“There you are, Ms. Donovan . . .”

A smile crossed her face. Just the man she was looking for. With a coy toss of her hair, she turned around and—

Found herself staring right at Naomi Cross.

Jason graciously made the introductions. “Taylor, I thought you might like to meet Naomi. She’s one of my costars in the film you’re helping me out with.”

He turned to the actress to explain. “Taylor’s the attorney I’ve been consulting on the script.”

Naomi shook Taylor’s hand. “Oh, so you’re the one who’s responsible for all the last-minute page changes they keep sliding under my trailer door.”

Recovering from her fluster at encountering the actress, Taylor smiled. “Sorry—I’m sure I’m being way too picky with all the legal issues.”

Naomi dismissed this. “It’s not your fault. The whole shoot has been a challenge, particularly with the schedule the director is trying to keep.” She glanced back at Jason and, after a slight pause, wrapped her arms around his neck.

“That’s why this weekend will be so great, darling.” With a grin, she turned back to Taylor. “Did Jason tell you? We’re sneaking off to Napa Valley—just the two of us.”

And despite herself, Taylor couldn’t help it.

Her face fell in disappointment.

“No,” she said quietly. “He didn’t mention it.”

She looked away, trying to hide her surprise. When she glanced back up, she noticed that Jason was watching her intently.

Naomi ran her fingers along Jason’s arm as she peered adoringly at him. “How could you forget it? I know how much we’re both looking forward to this trip. Aren’t we?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” Jason smiled wickedly as he casually turned his watch around his wrist.

Naomi returned his look with one of her own. “Anything you’d rather do . . . or anyone?”

Alrighty, then—Taylor had heard quite enough. “Listen—I really should get going,” she interrupted. “It’s getting kind of late. Naomi, it was nice meeting you.” As she left, she brushed by Jason with a curt nod in good-bye.

“Jason.”

She had made it only a few steps from the bar when she heard him calling after her.

“Taylor, hold on a second—”

She stopped and turned around.

Jason stood there, staring at her innocently, with Naomi at his side.

“We’re still on for Thursday, right?” he asked. “There are those changes the writer made to Act Two that I want you to take a look at.”

Taylor paused, but somehow managed to keep her cool. “Sure. Thursday,” she said evenly. “I’ll see you then.”

Without further ado, she turned and walked away.

NAOMI AND JASON watched Taylor leave, waiting until she was safely out of hearing range. Then the actress glanced over.

“So? Did you get what you wanted?”

“Definitely,” Jason said. Did he ever.

“I did all right then?”

“You were perfect, Naomi, as always. I owe you.”

She threw him a coy wink. “You know how you can make it up to me, darling.” Then she sashayed off to rejoin her girlfriends.

More than pleased with the way things had turned out, Jason stepped up to the bar to order himself a victory cocktail. He thought back to the crushed look Taylor had been unable to hide when she heard he would be spending the weekend with another woman. In Napa Valley, no less. Throwing in that detail last minute had been a stroke of pure genius.

Yes indeed, Taylor Donovan had put up quite a fight for a while. But now, well . . . Jason smiled at the thought of what was soon to come. As they say, to the victor goes the spoils.

The bartender set a drink down on the bar. Jason picked up the highball glass and tipped it with a self-satisfied grin.

“Cheers.”

TAYLOR HURRIED OUT the front gate, eager to put as much distance between her and the wall that surrounded Jason’s estate as fast as possible. When she got to the end of the cobblestone driveway, she looked up and down the street, trying to remember where the hell she had parked her car. The stupid Beverly Hills side streets all looked the same: walls and fences and ten-foot hedges, created for the single purpose of keeping the riffraff from sneaking peeks at the fabulous houses and people inside.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she swore under her breath.

The real problem, of course, was not that she couldn’t find her car.

The real problem was that she had been an utter and complete fool.

What had she been thinking, convincing herself that maybe Jason had—

She stopped herself mid-thought. The idea was so ridiculous she couldn’t even finish it.

She had felt like such an idiot, just standing there as Naomi draped herself all over Jason. And as for him, Mr. I’m-So-Hot with that—what was up with that smug grin, anyway? When he had called her name as she left, there had been about a thousand things she’d been tempted to say. But when she turned and saw Jason standing with Naomi, and then glanced around at the rest of the party, it had occurred to her that she really didn’t belong there anyway. She may have put on the dress and looked the part, but at the end of the day, she was still just a lawyer from Chicago.

The worst part of the situation was that Taylor had no one to blame but herself. She had set herself up to be disappointed by a man who was infamously known worldwide for disappointing women. Despite what she might have wanted to believe for a few brief seconds after overhearing the little bathroom trixies, she was no different from any other woman Jason Andrews had ever met.

But knowing this still did not make things hurt any less.

For a brief moment, Taylor’s thoughts drifted back to Jason. There was something about him—his eyes, his smile, the way his voice sounded when he said her name, the things he said that made her laugh, the way he could look at her as if there was no one else in the room . . .

She resolutely shoved this line of thinking out of her mind.

“Shit!” she muttered again as she paced the driveway. So bothered was she, even her profanity lacked its usual flair.

Suddenly, a voice came out of the darkness.

“Well, it can’t be that bad.”

Taylor whirled around and saw—whoa, nelly—Scott Casey standing just a few feet away. How long he had been hanging out by the driveway, she had no idea.

Scott smiled at the surprised look on her face.

“Is something wrong?”

Taylor had noticed a lot of famous faces at Jason’s party, but certainly didn’t recall seeing Scott Casey there. And he would be very hard to miss. Val was right—he was absolutely beautiful in person, with his blond hair, lean build, and model-perfect features. A walking Calvin Klein ad. And apparently, talking, too.

To her.

Right then.

“Sorry.” Taylor regrouped, managing to find her voice. “I can’t remember where I parked my car, that’s all.”

“I’d be happy to give you a ride if you need one.”

Taylor gave him a look. He may have been Scott Casey, but she was no fool. At least not twice in one night, anyway.

“I’ll be fine,” she told him. “It’s around here somewhere.”

“You’re leaving the party so soon. I hope nothing’s wrong?”

For some reason, Taylor found herself warming a little to him. Perhaps it was the look of concern in his light hazel eyes. Or possibly the killer Australian accent.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said lightly. “I just need to get an early start tomorrow, for work.”

“Work on a Sunday?” Scott made a face. “What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.” Taylor saw that this registered with him.

“I should’ve guessed,” he mused. “You were wearing a suit in that one photograph, and no one in this town wears suits except lawyers and agents.”

“Photograph?” Taylor tried to imagine where on earth Scott Casey would’ve seen her photograph. Then it hit her. “Oh, the magazines.”