Just the Sexiest Man Alive

Ten

“I CAN’T DO it. There’s no way.”

Taylor stopped and stood resolutely before Sam.

“I cannot work with that man.”

Sam sat quietly at his desk, watching as Taylor resumed her pacing. This had been going on for the past six and a half minutes. They were making progress—at least she was speaking now. On her first three attempts, she had made it only two steps into his office before turning right back around without a word.

Taylor listed her grievances at punctuated intervals between the furious high-heeled turns she made on the carpet in front of Sam’s desk.

“He’s impossible.

“He’s ridiculous.

“Selfish. Conceited.

“Beyond arrogant.

“Condescending, too—you should’ve see the way he waved off the mountain of work on my desk with his little ‘Oh, pooh-pooh, but I’m a movie star.’ ”

Sam tried to keep from smiling at her imitation.

“As if I have any interest in working on his silly little script.” Taylor argued to the air before her as she paced. “As if I don’t have enough real things to do with my life.”

She glanced over at Sam. “I mean—have you ever seen anyone so filled with his own self-importance?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. Maybe he had.

Taylor finally took a seat at his desk.

“All right—let’s get serious, Sam. My trial starts in two days. I can’t be trying to squeeze this shit in right now. I realize that this is Los Angeles, but come on—what’s more important: a thirty-million-dollar lawsuit, or babysitting Hollywood’s number one prick?”

Taylor paused as she waited for his answer.

Sam leaned in with an understanding smile.

THE DOOR TO Reilly’s Tavern flew open with a bang as

Taylor stormed in. Jason stood there, waiting expectantly with his cue stick in hand.

“Ms. Donovan! Back so soo—”

He was silenced by a hand as Taylor sailed by him and headed straight to the bar. She took a seat at one of the stools and nodded at the bartender. “Grey Goose, rocks,” she growled, like a hard-nosed detective in some 1940s film noir.

Jason slid into the stool next to her. As he opened his mouth to speak, Taylor warningly held up her hand. Not yet.

The bartender set the drink in front of her, and she polished it off in two swallows. Then she sat the glass down gently, and finally turned and looked over at Jason.

He smiled.

“I was told I should expect an apology.”

Taylor held her glass up to the bartender.

“I’m gonna need another.”

Jason laughed—he couldn’t help it. He had never met anyone so utterly, charmingly stubborn. He was about to compliment her choice in vodka when they both heard someone shout her name.

“Taylor!”

They looked over and saw Jeremy heading over, with his arms outstretched as if greeting a long-lost friend. Taylor glanced at Jason in confusion.

“Do I know him?”

“Oh, that’s just Jeremy,” he explained. “Don’t mind him—he’s a screenwriter. He thinks he owns the place because they let him work here during the day. He gets inspired while playing pool.”

“That’s a little odd.”

Jason shrugged. “He’s been that way since college.”

“College?”

“Columbia. We were roommates.”

Jason took in her look of surprise. “Oh, you didn’t think lawyers were the only people in this town with degrees, did you?”

Before Taylor could respond to his teasing, Jeremy approached and stopped formally.

“Counselor. At last, we meet.” He held out his hand. “Jeremy Shelby.”

She smiled at the introduction. “Call me Taylor.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Oh, sure. Jeremy got to call her Taylor.

“I hear you’ve had the pleasure of working with Jason,” Jeremy said. “How did he look in the courtroom?”

“Be honest, Ms. Donovan,” Jason interjected confidently.

In response, Taylor looked him up and down. “I suppose it’s the one area where I can’t fault you,” she said archly. “You might actually make something of yourself one day with this whole acting bit.”

“Still with the sarcasm?”

“I have an audience now—I’m recharged,” she said sweetly, gesturing to Jeremy.

Jeremy feigned shock. “Surely you’re not implying that there are areas in which one can find fault with him?” He pointed. “You do realize that this is Jason Andrews we’re talking about, don’t you?”

“You two do realize that I’m standing right here, don’t you?”

They ignored him.

“Well, in that case,” Taylor said to Jeremy, “then I better not say anything else. Since we’re talking about the Jason Andrews.”

