There’s nothing like walking into a room of glamorous, successful people to make you feel like a total failure in life.

I know, I know—from the outside, I belong. Thanks to my friends, their wardrobes, and their actual paid jobs, that is. But inside, I feel like a massive imposter as I cross the most gorgeous room I’ve ever seen. This place is incredible: sweeping views of the city and lavish holiday decorations in silver and gold. It’s almost enough to make me feel a dash of holiday spirit—if my stomach wasn’t tangled up in knots.

Then my gaze lands on Oliver. Damn, the man sure can work a tux. He looks just as hot with his hair slicked back as he did with it rumpled yesterday. And now I know exactly what the body underneath feels like, up close and personal . . .

I’m still not completely sure why he asked me here, but I can’t help smiling as he cuts through the crowd, straight for me.

“You look amazing,” he says, and the appreciation on his face makes me blush.

“Thanks.” I swallow.

“Want a drink?”

“I don’t want to talk about Serendipity,” I blurt suddenly. “I mean, before you try and talk me into it. That topic is off the table tonight.”

He pauses, then nods. “Fair enough. Here, why don’t we make the rounds?”

Before I know it, he’s put a glass of champagne in my hand and is introducing me to one of Broadway’s most established directors. I barely manage to stop my eyeballs from falling out of my head. “It’s so great to meet you,” I breathe, totally starstruck, and then he’s gone, replaced with an amazing actress I stood in line for three hours just to get tickets to see last year—plus her composer husband.

“Oliver.” She beams, leaning in to air kiss his cheeks. “It’s been forever! We’re having a dinner party next week, you and your friend must join us.”

“Sure, sounds great.” Oliver smiles, totally at ease with the rarefied guest list. Meanwhile, I’m practically hyperventilating, and ignoring the delicious-looking appetizers in case I get something stuck in my teeth.

“You know everyone!” I whisper.

“Comes with the job description,” Oliver says. “Come on, we’re just getting started.”

By the time we’ve completed a circuit of the room, I’ve met three other directors I admire, two major producers, a handful of actors and actresses I’d sell my soul to work with, and a whole bunch of other names I can’t keep track of. And they’ve all asked me about my work and complimented my dress, treating me like I’m as valid a part of this fancy shindig as the rest of them. My head is starting to spin. I don’t think it’s just the champagne.

Is this what it’s like when you’ve made it? What I could have all the time, if I finally got that big break? I’m breathing in success like an intoxicating perfume . . . and realizing that if I took the role in Serendipity, they would soon know my name, too.

I pause, feeling torn. “Is there somewhere we can talk for a minute?” I ask Oliver.

“Of course.” He steers us down a hallway to an area with private alcoves, set with tables and heavy velvet drapes. We slip into an empty one, half-hidden from the party. “What’s wrong?” Oliver turns to me, looking concerned. “Aren’t you having a good time?”

That question is so absurd I have to laugh. “Are you kidding me? I’m having the best time of my life. No, I just—” I bite my lip. I don’t know how to ask this in a way that’ll get me an honest answer. I guess I just have to spit it out. “Why did I get offered that part, Oliver? Tell me the truth.”

He takes my hand. “I told you, that was nothing to do with me. My director saw some of your earlier work, and he loved it. I loved it. You really are perfect for the role, Jill. It was your talent that got you it, nothing else.”

I want to believe him. I want to so, so badly. I thought I was perfect for the role too, but the memory floats up of my audition, and how easily they all ignored me.

I’m supposed to believe that suddenly, they did a 180?

“So, it has nothing to do with this weekend, and us . . . ?” I ask, desperately hoping.

He looks completely sincere. “I swear. Last night had no impact on casting. The only thing it changed is how much I wanted to see you again. Off the stage . . .” He trails his fingers up my arm.

This is another bad idea—especially if I take the part. There are rules about mixing business and pleasure, and I—

He kisses me. Hard, and full of lust, and so goddam sexy, I’m wet before he even pulls away.

“God, Jill . . .” His voice is ragged. He trails a blazing path down my neck, dropping searing kisses on my bare skin. “You have no idea how much it’s been killing me keeping my hands off of you tonight.”

Oh, God.

Those hands move to my waist, then around to tease and caress my bare back. I let out a breathy moan, my eyes going to the hallway.

“Nobody can see,” Oliver breathes, pulling me closer. He’s right, the curtains hide us from the crowd and muffle their chatter to a murmur.

We’re hidden. Secret. And oh-so naughty.

Oliver nudges me right up against the wall and kisses me again, this time taking his time. The heat of his body burns through my dress, and the nudge of his hardness sends a thrill right through me.

He teases my lower lip with his teeth and goes in for a deeper kiss. My fingers tighten around his jacket as I resist the urge to pull him even closer against me. We are still at the gala, people just on the other side of that curtain.

So why does the thought just make me hotter?

Oliver’s hand traces over the curve of my hip. He cups my breast, caressing his thumb over my nipple through the silky fabric. I swallow a whimper.

He lowers his head to kiss the corner of my jaw. His breath tickles my ear. “Should I stop?”

Should? Yes.

Want? Absolutely not.

“Don’t stop.” I shake my head, and I’m rewarded with another caress. Then his hand dips between us, down between my legs.

I gasp.

He strokes me through my dress, a wicked rhythm that leaves me panting. He shifts, angling himself to protect me from any wayward party-goers, but I’m past caring who sees. I drop my face to the crook of his neck, unable to resist nibbling the soft skin there.

He quickens the pace, and I clamp my lips tight against a full-out moan. That would definitely get noticed. Oliver chuckles quietly, but his breath sounds ragged too.

“This isn’t even halfway enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to all the things I want to do to you. All the things I want to make you feel.”

