Of course it wouldn’t be that easy to make Anna play by his rules. Jett lightly bit the tip of his tongue when she called his bluff without even the slightest hint of hesitation. She knew that he knew why she would have said ‘somebody like him,’ and she wasn’t going to give in to his bait to make her explain herself. No, she was too clever for that. She was making him work for it—actually [i]work[/i] for it—and that was something he wasn’t used to. Whenever he’d prodded at women in the past with such pointed questions, they would always get flustered and try to backtrack, as if he would be turned away if he ever found out they thought he was attractive. But Anna wasn’t like other women. She met him step for step without a care about his opinion. It was different, but he found her self-assurance alluring in its own way.

“I’m flattered that you think so, but I’m not seeing anyone right now,” Jett shrugged in answer to her question. Now that he knew she wasn’t going to play his game, he decided it would be easier to give her a straightforward reply. “Despite how much the media loves to blow up stories about celebrity couples, it’s not easy to meet people in my industry.” It was one of those things that had come as a shock to him when he’d first gotten into professional music years ago. Like most people, he’d been under the impression that the super-rich and famous could have whoever they wanted and didn’t have to suffer through the same awkward stages of dating that the rest of the world was forced to endure. But, surprise, surprise: only the first half of that belief had even been remotely true.

“At least, not anyone worth meeting.” He’d discovered pretty early on that there were, in fact, [i]a lot[/i] of girls—and even some guys—who wanted to be with him as his name rose in popularity. It had been exciting to think that he had his pick of any of them. He’d even gotten his hopes up that he’d meet a girl he could eventually settle down with. After all, how hard could it be to find someone worth dating in a sea of people who were just waiting for him to ask them out? Well, apparently, pretty damn hard. After some horrible encounters with women who were crazier than his schizophrenic uncle, he’d decided to call it quits and made a personal rule that he would never go out with a fan again. Maybe by making that choice, he was missing out on meeting the girl of his dreams, but even if she existed, she wasn’t worth being held at knifepoint by a psycho chick with a singer complex—and yes, that had happened one time.

From there, he’d tried getting to know a few women in the industry, but that had just taken him back to square one with all the awkward small talk and the usual phases of attraction. By itself, that wasn’t too bad—he was confident enough in himself to power through the discomfort of a crush—but almost every girl he met had had a major ego or only cared about whether dating him would boost their own popularity. Even the one relationship he’d been in had turned out to be more of the same.

After six months of dating another pop singer named Jess Fuller who also lived in New York City, he’d learned that she had just been using their relationship to spread her name across his fanbase. Naturally, he’d broken things off pretty quickly after that, since he didn’t appreciate being led on by her, and the media covered the breakup as ‘a difference of interests,’ which he’d found degrading at the time because of how offended he’d been by the whole mess. Since then, he had come to feel glad that the real reason behind his split with Jess hadn’t been broadcasted to the world. With almost every other aspect of his life made transparent to the public, he liked to have a few secrets for himself.

“Call me old fashioned or picky or whatever, but I don’t date just any girl off the street—not even if she’s a good singer,” Jett stated with a nonchalant smile. “I know what I want, and I won’t settle for less.” As he spoke, his eyes wandered back to the drink table. Now was starting to feel like a good time for that fourth cocktail. Edging a little closer, he reached over to pick up a full glass and brought it to his lips. “Let me guess,” he studied Anna’s face when he turned back to meet her gaze. “I don’t know many committed girls who ask total strangers about their relationship statuses, so you must be unattached too. Am I right?”