She could see it in his eyes. Her mind rallied around her excuses.

She was concussed.

She’d been in a state; she was out of it.

She hadn’t been thinking.

She was a ho.

Then Jason finally ended his silence with a chuckle. “Calm down, Taylor,” he said reassuringly. “Nothing happened.” He gave her a look. “Do you really think I would let something happen when you were that out of it?”

He held her gaze firmly with his question, staring her down, as if to say he was insulted at the mere accusation. Taylor instantly felt silly for being so worried.

She exhaled in relief. “Sorry.” She smiled, making light of her crazy thoughts. “I didn’t mean to sound so paranoid. I think it must be hunger delusions.”

Oddly, for the briefest second, she could’ve sworn she saw a flicker of disappointment in Jason’s eyes. But then she figured she was just imagining things. She pointed to the silver platter on the table.

“So? Can I peek? I’m starving.”

Jason nodded. “It’s nothing—I took a guess, I thought it might be something you’d like.” He spoke quickly, as if nervous, and Taylor wondered what the hell he had stashed under there. She grabbed the handle, eager with anticipation. So hungry was she, she couldn’t have been more excited if whatever lurked inside had been wrapped in a blue Tiffany box.

She lifted the cover.

For a moment, she could only stare in wonder at the glorious sight before her eyes.

“Do you like it?” Jason asked.

Taylor nodded mutely.

The platter was filled to the brim with rich, buttery silver-dollar pancakes. Chocolate chip silver-dollar pancakes. Just like a plate of warm cookies, all for her, at eleven o’clock in the morning.

Catching the scent of the warm baked goodness, Taylor sighed happily. “How did you know, Jason? It’s exactly what I wanted.”

ABOUT AN HOUR later, stuffed to the gills with about $10.79 worth of silver-dollar pancakes, Taylor rolled herself out to Jason’s pool and languidly stretched out on one of the lounge chairs. She hadn’t paid much attention to the pool during his party, but now she noted that it had been as carefully designed as the rest of the house. And it certainly was no less stunning: with a cascading waterfall and curved, flowing edges that ran along the surrounding lush foliage and rock landscaping, it looked like a hidden pool one might stumble upon while hiking on a tropical island.

“Now this is the life.” She sighed to herself while taking a sip of her deliciously cold lemonade.

She pulled her sunglasses down from her forehead and eased back in her lounge chair. She glanced over at Jason, who sat on the chair next to her reading his copy of Daily Variety. He’d peeled off his T-shirt earlier and now wore only a pair of cargo shorts. And here Taylor had thought the chocolate chip pancakes were yummy . . .

“I’m sorry?” Jason looked over. Taylor started, having momentarily forgotten she’d said anything out loud. She quickly gestured to the pool.

“I was just saying that this is a pretty nice setup you have here.”

Jason nodded, a bit distractedly. In fact, Taylor had noticed he’d seemed a little distracted the entire morning. Every time she’d snuck a peek at him—hey, he was Jason Andrews and he was shirtless, of course she’d snuck in a few peeks—he’d been staring off at nothing. As if something was troubling him.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment or two, when Jason turned back to her. “So you like being here, then?” He peered at Taylor through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

His question caught her off guard. “At this house?”

It was probably just the sun, but she could have sworn she saw Jason’s cheeks blush.

“I meant California,” he said quickly. “You know here,” he waved his hand, referring to their general locale. “Los Angeles.”

Taylor smiled. It was eighty degrees and not a cloud in the sky. “What’s not to like?”

Jason turned back to his paper. “Right, right.” He nodded. A moment passed, then he glanced at Taylor once again.

“So you would consider this then, as a place you could live? You wouldn’t miss Chicago?”

Taylor found his question a bit . . . strange. She could’ve sworn she heard a catch in his voice, as if their conversation had somehow turned into something more than idle chitchat. Too bad those damn sunglasses made it impossible for her to read his expression.

Then she shrugged these thoughts off. She was being too suspicious, she told herself. Too much of a lawyer. This wasn’t a deposition; not every question had a secret purpose or trick behind it. Jason was just being polite. After all, she had been living in Los Angeles for a couple of months by now; it was a natural question for him to ask.

“I suppose I’d consider it, if there was some great opportunity for me in L.A.,” she said. “But I guess I’ve always assumed that Chicago is where I’d live.”

With that said, Taylor put her sunglasses back on top of her head, not wanting to get raccoon marks from the sun. She closed her eyes and eased back in her chair. “Luckily, I don’t need to worry about that for a long time,” she told Jason. “With this trial, it’ll be a couple more months before I have to start thinking about leaving here.”

Enough about Chicago already, she thought, basking in the warm California sun. That world was thousands of miles away for now.

But strangely, when she opened her eyes a few minutes later to take another sip of her lemonade, she noticed that Jason was staring off distractedly once again.

Twenty-seven

AT FIVE O’CLOCK Taylor’s twenty-four hours were up. Her stay in paradise came to a reluctant end.

Jason pulled the Aston Martin up the driveway of her apartment building and shut off the engine. The two of them sat for a moment in his car.

“Back to reality.” Taylor sighed. “Good old apartment living.”

“You know, you could just ask the next time you want to sleep over. You don’t need to crash your car.”

Taylor laughed, relieved to see him joking again. He’d been so quiet all day, she had begun to worry that something was really wrong.

“I’ll remember that,” she told him. She was about to thank him for letting her stay over when it happened again—a shrill ring blared out from her purse. Cellphonus interruptus.

Despite the inconvenience of the moment, Taylor felt obligated to check and make sure it wasn’t Derek with some trial-related crisis. She felt Jason watching her as she pulled the phone out and checked the caller ID. When she saw it was Scott who was calling, she said nothing and tucked the phone back into her purse.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Jason asked.

“I’ll let it go into voice mail.”

But her phone was relentless. It began ringing again, immediately. Taylor smiled, thinking back to another person who had not so long ago similarly persisted in trying to reach her.

“I gotta say, you movie stars sure are tenacious,” she said teasingly over the phone’s ring.

Jason’s face hardened. “I’m nothing like him.”

She had meant the comment as a joke, but she saw that she’d insulted him instead. You’re right, she suddenly felt the urge to say. You are so much more than him.

As her cell phone continued to ring, Jason turned away and stared straight ahead with a stony expression, his eyes fixed on the windshield of the car.

Say it, Taylor heard the voice in her head urging her. At least tell him that. After everything he’s done for you, he deserves to hear it.

But she couldn’t.

Because she knew that those words would lead to more words, and there were things going on between her and Jason that she wasn’t ready to face. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours; she needed time to pull her thoughts together.