Free A Little Night Music by Andrea Dale, Sarah Husch

else. Something a little sexier. The plain black pants, while elegant, were not what she really wanted to be wearing when she saw Nate again. The sweater she’d packed in anticipation of San Francisco’s cooler climate was neither clingy nor low-cut.
    And there were going to be groupies. Let’s not forget the groupies. They wouldn’t be wearing black pants and sweaters. She just knew there’d be an excess of cleavage and high heels, come hither looks and offers of just about everything. She found herself suddenly regretting the phone calls that had leaked the shoot to the public.
    She wanted Nate to notice her. She wanted him to remember. She was pretty sure that every second of last night was going to be etched in her memory until the end of time. She wanted him to remember her the same way.
    Even if she couldn’t rip his clothes off and devour him anymore.
    Gina was completely wrong in her assessment. There was no way in hell that Hannah was falling for Nate. No amount of good sex could take the place of friendship, common bonds. Just because the thought of having to work with him chastely made her cringe, it didn’t mean anything.
    And her reluctance to share the details of last night with Gina had nothing to do with the desire not to reduce them to giggling anecdotes.
    There were no deeper feelings, deeper longings. It just meant that she wanted to savor the memories a little longer, that was all.
    The shot about rock stars sleeping around had gotten to her, though. She knew Gina hadn’t meant it badly, but it made her wonder about Nate’s agenda last night. Was she just another notch on his bed post? An attractive woman he wanted to have some fun with? See if he could get his own publicist into the sack?
    After all, it’s not as if she had supermodel looks. He was known to date A-list celebrities, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t on anybody’s list. She couldn’t compete with that.
    She would be an idiot to fall for Nate Fox.
    *
    Everything had to go perfectly. It was her first day on the job, and how the photo shoot went could set the tone for the rest of the campaign.
    Hannah reached the area of the Wharf where they’d decided to do the photo shoot. At least the weather was cooperating. The sky was that certain shade of blue only achieved on the Bay in the spring. Not too windy, not too hot. Nothing to interfere with the shots.
    With a practiced gaze she assessed the crowd that had gathered. Not too many media types yet, but there were enough to show that her emails and calls had gotten some attention. A local radio station had parked a van as close as possible to the cordoned-off area, music blaring from speakers. The gathering wasn’t huge yet. Most people just glanced curiously at the roped-off area and, not seeing anyone famous, continued on. Enough stopped to swell the crowd, though, pushing its outer limits into a wider area. There was an undercurrent of excitement, almost like the first day of a fair, excited voices, restless fans.
    With luck, the place would be mobbed by the time the photo shoot was finished. A controlled, non-threatening mob, impressive enough to make Nate look like an A-lister. She noted it all, filing it away for later.
    An astonishing number of people milled around inside the cordoned-off area—Sam and an assistant; Gina and her cameras; the equipment guys; a huge, bald black man in Armani and wraparound sunglasses who looked as though he’d snap Hannah’s neck like a chicken’s if she sneezed wrong.
    Nate, however, wasn’t there.
    Hannah flashed her ID at a rent-a-cop and he let her past the temporary rope barrier.
    “Hey,” Sam said, in what she’d already figured was his characteristic bluntness.
    “How’re things going so far?” she asked.
    He turned in circles, making his own observations. He raised a hand in a quick wave, and a woman behind the rope waved back. Her motion was seen and copied by about a dozen others.
    “Friends?” Hannah asked.
    “Some of