Just the Sexiest Man Alive

Thirty-four

THE SPECTACLE IN front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater was unlike anything Taylor had ever seen.

Cameras, reporters, media vans, even a helicopter—every form of entertainment coverage and accoutrement thereto had shown up for the big Jason Andrews event, the premiere of his summer blockbuster, Inferno.

And the fans. Oh my gosh, the fans. Taylor warily checked them out as well.

An enormous screaming crowd had gathered in front of the theater, lining up along both sides of the red carpet. They cheered, they clamored, they swarmed. All in the hopes of catching just one glimpse of their hero.

Standing across the street from the mob scene, Taylor wondered for the twenty-seventh time since hopping in her car what the hell she was doing. It was madness. Pure insanity.

But it was also Jason’s life.

And if she wanted to be a part of that life, she’d better start getting used to it. Like, immediately.

Suddenly, she heard the crowd roar with a renewed fervor. The chaotic screams and cheers could mean only one thing.

Jason had arrived.

Taylor watched nervously from across the street. She had never backed down from anything in her life and wasn’t about to start now. It was time to rise to the challenge, to face her fears. It was time to woman up.

So with a determined look, she crossed the street and headed over to the theater.

Oh god.

TAYLOR FOUGHT HER way through the crowd. This was no small feat given that there were some really stubborn people at that premiere, all who seemed to think they had some sort of right to see Jason Andrews. It took a lot of pushing and shoving, but she finally made her way to the entrance of the red carpet walkway.

Where an impenetrable wall of security guards loomed before her.

Their bulging arms were folded over their massive chests. Their faces never cracked a smile. They stood side by side in a row and glared down at Taylor, who suddenly felt about two inches tall.

The center guard raised one eyebrow disdainfully at her.

“Can I help you?”

Taylor almost laughed out loud at what she had to say in response.

“Yes, well, you probably won’t believe this—and I apologize for the unoriginality—but it’s very important that I get inside this premiere.”

The guard rolled his eyes. Oh, if he had a dime.

“Are you on the list?” he asked dispassionately.

“Now that’s the interesting thing,” Taylor said, pointing for emphasis. “I was on the list. But, see, then we had this argument, and I said some really awful things and I probably should have called him two days ago but if I had, then you and I wouldn’t be here having this lovely moment, hehe . . .” She attempted to charm the guard with a smile.

It didn’t work.

Taylor nervously cleared her throat. “Anyway, as a point of fact, his assistant called me yesterday and mentioned something to the effect that I was, um . . . specifically uninvited to this premiere.”

The guard eyed her warily.

“It’s really kind of a long story,” Taylor explained.

“And I’m sure it’s quite touching.” Dismissing her with a look, the guard moved on to the person standing behind her, some slick-looking schmoe with sunglasses and some kind of special pass around his neck. Taylor fought the temptation to rip the schmoe’s pass right off him and make a run for the theater doors.

As she was shoved up against the red rope by the impatient crowd, Taylor contemplated her options. But as she took in the enormous security guards, all she could come up with were different versions of a distract-then-scramble-through-the-legs maneuver of the Tom and Jerry variety.

But then fate intervened on her behalf.

That is, “fate” in the form of Jeremy Shelby.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the illustrious Taylor Donovan,” he said haughtily, strolling over on the “in” side of the rope. He looked slightly uncomfortable in his “dress” clothes, meaning a shirt that actually had buttons. From the way he eyed her warily, Taylor guessed he had heard all about her and Jason’s argument.

Jeremy took a cigarette out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. Taylor’s new bodyguard friend quickly put the kibosh on that.

“Hey, buddy—there’s no smoking around here,” he said.

Jeremy gave the guard a look, then put the cigarette back in his pocket and turned to her.

“So what brings you out this evening, Taylor? I thought I heard you were specifically uninvited.”

Taylor moved as close as she could get with the red-rope barrier between them. “Help me out here, Jeremy,” she said pleadingly.

He gave her a look. “Why should I do that?”

“Because once, nineteen years ago, you were wrong about him, too.”

Jeremy stared at her stoically. After a long pause, his face broke into a smile.

“Aw, hell, you crazy kid, you knew I was gonna let you in—I’m a sucker for this stuff.” He turned to the security guard and gestured for him to let Taylor in. “It’s okay, she’s cool.”

The security guard perked his head up. “Oh, that’s nice to know. And who are you?”

At the tone of condescension in the guard’s voice, something inside Jeremy snapped.

“Who am I? Who am I?” he asked in annoyance. “I’ll tell you who I am—eleven of the scripts I’ve written have been produced as feature films by major studios.”

The guard looked Jeremy over skeptically. “What films?”

