Megan noticed that he had an American twang.

“Yes.” James indicated Megan then his colleague. “Grant this is Megan. Megan, Grant, my co-director.”

“Nice to meet you,” Megan said, the tickly feeling on her brow travelling over her scalp and down her neck. She had to get out of there. She couldn’t bear the irritated look on James’ face. It was as if saying her name had left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“Ah…Megan…” Grant said, nodding slowly and a smile spreading on his face. “The Megan.”

“What do you mean?” Megan asked.

“He doesn’t mean anything.” James threw a sharp-eyed glare at Grant. “Do you?”

“I guess not.” The smile didn’t drop from Grant’s face.

It was clear to Megan that they’d talked about her. Her name was significant to Grant, which meant James must have told him about their date, their time together.

Oh God, had he told him about how she’d tumbled into bed with him?

Heat bloomed on her cheeks. Her belly tightened. She couldn’t stand it.

Run.

Get out of there.

No. She couldn’t keep running away from James. She’d wait until they left. Besides, her bags were too heavy.

“Well, I hope it goes well on the show,” James said, stepping away.

“Yeah, live TV isn’t easy. I admire you for it.” Grant nodded and made no move to leave.

He had deep ocean-blue eyes and his lashes were sun-kissed. He also had a golden tan, one that looked as though it was well ingrained.

“Thanks,” Megan said. “I’m no expert, but so far so good.”

“And that Ralph…” Grant tutted and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, not that I have time to watch it, this one works my fingers to the bone, but from what I hear, he’s a bit of a character.”

“I can handle him.” She glanced at James. He’d pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest.

Megan looked at how his T-shirt stretched around his biceps. Only two nights ago she’d clung to those sculpted muscles. She’d been so consumed by him. Yet now he looked as if he’d happily switch to living on a different planet to get away from her.

“I bet you can,” Grant said. “A gorgeous young thing like you. He’d be putty in your hands.”

“Come on, Grant.” James’ voice was tight with tension. “These edits are not going to do themselves.”

“See,” Grant said, finally stepping away. “Slave driver.”

Megan swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She looked at James but he’d turned and was striding down the corridor. His long paces making short work of the distance.

“Catch you around, Megan.” Grant gave a playful wave then jogged after James.