She headed across the dance floor, where the classical music portion of the evening’s entertainment clearly was over. She had no idea who DJ AM was, but many others apparently did, judging from the way they all rushed out to dance as soon as his name was announced.

She got to the second bar and scanned the faces of everyone there. But not one of them was Jason. Frustrated, she took a deep breath. Yep—once again she was standing alone at this party, with nowhere to go.

But then, she happened to look up just as the crowd shifted and suddenly, she had a view of the veranda.

There Jason stood, with his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his pants. In his tuxedo, he looked . . . well, there were no words. He peered down at Taylor with a grin, and from across the bar, she smiled back.

For the first time that evening, she felt like she belonged.

AS JASON MADE his way through the crowd, he was certain he would have something clever and nonchalant to say by the time he reached Taylor. But when he got there and saw her up close, nothing remotely clever or even nonchalant came to mind. In fact, thoughts, in general, were a bit beyond him at that point.

It was the way she looked that night. He would never forget it.

She wore a shimmering Grecian-style white satin gown that skimmed over her body in graceful gathers. In wild contrast to the traditional updo favored by virtually every other woman at that party, she wore her hair down and long and wavy.

Other women at the ball, with their black gowns and diamond chokers, looked like princesses. But to Jason, Taylor was a goddess.

He stopped before her, transfixed. She shifted worriedly when he said nothing at first.

“You’re so beautiful, Taylor,” he finally managed.

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment. “It’s just the dress.”

No—it’s you, he almost blurted out. But he kept his tongue in check.

“Where’s your date?” he asked instead.

Taylor gestured across the dance floor, where Scott and his friends were clanking their beer bottles in another rowdy toast.

“Over there, hanging out with the other members of the Fellowship.”

Jason grinned. “I think that’s a different movie.”

Taylor turned back and looked him over. “So . . . where’s your date?”

“I don’t have one. Unless you count Jeremy, which of course I don’t. He has a crush on Bredstone’s daughter, so I brought him along.”

Taylor nodded. Did she seem pleased by the fact that he didn’t have a date? There was only one way to tell. Jason held out his hand.

“Dance with me, Taylor.”

She hesitated for a moment. Then she took his hand without saying a word.

Jason led her out onto the dance floor. Couples had paired off as “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star began to play. Through the crowd, he caught sight of some photographers hovering eagerly on the other side of the dance floor. Scanning the area, he spotted a secluded area that was sheltered by the low branches of a tree that reached out over the dance floor. He led Taylor over and pulled her into his arms.

They danced slowly together, with the lights glittering in the tree branches above them like stars. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Jason wanted to enjoy the feel of Taylor’s hand in his, the snugness of his arm around her waist. In her heels, the top of her head rested right under his chin. He could whisper anything in her ear, he realized, and only she would hear.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began softly. “You may finally be free of me.”

Taylor turned her face toward his. “What do you mean?”

“Well, your work with the script is essentially finished, we have no more deals about keeping the press away from you, and as far as I know, you don’t have any more friends in town . . .”

She smiled. “Valerie is still talking about that night.”

“And unless you plan to knock yourself over the head with a hammer, you’ll likely remain concussion-free,” Jason teased. But then his expression turned serious. “So I guess there’s nothing left to keep you around me anymore.”

Taylor’s green eyes probed his intently. “What if I just like being around you?”

Jason held his breath. “Is that true?”

She nodded slowly. “I need to tell you something, Jason—I know how I’ve acted toward you, things I’ve said in the past, but . . .” She trailed off, hesitating, then looked him straight in the eyes.

“I was so wrong about you. These past few weeks, I’ve realized that when you take away the cameras, and the reporters, and the big house, and the fancy car . . . the guy who’s left is not too bad. In fact, I like him quite a bit.”

And that was it. Those simple words affected Jason more than any others ever had.

“Taylor . . .” he said, pulling her closer to him.

But she shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know that. That’s all.”

She started to pull away, but Jason held her tight. “Don’t pull away from me. Not this time.”

“I have to.”

“Why?” he demanded. “Because of Scott?”

Taylor looked up at him. “We both know Scott isn’t the problem.”

“Then what?”

She paused at the question, her eyes troubled.

“It’s you, Jason—you’re the problem. I just . . . I can’t do this with you.”

Jason was momentarily taken aback by her words. Before he could say anything further, Taylor pulled away. He felt it—the moment her fingers slipped out of his. Then she hurried off, disappearing into the crowd.