Standing across the street from the mob scene, Taylor wondered for the twenty-seventh time since hopping in her car what the hell she was doing. It was madness. Pure insanity.

But it was also Jason’s life.

And if she wanted to be a part of that life, she’d better start getting used to it. Like, immediately.

Suddenly, she heard the crowd roar with a renewed fervor. The chaotic screams and cheers could mean only one thing.

Jason had arrived.

Taylor watched nervously from across the street. She had never backed down from anything in her life and wasn’t about to start now. It was time to rise to the challenge, to face her fears. It was time to woman up.

So with a determined look, she crossed the street and headed over to the theater.

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.”