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She sighs and motions for a waiter to bring refills for both our drinks. Someone shouts her name from across the room and she waves at him, then turns back to me and leans close. “So…” she whispers. “A little bird told me you’ve agreed to direct Break of Day.”

I raise my brows, impressed. “Why am I surprised at how fast word gets around in this town?”

“Not around.” She shrugs. “You know me, Aidan. I have my sources.”

“Your sources are right.”

“You haven’t cast Lillie, have you?” She gives me a mischievous look. “I’m almost too old, but I could pull it off.”

My expression is incredulous. “Old? You?”

She laughs. “Flatterer. I wouldn’t play Lillie for the world. While my peers are trying to get parts meant for ingénues, I’ve cornered the market on the mature roles. Better to be the sexy

older woman than the stiff arthritic ingénue, don’t you think?”

“What can I say, Celeste? You’re always miles ahead of the rest of us.”

“And you’re always so charming.” She chuckles. “Anyhow, what’s this I hear about the investor’s choice for the role.”

I frown and sip my scotch. “What do you mean?”

“I hear they are pushing for someone big. Liz McKay kind of big. Although why they would trust her with such a part with her limited experience on the stage…and after what happened the last time...”

Celeste keeps talking, but I can’t hear a word. My blood is pounding through my veins in a deafening rush. It’s not possible. It can’t be.

But deep down, I know it’s true.

My vision fills with her face, my mind with her name. Regret, fury, longing and loss race uninhibited through my system. Fuck her! My fingers tighten around my glass and I take a deep breath, loosening my grip and downing the contents in one gulp.

Celeste is still waiting for me to confirm the rumor. I shrug, injecting my action with a nonchalance I don’t feel. “I suppose it’s possible.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Given your history, I would have thought…” She doesn’t finish. A noted theater critic joins us and I half-listen as he goes on about a piece of gossip in which I have zero interest.

I am fuming. My mind is churning. Fuck Natalia for trying to blindside me and fuck Liz. I’d swallow an anaconda on live television before I ever work with her again. In fact, I’d let the anaconda swallow me, if it meant never ever seeing her face again.

Screw her and the jet she arrived in.

Someone else joins us, then another. An actor says something to me about one of my plays. I give him a mechanical reply and move away from the crowd, going to the temporary bar set up in one corner of the room. The barman pours me another scotch and I cradle the glass, wondering how many I’ll need to wipe the thought of Liz from my mind.

The sounds of the party continue around me—the chink of glasses, laughter, someone tinkering out a tune on the piano—they’ve suddenly become unbearable. I feel like I can hear her name above it all, over and over, echoing across the room. Liz McKay. Liz McKay.

Liz McKay.

I start, almost dropping the glass as I realize that someone has said the words out loud, as if reading them aloud from my thoughts. My body stiffens, and a tingling warmth floods up the back of my neck.

Don’t turn around.

Don’t turn around.

I turn, drink still in my hand and there she is across the room.

My breath stops.

Dressed in a silky top and white pants, she is stunning, and not for the first time, looking at her makes me feel lightheaded. Lustrous auburn hair falls around her creamy, smooth shoulders in thick waves, accentuating the clean, perfect lines of her face. Her luminous green eyes are full of the kind of promises her full sensuous lips were made to keep. After all this time, she’s still the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.

“Liz.” Her name escapes my lips in a whisper. My entire body strains toward her with an uncontrollable pull of desire combined with the painful ache of longing.

She’s scanning the room, and almost as if she heard me whisper her name, she looks in my direction.


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