One Week With The Best Man. Andrea Laurence

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      “We close for a week between Christmas and New Year’s. That would cover some of it,” Natalie said. “Or you could go later in the spring. If you work ahead with the printing, we can get someone to cover the decorating. What matters is that you’d have the money in hand to go. What can it hurt?”

      “Yeah, Gretchen,” Bree chimed in. “It’s a lot of money, and for what? Clinging to the hard body of Julian Cooper with a loving look in your eyes? Dancing with him at the reception and maybe kissing him for the cameras?”

      Gretchen tightened her jaw, choking down another argument, because she knew Bree was right. All she had to do was suck it up for a few days and she could go to Italy. She’d never have another opportunity like this.

      “Besides,” Bree added, “how bad can faking it with a sexy movie star really be?”

      * * *

      If Ross hadn’t been personally responsible for Julian’s career success, Julian would throttle him right this second.

      “A date? A fake date? Really, Ross?”

      “I think it will be good for your image.”

      Julian sipped his bottled water and leaned against the arm of the chair in his Nashville hotel suite. “Do I look that pathetic and heartbroken over my breakup with Bridgette?”

      “Of course not,” Ross soothed. “I just want to make sure that her management team doesn’t outsmart us. She’s already been seen out with Paul Watson. If you don’t move on fast enough, you’ll get painted as lovesick for her.”

      “I don’t care,” Julian exclaimed. “Despite what everyone thinks, I broke up with Bridgette six months ago. We only went out publicly because you insisted on it.”

      “I didn’t insist,” Ross protested. “The studio insisted. Your romance was a huge selling point for the film. They couldn’t have you two break up before it even came out.”

      “Yeah, yeah,” Julian said dismissively. “If I ever even look twice at one of my costars again, you haul me off and remind me of this moment. But now it’s done. I’m over Bridgette and I’m way over dating someone just for the cameras.”

      Ross held up his hands. “It won’t be like that. I swear. Besides, it’s already done. She’ll be here to meet you in about five minutes.”

      “Ross!” Julian shouted, rising to his full height to intimidate his short, round manager. “You can’t just do stuff like this without my permission.”

      “Yes, I can. It’s what you pay me to do. You’ll thank me later.”

      Julian pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “Who is it? Some country music singer? Did you import an actress from Hollywood?”

      “No, none of that. They tell me she’s one of the employees at the wedding chapel. Just your everyday girl.”

      “Wait. I thought after what happened with that waitress you didn’t want me dating ‘regular’ women. You said they were a bigger security risk than another star with her own career to protect. You said I needed to stick to women that didn’t need my money or my fame.” Julian had been dealing strictly with high-and-mighty starlets the past few years at Ross’s insistence, but now, a regular girl was okay because he said so?

      “I know, and normally that’s the case. That waitress just wanted to dig up dirt on you to make a buck with the tabloids. There are a million women just like her in Hollywood. But in this scenario I think it’s a smart choice. Women in Nashville are different, and it’s an unexpected move. Your female fans will like it, of course, and so will the studios. I’ve been trying to get you a role as a true romantic lead. This could do it.”

      Julian didn’t really want to be a romantic lead. At least not by Ross’s definition. His manager’s idea of a romantic film was one where the sexy blonde clings to his half-naked body while he shoots the bad guys. He’d already played that role again and again. When he’d pushed Ross on the topic a second time, he got Julian the “romantic” lead in a movie about male strippers. Not exactly hard-hitting, award-winning stuff. Hell, he’d be thrilled to just do a light romantic comedy. Something without explosions. Or machine guns. Or G-strings.

      “I should fire you for this,” Julian complained as he dropped down into his chair. It was a hollow threat, and they both knew it. Ross had made Julian’s career. He might not be creatively fulfilled by big-budget action films, but the money was ridiculous and Julian needed every penny.

      “It will be fine. I promise. It’s not a real relationship, so I can break my own rules this once. In a few days, you can go back to Hollywood and date whomever you want.”

      Somehow, Julian doubted that. Since moving to Hollywood, he hadn’t had the best track record with the ladies. The waitress had sold the story of their romance to the newspapers with some other juicy tidbits she’d gotten out of him. The dancer was just looking for a guy to pay for her boob job. So many others were after either his money or his leverage to get into show business.

      Ross encouraged him to date other actresses to reduce that issue, but either way, there was usually some kind of confidentiality contract involved. Even with that in place, he’d learned quickly to keep private things private. He didn’t talk about his family, his past...anything that he couldn’t bear to see in the papers. An after-the-fact lawsuit wouldn’t undo the damage once it was out there.

      Since his breakup with Bridgette, he hadn’t really shown any interest in dating again. It was too damn much work and frankly, just not that fun. How was he supposed to find love when he couldn’t even find someone he could trust?

      Ross got up from his seat and put his drink on the coffee table. “Well, that should do it.”

      “Where are you going?”

      “I’m leaving,” Ross said.

      “Leaving? I thought you said my date was on her way over.”

      “She is. That’s why I’m leaving. Three’s a crowd, after all. You two need to get to know each other.”

      Julian’s jaw dropped as he watched his manager slip out of the hotel suite. He should’ve throttled him. He could get a new manager.

      With nothing to do but wait, he slumped into his chair and killed time checking his smartphone for missed calls or updates from his family. His mother and brother lived in Louisville, and that was the easiest and most secure way to keep up with them, especially with his brother James’s condition. James’s attendant usually kept him up to date on how his brother was doing and shared any funny tidbits to make him feel more connected. Today, there were no messages to worry him.

      About four minutes later, there was a knock at the door to his suite. His new girlfriend was punctual if nothing else.

      Julian got up and went to the door. He looked through the peephole but didn’t see anyone there. Confused, he opened his hotel room door wide and realized it was because his guest was very petite. She was maybe five foot two if she had good posture, and she didn’t. In addition to being petite, she was curvy, hiding most of her body under an oversize cardigan. She had the look of the average woman on the street, nothing like he was used to seeing around Malibu.

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