“It’s okay. Not everyone knows models,” she says, her mouth slightly tight.
“No, no. It’s just…I just never thought I’d meet anybody famous, so I assumed you were somebody who looks a lot like a model I’ve seen. You know what I’m saying?” I pat her hand, looking at her with all the trust-me I can muster.
“Well.” Rachel smiles, mollified. “Now you have. This is your lucky day!”
Griffin lets out a soft growl that says I’m anything but lucky.
I ignore his grumpy mood for the moment. I’ll deal with it later in private, in case he says something to upset Rachel about her fame and recognizability.
“So.” Rachel settles back in her seat. “What are you doing—”
“You were telling me about how sorry Fabio was,” Griffin cuts her off. “He groveled and asked you to take him back. I want to know if he was on his knees when he did that.”
“Fabio can wait.” Rachel takes a sip of her cocktail. “Sierra is such a delightful young woman.”
Griffin’s hands clench and unclench on the table. Who is he strangling in his mind? Hopefully, the answer is this Fabio person.
“So tell me what you’ve been doing in Tokyo,” Rachel says.
“Griffin brought me here to celebrate my birthday.”
“The concert.”
“You saw the video?”
She laughs. “My dear, I was there. I was just telling Griffin that if he told me that he wanted to impress a girl and celebrate her birthday, I would’ve gotten him backstage passes.”
I gasp. “Backstage passes?”
“Mm-hmm. It would’ve been no trouble at all. Next time, just come directly to me.” She winks, then pulls out a card. “Here’s my number.”
“Is it okay?” It’s such a generous offer.
Griffin starts to reach for the card, but stops when I look at him curiously. He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes, letting out a long-suffering sigh.
“Of course.” Rachel’s words drag me back to the conversation. “Especially for a girl my son went to all this trouble for.”
Shock smacks me. “Your son?” She can’t be older than thirty-five. Her skin’s absolutely flawless, not a wrinkle or pore in sight. “You don’t look old enough to be his mother.”
She laughs, her finely carved cheeks flushed. “You’re so sweet! I know, but I most definitely am his mother. Where do you think he got his looks?”
My gaze swings back and forth between her and Griffin, who’s clenching his jaw. Now that she mentions it, I can see the resemblance. Griffin has his mother’s face, only bolder and more masculine. Those cheekbones are identical. So are the eyes and the sensual slant of their eyebrows.
“Anyway, he’s never done anything like ask me to get sold-out concert tickets for any of his girlfriends before. You must be special.”
My face warms with pleasure. It stokes my feminine ego to hear that, especially since I have feelings for him—I want him to be in my life as a real boyfriend, rather than just a placeholder to repel my leechlike ex-husband.
I shift my gaze toward Griffin. His face is impassive, but the skin around his eyes is tight with tension. Is he embarrassed that his mom’s gushing over me? Bet he’s awkward about expressing his feelings. It’s kinda cute.
Rachel continues, “And I like you, too, of course. You were so nice to me at Ted’s party.”
“I’m sorry that we didn’t get to talk more. Were you okay after your other son pulled you away?”
“Other son?” She blinks.
I nod.
“I only have one son.”