Just the Sexiest Man Alive

  Jason—who had been nodding along—stopped and glanced over sharply. “Excuse me?”

  Ignoring him, Taylor shook her head in grave disapproval. It was quite a performance.

  “Unfortunately, it seems that Mr. Andrews has a fondness for telling dirty jokes around the office.” She leaned in toward Sam, whispering. “And not even good ones—juvenile stuff. Fifth-grade humor, really.”

  Seeing Sam’s eyes dart over toward him, Jason shifted uncomfortably. Normally he was all for ad-libbing, but this was going a little far off script.

  “Umm . . . Ms. Donovan, perhaps we should discuss this in—”

  “And another thing,” she immediately cut him off, “he apparently demands that the women in his office address him only as ‘Your Hotness.’ And when speaking about him in the third person, he wants them to refer to him only as ‘The Hotness. ’ ”

  The Derek guy, who still sat over at the conference table, snorted loudly at this.

  Jason threw Taylor a look of warning. “I really don’t think—”

  “—And of course there was the incident last week,” she said, cutting him off once again.

  “The incident?” Sam asked, looking slightly uncomfortable.

  With a coy glance clearly thrown in for Jason’s benefit, Taylor turned to Sam to explain.

  “Last week, Mr. Andrews thought it would be amusing to sound the fire alarm and yell over the intercom that it was—quote—‘Time for all the cute girls to run around naked.’ ”

  Jason broke into a loud coughing fit—at this point he was ready to try anything to shut her up.

  He felt Taylor patting him on the back.

  “There, there, now, Mr. Andrews, that’s okay,” she said reassuringly. “You don’t have to say a word. As your attorneys, we’ll do all the talking.” She turned to her boss with a wink. “Isn’t that right, Sam?”

  Sam took a moment, then nodded. “Yes, of course,” he said politely. “Our firm would be more than happy to help Mr. Andrews with his . . . uh . . . issues. You carry on with that, Taylor.”

  Standing by Jason’s side, Taylor smiled proudly.

  “Thanks, Sam. And don’t you worry—I’m quite certain that Mr. Andrews is quickly learning that there are just some things you don’t do in somebody else’s workplace.”

  She looked up at Jason with a smile that was as sweet as pie. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Andrews?”

  He glared at her.

  It didn’t take a genius to catch her real meaning.

  THE MINUTE HE and Taylor stepped out into the hallway, Jason could control himself no longer.

  “Are you crazy?”

  Taylor furiously shushed him, and before he could say anything further, she pulled him into a corner alcove. She looked around to be certain they were alone, then whirled on him.

  “Who do you think you are, storming into my office like that?” She pointed angrily in his face. “Do you realize how much trouble you almost got me into?”

  “Wait—you’re angry with me?” Jason stared at Taylor incredulously. “Do you realize the mess you’ve made?” Realizing that time was of the essence, he whipped out his cell phone and pushed the speed dial.

  “Marty—we’ve got a problem,” he barked into the phone as soon as his publicist answered. “Listen, in about fifteen minutes, there’s going to be real shit storm—”

  He was cut off as Taylor suddenly reached over and grabbed the phone out of his hand. She slammed it shut.

  Jason stared at her in disbelief. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Furious now, he stalked toward Taylor, backing her up against the wall. Under other circumstances, his mind would have wandered nefariously at their close physical proximity, but by then he was angry even beyond the point of Naughty Lawyer fantasies.

  “You know, I tolerated your little charade in there because I felt bad for getting you in trouble,” Jason hissed at her. “But if you don’t hand over that phone right this second, I swear I’m going to—”

  “Calm down,” Taylor interrupted smoothly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing to—” Jason managed to refrain from shouting the rest. He looked up at the ceiling and counted to ten to keep from throttling her.

  “You just told those people that I’m a sexual deviant,” he said through clenched teeth. “And apparently, one with the intelligence of a ten-year-old. Those stories will be on the Internet by this afternoon.”

  “Those men won’t talk.”

  Jason glared at Taylor and grabbed his cell phone out of her hands. “You obviously need a lesson on how my life works, missy.” He hit the redial button. “Everyone talks.”

  “They think I was telling the truth in there.”

  “No shit.”

  “So, if they think the things I said in there were true, then they also think that information is protected by the attorney-client privilege. Those men are legally bound not to repeat what I said.”

