It Happened in L.A.: Ms Match / Shockingly Sensual / Playmates

She turned to look up at Paul and her smile came without a thought. So did the flutters plaguing her so often these days. “No, I was just thinking about stuff.”

“Dangerous occupation. It always gets me into trouble.”

“We’ve got just enough time to get popcorn and good seats.”

He glanced at his watch, some terribly expensive army-looking thing. “Half an hour.”

“I said good seats.” She took out two tickets from her pocket. “See? I knew you’d be here on time.”

“I was going to get those.”

“You may buy the popcorn, which I assure you will be more expensive. I love my popcorn.”

“A giant tub?”

“For me, yes. You may get what you like.”

He laughed. “A giant soda to go along?”

She handed the tickets over to the nice man at the door. “Nope. Medium, diet. With the popcorn, make sure they put the butter on halfway through, then again at the end. No skimping.”

He touched her back as he escorted her to the candy counter. Just a touch, something one friend would do with another friend, no biggie, and yet it was a biggie, it was giant because she reacted like…She reacted foolishly.

The popcorn saved her. Paul ordered, not even blinking at her request for diet soda. He got himself a large popcorn, no butter. Fool. He clearly didn’t understand movies the way she did.

Inside, the theater was already a quarter full, mostly with teenagers. A few older folks sat in the far corners, but she wanted dead center. So did everyone else, but they ended up with decent enough seats.

Once settled, purse and sweater were put aside, popcorn and napkins on her lap, cup in the holder. It was perfect and she sighed contentedly.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice showing much pleasure. “How many times have you seen these two?”

“Three and two, respectively. I only hope that the film stock is decent. This theater can be hit-and-miss.”

“I got them both on DVD, but I prefer seeing them here. They’re scarier.”

She nodded as she dug into the great bucket of buttery goodness. “I also love the coming attractions. It’s all good.”

“So is the book you gave me.”

“You still like it?”

“No. I like it more. It kept me up too late last night. And tomorrow, I’ve got a showing to go to, and I’m resenting it. I almost called to cancel, but it’s my company, my party. So the book will have to wait.”

“I understand. You should get an audiobook next time. Listen to it in traffic. You’ll get through it faster.”

“Good—” He stopped, when the lights dimmed. “Good,” he said again, but it was an entirely different sentence.

Gwen was terribly aware of him until fifteen minutes into Ju-on. By then, she was wrapped up in the story, anticipating the scary bits. She kept eating her popcorn, pausing just before something bad happened. That was the fun of multiple viewings—no danger of choking.

Then, about ten minutes later, Paul touched her hand. The underside. After a moment’s hesitation, he slipped his fingers between hers.

She hadn’t had anyone hold her hand in a movie in years. If anything, dates had put their arm around her to snuggle. This was infinitely sweeter. She felt like a teenager again—no, younger than that. There was an innocence to his move, a tiny step where nothing else would have worked.

Despite the gasps of fear that filled the theater, the ominous music, she looked at Paul to find him looking at her.

He smiled. Tossed some popcorn in his mouth, then turned back to the screen.

She wasn’t worried about the ending anymore. Not of the movie or of the night. He’d just told her she was safe.

And then with a jolt she realized that wasn’t true at all.

Chapter 10

GWEN CLOSED HER FRONT DOOR, dropped her purse and sweater on the table, then flopped onto her couch with a satisfied sigh. She couldn’t have asked for a better night.

They’d held hands for the rest of the movie and for all of the second. Her fingers had been squeezed during the scariest bits and her palm tickled once for no reason at all. They’d gone to a nearby coffee shop after, where he’d had a piece of chocolate cake, which, she pointed out, negated his low-cal popcorn. He’d been unimpressed with her logic as he’d devoured every bite.

If she hadn’t known better, she would have called it a date. But it wasn’t. For heaven’s sake, they were just beginning their friendship and neither had spoken of anything more. Friendships were good. Lovely. And the hand-holding was nothing more than…what? Maybe her definition of friendship might need some refinement.

But it was late and she was foolish. Time to get ready for bed. She didn’t hurry, though. She went into the kitchen to put her breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, her thoughts turning to the end of their night.

As she’d predicted, he’d walked her to her car, but just as she’d unlocked her door, he’d gotten a phone call from a client. Voilà. No kissing awkwardness. A perfect ending all the way around.

She looked at her hand, still marveling that she’d been so giddy over such a simple thing. What was happening to her? Her maturity and good sense were going straight down the tubes, and she didn’t mind in the least.

Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been the absolute perfect ending to their evening. He could have thrown the phone into the bushes, pulled her into his arms and kissed her desperately, swearing his undying—

Uh, wait. That’s not at all what she’d wanted. Dramatic, yes, but it would have freaked her out so badly, she’d have run for the hills.

She didn’t want him that way. Not in real life. So she had fantasies. So she wasn’t immune to the romantic mythos. Yes, even levelheaded women who knew better could still dream about being in a fairy tale, right? That didn’t automatically knock off IQ points. It was just part of her girl DNA.

With that settled, she finished cleaning up the kitchen. It was past her bedtime and she didn’t do well on less than seven hours. She wished someone would invent a way to get a washed face and clean teeth without actually having to wash or brush. A knock on the door caught her just before her bedroom.

It was past midnight. Who could be knocking at this hour, unless it was Holly? Gwen ran to the door and opened it.

It wasn’t Holly.

“Good, you weren’t in bed yet. I’ve been standing out here for ten minutes worrying I’d wake you.”

“Paul.”

He gave her a wobbly smile. “Never mind. I’ll go.”

She grabbed his arm. “No, don’t be silly. I was just surprised, that’s all. Come on in.”

He followed her, stopping in the foyer. “The thing is, I didn’t really say good-night.”

“It’s okay. It was business. Something that clearly had to be taken care of.”