The entertainment press hadn’t cared about her in a long time, but they would make an exception if the first person she dated after her divorce was a bartender so much younger than her. She had been treated like a joke before, and it still rankled. She should make the sensible choice. That was better than being hurt or treated like a fool.

“I get it,” John said, narrowing his eyes at her. “No need to explain.” He turned around and walked back into the bar.

Anna shouldn’t have shut him down like that. What’s wrong with me? She thought of following him, but what would she say? Goodbye? Or “Let’s make out behind a bar again”? She had no idea.

Best not to dwell on it, she thought. John would forget her anyway. If not, he would remember her as some desperate older woman clinging to him in an alley.

#

JOHN LET THE DOOR SLAM behind him. He shouldered his way through the crowd, trying to shake off Anna’s look. That look had said, “I’ll kiss you, but I don’t want to date you.” In a town that constantly measured everyone by their appearances, John knew he was attractive, but he had thought someone who spent hours talking with him wouldn’t treat him like an afternoon’s diversion.

He waved to Linda, ignoring her questioning glance. He grabbed his bag from behind the bar and pushed out the front door to the street.

Kissing Anna Kovács in an alley like a goddamn teenager hadn’t been one of his best decisions. It was literally one of his worst, but he had liked it: the way she kissed him back, the way she wrapped her legs around his waist, the way she didn’t appear calculated or programmed to entice. Didn’t she want more? Who knows? Maybe she just likes kissing guys behind bars.

John walked to his car. This afternoon was nothing more than a distraction. He definitely wasn’t going to worry about whether a woman he had kissed like liked him. The only reason he was still here in LA was to get his movie made. He wasn’t going to let anything, or anyone, sidetrack him.

Setting aside thoughts of alleys and kisses, John instead considered his chance to meet the one agent in town who could package his movie. Somehow, he had to convince his roommate to get him into that premiere on Thursday.

Chapter Four

“What are you going to do about the TV pilot?” Jenny asked.

Anna put down her phone. She sat on Jenny’s bed as her friend dressed for the premiere. Jenny’s bedroom was charming, with its mismatched furniture, faded comforter, and books stacked on every available surface. Sunlight filtered through the curtains and suffused the room with warmth. Jenny had scrimped, saved, and carefully planned for her small Studio City home.