Free Stand-In Star by Rachael Johns Page A

into the passenger seat.
    While Nate got into the car and drove through the automatic gates, Holly stared out the window. He shifted in his seat. If they couldn’t find safe ground to make conversation in the car, how the hell were they going to make it through dinner?
    “So what do you think of our city?” he finally asked.
    She twisted her head to look at him. “It’s everything I imagined, I guess.”
    “Is that a good or a bad thing?”
    “I’m still trying to figure that out. But it’s pretty in a bright lights, chaotic kind of way. And I’ll never look at palm trees in the same way again.”
    “Yes, Angelinos do have a bit of a fixation on palm trees. Have you got something against palm trees?”
    She laughed tentatively. “No. I thought we were just making small talk.”
    He chuckled. “We don’t have to, you know.”
    “Really?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you like to have a heart-to-heart instead?”
    “Well…” He was never caught for words but she had him stumped. Of course he didn’t want a heart-to-heart. He’d meant they didn’t have to talk at all. Hell, he couldn’t recall the last conversation of substance he’d had with anyone—this was Tinsel town for Pete’s sake—and he liked it that way.
    She turned completely to face him. “Why did you ask me out for dinner, anyway?”
    Good question. There was only one thing he wanted to quiz her about and she’d already made it quite clear she wouldn’t enter discussion about that. “You were there. I was hungry. It seemed like the right thing to do.”
    “And do you make a habit of doing the right thing?”
    Discomfort washed over him. What kind of question was that? He shrugged as if to say he’d never given it much thought. “That’s edging very close to deep and meaningful territory.”
    Without another word, she turned back to look out the window. He quashed an uncharacteristic urge to share a piece of himself, anything so she’d turn around and look at him with those serious but sensual, lilac eyes. Eyes he’d desperately wanted to photograph since first seeing them at the airport.
    Instead, he focused on the road.
    Finally they turned into Rodeo Drive. They passed a row of famous and expensive boutiques all lit up like a Christmas display and came to a stop in front of Skyhigh. Having an in with the chef, he had access to the staff parking lot. They left the Viper there and then walked around the front of the unobtrusive building.
    “Where’s the restaurant?” She looked ahead to Skyhigh’s dimly lit black door, squashed between two slightly less elite boutiques, and frowned.
    “Right here.” He stopped and gestured at a tiny gold door bell positioned smack-bang in the middle of a black door.
    “Is this someone’s house?” Holly asked. “Or…”
    He didn’t get to hear her other option before the door opened and a maître d’ dressed more like a king greeted them. “Good evening Mr. Devlin, Ms. McCartney.”
    “Evening,” he replied, stepping inside. The door was quickly shut behind them.
    Holly blinked and then smiled a smile far more natural than anything she’d ever offered him. “Good evening.” She looked down at the plush burgundy carpet beneath their feet and then her wide-eyed gaze traveled down the stairs almost immediately in front them. Delicious aromas and soft jazz music drifted up from below. He’d been here plenty of times before but, for the most part of his life, he’d barely known these kinds of places existed, never mind been able to attend them. It wasn’t until he’d started hanging out in elite places, waiting to snap celebrities, that a whole other world had opened up to him. It was photographing those celebrities that had made him his fortune and given him the wherewithal to mingle with the L.A. elite.
    “Follow me.” With a brief smile the maître d’ descended the stairs. At the bottom, he turned and offered his hand to assist Holly off the last step.
    As they