Glancing over, she saw the same 310 number on the phone’s display. The nerve of that man. Seriously.

When she didn’t immediately pick up, the phone began rattling louder, sliding across the glass table toward her. Apparently, a certain someone refused to be ignored.

Taylor grabbed the phone, stuffed it into her purse, and resolutely zipped it shut. That should take care of that. She smiled apologetically at Scott. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Are you sure you don’t have to get that?” he asked skeptically.

Taylor waved this off. “Oh no, it’s fine. Anyway, tell me about this movie you’re filming, Outback Nights.”

Scott seemed happy to oblige her. “Well, I play this sort of loner, rebel type . . .”

As Taylor listened while he went on about the film, her cell phone suddenly began to vibrate again, this time from inside her purse. Irate at the prospect of being ignored, the phone rattled around demandingly.

Buzz-buzz!

Buzz-buzz!

Despite herself, Taylor fought back a smile, trying very, very hard to pay attention to Scott’s story.

Buzz-buzz!

Buzz-buzz!

“. . . Of course, the director said he could think of no one other than me for the part from the first moment he read the script ...”

Buzz-buzz!

Buzz-buzz!

Suddenly, it stopped. The phone in her purse lay quiet for a moment, then—

Buzz-buzz!

Buzz-buzz!

Taylor had to stifle her laugh. Ahh . . . if nothing else, the man was persistent. She had to give him that.

Right then, Scott’s cell phone rang, too. She was saved by the proverbial bell.

Scott made a face. “Wow—crazy night, huh?” He pulled his own cell phone out of his pocket, then glanced up at Taylor. “Sorry—it’s my agent. I really should take this.” He stepped out of the room to take the call.

As he left the room, Taylor’s phone vibrated once again. Buzz-buzz! Oh, for heaven’s sake—she reached in, yanked the phone out of her purse, and flipped it open.

“What the hell are you doing??” she whispered furiously.

Jason’s smooth voice came over the other end of the line.

“Well, hello, Ms. Donovan. Goodness, I was starting to get worried. Is everything all right?”

“Why are you calling, Jason?” Taylor hissed. She checked to make sure Scott was still in the other room.

“Hmm? Oh yes—see, I couldn’t remember what time we’re meeting tomorrow to go over the third act of the script. Is it seven or eight o’clock?”

“Jason—” Taylor began warningly.

“—And I also wanted to know whether I should bring dinner to your apartment. Or will you be providing the edibles?”

Part of her wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. The other part of her couldn’t help but smile.

“Stop being cute. You know this is a bad time for me.”

“Why? Wait—is tonight the night of the big date? Oh . . . I had completely forgotten all about that. Oops.”

“You’re a better actor than that, Jason.”

She heard him chuckled.

“So true. Fine—I just thought I’d see how everything’s going.”

Taylor deflected the question. “Where are you?” She could hear loud voices and music in the background.

“Reilly’s Tavern. Playing darts.” Jason paused for a moment. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Now it was Taylor’s turn to pause. “The date’s going great,” she said convincingly.

“How nice. And where has Junior taken you to eat?”

“Actually, I’m at his place. He’s cooking for me.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Really,” he finally said, through what sounded like clenched teeth.

Taylor smiled into the phone. “Why, Jason—that sounds a bit like jealousy, doesn’t it?”

He snorted disdainfully. “Jealous of Scott Casey? Please.” He got a good laugh out of this. “Hey—if you find him interesting, Taylor, more power to you. I also know a nice box of rocks you could cuddle up with, if that’s your thing.”

She glared into the phone. “Yeah, well, maybe I do happen to find him interesting.”

“Really? Then why are you spending your date talking to me?”

“You know, that can easily be fixed.”

She hung up the phone.

Taylor tossed the phone back into her purse, thoroughly annoyed. First he talked about going to Napa Valley with her when he obviously had been planning on going with Naomi Cross just a few days before. As if women were as interchangeable as the parts of a Mr. Potato Head. And now this? Deliberately interrupting her date? The boundaries of the man’s self-centeredness were truly limitless.

Underscoring this point, Taylor’s phone rang again. This time, she didn’t even bother to look before answering.

“You know, if you’re trying to mark your territory, you could’ve just peed on me before I came over here and saved us both a lot of time!”

On the other end, Jason burst out laughing. “I always suspected you were into kinky shit.”

Despite herself, Taylor laughed, too. He somehow always managed to do that—completely infuriate her one moment, then make her smile the next. It was actually quite sneaky.

“Good-bye, Jason. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, amused. Then she hung up the phone and stared at it for a long moment, until she heard someone clear his throat behind her. Taylor glanced up and saw Scott watching her from the doorway.

Looking very displeased.

OVER AT REILLY’S Tavern, Jeremy watched as Jason tucked his cell phone into his pocket.

“Not jealous of Scott Casey, huh?” He glanced pointedly at the dartboard, where Jason had taped Scott Casey’s “Other Contenders” photograph to the bull’s eye. Three darts jutted out prominently from the young actor’s forehead.

Jason ignored the question. He walked over and yanked his darts out of the board.

“He’s cooking for her,” he said disgustedly, as if this were a felony. “Like she’s going to fall for that. It’s so . . . amateur.”

“I cook for my dates,” Jeremy volunteered.

“You have to. You can’t afford to take them anywhere.”

“This is true,” Jeremy conceded good-naturedly. “Although I have also discovered that women really seem to like the taste of macaroni and cheese.”

Not even bothering with a token sarcastic response, Jason stared intensely at the picture of Scott Casey on the dartboard before him.

Suddenly, he vehemently rapid-fired all three darts.

He turned and took a swig of his beer as Jeremy nodded, impressed. Over at the board, a dart pierced right through each of Scott Casey’s eyes. The third jutted out prominently from his throat.

“Not bad,” Jeremy said. “But perhaps this is a good time to discuss your anger management issues.”

Jason sat down at their bar table as Jeremy lined up for his turn at the board. “You don’t think Taylor really likes this guy, do you?”

Jeremy shrugged, about to throw. “I don’t know. I haven’t met too many women who wouldn’t be impressed by Scott Casey.” He pointed the darts at Jason, thinking. “Then again, I haven’t met any other woman who has been so wholly unimpressed by you, so maybe there’s hope yet.”

Jason didn’t even crack a smile. In fact, he looked utterly miserable. Jeremy gave up his position at the dartboard and took a seat.

“Come on, Jason—what’s going on with you and this girl? This isn’t like you.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“Then what is it?”

Jason sighed. “I don’t know . . .” He looked over at Jeremy, suddenly serious. “All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Now it was Jeremy’s turn to sigh. “Ahh . . . the friend zone. Have I been there.”

The two of them sat in dejected silence. Then Jeremy thought of something.

“Hey—you know what you need? You need a real guy’s night out. None of this pansy-ass Hollywood nightclub shit. I heard about this poker game going on tonight. Just a few writers I know, nothing high stakes. We can smoke cigars, drink some Macallan, talk about—”