Free My Double Life: Wild and Wicked by Joanne Rock

the other night at Backstage. It seemed plenty roomy. We could have really...had fun.
    I had to fan myself to keep from overheating as I pictured his hands all over me.
    “It’s a work vehicle,” he assured me, heading west on Sunset Boulevard. “Being in business for myself means I do my own sweat labor. Sometimes I need to haul stuff around.”
    Or invite exotic dancers into his backseat? I sneaked a glance at his thighs and pictured me straddling them.
    “You’re a talent agent.” I rolled the window down and let in a little breeze to help cool me off. It was fun being up this high. And I never got tired of the ocean. I lived close to it, but I didn’t see it enough. “How could you possibly get sweaty while talking to casting agents and mailing out headshots?”
    That got a laugh out of him, and I enjoyed the sound as we left downtown L.A. behind. He seemed way too serious for a guy born into Hollywood royalty. I knew money didn’t equal happiness, but more often than not, it helped.
    “You, of all people, should understand that I have bigger aspirations than managing my client list.” He passed a tourist rubbernecking at a couple of reality stars who stood in a crosswalk with their arms full of shopping bags. “So I work a lot more hours in a day than my primary business demands. But this vehicle has proven helpful even for the talent agency. I have a big-name actor who signed with me and he won’t go anywhere without his St. Bernard. I’d never fit Buddy in a sports car.”
    “I’m very curious about your film company development.” I studied his profile to see if I’d ventured into a forbidden topic. “I’d love to know more about that if you don’t mind discussing it.”
    “Depends. Are you asking for yourself or as a representative of Sphere?”
    “Definitely for myself. But I didn’t mean to—”
    “It’s fine.” He opened the sunroof and I peered up at the palm trees and cloud-filled sky. “I’ve learned to be cautious, but what’s the harm in talking to someone who already knows the plan?”
    The miles flew by as he filled me in on a few basics of the industry. I knew a thing or two about start-up businesses, but nothing about the birth of a film company, so I learned a lot. It quickly became obvious that Trey knew what he was doing. It also occurred to me that his father was foolish to let a sharp industry insider like Trey get away.
    By the time he turned the SUV up a steep, winding road in the Pacific Palisades, I’d almost forgotten about our lunch date. Er, meeting.
    “Where are we?” I looked more closely at my surroundings and felt certain I’d never been here. It seemed an unlikely place for a restaurant.
    “Our picnic destination.”
    “W-we’re having a picnic?” I hesitated on the words because a picnic felt much more like a date than a meeting. And suddenly I felt more pressured. Wary.
    “I realized yesterday that I’ve been busting my ass for months to recover some professional credibility, yet no matter how much I do, my dad is still going to be waiting for me to make a mistake.” He pulled into a parking lot near a grassy field with a sign that read Will Rogers State Park. “I figured I’d better take time to enjoy the journey because I’m sure as hell nowhere near the point in my life where I can escape the old man’s shadow.”
    He shut off the SUV and came around to open my door. I began to get nervous now, the relaxed atmosphere of the ride dissipating under the pressure of...helping Trey Fraser enjoy the journey. But he seemed unaware of a shift in mood as he headed around to the back of the vehicle and popped open the rear door.
    “Ready?” he asked, handing me a blue blanket while he grabbed a huge, insulated bag. “I hope the rain holds off.”
    “Wow.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say because my brain was busy calculating how much time and effort he must have put into planning this. Packing a picnic struck me as incredibly