And that was something she did not want to think about.

Scott popped his head out onto the deck. “Dinner should be ready in about five minutes. Do you want another drink?”

Taylor glanced down at her empty martini glass. “Sure, that’d be great.”

Determined to have the best night of her life—because that’s what a date with Scott Casey should be—Taylor followed him inside.


“SO WHERE DID you learn how to cook?”

Scott (or his assistant) had elaborately set the dining-room table with dozens of flickering candles. Music—what sounded suspiciously like the Garden State sound track—played throughout the house through unseen speakers.

Scott smiled in response to Taylor’s question about him. “You don’t know this?” He appeared surprised when she shook her head, no.

“Chef’s school,” he told her.

“Really? When did you do that?”

“Back in Sydney. That’s how I got started in acting.” Scott peered at her curiously. “You really don’t know this?”

Taylor shook her head again. Okay, she got it. She lived in a hole.

So he gave her the rundown. “Well, one day this casting director walked into one of my classes, looking for culinary students for a daytime cooking show. I got the job, and I did the show for about a year. But I really got into the acting side of things, so I got an agent who sent me on a few auditions. My first real acting gig was on a prime-time show for that same network, and from there I moved into film, smaller roles at first, then bigger, until finally I got the call about A Viking’s Quest. And then the rest, as they say, is history.”

“That’s a pretty interesting story,” Taylor said, impressed.

Scott grinned. “Thanks.” He reached across the table and laced his fingers through hers. “But enough about me. I want to know all about you, gorgeous.”

Normally, Taylor hated questions like that. They were so interview-y. Good conversation should just flow organically, from the moment.

She quickly tried to think of a topic she and Scott had in common. “Well, I mentioned before that I’m from Chicago. Let me ask you something—was it hard when you first moved to Los Angeles? Did you miss home?”

But Scott waved this off, uninterested. “We can talk about that some other time. What I want to know is how I ever got lucky enough to get a beautiful girl like you to go out with me.”

Taylor burst out laughing. Surely he had to be joking with a line like that. She stopped when she saw the confused look on his face.

“Wait—you’re serious?”

Scott pulled back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, sorry.” Taylor bit her lip and tried to disguise her misunderstanding by gesturing to the windows that ran along the dining-room wall. “So, that’s really some view you have there.”

Scott smiled. “Yes, it is.” He turned back to Taylor with what was presumably a “seductive” look. “But not as good as the one I have right here.”

Taylor laughed again. “All right, now I know you’re joking.”

Scott abruptly sat back in his chair. “I’m just trying to pay you a compliment, Taylor,” he said defensively. “I didn’t realize it was that funny.”

Taylor shut up. Again.

Okay . . . so . . . awkward moment here . . .

It appeared pretty safe to say that Scott didn’t go for the whole dry/sarcastic humor thing. She would just have to come up with some other material. Too bad she really didn’t have any other material.

An uncomfortable silence followed, and Taylor was just thinking that perhaps she might compliment the salt and pepper shakers sitting on the table—they were the loveliest shade of pewter, when—

—thank god, her cell phone rang.

Taylor dove immediately for her purse, which sat on the chair next to her. “Sorry, I have to keep it on for work,” she apologized to Scott. How terrible—she found herself almost hoping it was some kind of work emergency.

She checked the caller ID and instantly recognized the particular 310 area code number that showed up on the phone’s display. A number that just happened to belong to one Mr. Jason Andrews.

Taylor defiantly flung her hair back. Oh, sure—like she was going to take his call right then. She was a little busy.

Seeing Scott’s curious look, Taylor smiled. Suddenly, her date seemed ten times more interesting.

“It’s no one,” she told him. “I’ll just turn it on vibrate.”

She adjusted the phone and set it off to the side of the glass dining table. Then she leaned in toward Scott flirtatiously, peering deep into his light hazel eyes. “So . . . where were we?”

Liking her sudden interest, Scott smiled coyly and leaned in the rest of the way across the table. “I was just about to tell you—”

Right then, Taylor’s phone began vibrating. Loudly.

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.