“It is an acceptable form of communication.” Jenny leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “But if we’re going to talk about my dating life, then we need to talk about yours.”

“Dating life? You deserve someone who isn’t going to change his mind when the next role comes around—or the next bottle.”

“You said he made it to the set on time and knew his lines.”

Reed Rutherford had been easy to work with in London. Also, he’d made a tentative effort to be friends with Anna again. She’d been civil, but she would never forgive him for the way he had treated Jenny. “How can you forget what happened?”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Jenny pressed her lips together into a firm line, plunging her mascara applicator into the small bottle as if scrubbing a dish—words Jenny had used to describe Anna’s less-than-elegant method. “We’re just talking.”

“I don’t understand.” Anna shook her head. After leaving Jenny in Paris, Reed had abruptly ended their relationship without explanation. Anna had thought her friend would never speak to him again.

“What about you?” Jenny asked. “What about your bartender?”

“He’s a screenwriter.”

“You’re blushing.”

Anna looked up at the ceiling. There was no way a hot, younger bartender wanted to date her. He had been sweet, and then just the right amount of not sweet. She had been dismissive, and then just blatantly, inexcusably rude.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” Anna picked up a book from Jenny’s nightstand and flipped through the pages.

“Uh-huh,” Jenny hummed as she applied blush in firm, efficient strokes.

Anna had tried to let go of the memory of the fleeting make-out session, but it would come back to her at the most difficult times. She had lain awake on Jenny’s lumpy couch, staring at the darkening sky through the curtains. John’s hand on her cheek, the gentleness of his lips on hers, the very ungentle way he had fisted her hair in his hand—she remembered all of it.

“Hickeys usually don’t come from not a big deal.”

Thank God they had faded by now. She hadn’t been able to live with Jenny’s teasing.

“It was nice.” Anna cleared her throat. “He has good taste in movies. Mostly. What is it with men and Scarface?”

“You’re being ridiculous. You like him. Those hickeys on your neck suggest he likes you. Ask him out.”

“I would have to go to the bar again.”