“Such as?”

“Do you date a lot?”

“Don’t be a jackass.”

Jason laughed, then held up his hands innocently. “What? Is there something about my question that makes you uncomfortable, Ms. Donovan?”

From his teasing look, Taylor sensed that refusing to answer would only invite more probing into the subject.

“I’m sure that by the standards of the Sexiest Man Alive, no—I don’t date a lot.”

Jason was delighted. “You saw it.”

Taylor thought of the fifty magazine covers plastered to her door. “My secretary brought in a few copies for the office,” she said vaguely.

“And what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Would you say you agree with the magazine’s characterization?”

Taylor waved this off. “You already have enough people complimenting you.”

“That’s not a denial,” Jason noted.

Taylor saw his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You really need me to tell you what I think?”

“Of course. Your good opinion is always welcome, Ms. Donovan.”

She looked Jason over. Truth be told, as he sat there with the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up casually around his forearms and his long legs stretched out in front of him, she wasn’t sure there was much room to debate the magazine’s claim.

“I suppose you’re attractive,” she told him. “Physically speaking.”

“Stop—you’re making me blush.”

“Your personality, on the other hand, appears to have several defects.”

“I see. Such as?”

“How long did you say we have left on this flight?”

Jason laughed. And Taylor couldn’t help it; she smiled, too. Just then, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, with the announcement that they were expected to have a smooth ride for the rest of the flight.

Taylor exhaled in relief. Taking advantage of the interruption, she steered the conversation to safer topics. The time flew by as she and Jason chatted amiably about nothing, anything, and she was surprised when the pilot’s voice interrupted them again, indicating that they soon would be landing.

Taylor immediately set about trying to find her seat belt, when she caught a glimpse out the window. She leaned over in her chair to get a better look at the dazzling spectacle outside. Before her blazed the brilliant glow of millions of sparkling lights. The sight was unmistakable—only one place on earth could illuminate the night sky that way.

Taylor turned back to Jason in surprise.

He grinned. “Ever been to Las Vegas, Ms. Donovan?”

THINGS HAPPENED SO quickly the moment she and Jason landed, Taylor barely had a chance to catch her breath. A car met them at the jet, where a driver and two security guards whisked them off to the Strip. Jason still refused to give her any clue as to their plans for the evening.

They pulled up at what appeared to be the back entrance of a hotel—a large hotel, but that was all Taylor could gather. The two guards escorted them through an elaborate maze of hallways and corridors, until they somehow popped out into the casino and were quickly shuffled over to the VIP room.

When Jason and Taylor were safely ensconced behind the red-velvet ropes of the private VIP area, Jason gave the security guards a nod of dismissal. As Taylor watched them walk away, trying to process everything that had just happened, the casino’s director approached to shake Jason’s hand. It was then that she finally learned where they were.

“Welcome back to the Bellagio, Mr. Andrews,” the director welcomed them with a warm smile. As he led the two of them to a table, Taylor pulled Jason closer.

“You’re taking me gambling?” she asked in a low whisper. She’d never been gambling before. Frankly, she didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

“Not just gambling,” Jason said with an excited catch in his voice. They came to an energetic high-rollers table and he gestured grandly.

“Craps,” he said reverently.

Taylor checked out the game. From what she could tell, something happened when somebody rolled the dice and everybody started yelling. The guy holding the stick at the center of the table suddenly screamed “Yo!” and chips began flying everywhere.

She nodded. “Oh, craps, sure.”

After watching for another moment, she leaned over toward Jason.

“Um . . . where are the cards?”

With a smile, he grabbed her hand and pulled them up to the table.

“OKAY, LET’S REVIEW what you’ve learned.”

Clearly enjoying his position of authority far too much, Jason ran through their lessons. Things had been improving since her first debacle, when it was her turn to roll and she’d unknowingly switched hands before throwing the dice. From the way everyone screamed, Taylor had thought someone had been shot. When she realized they were yelling at her, she had gotten so nervous that she dropped the dice on the floor. And that’s when everyone really started fussing.

But now, under Jason’s alleged tutelage, Taylor knew a thing or two about this game called craps. Raring to go, she nodded along impatiently as he rolled through his lecture.

“First, you’ve got your pass line—always take full odds on your pass line bet,” he said. “Then, if you want to step it up a notch, make a come bet, and take odds on that as well. After that, you have your place bets—the six and eight will be your most common payoffs there. And, if you’re feeling really lucky, you could always try for the yo, the hardways, or the any crap.”

Taylor took a sip of her vodka tonic. The waitress kept bringing drinks around, and by now she and Jason had each had a few.

“And then there’s the field,” she said, pointing to the middle section of the table with the big “2, 3, 4, 9, 10, 11, 12” written across the green felt.

“I told you, you don’t want to bet the field,” Jason lectured her. “That’s a rookie’s bet.”

Taylor waved this off. “But I like the field. You get seven chances to win.”

“Do you want to look like you know what you’re doing, or do you want to look like a girl?”

Taylor rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“It pretty much slipped out before I could think about it.”

Taylor smiled. Perhaps the warm glow of vodka was beginning to set in. “Not as smooth when you’re not working off a script, are you?” she teased.

Jason cocked his head. “Oh, I don’t know, I seem to do all right.”

Taylor suddenly realized how close they were standing. She hadn’t meant to sound so . . . flirtatious. It had just kind of come out like that. Stupid vodka. She was cutting off the gravy train of free drinks right then and there.

“Excuse me, miss?” she heard a voice say.

Tearing her gaze away from Jason, she looked over and saw the stickman tapping the dice on the table in front of her.

“Are you in?” he asked. “Because you’re up.”

Taylor could still feel Jason’s eyes on her. With a nod, she took a long sip of her drink, needing a moment to clear her head. Then she picked up the dice.

“All right, boys . . .” she said confidently. “Let me show you how this game is played.”

At this, Jason pointed to the small bank of chips in front of her.

“Easy there, hotshot—don’t get all crazy with those five-dollar chips.” He nodded appreciatively to the pit boss for waiving their usual five-hundred-dollar minimum. “Thanks again for that.”

“No problem, Mr. Andrews,” said the pit boss.

Taylor turned back to Jason, annoyed.

“Will you please stop pointing that out to everyone?”

AT THE NEXT table over, Rob couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jason Andrews and the Mystery Woman stood just a few feet away, right before his very eyes.

Scott had indeed been correct about one thing—the girl was hot.

Earlier that evening, he had finished filming his small but pivotal Ocean’s scene and (thanks to a call from Soderberg) had headed down to the casino’s VIP room. More than anything, Rob had come just to make an appearance. Someone on set had mentioned that there were tons of paparazzi outside, and it was a great opportunity for him to be seen. Of course, if the tables turned cold, he’d have to make a quick exit—cuddly character actors on CW shows couldn’t exactly hang long on $500 minimum tables.