He winked, as if to say they all knew the likelihood of that being true.

Twenty-two

THE GIRLS SCRAMBLED to get ready. As they rushed in and out of the bathroom, trying on various outfits (Val’s fifteen now came in very handy), Taylor’s friends demanded to know every detail of her relationship with Jason. So she told them.

How she couldn’t stand him when they first met.

How he was arrogant and rude, and how he insulted her on national television.

How she fought and fought and fought to get off the Andrews Project, but nobody at her firm had listened.

“And now?” Kate asked, sitting cross-legged on Taylor’s bed. They both were already dressed. Val, however, still fussed in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

“And now, I don’t know,” Taylor said, shrugging. “I guess I find him, you know, tolerable.”

“Tolerable.” Val turned around from the mirror. “You find Jason Andrews tolerable.”

“Well . . .” she hedged.

“Would you like to amend your answer, Taylor?” Kate asked in a sly lawyer’s tone.

Then she told her friends about Vegas, and how in a moment of alcohol-induced weakness (that was still her story and she was sticking to it), she and Jason had almost kissed. Until they were interrupted by a horde of screaming fans.

“Man, I hate when that happens,” Kate interjected. “Screaming hordes of fans ruin everything.”

Then Taylor also told them about the party, describing in detail Jason’s amazing house. But for whatever reason, she didn’t tell them about the run-in with Naomi. Pride, perhaps.

“So now what?” Val asked. She had finally settled on a red sleeveless top and True Religion jeans. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing is going on with us,” Taylor said.

“Well, isn’t that a crime . . .” Val mused. “You need to get on that ASAP, Taylor. Like tonight. You’re a fool if you don’t.”

Before Taylor could respond, the doorbell rang. Val jumped up and ran excitedly into the living room. Taylor and Kate followed and caught up with Val as she peeked out the front window.

She turned around, gesturing outside. “This man you find tolerable just sent a limo to pick us up. What do you have to say about that?”

Curious, Taylor and Kate peered out the window.

“What on earth have you done to him?” Kate asked, taking in the limo outside.

“Oh, you know, slammed a few doors in his face, hung up on him a couple of times, tossed around a slew of insults.”

Kate nodded. “Ah, the usual stuff.”

She and Taylor shared a smile. Then they watched through the window as Valerie hightailed it outside. She paused at the limo and grandly blew air kisses to a few of Taylor’s neighbors before climbing inside.

EVERYWHERE THEY WENT that night, people stared.

At Koi, as the five of them (Jason had brought Jeremy along) ate ridiculously expensive sushi and knocked back several drinks, people stared.

At Teddy’s at the Roosevelt Hotel, as they laughed while at their poolside table, people stared.

When they left Teddy’s and walked right past the line outside Privilege, people stared.

As they were ushered into the club, with its white walls and white floor, by a manager (dressed all in white), and seated at a private booth (white leather, natch), people stared.

And Kate and Val ate up every minute of it.

It had to be one of the best, if not the best, nights of their lives. And certainly the most glamorous. They were treated like royalty everywhere they went. All because of Jason.

After the waiter took the group’s drink orders, Taylor found herself thinking about Jason’s attitude that evening. Or rather, his complete lack thereof. He was being entirely gracious with her friends. Charming. Friendly. Downright nice, actually. Throughout the night, he had been eager to make sure her friends were having a good time. He talked at length to both Val and Kate, making an effort to get to know each of them. To the point, frankly, where Taylor felt as though she had spent almost the whole evening with Jeremy.

Which was perfectly fine. Her friends could have Jason Andrews—she’d spent enough time around him as it was.

Hadn’t she?

They were on their second round of drinks when Taylor noticed that a thick crowd had grown around their table. When a sweaty drunk guy with overly gelled hair—some famous-for-being-famous oil heir who hung out with Paris Hilton (according to Val’s knowing whisper)—knocked into Taylor and nearly spilled his drink on her, Jason appeared to reach his limit.

“Let’s head to the back,” he declared.

Taylor took advantage of their change in location by heading over to the bar to settle their tab. Jason had paid for everything else that evening, and she felt guilty continuing to take advantage of his generosity. He may have money, but she certainly could handle paying for a few rounds of drinks.

She got her credit card out of her purse and was trying to flag down their waiter when Jason pulled up next to her at the bar.

“What do you plan to do with that?” He pointed to her credit card with amusement.

“At least let me pay for the drinks,” she insisted.

“Why? So you can turn around and expense them as part of my legal bills?” Jason grinned teasingly.

Recalling how awkward their earlier conversation on the subject of billing had been, Taylor blushed. “Don’t worry—I’m not going to expense it,” she told him. “I doubt I could get away with calling this work.” She gestured to the bar and the crowd surrounding them.