caleb promised me a cheeseburger and fries if the Senators won.”
    What was she up to? “Right. Let’s go, then.” He smiled at Lane. “Nice to see you again.”
    “You, too.” Lane glared daggers at Britt.
    As they walked away, Britt turned back around. “Lane, if you’re interested, the Sacramento Senators baseball team is hosting a private party on the top floor of the hotel. I’m sure you could work your magic and finagle a way in.” A small giggle erupted from Britt.
    “Come on.” Caleb guided her in the opposite direction of the speechless starlet. “We better go before she blows a gasket right here on the plaza.”
    Britt pressed a fist to her lips. “I’m sorry. That was mean, wasn’t it?”
    “She deserved it. Thanks for intervening, by the way. Especially after last night. I didn’t expect you to—”
    She held up her hand. “You’re welcome. You looked like you were starting to suffer.”
    “Wait. You were watching?”
    “Only for a minute. Or five. Not long. Ben and I saw you leaving so we followed you. But he got