"Shane, Alexa, thank you guys for coming. You're the best." Nora flashed her irresistible smile, then hugged Alexa. "I love that outfit, where did you get it?"

"This? It was on sale at May Company." Alexa wrinkled her nose in apology. "It's just an Adrienne Vittadini copy."

"On you it looks like a Dior original." Nora turned to the handsome fifty-five-year-old man beside her. "You guys haven't met Farrell. Farrell, these are my dearest friends in L. A., the Scullys."

Farrell grinned, and they shook hands and all started frantically searching for common ground.

"Nora, you didn't tell me Alexa would be so sexy. This is no meter maid you've got here, Shane."

Nine out of ten guys who said something like that would have pissed Shane off. Not that he was overly jealous, but there was some primal piece of him that didn't like handsome guys fawning over his wife or calling her sexy. But Farrell got away with it. Something in Farrell's demeanor said "Just kidding, don't take this the wrong way." He had a personality… Shane hated the word, but okay, a vibe that was warm, engaging, and funny. In seconds, Shane could feel himself being won over.

Furthermore, Farrell Champion was extremely attractive and his looks drew you to him. He was fit, but not muscle-bound, not a fanatic. His silver-gray hair was swept back off his tanned forehead and his dark eyes looked right at you, focusing, making you feel important.

"What a beautiful house… It's refreshing to see this kind of architecture on the beach." Shane couldn't believe such an egregiously phony sentence had come gushing out of him.

"Making movies isn't brain surgery, Shane. You gotta take all of this with a grain of salt," Farrell whispered with a wink. "No matter what anybody tells you, show business isn't creative art, it's a racket."