“Well, for starters, I wrote Vampire Nation,” Jeremy said, proudly referring to one of the prior summer’s biggest block-busters.

The guard smiled enthusiastically. “You wrote that? Man, I loved that movie! Holy shit, I do remember you now—I saw you speak at Comic-Con last year!”

Jeremy folded his arms across his chest and threw Taylor a wink. “So? Now do you think you can let her in?” he asked the guard, gesturing to Taylor.

The guard held out his hands helplessly. “I’d love to, buddy, really. But . . . well, come on. You’re a writer. It’s a miracle you somehow got yourself into this premiere.”

Taylor tried to stifle her smile as Jeremy’s face fell.

As the guard started to turn away, Jeremy reluctantly changed tactics. “Fine. I also happen to be Jason Andrews’s best friend,” he said grumpily.

The guard grinned. “You and about five hundred other people, buddy.” He gestured to the teeming crowd trying to push their way past the red-rope brigrade.

Jeremy glanced over at Taylor and sighed. “I really hate this town sometimes. Fuck it—we’re gonna have to call in the big guns.” He waved to a man in a suit who stood about twenty feet away. “Marty! Marty!”

Taylor watched as the infamous Marty Shepherd, publicist to the stars and eighth most powerful person in Hollywood (excluding talent and studios heads), turned around and slowly walked toward her and Jeremy. He was shorter than she had expected, and older. His hair was gray around the temples, but his eyes were dark and shrewd.

As Marty walked over, he carefully looked her up and down. “You must be Taylor Donovan,” he said before Jeremy could introduce them. He cocked his head questioningly. “I thought I heard you were specifically uninvited.”

Taylor glanced over.

“There was a memo,” Jeremy explained.

“I have a problem, Ms. Donovan,” Marty continued. “This is a movie premiere. The world premiere of a film that is predicted to be the blockbuster of the summer, starring my number one client.” He pointed up the red carpet. “But right now, my number one client is out there, rudely snapping at reporters, refusing to smile for the cameras, and generally being a tremendous prick.”

He gave her a hard stare. “I have never seen him act like this before, Ms. Donovan. I suspect it has something to do with you.”

“Marty, if you could just let me inside for a minute—”

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

Taylor bit her tongue. If one more friggin’ person asked her that . . .

She suspected that Marty required a slightly different answer from Jeremy in order for her to pass.

“Because it will make for good publicity.”

Marty seemed tempted. He raised one eyebrow. “Good publicity?”

“Great publicity. The best.”

He considered this. “All right, Taylor,” he said cautiously. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” He turned to the guard and gestured. “Let her in.”

The guard immediately sprung to attention and let Taylor inside. Before she could think twice about what she was doing, she sprinted her way through the red carpet, weaving around actors and actresses, producers, studio execs, and the like. She was a blur as she breezed by all of them, and they in turn—catching merely a brief glimpse of a dark-haired woman in a suit—ignored her.

Taylor had made it nearly to the entrance of the theater when she spotted him across the way.

Over the past few months, as they had grown closer, there had been moments when she had nearly forgotten that Jason was an international movie star.

This was not one of those moments.

There he stood, the hub, the center of all activity, the person that everyone at the premiere wanted to see. The masses circled around him, paparazzi scrambled to get their shots, and the fans frantically screamed his name. Somehow, he hovered above it all, seemingly impervious and unfazed by the blinding camera flashes and the endless line of microphones waved in his face.

In that moment, there on the red carpet, Taylor saw Jason the way the rest of the world saw him. She saw Jason Andrews the actor, the celebrity, the idol. The Sexiest Man Alive, the man worshipped by women around the world.

Taylor suddenly felt uncertain. She took a step back.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Jeremy at her side.

“It’s still him, Taylor,” he said.

She nodded and took a deep breath. Okay, she could do this. The crowd shifted, and she suddenly caught sight of someone else, someone she hadn’t expected to see at the premiere.

Naomi Cross.

The graceful blonde actress linked her arm through Jason’s. She waved happily as she posed for the cameras.

Taylor took in the sight of the two of them standing together. She had better be right about this. She glanced over at Jeremy.

“Why did Jason lie about Naomi?”

Jeremy cleared his throat nervously. “Oh. That. Um . . . well, you know, uh . . . to see if you’d get jealous.” He caught Taylor’s expression. “His plan—not mine,” he added quickly. Then he cocked his head curiously. “How did you know?”

Taylor couldn’t help but smile. “The watch thing.”

“Ahh, yes . . . the watch thing.” Jeremy grinned as well. “The mighty have such simple weaknesses. I like to think it’s God’s way of keeping things fair.”

