Oh god.


TAYLOR FOUGHT HER way through the crowd. This was no small feat given that there were some really stubborn people at that premiere, all who seemed to think they had some sort of right to see Jason Andrews. It took a lot of pushing and shoving, but she finally made her way to the entrance of the red carpet walkway.

Where an impenetrable wall of security guards loomed before her.

Their bulging arms were folded over their massive chests. Their faces never cracked a smile. They stood side by side in a row and glared down at Taylor, who suddenly felt about two inches tall.

The center guard raised one eyebrow disdainfully at her.

“Can I help you?”

Taylor almost laughed out loud at what she had to say in response.

“Yes, well, you probably won’t believe this—and I apologize for the unoriginality—but it’s very important that I get inside this premiere.”

The guard rolled his eyes. Oh, if he had a dime.

“Are you on the list?” he asked dispassionately.

“Now that’s the interesting thing,” Taylor said, pointing for emphasis. “I was on the list. But, see, then we had this argument, and I said some really awful things and I probably should have called him two days ago but if I had, then you and I wouldn’t be here having this lovely moment, hehe . . .” She attempted to charm the guard with a smile.

It didn’t work.

Taylor nervously cleared her throat. “Anyway, as a point of fact, his assistant called me yesterday and mentioned something to the effect that I was, um . . . specifically uninvited to this premiere.”

The guard eyed her warily.

“It’s really kind of a long story,” Taylor explained.

“And I’m sure it’s quite touching.” Dismissing her with a look, the guard moved on to the person standing behind her, some slick-looking schmoe with sunglasses and some kind of special pass around his neck. Taylor fought the temptation to rip the schmoe’s pass right off him and make a run for the theater doors.

As she was shoved up against the red rope by the impatient crowd, Taylor contemplated her options. But as she took in the enormous security guards, all she could come up with were different versions of a distract-then-scramble-through-the-legs maneuver of the Tom and Jerry variety.

But then fate intervened on her behalf.

That is, “fate” in the form of Jeremy Shelby.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the illustrious Taylor Donovan,” he said haughtily, strolling over on the “in” side of the rope. He looked slightly uncomfortable in his “dress” clothes, meaning a shirt that actually had buttons. From the way he eyed her warily, Taylor guessed he had heard all about her and Jason’s argument.

Jeremy took a cigarette out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. Taylor’s new bodyguard friend quickly put the kibosh on that.

“Hey, buddy—there’s no smoking around here,” he said.

Jeremy gave the guard a look, then put the cigarette back in his pocket and turned to her.

“So what brings you out this evening, Taylor? I thought I heard you were specifically uninvited.”

Taylor moved as close as she could get with the red-rope barrier between them. “Help me out here, Jeremy,” she said pleadingly.

He gave her a look. “Why should I do that?”

“Because once, nineteen years ago, you were wrong about him, too.”

Jeremy stared at her stoically. After a long pause, his face broke into a smile.

“Aw, hell, you crazy kid, you knew I was gonna let you in—I’m a sucker for this stuff.” He turned to the security guard and gestured for him to let Taylor in. “It’s okay, she’s cool.”

The security guard perked his head up. “Oh, that’s nice to know. And who are you?”

At the tone of condescension in the guard’s voice, something inside Jeremy snapped.

“Who am I? Who am I?” he asked in annoyance. “I’ll tell you who I am—eleven of the scripts I’ve written have been produced as feature films by major studios.”

The guard looked Jeremy over skeptically. “What films?”

“Well, for starters, I wrote Vampire Nation,” Jeremy said, proudly referring to one of the prior summer’s biggest block-busters.

The guard smiled enthusiastically. “You wrote that? Man, I loved that movie! Holy shit, I do remember you now—I saw you speak at Comic-Con last year!”

Jeremy folded his arms across his chest and threw Taylor a wink. “So? Now do you think you can let her in?” he asked the guard, gesturing to Taylor.

The guard held out his hands helplessly. “I’d love to, buddy, really. But . . . well, come on. You’re a writer. It’s a miracle you somehow got yourself into this premiere.”

Taylor tried to stifle her smile as Jeremy’s face fell.

