Just the Sexiest Man Alive (20 page)

“Taylor . . .” His voice came out in a ragged intake of breath. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh . . .” she whispered in his ear. “I’m the lawyer—I’m the one who asks the questions, remember?” Then she pulled back, her lips hovering just before his.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

His eyes locked with hers.

“Yes.”

She cocked her head. “Then what are you waiting for?”

With that, Jason took her by the back of her neck and kissed her. Her lips parted eagerly, and their tongues met as the kiss deepened. Jason didn’t know how long that went on for, and he wasn’t sure who led who, but at some point he realized that they had made their way to the bed and Taylor was lying beneath him. Her hands were at his waistband, pulling impatiently at his shirt, and her legs wrapped around him. Jason’s mouth trailed teasingly along her collarbone, then dipped toward the V-neck of her shirt. Now it was her turn to moan.

“Jason . . .” she whispered urgently.

More than anything, he wanted this. Wanted her, wanted to do all the things he knew would have her moaning his name all night. But something made him pause.

He pulled back to look at her. He saw that Taylor’s cheeks were flushed, her hair strewn wildly over her shoulders. She looked gorgeous and alluring and he was tempted as all hell but—there was one problem.

It was her eyes.

Like always, her eyes told him everything. They were dark and intense, but they were missing that knowing little gleam she always had. And without that gleam, Jason knew it wasn’t really her—the Taylor he wanted—that he was kissing right then.

So he pulled back, unwrapping himself from her. “We’re not going to do this. Not like this.”

Surprised, Taylor looked up at him through half-lidded eyes as she stretched out across the bed. “Not like this?” She smiled. “Fine then, I can be on top. Unless you had something else in mind . . .”

With that, she giggled.

And if her eyes hadn’t told Jason everything he needed to know, that giggle sure did. He pulled the blanket out from under her.

“You’re going to sleep, Taylor.”

She pouted at this. “Awww, come on . . . don’t I get to see the Sexiest Man Alive’s sexy bits?” She cracked up, thoroughly amusing herself.

Jason pulled the blanket over her. “I think it might be best if we save that show for another time.”

Taylor reached for the blanket reluctantly, blinking up at him with one last disappointed look.

“No bits?”

He shook his head firmly.

“No bits.”

She yawned, then with a dramatic sigh and a huffy “fine,” she drifted off. Jason was just turning to leave when she opened her eyes halfway.

“But I just wanted one night where I didn’t have to see the steps.”

He had no idea what she was talking about, but the strange, almost sad expression on her face made Jason sit down on the bed. “What do you mean?”

Taylor gazed up at him as she explained, speaking in a soft voice.

“I bet other women don’t have to think around you. But I do. Because I see the steps: if I do this, then this will happen, then this and this . . .” She trailed off, then sighed exhaustedly. “It’s a lot of thinking sometimes,” she confessed.

Jason tried to fight back his smile. He kind of liked Concussed-and-Nearly-Comatose Taylor. She gave him great insight into what the real Taylor had going on in that head of hers.

“I like that you’re always thinking,” he told her.

She frowned. “You said I’m difficult.”

“Yes. But I like that about you, too.”

Seeming at least somewhat mollifield by this answer, Taylor nodded solemnly and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. She quickly drifted off to sleep again. From her steady breathing, Jason could tell she was out for good this time. He checked the clock on the nightstand, making a mental note of the time he would have to wake her next. Then he got up and headed to the door.

With one last look over his shoulder, Jason turned off the light to Taylor’s room and quietly shut the door behind him.

Tomorrow, he thought as he headed down the hallway to his bedroom. They would talk about all of this in the morning.

Twenty-six

SUNLIGHT STREAMED INTO the bedroom.

Taylor woke up slowly in her cozy silk cocoon, and it took her a moment to remember where she was. She glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand and saw it was well after ten in the morning. She sat up, unable to recall the last time she had slept in so late. Definitely not any time since she had started working at the firm.

Like a college girl waking up hungover in a strange dorm room, she slowly sifted through what she could remember of the night before. There wasn’t much; the whole evening was just a blur of images, most of which seemed more like a hazy dream than reality. She’d certainly slept a lot, that she could recall.

Realizing she couldn’t stay in bed forever, Taylor got up and headed into the bathroom. Her stomach growled, and she tried to recall whether she had eaten dinner last night. Pasta—good, she remembered something about pasta. Judging from the fact that she was wearing the clothes she had on the day before, she guessed she must’ve dragged herself upstairs after dinner and passed right out. Poor Jason—she supposed she hadn’t exactly been the most stimulating of company.

Taylor showered quickly and headed downstairs. There, she discovered that Jason had set two places for them at the kitchen table. She was touched to see the extent of the effort he had made: he had carefully laid out orange juice, coffee, milk, cereal, and fresh fruit. And, sitting mysteriously in the center of the table was a large silver platter with a domed cover.

