For a minute—more like a microsecond—I’d thought Jett Draconis might be different. A Juilliard man. Someone who valued education. Who protected his most prized asset—his voice—as best he could.

Even after I’d found out he was just a typical celebrity lech, I still had trouble breaking away and leaving that limo.

He was magnificently gorgeous. That was all. Purely physical.

I didn’t have time for physical.

Or did I?

My life had gotten stale—waiting tables, trying to stay awake when I was dead on my feet to keep my writing dream alive, meeting with producers, getting rejected…

Maybe physical was just what I needed.

Didn’t matter, though. I’d blown my chance to have a one-nighter with the glory that was Jett Draconis.

What had I been thinking? I’d been perfectly safe. I was in a limo and I could have left at any time.

Oh, well…

I went to the bathroom, washed up, brushed my teeth, and then headed back to my room for bed.

Only to find Susie sprawled on my blanket.

“So how was it?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“How was what?”

“Jett? He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He was seriously freaked out when he found me at the party. He was desperate to find you.”

“Desperate? I doubt Jett Draconis is ever desperate. He can have whoever he wants.”

“Tonight he clearly wanted you. So how was it?”

“You think I hopped into the sack with him? I was gone all of half an hour.”

“That’s more than enough time for the good stuff.”

“Suze, you know I don’t sleep around.”

“I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “But this is Jett Draconis. Maybe he’s not quite as pretty as Zane Michaels, but he’s easily the second-best-looking man in rock and roll today. Plus, he’s so talented, and a genuinely nice guy.”

A sudden spear of jealousy lanced into my gut. “Suze, have you ever…”

“With Jett?” She shook her head. “I wish. I did engage in some heavy petting with Zane once, though. He’s amazing.”

I couldn’t help smiling as relief swept through me. I wasn’t sure why. I had no claims on Jett Draconis. I had just turned him down, after all. Susie had said Zane was prettier than Jett. Zane was blond and blue-eyed and had that Jon Bon Jovi look about him. But Jett… Jett was pure rugged maleness. Beautiful, but in an entirely masculine way.

“So seriously,” she continued. “How was it?”

Clearly, Susie wasn’t going to let this die.

“Seriously, Suze, I didn’t go to bed with him.”

Her eyes went wide with shock. “You mean nothing happened?”

A few kisses, but I didn’t feel like talking about it. For some reason, it felt very private to me.

“I had a glass of wine. He had some water. We talked.”

“About what?”

“Where he went to school.”

“He went to school? You mean college?”

“Yeah. He has a master’s in music. Didn’t you know that?”

“I didn’t. He really knows his stuff, though, so it’s not surprising. I guess it just doesn’t come up at the after-parties or clubs where I run into him.”

You think? I kept my thoughts and feelings to myself. “So yeah, nothing happened, and I need to get to bed. It’s three o’clock, and I have work tomorrow evening.”

“Okay, okay. I can take a hint.” She clambered off my bed. “Night.”

“Night.”

“Broken Sky,” written by none other than Jett Draconis, woke me from my slumber. I hadn’t set an alarm. It was my ringtone. I grabbed my phone from the night table. Hmm. Didn’t recognize the number.

I yawned and said, “Hello?”

“Good morning. I’m trying to reach Heather Myles,” a female voice said.

“You found her.”

“Oh, great! My name is Laney Taylor. I got your name from Jett Draconis. He said you’re a television script writer?”

Well, not exactly. I had a bit of brain fog going on. Had she said TV script writer? I was a screenwriter. Of course, since none of my writing had actually made it to any screen, big or small, I guessed I was whatever I wanted to be.

I cleared my throat. “That’s right. It’s nice to hear from you.”

“Jett called me first thing this morning and said amazing things about you and your work. He insisted I call you right away. I hope I’m not disturbing you so early on a weekend morning.”

My mouth dropped open but no words emerged. Jett had said amazing things about me and my work? We’d shared all of a half hour together, and he had no idea what kind of writer I was.

“Are you there?”

Get it together, Heather. “Yeah, sorry.”

“I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”

“It’s okay. I have to get up anyway. I had a late night last night. I’m thrilled to talk to you.”

“Wonderful. Are you free for a drink tonight? I’d love to talk to you about my project.”

Crap. “I’m sorry. I have to work the evening shift at Lucien’s.”

Damn it! My brain was half-assed right now. Why had I said that? I could have easily gotten my shift covered or called in sick. Now she’d think I wasn’t a serious writer if I still had a day job.

“How about now, then?” she said. “We could catch a late lunch.”

Except that I was still in bed with drool hanging off my chin. But I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. “Sure. Just tell me when and where.”

“How about the Brasserie on Vine? I have a standing table there. How soon can you get there?”

I desperately needed a shower, but I didn’t want to show up with wet hair… Screw it. I’d wash the essentials, dab on a little makeup, and hope I didn’t look like I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep.

“A half hour?” I said.

“Perfect. See you there.” She ended the call.

I froze. What had I gotten myself into?