As the guard started to turn away, Jeremy reluctantly changed tactics. “Fine. I also happen to be Jason Andrews’s best friend,” he said grumpily.

The guard grinned. “You and about five hundred other people, buddy.” He gestured to the teeming crowd trying to push their way past the red-rope brigrade.

Jeremy glanced over at Taylor and sighed. “I really hate this town sometimes. Fuck it—we’re gonna have to call in the big guns.” He waved to a man in a suit who stood about twenty feet away. “Marty! Marty!”

Taylor watched as the infamous Marty Shepherd, publicist to the stars and eighth most powerful person in Hollywood (excluding talent and studios heads), turned around and slowly walked toward her and Jeremy. He was shorter than she had expected, and older. His hair was gray around the temples, but his eyes were dark and shrewd.

As Marty walked over, he carefully looked her up and down. “You must be Taylor Donovan,” he said before Jeremy could introduce them. He cocked his head questioningly. “I thought I heard you were specifically uninvited.”

Taylor glanced over.

“There was a memo,” Jeremy explained.

“I have a problem, Ms. Donovan,” Marty continued. “This is a movie premiere. The world premiere of a film that is predicted to be the blockbuster of the summer, starring my number one client.” He pointed up the red carpet. “But right now, my number one client is out there, rudely snapping at reporters, refusing to smile for the cameras, and generally being a tremendous prick.”

He gave her a hard stare. “I have never seen him act like this before, Ms. Donovan. I suspect it has something to do with you.”

“Marty, if you could just let me inside for a minute—”

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

Taylor bit her tongue. If one more friggin’ person asked her that . . .

She suspected that Marty required a slightly different answer from Jeremy in order for her to pass.

“Because it will make for good publicity.”

Marty seemed tempted. He raised one eyebrow. “Good publicity?”

“Great publicity. The best.”

He considered this. “All right, Taylor,” he said cautiously. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” He turned to the guard and gestured. “Let her in.”

The guard immediately sprung to attention and let Taylor inside. Before she could think twice about what she was doing, she sprinted her way through the red carpet, weaving around actors and actresses, producers, studio execs, and the like. She was a blur as she breezed by all of them, and they in turn—catching merely a brief glimpse of a dark-haired woman in a suit—ignored her.

Taylor had made it nearly to the entrance of the theater when she spotted him across the way.

Over the past few months, as they had grown closer, there had been moments when she had nearly forgotten that Jason was an international movie star.

This was not one of those moments.

There he stood, the hub, the center of all activity, the person that everyone at the premiere wanted to see. The masses circled around him, paparazzi scrambled to get their shots, and the fans frantically screamed his name. Somehow, he hovered above it all, seemingly impervious and unfazed by the blinding camera flashes and the endless line of microphones waved in his face.

In that moment, there on the red carpet, Taylor saw Jason the way the rest of the world saw him. She saw Jason Andrews the actor, the celebrity, the idol. The Sexiest Man Alive, the man worshipped by women around the world.

Taylor suddenly felt uncertain. She took a step back.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Jeremy at her side.

“It’s still him, Taylor,” he said.

She nodded and took a deep breath. Okay, she could do this. The crowd shifted, and she suddenly caught sight of someone else, someone she hadn’t expected to see at the premiere.

Naomi Cross.

The graceful blonde actress linked her arm through Jason’s. She waved happily as she posed for the cameras.

Taylor took in the sight of the two of them standing together. She had better be right about this. She glanced over at Jeremy.

“Why did Jason lie about Naomi?”

Jeremy cleared his throat nervously. “Oh. That. Um . . . well, you know, uh . . . to see if you’d get jealous.” He caught Taylor’s expression. “His plan—not mine,” he added quickly. Then he cocked his head curiously. “How did you know?”

Taylor couldn’t help but smile. “The watch thing.”

“Ahh, yes . . . the watch thing.” Jeremy grinned as well. “The mighty have such simple weaknesses. I like to think it’s God’s way of keeping things fair.”

Taylor watched as Naomi leaned over and whispered something in Jason’s ear. The cameras went crazy as the knots in her stomach tightened.