develop some sort of ritual to help you both break the spell of the work and transition back to real life.”
Ashton exchanged a glance with Jasmine. Actors had all sorts of rituals and superstitions, but his mind went blank when he tried to think of what they could do.
“That’s all I have. Thanks for being so open to this process.” Vera’s eyes landed on Ashton when she said “open” and he got the feeling she knew he was holding back. “I’ll see you tomorrow for rehearsal.”
THAT NIGHT, JASMINE met Michelle for dinner at a wine bar in Greenwich Village. After two glasses of wine—and forty-five minutes spent on party-planning details—Jasmine loosened up enough to approach the sexy elephant in the room.
“I think I like Ashton,” she mused.
“I thought you said he doesn’t talk to you.” Michelle’s voice was direct, but not unkind. She topped off their glasses from the bottle of Merlot on the table.
Jasmine scowled. “He kinda doesn’t?”
“So how do you know you like him?”
Jasmine blew out a breath and slumped back in her seat. “Fine. I’m attracted to him. Plus, he’s a good actor. And when I get little glimpses of him . . . I like what I see.”
“Where are you on the scale?”
Years ago, Michelle had created the four-point Jasmine Scale to track Jasmine’s progression—or descent, as Michelle called it—into love.
The first point on the scale was Attraction. It was the curiosity phase, where Jasmine started to wonder about the guy and noticed all the cute and charming things about him, usually while ignoring glaring flaws and red flags.
Next came the Crush. In the Crush phase, Jasmine amped up the flirting, getting physically closer and making it obvious that she was interested.
The third phase, Infatuation, was where she started to lose her sense of self and all good judgment. She made herself too available and did too many favors for the guy in question.
After that, there was only one more step left: Falling in Love, where she threw herself headfirst into the emotional abyss.
“I think I’m still on the first point,” Jasmine said. Michelle was right. Jasmine hadn’t actually spent enough time around Ashton to reach Crush levels yet.
“Then there’s still hope for you.” Michelle grinned, then popped a french fry in her mouth.
Jasmine stole some of Michelle’s fries. “Hooray for me.”
Michelle reached across the table and patted her arm. “Look, Ashton is super hot. If you were going to rebound with someone, you could do a lot worse than him.”
“I’m trying not to rebound at all.”
“Remember your Leading Lady Plan.”
How could she forget? And while she was thinking about it, Jasmine mentally added a fourth point: Leading Ladies do not rebound with their costars.
Speaking of . . .
“We film the kissing scene tomorrow,” she blurted out.
Michelle’s eyes went wide, and then she laughed her head off while Jasmine stewed.
“You are toast,” Michelle said, then raised her glass. “Here lies Jasmine. We loved her well. Cause of death: crushing on her costar.”
Jasmine grabbed her own wine and gulped down half of it. “What is so wrong with having a crush?”
“Oh, now it’s a crush? Are you at the second point on the scale?”
“No.” Not yet.
“There’s nothing wrong with a crush,” Michelle said, her tone gentle. “But you don’t do crushes.”
Jasmine wished she did crushes. How much easier would her life be if she could find someone appealing, never act on it, and then forget all about them? But she just wasn’t wired that way, and she didn’t want to be. Was it so much to ask for a loving, committed relationship with someone who unconditionally loved and accepted her for who she was?
Apparently so, because she’d kissed a lot of frogs over the years, and all of them had broken her heart.
“I’m not going to rebound with Ashton,” she said firmly, more to herself than to Michelle.
Her cousin raised a skeptical eyebrow, then lifted her glass again. “Cheers to that,” she said, although she didn’t sound convinced.
“Don’t tell Ava.”
“Oh, I’m definitely telling Ava.”
Jasmine let out a sigh. “Fine. Tell Ava. Saves me the trouble of bringing her up to speed.”
Michelle chuckled while Jasmine drained her glass.
Chapter 10
Vera was waiting when Ashton arrived on set for private rehearsal early the next day. These scenes would be shot in a working kitchen that was normally used for talk shows but was now outfitted to look like the basement-level kitchen of the Serranos’ East Harlem brownstone. The crew had dressed it in dark wood with warm yellow lighting and