Chapter 3

The cool morning air prickles my skin. Wakes me up. It feels good to be outdoors, and good to be running.

Limbered up, I head down the long, curving road that leads to Sunset Boulevard. I start at a slow pace and by the time I’ve reached the Chateau Marmont hotel, I’ve gotten into a rhythm. Because of my jet lag and lack of sleep, I’m running at a slower pace—maybe an eight-minute mile instead of seven—and my heart is beating faster than usual. Though a runner’s high eludes me, the jog is improving my mood. And it’s good for my arrhythmia—my irregular heartbeat. As I pound the pavement, the wails of my newborn evaporate from my mind.

My goal is to reach the legendary pink Beverly Hills Hotel. It’s about three miles there, three miles back. I reach it in twenty-five minutes and without stopping for a breath or a stretch, I pivot and head back to my house when a voice calls out to me.

“Hey, wait up!”

I spin around and, jogging in place, I see a woman running toward me. She’s tall, blonde, and lanky, and clad in a trendy spandex outfit. Bright-pink capris and a matching sports bra, along with pink-and-white Adidas and an all-pink baseball cap.

“Hey, would you mind some company?” she asks, catching up to me. Her knees reach her hips as she jogs in place beside me.

Up close, she’s even more beautiful than from afar. Her porcelain skin is flawless with sky-high cheekbones, full lips, and an aquiline nose. And she has these amazing violet eyes—a light-bluish purple.

She looks familiar to me. Maybe because she looks a bit like my wife—well, at least before she got pregnant. I’ve always had a type—tall, blonde, and willowy. Ethereal beauties who resemble my magnificent maman.

May she rest in peace.

“Have we met before?” I ask. With her head-turning looks and toned body, maybe she’s a model, starlet, or influencer who came to the agency looking for representation.

“Not that I recall.” She gives me a quick once-over.

And I think I would remember her. I never forget the face of a beautiful woman.

“Well?” she says, her tone cajoling. “Can I run with you?”

“Sure, why not?” I tell her I’m heading back to the Chateau Marmont without revealing where I live. We start to jog, and I run at a slower than normal pace so that she can keep up with me. I’m enjoying having her company.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” I ask.

“Usually I go for a run later in the day, but my work schedule changed.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a caregiver.” She gives me no room to probe. “But enough about me. What about you?”

I love it. She wants to talk about me. “I’m an agent at IMAGE…”

“IMAGE? The big Hollywood talent agency?” She pronounces it like I do. The breathy French way, accenting the second syllable. EE-MAHJ.

I can’t help grinning. “Yeah, that’s the one. I-M-A-G-E. It stands for Influencers, Musicians, Actors, Gamers, and Entertainers. I’m actually a founding partner.”

“That’s very impressive.”

I stare at her. “You know, you seem a bit familiar to me. Are you sure we’ve never met before? Maybe I’ve seen you on TV? YouTube? Or on TikTok. Are you an actor?”

“What makes you say that?”

“With your looks and everything, you must be.”

She laughs. “Isn’t everyone an actor?” She brings her left arm up and glances down at her watch. I notice she’s not wearing a wedding band. Nor is there any white band around her tanned ring finger to indicate she’s taken it off.

She lowers her arm. “I have to be somewhere soon. Do you want to race?”

“I don’t think I’m up for it.”

She turns her head my way. Her eyes travel up and down my sweaty body.

She smirks. “From the looks of you, I’d say you are.”

I feel myself heat.

“Well…?”

“Okay. Deal. On your mark, get set…GO!”

On my next breath, I charge ahead. Though I’m attracted to this intriguing woman, I’m not going to let her win. I’m competitive; that’s my nature. I don’t like to lose. Winning is everything. Winner takes all.

Despite my jet lag, I up my pace to a seven-minute mile, my feet pounding the pavement. Both my lungs and limbs burn as I propel myself forward. My breaths come out in hot, ragged pants. Sweat soaks my T-shirt. I look over my shoulder once to see how she’s doing. Good. She’s about a half block behind me, but I have to admit she’s fast. Her arms propelling her forward like the pistons of a locomotive, the look on her face is one of raw determination. We’re just a few blocks away from our finish point. I can taste victory on my tongue.

Then, suddenly without warning, she’s running beside me. I turn my head slightly and her eyes lock with mine. There’s a bright, sunny smile on her face.

“See ya!” With that, she charges ahead at lightning-fast speed.

What?! I’m shellshocked. How can she run that fast, I wonder, as my eyes stay glued to her long, lean muscular legs. Her platinum ponytail flaps so rapidly it’s almost a blur.

My chest and legs on fire, I watch as she reaches the Chateau first. At least a hundred feet ahead of me. She plants a hand on the stucco wall surrounding the hotel and spins around. With her free hand, she triumphantly punches the air, then waves at me with a flutter of her fingers.

“What took you so long?” she asks when I finally meet up.

I’m too out of breath to reply. Sweat pours from my forehead as I hunch over and hug my burning thighs.

“Jeez,” I finally breathe out, my heart still pounding. “You’re fast.” She’s not even panting and only a few beads of sweat glisten on her flesh, like tiny crystals. She’s so bright and beautiful she glows.

She licks her upper lip. “I like to win.”

I like a woman with fire and determination. Who challenges me. That’s partly why I married Ava. We used to run together, too.

Before I can say another word, my companion’s cell phone rings. She slides it out from the side pocket of her leggings and glances at the caller ID with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I have to take this call.” She hits answer.

“No problem.” Catching my breath, I stretch my calves against the wall and eavesdrop on her conversation.

“Yes… wonderful… I’d love to… Seven tonight is perfect.”

She ends the call. Curiosity gets the better of me.

“A hot date?” I ask, recovering from the laborious run.

“Yeah.”

Jealousy brews inside me despite her being no one to me. And the fact I’m married. My ego deflates like a dying balloon.

There’s an awkward wedge of silence between us as she fixes her ponytail, letting her lustrous hair fall over her shoulders before gathering it up again in an elastic band. Fighting the urge to brush away a loose strand, I tell her I have to go.

“Wait,” she breathes out. “Actually, it’s not a date. I just wanted to razz you.”

Razz. This stunning woman not only looks like my mother, but just used her favorite word. I loved how Maman used to pronounce it with her French accent and roll the “r” in her throat. She sounded like a cat purring.

I stop dead in my tracks as my companion continues. “I just took on a new client.”

Relief washes over me. “Good for you!”

She glances down at her watch again. “Hey, I’ve got to get on my way.”

“I enjoyed running with you,” I say. “Will I see you again?”

“Perhaps.”

Leaving me bereft, she takes off like the wind before we exchange names.