Jeremy thought about this, then held up his hand. “No, wait—I changed my mind. I think I should hear everything.” He threw his arm around Taylor’s shoulders. “Let’s adjourn to my office,” he said, gesturing to a table in back that was covered with empty beer bottles. “I need to hear this story in proper detail, to assess its potential damage. And you should walk very slowly through all the parts where Jason looks like a total ass.”

Left alone, Jason hung back at the bar, watching the two of them go. Nice talking to ya. But after giving his order to the bartender, he turned back and watched Jeremy laughing with Taylor.

He smiled to himself, strangely relieved by his friend’s approval.

ACROSS THE BAR, Taylor and Jeremy watched as Jason was distracted by something the bartender asked him. Jeremy leaned across the table as soon as Jason’s eyes were no longer on them.

“Quick—this is the part where I should get all crafty and try to squeeze information out of you.”

Taylor laughed. She liked this Jeremy guy, despite his apparent choice in friends. “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m just a lawyer from Chicago—I don’t have any information anyone out here would find very interesting.”

“You know Jason Andrews,” Jeremy told her. “That means people will have lots of questions for you, if they get the chance.”

Taylor considered this. “All right,” she said gamely. “Show me your craftiness. I’ll give you one question.”

Jeremy thought for a moment.

“I’m a big believer in first impressions,” he finally said. “Tell me what your first thought was when Jason walked into the courtroom.”

Taylor took a sip of her drink and grinned. This one was easy. “I vowed to hate him forever.”

Jeremy’s brown eyes twinkled at this. “That’s exactly what I said nineteen years ago, five minutes after he first walked into our dorm room.”

Jeremy’s words hung in the air as Jason arrived at the table with his drink. As he took a seat, Taylor studied him, intrigued.

Jason caught her look. “Did I miss something?”

Taylor mentally chewed on the information she had just acquired from Jeremy. She looked him over slyly.

“You’re a bit older than I thought, Jason Andrews.”

Jason glanced quickly at Jeremy, who held up his hands innocently.

“I swear, she forced it out of me.”

LATER THAT EVENING, as Jason walked Taylor to her car, she had what she could only describe as a momentary “realization”—a moment where it struck her who Jason actually was. It had happened when he cautiously looked side to side as he stepped out the tavern door, presumably checking for paparazzi or fans. Oddly, for the entire evening, she had somehow forgotten he was famous.

Frankly, those other moments—when it struck Taylor that Jason was pretty much the most famous film star alive—made her uncomfortable. Because those were the moments that made her feel as though they somehow weren’t equals. She much preferred thinking of Jason merely as some random jerk who annoyed the crap out of her.

But truth be told, there was a second reason she disliked these momentary realizations: they inevitably seemed to be paired with the “realization” that Jason was, in fact, divinely gorgeous. And that was a dangerous line of thought, particularly for someone who hadn’t had sex since the previous financial quarter. Early in the previous financial quarter.

“So we’ll meet Friday evening then?”

Jason’s question broke through Taylor’s reverie. She cleared her throat.

“Yes, fine—Friday evening. I should be out of court by five.”

“I was thinking we could grab dinner somewhere.” Jason saw her suspicious look. “But if you have an aversion to restaurants, we could always meet at my place.” He winked.

“A restaurant will be fine,” she said quickly. They arrived at her car.

“Good—I’ll set it up,” Jason said. “Where haven’t you been yet?”

Taylor laughed at this. “You’d be much better off asking me where I have been.”

“Okay, where have you been?”

“My office cafeteria.”

When Jason fell silent, Taylor looked over and saw his stunned expression. She straightened up defensively.

“I’ve been busy with work, you know. And I don’t exactly know a lot of people—”

Jason cut her off with a wave. It was something else that had shocked him.

“Is this your car?” He pointed in disbelief at the PT Cruiser.

Taylor waved this off. “Oh no—tonight I figured I’d just take whichever vehicle was closest.”

Jason ignored her sarcasm, unable to tear his horrified eyes away.

“It’s just a car, Jason,” she said, annoyed.

At that, he glanced over at her and grinned.

“You definitely are not from Los Angeles, Taylor Donovan.”

The whole drive home, she tried to figure out whether that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult.