Elle thumbed through the magazine and landed on the page where the editors polled their readers. This week’s poll focused on the character of Desmond.

“Desmond of Follow the Sun has been making waves during season four and rumor has it Nolan Rivera is leaving the show. Do you think Desmond deserves to win Molly’s heart?” Elle read the poll aloud.

“Eighty percent, Elle! Eighty percent of readers don’t like Nolan’s character anymore. That’s golden. Golden!”

Elle was delighted, looking at the pie chart that depicted just how out of favor Nolan’s character had become. The viewers were ready for a change, and she was ready to give them one. She hugged the magazine to her chest.

“This . . . is even better than I’d hoped.”

“Eighty percent is something to celebrate!” Whitney slid into Rob’s chair, right next to Elle.

“Well, not yet. First, they have to fall in love with him.” Her eyes drifted back to Luke, who was nodding along to Rob’s directions.

Whitney followed Elle’s stare before leaning back in her chair, placing her hands behind her head. “Somehow I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“God, I hope you’re right.” Elle’s bottom teeth dug into her lip.

“You’re still worried he clouded your judgment?”

Elle nodded, closing her eyes with embarrassment.

“I was there, too, remember?” Whitney insisted. “He’s a good actor, I promise. I wouldn’t have let you hire him if he wasn’t.”

“True. And the table read went fine, so that’s a start,” Elle added, trying desperately to match Whitney’s level of confidence and enthusiasm. She knew, however, it would be impossible. No one was as invested as she was in this show, and that would never change. America had to fall in love with David McKenzie and they had to want Molly to as well.

Elle watched as Gina, her hips swaying in a confident strut, strolled to Luke. She was dressed in a business suit with a skirt that rested a few inches above her knees. The tank beneath her blazer dipped into a low V, exposing a generous amount of cleavage. Normally, Gina’s cleavage would have no impact on Elle, but this time said cleavage was uncomfortably close to Luke—and she didn’t like that. Her teeth clenched and her hands balled into fists as she observed them.

Whitney leaned in close to Elle. “You have to get used to seeing them like this.”

Elle’s teeth remained clenched, but she opened her hands and placed them into her lap. “I know.”

Whitney patted Elle’s leg softly. “Chemistry is good. We want chemistry.”

“You’re right, I know. This is just . . . it’s all new territory for me, that’s all.”

“I get it. But this too shall pass.” Whitney stood and blocked Elle’s view of her two leads. “I gotta run. Good luck today and let me know how it goes.”

“Will do.”

Elle glanced at her watch, knowing it was time for filming to begin. Rob returned to his chair; his feet bounced against the floor and his knees bobbed up and down. If Elle weren’t consumed by her own anxiety, she would have attempted to quell his.

“You ready?” Rob asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Elle faked the most confident smile she could muster and patted Rob on the wrist, her signal to get filming started.

“Let’s do this.” Rob stood, walked next to camera one and gestured for his assistant, Tim, to bring out the marker. “Places, people. I need quiet on the set!”

Tim, a man in his early twenties, stood for a moment, allowing everyone to settle down and prepare for filming. Then he held the marker for camera one. “Follow the Sun, episode seven, take one.”

“And action!” Rob yelled, and episode seven was on its way.

“How did I do?” Luke looked exhausted after ten hours of filming. He wasn’t used to the grueling ten-hour days or the multiple takes every scene required. But to the naked eye, it didn’t seem to faze him. He didn’t hesitate when Rob or Elle requested he change his approach to a line, and he listened intently to all instructions given to him.

And best of all, his chemistry with Gina was off the charts. Although, that was the most difficult part of the day for Elle—but she was working on it. She couldn’t let her jealousy of his obvious attraction to a Hollywood actress affect her desire for a successful show.

“You did great.”

“So . . . we only got through about six pages today. Is that normal?”

“Of course. I know it’s tedious, but it’s the nature of the beast. It’ll take us an entire week to film this episode. We’ve only just begun.”

He placed his hands in his pockets, nodding along as Elle spoke. “I’m famished,” he said. “How about you?”

“Yeah, I avoided the craft services table. I gained ten pounds the first season. They make it way too easy to eat junk.”

Actually, Elle had gained fifteen pounds, but she thought ten sounded better when retelling the story. Craft services was a staple for any film or television shoot—a catering company provided all kinds of delectable treats . . . sandwiches, doughnuts, bagels and cream cheese. Almost everything but a salad was available for their ten- to twelve-hour shoots. Elle had grown accustomed to bringing her lunch in to avoid eating all of the tempting desserts and pastries.

Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “I was too nervous to eat.”

The innocent expression on Luke’s face made Elle’s heart melt just slightly. His honesty and sweetness were endearing and she couldn’t let another second go by without kissing him gently on the lips, not caring who might see the act of PDA.

Luke grinned. “What was that for?”

“Nothing, really. I just think you’re pretty great.”

“I think you’re pretty great too, Ms. Riley. Shall we eat?”

Elle stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh, right. One minute, I just need to find Gina.”

Luke’s relaxed face contorted slightly. He looked confused. “Gina? How come?”

“She knows the name of the pizza place.”

Luke relaxed. “Oh, that. She told me earlier. It’s Anthony’s Pub in Westwood.”

Elle was puzzled. Why would Gina and Luke be discussing the restaurant? Did Elle mention Gina told her about the place? Her brain was fuzzy. After working ten hours, there was no sense in pushing the issue, so she simply asked Luke for the address.

“That I don’t know. But maybe they have a website.”

Elle retrieved her phone from her purse, typing in the name of the restaurant and town. Westwood was a college town surrounding the UCLA campus, so it didn’t surprise her that a bar and pizza joint would be popular there. When she googled the place, however, no website was listed, only an address and phone number.

“Shall we?” she asked, leading Luke to her car on the studio lot.

Anthony’s Pub was a tiny bar and restaurant tucked into a side street just minutes from campus. Elle felt right at home the moment they walked through the door. She was surrounded by Chicago. Chicago Bears banners hung from the ceiling, a framed Coach Ditka sweater-vest was in a glass case behind the bar, and the walls were painted in navy blue and pumpkin orange.

The place even smelled like home.

“Do you smell that?” she asked as they walked inside the cozy restaurant, greeted at once by the leather stools next to the thick oak bar. The aromas of oregano, basil, and melted butter saturated the air. Elle breathed in deeply to bask in the comfort the smells brought to her senses.

Luke placed his hand on the small of her back. “If it tastes half as good as it smells, I think I’ll be in love with this place.”