Blake knew Julia didn’t think the superstition was anything but funny, but on the off chance that it was actually true, he hoped it only applied to the person you were locking eyes with. The thought of Julia having seven years of knock-out sex with somebody else left a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the wine, which was fresh and acidic and slightly effervescent, ideal after a long day walking in the heat.

Still, he couldn’t help feeling a heaviness steal over him as he watched her lean back in her seat, fingering the condensation on the sides of her glass. Was she even going to tell him what she’d done?

“This is perfect,” she sighed, looking out at the water through the palm trees lining the walkway down to the beach.

Well, that answered his question, at least. It looked like avoidance was going to be the strategy of the evening. Blake was just going to have to learn to keep up.

They ordered a grilled hearts of palm salad as an appetizer and a chilled pumpkin soup with prawns and the hint of something spicy—cayenne, to balance the saffron threads?—that made the whole dish come alive.

“When I first came to Brazil, I was in the Amazon,” Blake said between bites. “All I ate was the most basic fried fish and grilled meat from those ubiquitous food stalls.”

“And pineapple juice?” Julia winked.

“And pineapples.” He laughed. “And then I got to Manaus—that’s the major city plunked down in the middle of the rainforest—and it was like I’d never seen food before. I had no idea Brazil was known for its cuisine, you know?”

Julia nodded as Blake remembered his first bite of the thick, smoky feijoada that was Brazil’s national dish.

“I may have imagined that I’d be spending my vacation sipping cocktails on the beach, but I never thought it would be quite this nice.” Julia swirled the light, straw-colored wine in her glass and took another sip before spearing one of the palm hearts with her fork, mopping up the cilantro and lime vinaigrette.

“I can assure you that my other travels have definitely not been like this.”

“Tell me more about where else you’ve been.”

“Tell me why you Googled me.”

He had meant to keep quiet about it, but half a glass of wine later the words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was going to say them. A request to match her request. A challenge for more information to balance out the information she’d gained.

Her eyes grew wide and she paused mid-breath, suddenly at a loss for words. Then she smacked her forehead. “The search history?”

“Bingo.”

“I’m not a very good sleuth.”

“No.”

The blush on her face was the deepest he’d seen. But there was no attempt to cover anything up or act like she’d done nothing wrong. Just embarrassment, pure and simple.

“I was chatting with my friend Liz and I told her about you. I’m sorry, should I not have? I didn’t know. But,” she laughed and gestured around her. “How could I not?”

“And then you said…?” he prodded, his stomach in knots.

“And then I admitted to her that I didn’t really know that much about you.” Julia put her glass down. “That I don’t know that much about you.” She changed her tense emphatically, stressing all that still remained unsaid between them.

He put his glass down on the table louder than he’d planned. “And you couldn’t, for instance, ask whatever it was that you were so desperate to find out?”

Julia jumped, looking startled at his tone. “It wasn’t like I set about to go snooping on you.”

“But that’s exactly what you did,” he pressed, aware of his voice rising in the restaurant. How could she not see what she’d done?

She bit her lip. “Look, you’re making too big deal out of this. I honestly wasn’t even going to say anything.”

His fork clattered on the table. “Well then I’m glad my whole life isn’t a big deal to you.”

Julia looked stunned and for a moment Blake regretted his words. But the flash of all those cameras on him still stung. How could he be on the front page of the tabloids and at the same time not matter at all?

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she said quietly, clutching her glass and looking away.

Blake sighed. Suddenly he felt exhausted. What did it matter? They barely even had two more days. “Look, let’s forget it. Forget I found out, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“I didn’t think it was a problem,” she said. “But obviously it was, and I’m sorry.”

“I just wish you would’ve asked me directly, instead.”

“Ask you what?” She threw her hands up on the air. “I barely know anything about you. You’re completely vague on whatever you do say about your life, and I’m sorry but it didn’t occur to me to check in with you beforehand about whether you were a famous TV writer who’d gotten completely screwed. I didn’t think it was my business.” She paused, then added, “I still don’t.”

Blake opened his mouth, then closed it again. That was what she thought—that he had been screwed? Not that he had it coming to him? In the scandal and gossip of Australia’s celebrity world, public opinion had determined there was something wrong with him for not holding on to his star. But here it was like Julia cared but also didn’t, and Blake didn’t know whether it made them closer or further apart to know that she’d seen this side of his life and basically shrugged.

“So what did you tell Liz?” He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but he still had to ask.

He was surprised to see Julia laugh. “I mentioned that I’d met someone, and Liz said—okay, first you have to understand that she’s Liz. She’s been my best friend since kindergarten and we’ve been through everything together. It made her life to know that I was having a good time.”

No, Blake had to revise his earlier assessment. Now she was sporting the deepest blush he’d ever seen on her. It made something bubble through his insides, cutting through his anger. She was having a good time?

“And then she was all, Oh my god who is he, Google him, look him up, blah blah blah.” Julia imitated a frenetic, high-pitched voice and Blake got an instant picture of who Liz was. “Sooooo.” She took a gulp of wine far more sizeable than the sips she’d been enjoying. “I did.”

For a second Blake couldn’t speak. “Wait—you were just like, I don’t really know this guy, and it was your friend who told you to stalk me?”

“I wasn’t stalking you! It’s the internet! Everybody uses it.”

“I didn’t Google you,” he pointed out.

“Maybe you should have. What if everything about me is totally made up? What if I’m actually…I don’t know. A wanted fugitive in the States.”

“Julia.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Nobody makes up being a high school math teacher.”

“That’s why it’s the perfect disguise!”

He shook his head. “Nobody.”

She frowned. “So that’s why I never go on any dates?”

“I find it utterly impossible that you don’t go on any dates.”

“You think I’m lying to you?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one with the built in lie detector.”

“Not lying. Math teacher, no dates.” She paused. “Are you still upset?”

Blake took a deep breath and looked out across the terrace to the endless ocean outside. Was he? “I thought you—”

“Didn’t trust you?”

He shook his head. “It’s not just that. Well, yeah, it is, but also I thought you wanted to find out if I’m really…” he trailed off, not sure how to finish the thought.

“I’ll admit that when Chris and Jamie were talking about your TV show, I didn’t quite realize that when you said famous, you meant famous. But, uh, I don’t care, if that’s what you’re thinking about. I mean, wait!” she said quickly, choosing her words. “I don’t mean I don’t care, like I don’t care about your life. I mean that the objective state of your fame or lack thereof is of no interest to me, or has no bearing on my interest in you.” She exhaled warily. “Is that better?”