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.

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on between them?”

Jeremy squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Taylor—I think there’s something you probably should know about Naomi Cross.”

JASON STARED DISPASSIONATELY at the cameras and the reporters who waved their microphones at him, desperate to get a sound bite or two.

During the limo ride over, he had told Marty he wouldn’t be doing the press line at the premiere. He gave his publicist no explanation for this. Nor did he explain his sullen mood when Marty had jokingly offered him twenty-five million for his thoughts.

“At least try to look like you’re mildly interested in being here, darling,” Naomi urged, speaking softly in his ear so the surrounding media couldn’t hear. “Your public demands to be entertained.” She waved elegantly to a group of fans calling her name.

Jason took a step closer to the theater doors, hoping to end the charade as soon as possible. Naomi reluctantly followed. Ever the professional, the smile never left her face as she and Jason continued their private conversation.

“Did I mention how surprised I was to get your publicist’s call?” she asked.

“I made you a promise,” Jason said.

“Oh right . . . for helping out with that little situation at your party. With that lawyer friend of yours.” Naomi gave him a look. “How is she these days?”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Naomi grinned wickedly. “Perhaps I should call her then. You know, I’m always looking for a good attorney . . .”