  His eyes meeting hers, Jason paused as this information sunk in. After a moment, he hung up his phone.

  She winked. Gotcha.

  “I’m not completely heartless, Mr. Andrews,” she said with a grin. She turned and headed down the hallway.

  Jason watched her walk away. There was something about that confidence she always had. He liked it very much.

  He hurried and caught up with Taylor in the middle of the buzzing hallway. “Wait—there’s something I need to talk to you about. You haven’t even asked the real reason I was calling.”

  People stopped to stare all along the office corridor as Taylor and Jason breezed past them. “I’m very busy today, Mr. Andrews,” she said efficiently. “Perhaps you could make an appointment with my secretary for us to talk another time?”

  Jason laughed out loud at this—surely she must be joking. But when Taylor said nothing further, he decided it was best to just ignore her.

  “Anyway, as it turns out,” he explained, “the screenwriter did not consult a lawyer when writing his script. And now the director and I have realized there are several problems with the film.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Taylor said distractedly. She stopped in front of her secretary’s desk to pick up her messages. “Can you call Tom Jacobs and see if he has a few minutes to discuss his trial testimony?” After her secretary nodded, she stepped into her office.

  Jason stood awkwardly in the hallway, unaccustomed to being left unattended to. After a few moments, when Taylor didn’t return, he followed into her office.

  Inside she was already seated at her desk, riffling through some files. Jason decided it was best to cut to the chase.

  “I want you to work with me on the script.”

  Now that got her attention.

  Taylor paused her work and peered up. She looked him directly in his eyes.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She gestured at the stacks of files in front of her. “Because I have a trial starting in two days.”

  Jason waved his hand dismissively at her files. He was unconcerned with such things.

  “We’ll work in the evenings.”

  Taylor looked over at the wall, muttering “why me” under her breath.

  “Because you’re good,” Jason said matter-of-factly.

  Taylor paused, and Jason noticed she didn’t try to argue with that.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said, appearing to soften slightly,

  “I know some attorneys at this firm who would be perfect for this kind of thing. I’ll make a few calls—”

  “No. It has to be you.”

  Taylor peered across her office at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not available.”

  “We both know I can make this happen in one phone call,” Jason said matter-of-factly.

  Her green eyes flashed at the threat. She got up from her desk and walked over, stopping just a few inches from him. Jason did
a quick check for any sharp objects hidden in her hands.

  But instead, she surprised him by speaking in a soft voice.

  “Why me? Really, Jason. Why me?”

  Hmm . . . his first name again. This was indeed progress. Moving in, Jason gazed down at her with a devilish smile.

  “What can I say, Ms. Donovan? . . . You intrigue me.”

  It did the trick.

  Jason watched as Taylor gave in with the slightest of smiles. He knew she couldn’t help it.

  She inched closer to him. “I intrigue you?”

  “You know you do,” he replied boldly, his eyes burning into hers. Wow—things were suddenly heating up fast. He wondered if they would have sex right there on her desk. Somebody better move that stapler.

  With a coy look, Taylor stood up to whisper in Jason’s ear.

  “Then I think you’re going to find this next part really intriguing,” she said breathlessly.

  He gazed down at her—he liked the sound of that—and raised one eyebrow expectantly as Taylor grinned wickedly and—

  Slammed the office door right in his face.

  For a moment, Jason could only stand there in the hallway with his nose pressed up against the cold wood of her door. After a few seconds, he knocked politely.

  Taylor whipped open the door, unamused.

  Jason grinned at her. “I just gotta ask: Where did you get the whole ‘all the cute girls run around naked’ thing?”

  “I defend sexual harassment cases, Mr. Andrews,” she replied coolly. “I’ve seen and heard things even you haven’t thought of.”

  “Care to test out that theory?”

  She slammed the door in his face again.

  This time, Jason rolled away and saw the entire law office staring at him. He gestured nonchalantly to the door.

  “It’s a little drafty in here.” With a wink, he straightened up and headed through the hallway with a spring in his step. So . . . she wanted to play hard to get, huh? That was just fine—it was his favorite game.

  Jason grinned as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, more than ready to match Taylor Donovan’s move.

  “Marty—it’s me. Call Sam Blakely. Yes, again.”

  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 w
here 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.