He hadn’t noticed them when he had first walked in, but now Rob thoroughly scrutinized Jason and the Mystery Woman’s every interaction, like a spy who had snuck behind enemy lines. From what he could tell so far, it appeared Scott may have been right about one other thing: while it bordered on ludicrous to think that the biggest movie star of the twenty-first century wasn’t fucking a girl who looked like that senseless, Rob got the distinct impression that they were not, in fact, together. Not yet, at least.

But the one thing he was certain of, beyond any doubt, was that Jason Andrews liked this Mystery Woman. A lot. Whether it was the way he looked at her with all his attention, or the way she made him laugh, or the way he was clearly trying to make her laugh, Rob couldn’t quite say. But as someone whose cuddly and chubby stature went back to his high school class-clown days, he could tell when a guy was pulling out all the stops to make a good impression on a girl. Even if that guy was Jason Andrews.

The woman, on the other hand, was harder to read. A “mystery” indeed. She wasn’t hanging all over Jason like most girls would; in fact, she seemed to avoid getting too close to him. Rob wished he could hear what they were saying, but that was impossible from across the room. Still, what he could see was enough for him get his cell phone out for a surreptitious call. He lowered his voice when his friend answered, relying on the raucous noise of the casino to drown out his words.

“Scott—dude, you are not going to believe who I’m looking at right now.”

LATER THAT EVENING, after Jason watched as Taylor proudly cashed in her little stack of three-hundred-dollars worth of chips—how cute—he took her outside to a private terrace on the second floor. From there, they would have a view of the hotel’s spectacular lake and fountains.

As they pulled up to the balcony railing, Jason noticed that the evening air had turned cool. Seeing Taylor hug her arms to her chest, he offered her the corduroy blazer he wore. She surprised him by actually accepting it.

Jason had a plan for the remainder of the night, and that plan had one key element: that he absolutely not kiss Taylor. He suspected she suspected he would try just that, and he wanted to keep her guessing. Besides, they would have plenty of time for such things later. Of that, he was quite confident.

He watched as Taylor stood against the railing, admiring the fountain show. Clair de Lune played through the terrace speakers as the water danced before them. The desert breeze swept through her hair, and she had never looked more beautiful to Jason than she did right then. He realized why.

“You’re smiling,” he said, unused to seeing her so relaxed and content.

Taylor turned to him. “I was just thinking about what my family would say, if they could see me right now. My brothers would never let me live down this evening if they knew about it.”

Jason realized then that she hadn’t told her family about him. He doubted there were many people in the world who would keep such a connection secret.

“How many brothers do you have?” he asked, seizing on the rare opportunity to learn more about her.

“Three. All older.”

“Are they lawyers, too?”

She shook her head. “No. Police officers, like my dad. Except for Michael, the youngest, who rebelled and became a fireman.”

Jason moved next to her at the railing. “And then came you,” he said teasingly.

Taylor smiled. “And then came me.”

“Do they have any idea what to do with you?”

She laughed at the truth of this. “Not really, no.”

“What would they think of me?”

At first, she seemed surprised that he would ask such a thing. “They would think you’re a little . . . fancy,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said dryly, offended.

Taylor paused and looked him over. Then she gave him an answer with more substance.

“They would think you’re everything they expected, and yet not anything they expected, all at the same time.”

Jason liked the sound of that much better. He moved closer to Taylor. “I think that’s what you think.”

She looked away and changed the subject. “So how’s the movie coming?”

“We began filming last week.”

Jason saw her look of surprise. “We shoot out of order,” he explained, “so we’ll work around the scenes you and I still have to fix.”

Looking her over, he casually added, “You should come visit the set sometime.”

The words had slipped out before he even thought about them. He had never, ever before invited a woman to watch him during filming.

But Taylor shook her head. “Unfortunately, my days are taken for the foreseeable future with this trial.”

Jason stared at her in amazement. He didn’t know anyone who would turn down such an offer.

“You’re the perfect model, you know,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

Seeing her confusion, he explained. “The character I’m playing in the film is this driven, workaholic lawyer who has never lost a case. When I’m playing him . . .” He paused, his voice softening. Somehow they were now standing just inches apart. “I think of you.”

When their eyes met, Jason grinned and added, “With a penis.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

“Penises?”

Taylor laughed. “I meant, you needing a model for your character. Is that why you . . .” She trailed off, as if uncertain how to finish her sentence.

“Is that why I . . . what?”

Jason realized then that despite the fact that Taylor was trapped between him and the railing, she seemed to be making no attempt to move away.

Her eyes searched his. “Why you keep . . . pestering me,” she said softly.

“Is that what I’m doing?” Jason murmured, stepping closer.

Drawn in, Taylor’s eyes lowered seductively as she raised her face to his. “Yes,” she whispered, “you’re definitely very pesty.”

And suddenly, Jason couldn’t help himself.

Despite all his best-laid plans, he was lost . . . his hand reached up to the nape of her neck and he gently pulled her in to him . . . she wasn’t stopping him, in fact her hand slid up his chest and her lips parted invitingly as she pulled him closer and his lips came down to hers and—

“Oh my god, it’s Jason Andrews!”

The scream came from the terrace below.

Jason watched as it happened—the dreamy fog dissolved from Taylor’s eyes, like a method actor who’d been deeply into character when the director suddenly yelled “Cut!” Reality set in.

She immediately stepped away from him as if caught. He looked down and saw that a crowd had formed on the terrace below them. Several women shouted frantically, pointing, crying out his name. Paparazzi appeared out of nowhere. Cameras began to flash as everyone scrambled to get photographs. Suddenly, it was pure bedlam. Jason took a step back from the balcony and reached for Taylor—

But she was gone. Inside.

With a look of disappointment, Jason waved to the crowd, then turned and headed to the terrace doors.

The screams of his fans were upon his back all the way inside.

AS JASON WALKED Taylor up the brick path to her apartment, she was quietly relieved that the evening was coming to an end. She’d been internally berating herself over the Terrace Snafu (as she’d come to think of it) and externally had been doing her best to let Jason know that whatever he thought was about to happen back in Vegas was not, in fact, what had been about to happen.

Of course, she knew full well what had been about to happen.

God only knows what she’d been thinking, but she had, in fact, been about to kiss Jason. Such a move would have been unprofessional and unethical, not to mention overwhelmingly stupid. She blamed the vodka and the heat for getting to her. Never mind the fact that it had been only sixty-five degrees on the terrace and she’d gone instantly sober the minute the crowd had begun screaming.