“Wow—you almost seem happy to see me, Ms. Donovan,” Jason teased as he stepped inside, willing to prolong the game a moment or two longer.

“I am. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Jason smiled. Of course there was.

“Really? What’s that?” he asked innocently.

“I hope you don’t mind, I was just making dinner,” she said over her shoulder. “Feel free to pour yourself a glass of wine. You’re welcome to stay.”

Of course he was.

Jason followed her into the kitchen. When he got there, he saw that “making dinner” in Taylor’s mind meant mixing the dressing into a premade salad she had presumably picked up from the grocery store on the way home from work.

The woman truly was helpless in the kitchen. But he was willing to overlook this.

Jason spotted the open bottle of wine on the counter. Taylor pointed to the cabinet that contained her wineglasses, and he took out one for each of them. They certainly were about to have plenty to celebrate.

“Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about as well,” he said as he poured each of them a glass.

“Okay.” Taylor shrugged agreeably. “You go first.”

Jason paused, wanting to appear contemplative, as if he needed a moment to begin. In reality, he had run through this monologue three times in the Aston Martin on the way over. Always a perfectionist, he wanted to be certain he nailed his lines just right.

“Well . . .” he began carefully, “I’ve been doing some thinking. About Naomi.” He quickly glanced over to catch Taylor’s reaction. She appeared nonchalant, concentrating on the salad. He gave her props for her acting skills.

“And I’ve decided that things aren’t going to work out with her after all.”

Taylor looked up. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because there’s someone else I’m more interested in,” Jason said. With that, he moved closer to her and brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder. He handed her one of the wineglasses and gazed down at her seductively.

“Why don’t we go away this weekend instead? I’d love to take you to Napa, Taylor.” His voice was husky and intimate. “Just the two of us.”

She peered up at him, and Jason recognized the telltale devilish sparkle in her eyes. He wondered whether they would have sex right there on the counter. He moved the salad bowl out of the way.

Taylor’s eyes held his.

“No.”

Jason cocked his head, confused. What was this word, “no”? She was always saying it around him.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, but no,” Taylor repeated. “As in, no, I can’t go away with you this weekend.” She casually took a sip of her wine and set her glass down. She turned away, slid the salad bowl that he had just moved back into place, and resumed her dinner preparations. Jason’s visions of crazy counter sex and flying arugula began to fade.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“Well, for starters, I have other plans this Saturday.”

Jason scoffed at this. “Plans? What plans?”

Taylor shrugged innocently, keeping her eyes on the salad she was making. “Oh, just, you know, other plans.”

Ahh . . . now Jason understood what was going on here. A last-ditch effort to play hard to get. But really, he felt that it was time for them to cut through all the crap. A man like him could only wait so long.

He spotted something on the kitchen counter: People magazine, with his picture on the cover. Sexiest Man Alive. Aha! Evidence. Deciding to call Taylor’s bluff, Jason grabbed the magazine and held it up to her.

“Really, Taylor, you don’t have to keep up the charade. I mean, who wouldn’t want to go away for the weekend with this guy?”

She cocked her head, considering this. Then she pointed to something on the magazine’s cover. “Somebody who has a date, on Saturday, with that guy.”

Come again?

Jason turned the magazine around to see what she was pointing to. He saw a picture of Scott Casey in the corner, under a caption that read “Other Contenders.”

He glanced back at her.

“Scott Casey?”

Taylor raised an eyebrow proudly. “Yes. Kind of funny, huh? We’re going out this Saturday.”

Jason’s face fell.

No.

This could not be.

“Scott Casey?” he repeated dumbly.

Taylor cocked her head. “Why do you keep saying it like that? Yes, Scott Casey.” She reached around him to grab a fork out of one of the drawers.

Jason needed to sit for a moment. He suddenly felt a little . . . fragile. He sunk onto one of the counter stools, in a daze. “I don’t understand,” he managed to mumble, disoriented. “When did this happen? How did this happen?”

Taylor dished some salad onto her plate, tilting the bowl to ask Jason if he wanted any. He waved this off, impatient for her to continue.

“I met him at your party,” she said. “It’s a funny coincidence—we must have been leaving at the same time. Anyway, we hung out for a while, and you know what?—he was actually kind of fun to talk to. And whew—well, let’s just say that he is not exactly tough on the eyes.”

Taylor looked him over, then pointed with her fork. “He could even give you a run for your money.” With a wink, she took a bite of her salad.

Jason sat at the counter, speechless. By now, the two of them were supposed to be deep in the throes of I’m-so-glad-you-chose-me-Jason makeup sex.