He looked down at the menu with the childish glee of a kid on the night of Hanukkah when you actually got real gifts, not socks or chocolate gelt.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “You’re gonna love this one.”

Madison returned and he gestured for her to lean toward him. He held up the menu between us, his gaze alternating between what he was pointing at and back at me. As he did, the puppy sauntered over, nudging her wet nose against my hand. I reached down and gave her a scratch, which was apparently an invitation for her to flop onto her back, showing me her stomach. I rubbed that, reveling in the velvety softness of her skin.

“She likes you,” Gabe said after Madison left with our orders.

“Puppies like everyone.”

He shook his head. “Not this one—she’s afraid of her shadow, the birds in the backyard, and paper bags.”

“Me too,” I said.

Gabe laughed. I liked making him laugh.

The puppy’s tongue was out; that pink ribbon—bright against her black fur—seemed almost too long to fit back in her mouth.

“Should I be worried?” I asked. “About what you ordered?”

“I don’t know.” Gabe leaned back, linking his hands behind his head. “Are you someone who likes to take risks?”

I stared at that startlingly intimate line of muscle running from his biceps to under his arm, disappearing into his shirt.

“No,” I said.

He laughed.

“Then maybe you should be worried.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “But just a little.”

Was he…flirting?

Of course, he was flirting. The same way he had flirted with Madison. It wasn’t personal. He probably didn’t know how to talk to a woman without flirting in some way. Madison and I were just people in his orbit and therefore we were going to be charmed by his very existence.

That was the nature of celebrities. Of fame.

There were times that I imagined what it might be like to be famous. That I might like to be famous. When I craved the attention and the interest that the spotlight afforded. When I longed for the validation that fame implied.

Gabe was probably good at being charming the way I was good at observing. They were skills that both of us had a natural inclination for but had no doubt honed over the years as they were required for us to do our jobs.

It was a good reminder that the only reason I was here right now, sitting across from Gabe Parker, trying not to stare at his gorgeous armpit, was because it was my job. A job I desperately needed to do well.

I took out my tape recorder.

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?” I asked, placing it on the table.