I’m losing control. My hips rock with the rhythm of his strokes. Another whimper is stuck in my throat. I breathe in the scent of him as my body starts to tremble with the building wave of pleasure.

I’m close. So fucking close.

“That’s it, baby,” Oliver growls. “Come for me. Do it, now.”

He flicks his thumb harder over my clit, and I’m gone. My orgasm sweeps through me, hard and swift, leaving my legs shaking. Oliver holds me up, carrying me through the wave of bliss. I have the urge to melt right into him. But the music outside shifts, and I suddenly come back to earth.

We’re at the party, surrounded by people, just a few feet away.

And Oliver still managed to make me come so hard I forgot my own name.

Damn, he’s good.

Oliver smooths over my dress, helping me straighten it. My head is still spinning. “I, umm, better go freshen up.” I gesture vaguely.

“I’ll go get us a drink.” Oliver smiles and kisses my cheek before checking around the curtain. “All clear.” He gives me a wink.

Could he be any more of a gentleman?

He heads back to the party, and I go the other direction to find the restroom. It’s an expanse of white marble, cool and peaceful after . . . well, after all my muffled moans.

I lean over the sink and peer at my reflection. My cheeks are flushed. My face is glowing. I look like a woman who just had a delicious orgasm—and landed the part of a lifetime.

“Jill, what a surprise. I would never have expected to see you here!”

I turn around and find myself face to face with Suzy Chambers. Somehow her greeting sounds more like an insult, but that was always Suzy’s talent. “Oh. Hi.”

Because she’s Suzy Chambers, of course her makeup is perfect. Her nose is as pert and her blonde curls as glossy as ever. But she’s not giving me her usual fake smile. Her arms are folded over the bodice of her princess-y ball gown, her expression cool. “So, you know the producer then?”

“Oliver? I . . . yup.”

“Figures.” Suzy curls her lip in a sneer. “Guess you couldn’t get cast the old-fashioned way, so you decided to get there via the casting couch.”

I tense. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, yeah?” Suzy glares. “My agent told me you got the part. And now here you are, on his arm, looking like you just fucked in the limo. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.”

She spins around and flounces off before I can say a word.

My heart sinks.

This is what I was afraid of. Maybe I didn’t mean to sleep my way to the top . . . but that’s how it looks, isn’t it? No matter what Oliver says, he’s never going to see me as just an actress now. I’m the actress who also comes moaning his name in dark corners at public events.

Shit. Shit.

Suzy is right, in her way. I wouldn’t be here at this gala, networking with these people, if I wasn’t also sleeping with Oliver. Even if I didn’t plan it this way, the end result is the same.

Humiliation prickles through me. Is that what everyone is whispering out there? That I’m some two-bit failure fucking him to get ahead?

Suddenly, the magical evening seems tarnished and cheap.

I need to get out of here.

I grab my purse and slip out to retrieve my coat from the clerk, and I hurry outside. The giant Christmas tree sparkles against the night sky, and few more flakes drift down, glittering in the holiday glow. “Jill!”

I’ve made it halfway across the courtyard when my name rings out behind me. I reluctantly turn. Oliver draws level with me. “What happened? Where are you going?” He looks totally confused, and I can’t blame him.

“I’m sorry, I’m going home,” I say. “Where I should have been in the first place.”

Oliver frowns. “What are you talking about? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

My stomach twists at the thought of exactly how I was enjoying myself, with him, ten minutes ago. “That’s not the point. I haven’t earned the right to be mingling with the people in there. I can’t pretend I did. Just like I can’t pretend I should take that part.”

He looks exasperated. “Do you still think you didn’t earn that role? I told you, you’re perfect. What do I have to say for you to believe we really think you’re the best actress for the part?”

“You can’t say anything,” I say sadly. “There’s no way to separate it from us. Think about it. If Robbie had come to you with a video of someone else, would you have rolled over so easily? Or taken me out to this party if I was just some waitress, and not your next star? It’s all tangled up now, and there’s no getting away from it.”

Oliver’s jaw sets. “You’re not ‘just some waitress,’ you never were.”

“You know what I mean.” I turn away, but he catches my hand, pulling me back.

“What are you really scared of here, Jill?” he demands. “You have a shot here—the chance you say you’ve been waiting for—but you just want to throw it away? Maybe you’re scared that if you take that shot and step into the spotlight, you might fail. Is that it? It’s easier to be the underdog than to actually try?”

I bristle. “You want to talk to me about trying? I’ve been at this for ten years, and the first time I get a proper break, it just happens to be on a production where I’ve slept with the producer. How can I be so sure I’ve really got what it takes? Would you even be out here trying to convince me if we hadn’t slept together?”

The chilly air stings my throat. Oliver opens his mouth and falters. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “I can want you and think you’re a spectacular actress at the same time.”

I shake my head, frustrated. “You don’t get it! You have no idea how it feels being on the other side. What happens if I decide I want us to just be friends? Will you still think I’m so spectacular then?”

Oliver looks furious. “That’s a low blow. Do you really think I’m the kind of sleazebag who’d run an actress off the stage because I couldn’t get her in my bed? If you don’t want to be with me again, fine. But I’d never hold it over you.”

I want to believe him. Everything I’ve seen from him says this is a good, decent guy.

Who’s loved and left half a dozen gorgeous actresses over the past few years.

The voice of doubt lingers. He’s a player, remember? Every guy I’ve ever been with has moved on eventually, and when Oliver decides to move on from me, I can’t imagine having to power through all those performances with him looking on. Having to see him at every rehearsal and every production event. It’d be torture.

Three days, and I’m already crazy about him. What am I going to feel in another week? A few months from now?

He could break my heart—and my career.

I gulp back the tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Jill—”

This time, I don’t wait. I turn and bolt before he can stop me.