Her Leading Man. Maggie Dallen

to me with the revised contract.”

      Gregory nodded absently, apparently lost in thought. Ben had a pretty good idea where his friend’s mind had gone. Such a shame. For a man who had everything, Gregory was bloody miserable, thanks to that howling banshee of a girlfriend. He’d watched from the sidelines all these months as Vanessa twisted him around her little finger and then tied him in knots over and over again. It wasn’t his place to intervene. All he could do was watch and wait and hope to hell that his friend came to his senses and ended the toxic relationship once and for all.

      He could all but see his friend pull himself out of whatever dark place he’d gone to as he focused on Ben once more. “So, how’d your date go the other night?”

      Ben shrugged and made a noise that was something akin to “eh.” It seemed preferable to admitting the truth. He had no idea. The whole night had been a bit of a blur.

      It had been a stupid idea in the first place. Hooking up after a breakup was one thing—that was expected and therapeutic—but a date? He blamed Natalie for sending him the link to a dating site. He’d never done online dating before, and he had to admit, the online part was kind of fun. You create this profile that is basically just an ego-boosted best version of you and then you chat with all these women. Countless women. And some of them were pretty great—one in particular was interesting, eloquent, funny, and fucking hot, if the pictures were anything to go by.

      So he’d asked her out. Not that he was looking to get into another relationship or anything. He’d learned that lesson. But online dating seemed like the most efficient way to find his next hookup so he could start to move on. He should have just stuck with the old tried and true method—go out to a bar and hit on the ladies. Buy a few cocktails, throw out a few compliments, and leave the rest up to Mother Nature. It had never failed him before. But no, he’d allowed Natalie to convince him that online dating was the wave of the future. Online was one thing but going on a date was a totally different matter. Maybe that was why he’d started on the whisky before his date had even arrived.

      Gregory took his non-answer to mean that the date had only been so-so.

      It was possible it had been amazing, but Ben would never know. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to reach out to her to find out. Even if he’d wanted a second date—which he didn’t—how the hell would he explain the fact that he had almost no memory of their first date. Bloody embarrassing. He’d learned his lesson. From here on out he would stick with what he knew. Sex. Pure, simple, meaningless sex. That was what a rebound was supposed to be.

      Besides, that black hole of a night was over, a thing of the past. He hadn’t gotten any e-mails from his date hinting around about meeting up again, so more likely than not she’d moved on as well. No use giving it a second thought.

      Chapter 2

      Caitlyn tried to focus on mopping the floor of the theater’s lobby, but yet again her traitorous brain was replaying the date from hell. It had been nearly a week. She should be over it already. But every time the memory came up, she thought of new, cutting remarks she should have said. Comebacks that were so witty and scathing he would have walked away in tears.

      But no. Instead, she’d run away like a coward. God, sometimes she was so tired of being passive.

      “Whoa, watch it there.” Marc laughed as her mop nearly tripped him. A tall and lanky ballroom dancer, Marc deftly dodged her mop with a little dance step.

      “Sorry,” she mumbled. Marc was Tamara’s roommate and an official member of the crew. It was just sheer luck that Tamara had found herself a nice gay roommate who also happened to adore old movies. Why couldn’t she be so lucky with her subletters? She had yet to really click with one of the many renters who’d temporarily shared her apartment after her ex moved out.

      “How is it that our resident morning person is the grumpiest of us all?” Tamara asked. The petite blonde gave her a teasing nudge as she passed and swatted Marc’s hands away when he attempted to pull her into a dance when a new song came on the radio.

      “Sorry,” Caitlyn said again.

      “Tell me you’re not still moping over one bad date,” Alice said. Even at seven-thirty on a Saturday morning and with a dirty rag in her hand, Meg’s younger sister looked like a supermodel. Her long auburn hair pulled into a messy bun, her face was clean-scrubbed, but she was still gorgeous. Add the fact that she had a super successful career as a PR specialist and a slew of men at her beck and call, and Alice was a walking reminder that life was incredibly unfair.

      Pushing a stray lock out of her face, Alice turned to her. “I know you’re new to dating so trust me when I say that good dates are the exception to the rule. You’d better get used to the lousy ones.”

      Alice’s lips turned up in a small smile as she added, “Although a night that ends with insults and a lap full of beer is pretty bad as far as bad dates go.”

      Caitlyn turned to Meg, who was sitting in the corner flipping through the chore list for the day—the only task her big belly would allow. “You told her?”

      Meg shrugged. “She’s my sister.”

      Caitlyn rolled her eyes as the others laughed. Clearly her bad date had been the source of everyone’s amusement this week. She bit back a weary sigh. Wonderful.

      Tamara passed her again, lugging a full trash bag, her face screwed up in a sympathetic pout. “I’m sorry you had such a terrible experience. That is exactly why I don’t date.”

      “You don’t date because you’re too shy to speak to the opposite sex,” Marc called out. Marc had taken it upon himself to break Tamara out of her shell but hadn’t had much success. They’d been roommates and friends for more than three years, and so far his “interventions,” as he called them, had yet to pay off. Tamara was pretty in a fragile, ballerina type way, but she hid her looks behind her long blond hair, which tended to act as a veil she could duck behind, and baggy clothes that did nothing for her figure. Marc still had his work cut out for him.

      Tamara kept wiping down the refreshment stand, unfazed by her roommate’s comment. Caitlyn supposed Tamara heard remarks like that night and day since she lived with her biggest cheerleader.

      “I’m too busy to date. This theater doesn’t run itself, you know,” Tamara said with a toss of her hair. It sounded like something she said more out of habit than anything else. Marc gave a snort of disbelief but let it drop.

      “How’s the mission going?” Caitlyn asked.

      “The mission” was Tamara’s ongoing quest to get the old theater on the list of N.Y.C. landmarks. The current owner was not exactly aware that Tamara was pursuing landmark status from the Landmark Commission—and if he knew, he most likely wouldn’t be pleased. It was a not so-secret-secret that the barely-there owner was hoping to sell, and it was clear he didn’t care what the new owners did to the place. He hardly took an interest in the Ellen Theater now, and he was the sole proprietor. Tamara, the woman who actually ran the place, was determined to keep the integrity, not only of the architecture but also of its original purpose.

      “It’s not,” Tamara said. “I filed all the paperwork, but I’m still playing the waiting game.”

      “Do you think the owner found out and is using his connections to stall?” The owner wasn’t exactly a real estate mogul, but he owned enough properties to have connections where it counted.

      Tamara sighed. “I honestly don’t know if he’s intervening or if the red tape is just so thick that this wait time is normal.”

      Meg chimed in from her seat in the corner. “While you’re waiting, you could be dating.”

      Tamara and Caitlyn shared a grin. They were both on the hot seat these days. Marc and Alice were persistent, but as fellow single people they weren’t nearly as bad as Meg and Jake, who thought everyone should be as happy and content as they were.

      They’d met first semester freshman