Taylor watched as Naomi leaned over and whispered something in Jason’s ear. The cameras went crazy as the knots in her stomach tightened.

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on between them?”

Jeremy squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Taylor—I think there’s something you probably should know about Naomi Cross.”

JASON STARED DISPASSIONATELY at the cameras and the reporters who waved their microphones at him, desperate to get a sound bite or two.

During the limo ride over, he had told Marty he wouldn’t be doing the press line at the premiere. He gave his publicist no explanation for this. Nor did he explain his sullen mood when Marty had jokingly offered him twenty-five million for his thoughts.

“At least try to look like you’re mildly interested in being here, darling,” Naomi urged, speaking softly in his ear so the surrounding media couldn’t hear. “Your public demands to be entertained.” She waved elegantly to a group of fans calling her name.

Jason took a step closer to the theater doors, hoping to end the charade as soon as possible. Naomi reluctantly followed. Ever the professional, the smile never left her face as she and Jason continued their private conversation.

“Did I mention how surprised I was to get your publicist’s call?” she asked.

“I made you a promise,” Jason said.

“Oh right . . . for helping out with that little situation at your party. With that lawyer friend of yours.” Naomi gave him a look. “How is she these days?”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Naomi grinned wickedly. “Perhaps I should call her then. You know, I’m always looking for a good attorney . . .”

Jason glared. “You’re not her type, Naomi.”

“Hmm, pity. Then what went wrong, darling? Why isn’t she here with you?”

It took every ounce of Oscar-winning acting talent Jason possessed to keep his expression emotionless. In truth, it killed him to even think about Taylor.

“She’s gone. She went back to Chicago,” he said flatly.

Naomi nodded, then grinned affectionately. “Are you sure about that?” She pointed to something behind Jason’s back. Confused, he turned around—

And saw Taylor.

She stood before him on the red carpet, just a few feet away.

The crowd suddenly caught sight of Jason’s shocked expression and everyone fell silent. It’s the Mystery Woman, somebody whispered. A low murmur of excitement spread throughout.

Next to Jason, Naomi cleared her throat. “Well. Look at this—now I get to play the part of the jealous woman.” She glanced over. “And jealous I am . . . of you, Jason. Bloody heterosexuals—you’re almost coming back into style these days.”

She proudly pulled back her shoulders, ready to do her thing. “Thanks for the publicity, darling. I owe you.” And with that, Naomi spun around and stormed angrily past Taylor. When she got close enough so that only Taylor could see, she threw her a wink. Then she pushed her way through the crowd, hamming it up for the cameras.

Leaving Jason and Taylor alone.

With thousands of people watching, that is.

JASON SPOKE FIRST, in an emotionless tone. “What are you doing here?”

Taylor smiled nervously at the question and tried for a joke. “I, um, heard you were here.”

Jason shook his head. “Not this time, Taylor. No sarcasm.”

She panicked at this. No sarcasm? But . . . that was her thing. Without it, she was naked. Defenseless.

Just then, a camera flashed brightly, right in Taylor’s eyes. Another immediately followed, and another, then ten, twenty—she looked away, trying to adjust to the flickering lights. As she did, she saw that the crowd and everyone on the red carpet was staring at her.

Waiting.

When Jason saw her fall silent, his face went from expressionless to cold. He turned and walked toward the theater doors.

Taylor reacted. “Jason—wait. Just give me a ch—”

He whirled around furiously, cutting her off. “Why are you here? It’s a very simple question, Taylor. For once, I’d like a real answer from you.”

Taylor nodded. It was a simple question. But she was horrible at this kind of thing. Being open and all.

But she knew that this was The Moment. Her one chance to do it right. So with thousands of people watching, she gathered her courage and checked her pride and turned to America’s most notoriously womanizing bachelor and said—

“I’m here for you, Jason. Because I realized that the one person who could break my heart is the only one who should have it.”

The crowd fell dead silent.

Jason blinked, stunned by her words.

In the excruciatingly long silence that followed, Taylor’s heart pounded fiercely. Okay—maybe she’d shot over the moon with that one.

Or maybe she’d just been wrong.

But suddenly, Jason stormed across the red carpet. He walked up to Taylor and grabbed her by the waist and without thinking she wrapped her arms around his neck as the cameras, the reporters, the whole world fell away and—

He kissed her.

And the crowd went wild!

It was quite a kiss. Somewhere in the distance, Taylor thought maybe she heard the screams of the crowd and thunderous applause, but frankly, she could’ve cared less who saw her right then. With Jason, in that moment, was the only place she wanted to be.

He pulled back first, gazing deep into her eyes.

“I love you, Taylor. I think that I’ve been waiting for you to come into my life for a long, long time.” He grinned self-consciously. “I didn’t think you’d ever give me the chance to say that.”

