“What do you mean?” She cocked her head at him.

“It’s just, uh, obvious what they were going for.” He spoke quickly, almost nervously. “It’s a good movie reference.”

Was he embarrassed about being into romantic comedies? “Why are you here?” she asked abruptly. The question had tumbled out of her mouth as soon as it popped into her head. Ah, alcohol. She shouldn’t have agreed to that third cocktail, especially since she was supposed to be working.

But it was out there now, so she might as well forge ahead. Besides, discovering why a single guy would choose to spend a week at a rom-com resort would be great for her article. “Why did you sign up for this”—she waved her hand, indicating the room at large—“game, or whatever you want to call it?”

“Why did you?” he countered.

“Hey, I asked first.” Julia stared at him. She knew that trick. Classic deflection; answer a question with a question. Again, she wondered if he was one of the actors. Julia thought back to when they met. Had Luke been wearing a button then? Possibly. She didn’t remember seeing one, though his shirt had been off during much of their conversation.

“Good evening, everyone!” A voice carried across the room, derailing her thoughts. Julia turned toward the sound. Penelope, the game master, was standing by the bar, wireless microphone in hand. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed getting to know each other.” Penelope glanced around the room, smiling as she paused, her attention on a couple in the corner. “Apparently some of us are getting to know each other a little more than others.”

Julia realized the comment was directed toward the spot where Kat was all but in Dr. Shadowbeard’s lap now.

Luke must have made the same connection. “They seem to be having fun.” He observed drily. “You know her, right?”

“What?” Julia was surprised at the irritable sensation prickling in her chest. Not jealousy, but perhaps a distant cousin to it. An urge to hoard his attention for herself.

“I saw you making the rounds together earlier, along with your other friend … the one I met this afternoon.”

“Oh, um, yeah.” Julia turned into oatmeal again. Warm, mushy oatmeal. Andie was right. He had been watching her.

“Just a quick announcement that dinner is about to begin,” Penelope continued.

“Has it really been an hour already?” Luke wondered.

“Apparently.” Julia shook her head, glad she wasn’t the only one who felt like the time had flown by.

“If everyone will please follow our gracious hostess…” Penelope stretched an arm out, indicating where the glowing pink orb of Mrs. Weatherwhatever stood waiting in front of a pair of French doors, a corgi in each arm. “You’ll all get a chance to continue your conversations at dinner.”

“Do you think the dogs get their own seats at the table?” Julia wondered.

“I think they probably get their own table.”