She probably should’ve gotten something other than ice cream to eat, but she wasn’t hungry. She was still too angry.

Finding an empty bench, she pulled out her phone. It rang once before her dad answered.

“Hey, Angelface. How goes it in the City of Brotherly Love?”

Tears sprang to her eyes for no reason other than her dad always sounded like home to her.

“Hi, Daddy. It’s going.”

“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good. You need me to send you a ticket home?”

She laughed because this was the game. And Tru loved the game she played only with dad. “Not yet. Maybe next week.”

“And you know the ticket would be waiting for you. Now, what’s up, sweetheart? You sound stressed. That boss of yours giving you trouble? You know I could take him in a fight.”

She laughed again, feeling her stress levels begin to recede at the thought of her sixty-year-old, cue-ball-head, thirty-pounds-overweight dad challenging Greg to a fight. The fact that her dad actually liked Greg didn’t mean he wouldn’t take on the younger man if Greg hurt her.

“I’m sure you could. Just having one of those days, you know?”

“Well, when I have one of those days, I’m usually hip-deep in sewer water in someone’s basement. I know that’s not in your daily planner.”

“True. No, it’s the damn musician scoring Greg’s film. He’s a pain in my ass.”

“Huh. Never thought I’d see the day you let a guy get to you.”

She opened her mouth to explain how wrong her dad was. That he hadn’t really gotten to her. That she’d been busy and he was a douche and—

She sighed. “Yeah, I let him get to me.”

“So what’s with this guy? You like him?”

The horror of his statement made her gasp. “Oh my god, no! He totally rubs me the wrong way. Most days I want to strangle him the minute he opens his mouth but we need him to finish the score. He’s such a pain in the ass. He constantly rubs me the wrong way and he does it on purpose.”

“I don’t know, honey. It kinda sounds like maybe he’s got a thing for you. You know, like in grade school when a guy likes you, he’s gonna pull your hair.”

She blinked a few times, not even able to grasp how completely off her dad was on this one. And he was usually so perceptive. “No. No, that’s just not even in the realm of possibility.”

“Well, you know best, being as you’re there and all. And I’m here.”

And sometimes her dad was Captain Obvious. But he was still one of the smartest people she knew. Only this time he had it wrong.

“So how’s Mom?”

Since her dad was a man of few words, they covered the rest of the family in two minutes flat, including her grandparents and their various ills and her sister and brother-in-law and her three nephews.

“The boys are giving your sister hell right now.” Her dad’s voice held noticeable glee. “Constantly on the move. Did you know they’re all playing hockey now?”

That made Tru smile.

Her sister was one of the girliest girls Tru had ever known. A cheerleader from the time she was five, Violet had worn jeans only if it was below zero, and then only if she didn’t have a pair of clean tights to wear with a denim skirt.

She’d married her high school sweetheart, who treated her like a queen, and then she’d gone and had three boys. Who took after their daddy way more than Violet had counted on.

They were the most adorable beings on the planet, even when they were covered in mud and the only clean spots to be found were their teeth when they grinned after digging holes in the backyard to plant dinosaur eggs.

Which had turned out to be Violet’s ugly-ass collection of pottery eggs from some local dude who thought he had talent. For some reason, Violet thought they were beautiful.

So, of course, Aunt Tru had whispered to the boys that those eggs were totally hiding dinosaur babies inside and that if they planted them, the dinosaurs would grow. Tru had planned to dig them up and “plant” baby dinosaurs in their places but Violet had noticed her eggs were missing and thrown a shit fit.

Their dad had laughed himself sick. Behind Violet’s back, of course.

“Serves her right for having boys.”

“You know that’s not how that stuff works, right?”

“What stuff, Dad? Sex stuff?”

Her dad laughed. “Yeah, I guess I walked into that one, huh?”

She and her dad didn’t talk about sex. He liked to pretend she didn’t know what it was, and she let him think she was a virgin.

The fact that she had been until her senior year of college had helped. And it wasn’t like she’d been racking up notches on her bedpost lately.

She sighed. “I guess I should get back to work.”

“You tell that boss of yours to give you more time off. He’s working you too hard.”

“I love my job.”

“I know you do. Which is the only reason I haven’t called him myself.”

She wasn’t exactly sure he wouldn’t so she just shook her head and laughed. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, too, Angelface. You come home for a visit soon. We miss you.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen in the next six months. Hell, she hadn’t even gotten home for Christmas last year. And honestly, she’d been too busy to do more than briefly miss her parents.

They both hung up at the same time. No good-byes. They never did. Superstition was a wonderful thing.

Putting her phone back in her pocket, she didn’t get up right away, though she knew she should. She had so much work to do. Work she loved and that made every day interesting and different and fulfilling.

Too bad Sebastian would still be there.

Just the thought of him made her want to stomp her feet in frustration and throw things at his head.

Of course, that hadn’t been what she’d thought the first time she’d seen him. That had been more like, Holy crap, he’s hot.

He was the lead guitarist for one of the country’s top hard rock bands, and he looked like the boy next door, with deep brown eyes and short, light brown hair and a mouth that made her—

And therein lay the problem, didn’t it?

Yeah, probably don’t want to think about that right now, huh?

With a sigh, she rose and pointed herself back in the direction of the office.

And resigned herself to the fact that until Sebastian Valenti got the hell out of her life, she was doomed to frustration and flashes of rage.

And how wonderful was that?

*   *   *

“So, dinner tonight. You’re coming with me. Few people I want you to meet.”

Baz spared Greg a quick glance before looking back at the laptop on the piano. This one last scene in particular was making him crazy, and he didn’t have a clue why.

It needed something slow but had to convey the emotions the characters were trying so hard to bury.

“Can’t. Need to finish this.”

Baz’s fingers played over the keys, trying to find the right tune in the notes. He could almost hear it. The actress, Amanda Whatever, had provided some of his best inspiration so far. When he looked at her, he heard exactly what he needed to create. Same with Daisy Devlin.

Neal Donahue . . . He was a tough one—

“You’re going, and I don’t want any shit. You’ve been hiding in this damn studio for weeks, and I’m starting to feel like a slave driver, so I’m ordering you to come to fucking dinner and have a fucking good time.”

Laughing in spite of himself, Baz pushed the stool away from the piano and met Greg’s gaze head-on.

“That’s a stupid-ass reason. And why would you want me at a business meeting? I’m just the talent. Tru’s got the brains.”

“Yeah, she does. But one of the guys I’m meeting has a daughter who’s a fan of yours. So your ass is mine for the night. It won’t be that bad. You get dinner, drinks, and some girl who’ll fawn over you all night. It’s a win-win. Besides, when was the last time you spent a night out?”

Since his answer to that included Greg’s girlfriend Sabrina and a kiss he’d had no intention of ever apologizing for, he kept his mouth shut. Greg’s raised eyebrows made Baz give him the finger.