“Nah, it’s late, and I’ve no energy left. No creative juices flowing right now. Why don’t we cover the basics for tonight? Where we’re from, what our families are like, stuff like that.”

“Yeah, great.”

“You want a glass of wine?”

I need a drink. I’m definitely too nervous around this guy, and the feeling has to go quickly if my charade is to be believed by anyone.

“Yes, please.” Diego nods and goes to settle on the couch.

“Red or white?”

“Whatever is fine.”

I pick a bottle of red, grab two glasses, a corkscrew, and join him on the couch—sitting on the opposite, farthest end of it. I start maneuvering the corkscrew, damaging the cork more than I should in the process, when Diego says, “Here, let me.”

I hand over the bottle and, in a couple of quick moves, Diego has the cork removed and undamaged. He pours two generous glasses.

“You’re pretty handy with a bottle,” I comment.

“Well, modeling and acting only pay for a small part of the bills. I’m a part-time server at a steakhouse downtown.”

“When you’re not busy being a Santa impersonator.”

“Hey, I need all the money I can get. Wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Yeah, right. We might need to get comfortable with each other, but I have to remember this is still an employer-employee kind of relationship.

“Is it going to be a problem for the restaurant—you not showing for a whole week over Christmas break?”

“Nah. I only work there three nights a week, and I’ve asked my roommate to cover for me. Screech could use the extra money, too, and the owner doesn’t care as long as someone shows up to do the job.”

“You guys call each other weird names. He called you ‘Dunk’ over the phone.”

“Those are our gaming avatars.”

“Oh, cool. Anyway, I’m glad I didn’t mess with your work schedule.”

“On the contrary.” He flips Blair’s business card between his fingers. “Is your friend’s magazine legit?”

“Pretty new, but legit. Just a few months ago they did a fashion shoot with Saskia Landon.”

Diego low whistles. “Then I’d better stay on your friend’s good side.”

“Blair is very friendly, usually. Earlier, she was just being overprotective. It’s nothing personal.”

“So, you two have been friends long?”

“Forever.” I sip the wine, and its warm taste helps me ease into the conversation. “We grew up across the street from each other in Old Saybrook, a tiny coastal town a hundred miles north of here.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Small town.” I shrug and take another sip of wine. “You from around here, too?”

“No, I’m originally from Chicago. My family still lives there.”

“Is your family big?”