Deeply touched by his words, Taylor gazed up at him and smiled tenderly.

“You had me at Shit Happens.”

Jason burst out laughing. He pulled Taylor into his arms and kissed her softly on the forehead.

And that was the picture the newspapers ran the next day, under the shocking caption, “Jason Andrews in Love!”

Suddenly, Marty appeared from out of nowhere.

“Jason, you’ve got to give the press something. They’re demanding to know the Mystery Woman’s name.”

Jason glanced over at Taylor. “It’s up to you.”

After a moment’s deliberation, she nodded. It was his life, after all.

So Jason gestured to the press line, the throng of waiting reporters, who frantically reached over the rope the moment he and Taylor stepped over. Ten thousand microphones were shoved instantly in her face.

“Who are you?” the reporter from E! demanded to know.

“Taylor Donovan,” she said, a bit awkwardly. Suddenly she knew what it felt like to be cross-examined.

“Are you an actress?”

“Are you a model?” another reporter called out from the back of the crowd.

“No, I’m a lawyer from Chicago.”

The reporters whispered amongst each other, confused by this.

The intrepid correspondent from Access Hollywood pushed out front, microphone in hand. “Are you and Jason dating?” she demanded to know.

Taylor hesitated. Wow—nothing like having to discuss your personal life with a few thousand strangers.

Far more used to this than she, Jason took the lead on that particular question. “No, I wouldn’t exactly call it dating,” he said. Everyone looked at Jason in surprise. Including Taylor.

He winked at her.

“Ms. Donovan is my fiancée,” he declared.

And the crowd went wild!

Again!

The frenzied paparazzi snapped one shot after the other as the fans cheered riotously at this revelation.

Taylor stared at Jason, shocked.

When she didn’t say anything for a moment—a long moment—he shifted nervously. Perhaps he had overshot a bit with that one.

“Well? What do you have to say to that?” Jason asked.

Taylor cocked her head. “Don’t you think we should have sex first?”

Jason laughed, hard. He yanked the pen out of the hand of the reporter nearest them, who had been scribbling eagerly in his notebook. “Don’t print that,” he said firmly.

Jason turned back to Taylor with a sly grin. “Well, yes, I was hoping we could get working on that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I see. So . . . what are we waiting for?”

Jason pulled her close and whispered huskily in her ear. “One of these days you’re going to learn that that question can get you into all sorts of trouble.”

Taylor turned her face to his. “How long do you have to stay at this premiere?” she whispered softly.

They left twenty seconds later.

AS IT TURNED out, Taylor Donovan was a naughty lawyer indeed.

First she was naughty in the car, as Jason raced along the streets to her apartment.

“If you keep doing that, you’ll be turning in another wrecked PT Cruiser.”

“You said you wanted to drive,” Taylor whispered teasingly as she nibbled at his neck.

“Because I’m the man.”

“Fine. I’ll stop then, if that’s really what you want . . .”

The car careened wildly as it took the next corner.

“Fuck it,” Jason groaned. “I’ll buy you a new car.”

THEN SHE WAS naughty in her apartment, in the foyer inside the front door, on top of the console table.

“My bedroom’s just down the hall,” Taylor gasped as Jason tore open her shirt. Buttons flew everywhere.

“We’ll get there eventually,” he said, pushing up her skirt while sliding one hand along her thigh. He smiled wickedly as his fingers slowly inched their way up. She moaned and arched her back against the wall.

“Let’s go there now, Jason,” she commanded.

“My, my, aren’t we pushy . . .”

WHEN THEY FINALLY made it to the bedroom, she was naughty there, too.

“And you said you’d hate me forever,” Jason teased as he tossed Taylor onto the bed.

She reached impatiently for his belt buckle, yanking him onto the bed with her. “This is angry sex—I actually don’t like you at all.” She wrapped her legs around him, trying to get on top. He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head.

“Are you sure about that, Ms. Donovan? Because you seem to like it an awful lot when I do this . . .”

LATER ON, SHE was even naughty on the kitchen counter, after Jason innocently pointed out that they had forty minutes to kill until their Chinese food arrived.

“Are you sure you’re not too tired?” Taylor taunted, lacing her fingers through his hair and pulling him between her legs. “Although you do seem to have a lot of energy for a thirty-nine-year-old.”

Jason grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to his. “Thirty-eight, smart-ass. I have a December birthday.”

Hijinks ensued.

FINALLY, WHEN THEY were both so spent that they literally fell into bed, Taylor rested her head on Jason’s chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and they fell asleep instantly. A deep and peaceful sleep.

And in the morning, they were naughty all over again.