“Are you serious?” He looks absolutely horrified. Maybe I’ve taken it a touch too far.

“I don’t know about not working in the city ever again, but I definitely won’t get a part if that director is involved.”

He releases me and runs his hand through his full, luscious, slightly curly hair and expels a long, slow breath. “I really screwed you, didn’t I?”

Well, you sure did screw my mouth. At first I think those words are in my head, until I watch his eyebrows rise.

“I screwed your mouth?”

“Uh. With your tongue. When you kissed me, with tongue. You screwed—” Oh God, Ruby, stop talking. “My mouth. With your tongue.” And he did it, very, very well. My lady parts agree with this assessment, based on the way they’re tingling. I must be on the mend if I have tingles. Or maybe I’m sicker than I thought.

He crosses his arms over his chest. A half-smirk tugs up the left corner of his mouth. “You kissed me back.”

I blink a couple of times. I guess he noticed that. I’m not going to admit it, though. “You caught me off-guard and I’d been drinking.”

“Drinking? Really? How do I know you weren’t just hungover and that’s why you hurled all over that director?”

Even the word hurl makes my stomach feel like it wants to stage another revolt. “I had one drink! And I’m still—” I make gestures instead of saying the word.

“You can’t have it both ways, sweetheart.”

“Both ways? What are you even talking about?”

“I’m talking about you coming up with bogus excuses to explain away why you kissed me back when you didn’t even know me.”

My mouth drops open. I clamp it shut, just in case, and glare at him. “I have a very low alcohol tolerance. I had one martini.” I hold my finger up in front of his face. “It hit me a lot harder than I expected.”

“Right.” His smirk is infuriating. I want to suck it right off his gorgeous face, with my lips, either set.

“You cocky f—” I bite back the nasty expletive and narrow my eyes. I’m so sweaty right now, and I don’t think it’s just the sickness. “You know, regardless of your perception of what happened the other night, considering how drunk and doped up you were, you are the reason I’m jobless, and now I’m about to be homeless, too. So I hope you’re well entertained by my misfortune.”

“Homeless?” That wipes that godforsaken gorgeous smile off his face.

I shouldn’t have said that part. “Never mind.” I turn around. I’m not sure what my plan is, whether I’m going to bolt, although the idea of leaving behind three quarters of a perfectly delicious, edible meal when I’m down to my last six packages of ramen noodles seems rather wasteful. I might not be able to finish it tonight, but I can certainly save it for another day. Primavera will last at least a few days in the fridge. I should be better by then.

“Whoa, whoa!” Bancroft grabs my arm, not hard, gently but firmly. “You can’t say something like that and just walk away.”

“It’s not like it affects you,” I bite out, embarrassed. I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into this kind of situation.

“Right now it affects me, especially if I’m responsible for your predicament. I need you to explain the homeless part.”

I wave my hand around in the air while I debate whether I want to tell him the fabricated story Amie and I concocted or some version of the truth. I’m excessively flaily tonight. “There was a problem with my lease renewal. The rent was doable and nothing else out there is, especially without this job, so I’m screwed.” That’s not quite a hundred percent true, because even with that role, I wouldn’t have had the money to pay down the overdue rent and my place is already rented out, so either way I was going to end up homeless. But he looks like he’s feeling some guilt over this, and I need a place to live. I’m not above manipulation. Or girl tears. Plus he’s gorgeous.

“And you don’t have anyone who can help you out? What about your family?”

“My father’s not exactly supportive of my career choice, so asking him isn’t an option.” Here I go again, giving him far too much information. It’s like his voice is truth serum.

There’s that frown and that furrowed brow again. I’ve never seen such a sexy furrow. “You don’t think he would help you?”

“He’s made it very clear he won’t help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because he thinks I should be done playing make-believe and come home to work for the family like my brother and sister.” Before my dad married my mother he had another, shorter marriage that lasted only a few years. Long enough to give me two older siblings who lived mostly with their mother apart from summer holidays until they were old enough to be involved in the pharmaceutical company.

Bancroft’s jaw clenches. I can’t tell whether that’s a good or a bad thing. And I don’t have a chance to find out, because Amie comes around the corner.

“There you are. I was getting worried.” Her eyes dart back and forth between us. “Is everything okay?”

I step back, realizing just how close we are to each other, and smooth the front of my dress, putting on what I hope looks like a natural smile. “Just fine. We were on our way back to the table.”

“I’ll be right there,” Bancroft mutters and turns away, heading for the men’s room. It might be a figment of my imagination, but I swear he shakes out his left leg a little.

“Are you okay? What did he say to you?” Amie whisper hisses in my ear.

“I’m fine. He accused me of kissing him back.”

“He did what?” Amie stops walking, but her arm is linked with mine, so I’m jerked to a halt. “Sorry, sorry!”

“Well first he accused me of kissing him back and then he apologized.”

“I’m glad he apologized.” She looks relieved. “Why would he accuse you of kissing him back though?”

I get busy picking at imaginary lint on my dress.

“Ruby?”

I mutter something unintelligible.

“Did you kiss him back?”

I shrug.

“You didn’t even know who he was!”

“I was caught off guard. He’s a good kisser. And have you seen him? That man could revive a corpse with his hotness.”

“Sometimes you’re very creepy, you know that?” Amie looks over her shoulder and then sighs. “I’m so sorry about this, I didn’t realize Bancroft was the mystery kisser. I’ll figure something out. I won’t let you be homeless.” Her eyes light up, all devious-like.

It makes me nervous, it’s the same expression she used to wear when we were younger and she wanted to do something we could get grounded for.

“Actually, this might be perfect.”

“Perfectly humiliating?” I ask.

“Let me work my magic.”

“Your magic is exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Chapter 5: Homes for the Homeless

RUBY

We return to the table. Armstrong looks a little put out that he’s been left alone. I assume it’s because dinner plates don’t act riveted by his engaging conversation.

I sit down and notice my meal is gone. “Did you have my pasta packed up?”