“So that’s the point where we see that the character has really come full circle,” he said. “What do you think?”

Taylor blushed at the question. This really was not her field of expertise.

“Oh, I’m not the right person to ask,” she said lightly. “I don’t see that many romantic comedies.”

“Dramedies,” Hayden corrected her. “And why is that? You don’t believe in love?”

Taylor was momentarily put off by his bluntness. But she grinned, trying to play nice. “Of course I believe in love.” She deliberately put just a tinge of mocking emphasis on the word. “Although I’m not sure I believe in love like you see in movies.”

Hayden appeared to like this challenge. In the Hollywood food chain, as Taylor quickly was about to learn, the only person more arrogant and self-assured than an Oscar-winning actor was an Oscar-winning director.

“Oh? What is it you don’t believe in?”

Under his probing gaze, Taylor suddenly felt like she was back in law school, being grilled by her torts professor over the court’s holding in Hadley v. Baxendale.

“I don’t know . . .” she said, shifting her drink to the other hand. She saw that the director was not going to let her off that easily. “I suppose it’s the idea that there’s one person out there for you. The so-called perfect match. It’s not a logical concept.”

Taylor quickly glanced around the party, looking for a way out. This whole conversation had turned a little flighty for her taste.

Hayden rocked back and forth on his heels, smug in his obvious superior knowledge on the subject.

“You know, just because love like that hasn’t happened to you doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

At this, Taylor tried to recall what her torts professor had said about justification being a legal defense to smacking someone upside the head. But she managed to resist the urge to find out.

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said to Hayden with a polite smile. “I suppose I’m not your target audience, that’s all.”

Hayden leaned in closer. “Let me give you a bit of friendly advice, Taylor. Life isn’t always about logic and reason—sometimes you just have to close your eyes and jump. Particularly when it comes to relationships.”

Taylor tried to keep from rolling her eyes. It now was most definitely time to make her escape.

But Hayden, apparently (and quite mistakenly) believing his conversation skills were charming, moved closer to her.

“But perhaps we could continue this discussion further. Maybe sometime over dinner?”

Taylor shook her head regretfully. “Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t. I’m really too busy with work these days.”

Hayden appeared quite offended—and surprised—by the rejection. “Is there a problem here? I own a restaurant with Bruckheimer, you know.”

Taylor tried not to smile. Ahh . . . Hollywood. Just when you might think all the stereotypes and clichés aren’t true, you realize, yep—they are.

She gave Hayden a look. “Aren’t you married?” Everyone knew his wife was an actress who had been in two of his movies.

“Separated,” he said insistently. “I haven’t spoken to my wife in months.”

Just then, a bouncer walked up to Hayden and Taylor, holding a cell phone.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone—but your wife is on the phone for you.”

Taylor watched in amusement as the director’s face turned red with embarrassment.

“And on that note . . . I think I’ll go,” she said.

She headed off to find a bathroom, the one place she hoped Hayden Stone wouldn’t try to follow her.

THE GUEST BATHROOM of the pool house had been richly designed in beige-and-black marble and dark mahogany wood, with a separate lounge area. With an appreciative glance, the lawyer in Taylor couldn’t help but think that if Jason ever did get married, he better have one hell of a prenup.

She had just shut the bathroom door when she heard the loud, gossipy voices of two women entering the lounge.

“It has to be her,” the first voice was saying. “She looks just like the woman in that photograph on the balcony at the Bellagio. And didn’t you see the way he stared when she first walked into the party?”

“But I thought he and Naomi Cross were supposedly hooking up on set,” the second voice said. “You know Amanda, who works in the mail room at Marty Shepherd’s firm? She told me that.”

It took her a moment, but Taylor realized that the women were talking about her and Jason. Such petty gossip. Thankfully, she was above that kind of nonsense.

She pressed her ear tightly against the door to hear better.

“That thing about Naomi is just a rumor,” the first woman said knowingly. “You know Max, the waiter at Mr. Chow? He told me that he was there when Jason had dinner with the Mystery Woman, and that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.”

Without meaning to, Taylor smiled at this.

“And supposedly,” the woman continued, “she made him smile. A lot.”

Taylor quickly thought back to their dinner. Yes . . . she had been particularly charming that evening.

“Do you think she’s a model?” the second woman asked.

A model? Wow. Behind the door, Taylor proudly tossed her hair back over her shoulders.

“I bet she has extensions.”

Taylor stopped, mid hair-toss. Her mouth opened defensively. Hold on there.