The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2)(7)

“Oh, great. I’ll let production know we need a regroup.” Clara looked at her expectantly. “And . . .”

“And what?” The words came out more urgent than she’d meant them.

“Did you network?”

Naomi could tell she was one wrong move away from another lecture on the importance of “expanding” their “business ecosystem.”

Naomi wrinkled her nose. “Not really.”

Clara leaned forward. “What’s that face?”

What face? would hardly fly. “A man tried to pick me up.”

“That seems annoying but unfortunately not out of the ordinary.” Clara frowned.

“No. Not like that. I mean he offered me a job. A teaching job.”

“Oh.” Clara’s face shifted. “But that’s good? You’ve been looking for an opportunity to educate in person for months now.”

“He’s a rabbi.”

“As in . . .”

“There’s only one definition of rabbi.”

“Wow.” Clara leaned back in her chair. “What did he want you to teach?”

“Modern intimacy.” He hadn’t even blushed when he’d said it. Every inch of him—the ones she could see anyway—had been sincere.

“Huh.” Clara tilted her head. “That’s actually kind of perfect, given your experience and areas of interest.”

Naomi picked up a pen and flipped it end over end between her fingers. Just because Ethan had offered her a classroom and the chance to reach the types of people she most wanted to help didn’t mean it was a viable option.

“It’s not perfect. It’s organized religion. You know I don’t like organized anything, and religion specifically makes me itchy. All those people believing in things larger and more powerful than themselves?” She shivered. “Besides, no matter how liberal he is, Judaism still has a lot of rules, and I always forget them.” There was a difference between fun rule-breaking and embarrassing rule-breaking, and she knew from experience that this offer would lead to the latter.

“Wait a second . . . Are you . . . Oh my gosh . . .” Clara squinted like she was putting the pieces of a mental puzzle together. “You’re Jewish?”

Naomi crossed her arms. “Not actively.”

“Whoa. Okay, but you were raised Jewish?”

“Barely.” Her parents had mostly phoned it in. They’d celebrated the High Holidays until after graduation when Naomi left for L.A., and then petered out to just Yom Kippur. Maybe Rosh Hoshana and Passover, if someone invited them over.

L.A. had its fair share of trendy kabbalah enthusiasts, but even on days when a higher power would have been welcome, the idea of “a porn star walks into a synagogue” had always been better suited to a punch line than real life.

“You should absolutely do this.” Clara stood up, using her meager height to add gravity to her declaration.

“I’m not. I can’t. It’s too late.” Ethan Cohen had probably secured a less inflammatory instructor by now.

Clara pursed her lips. “You just made three excuses in one breath. There’s something you’re not telling me here.”

“I’m scared,” Naomi said, dropping a veil of sarcasm over her voice in an attempt to position the truth as a lie.

No dice. Clara came over to lean her butt against Naomi’s side of the desk.

“Don’t even try it.” Her tone was softer now that they were at a closer range, but still firm. “You want to help people, to educate them. You should do this. Besides,” she said, tapping the desk with her fist in emphasis, “I don’t believe you’re afraid of a rabbi.”

“Ugh, fine.” Naomi exhaled extravagantly. The chances of that excuse working had been slim anyway. “The truth is, I’m attracted to the stupid, inexplicably sexy rabbi, and I’m worried that if I spend an extended period of time with him, I’m gonna ruin his life.”

“Excuse me?” Clara blinked several times in a row.

“He’s young and handsome, and if I’m in his general vicinity for too long, I’ll lure him away from the path of righteousness, and then I’ll wind up a dirty cliché.” Naomi had spent her entire career avoiding society’s stereotypes about adult performers. The idea that she’d let a man flip her narrative into tawdry territory was unpalatable, to say the least.

Clara was looking at the ceiling with her brow furrowed. “I’m so confused right now. Did this man hit on you?”

Naomi bristled at the idea. “No. Of course not.” His beard alone was practically stalwart.

“But he gave you a bad vibe?”

Naomi wiped dust off her keyboard. “The vibe was fine. Wholesome, you might even say.”

“Did he in any way indicate that he was attracted to you?”

She shrugged. “Most people are attracted to me.”

“That’s true.” Clara tapped her foot on the floor. “But it’s not like with priests, right? Rabbis aren’t forbidden from having sex?”

“No, rabbis are definitely free to fuck. But they do have to maintain a certain public reputation, which my particular brand of notoriety goes against.”

“Well, that’s his problem, then. This man is obviously confident enough in his religious convictions to dedicate himself to a lifetime of study. I think he can resist whatever spontaneous lust you inspire and focus on your professional virtues.”