Curious, Taylor headed over to sneak a peak at whatever hid underneath. Touching the metal handle, she could tell there was something warm inside.

“You’re awake.”

Surprised by the voice, Taylor whirled around and saw Jason standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She grinned guiltily.

“Yes, finally. I’m feeling a lot better this morning. Did you have any problems waking me last night?”

Jason seemed surprised by this. “You don’t remember?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember a lot about last night.”

Now he seemed downright shocked. He peered at her cautiously. “What, exactly,
do
you remember?”

“Hmmm . . . I remember something about pasta.”

Seeing the expression on Jason’s face, Taylor began to feel a little uneasy. Oh shit—had she done something . . . bad?

“Is there something I should know about last night?” she asked with trepidation. When Jason hesitated, her stomach dropped.

Oh god.

“Oh god,” she repeated aloud in a whisper. “Tell me. What happened?” Why wasn’t he answering her? Why was he staring at her like that? “Did we, um . . . did something happen between us?”

She could see it in his eyes. Her mind rallied around her excuses.

She was concussed.

She’d been in a state; she was out of it.

She hadn’t been thinking.

She was a ho.

Then Jason finally ended his silence with a chuckle. “Calm down, Taylor,” he said reassuringly. “Nothing happened.” He gave her a look. “Do you really think I would let something happen when you were that out of it?”

He held her gaze firmly with his question, staring her down, as if to say he was insulted at the mere accusation. Taylor instantly felt silly for being so worried.

She exhaled in relief. “Sorry.” She smiled, making light of her crazy thoughts. “I didn’t mean to sound so paranoid. I think it must be hunger delusions.”

Oddly, for the briefest second, she could’ve sworn she saw a flicker of disappointment in Jason’s eyes. But then she figured she was just imagining things. She pointed to the silver platter on the table.

“So? Can I peek? I’m starving.”

Jason nodded. “It’s nothing—I took a guess, I thought it might be something you’d like.” He spoke quickly, as if nervous, and Taylor wondered what the hell he had stashed under there. She grabbed the handle, eager with anticipation. So hungry was she, she couldn’t have been more excited if whatever lurked inside had been wrapped in a blue Tiffany box.

She lifted the cover.

For a moment, she could only stare in wonder at the glorious sight before her eyes.

“Do you like it?” Jason asked.

Taylor nodded mutely.

The platter was filled to the brim with rich, buttery silver-dollar pancakes.
Chocolate chip
silver-dollar pancakes. Just like a plate of warm cookies, all for her, at eleven o’clock in the morning.

Catching the scent of the warm baked goodness, Taylor sighed happily. “How did you know, Jason? It’s
exactly
what I wanted.”

ABOUT AN HOUR later, stuffed to the gills with about $10.79 worth of silver-dollar pancakes, Taylor rolled herself out to Jason’s pool and languidly stretched out on one of the lounge chairs. She hadn’t paid much attention to the pool during his party, but now she noted that it had been as carefully designed as the rest of the house. And it certainly was no less stunning: with a cascading waterfall and curved, flowing edges that ran along the surrounding lush foliage and rock landscaping, it looked like a hidden pool one might stumble upon while hiking on a tropical island.

“Now this is the life.” She sighed to herself while taking a sip of her deliciously cold lemonade.

She pulled her sunglasses down from her forehead and eased back in her lounge chair. She glanced over at Jason, who sat on the chair next to her reading his copy of
Daily Variety
. He’d peeled off his T-shirt earlier and now wore only a pair of cargo shorts. And here Taylor had thought the chocolate chip pancakes were yummy . . .

“I’m sorry?” Jason looked over. Taylor started, having momentarily forgotten she’d said anything out loud. She quickly gestured to the pool.

“I was just saying that this is a pretty nice setup you have here.”

Jason nodded, a bit distractedly. In fact, Taylor had noticed he’d seemed a little distracted the entire morning. Every time she’d snuck a peek at him—hey, he was Jason Andrews and he was shirtless,
of course
she’d snuck in a few peeks—he’d been staring off at nothing. As if something was troubling him.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment or two, when Jason turned back to her. “So you like being here, then?” He peered at Taylor through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

His question caught her off guard. “At this house?”

It was probably just the sun, but she could have sworn she saw Jason’s cheeks blush.

“I meant California,” he said quickly. “You know
here
,” he waved his hand, referring to their general locale. “Los Angeles.”

Taylor smiled. It was eighty degrees and not a cloud in the sky. “What’s not to like?”

Jason turned back to his paper. “Right, right.” He nodded. A moment passed, then he glanced at Taylor once again.

“So you would consider this then, as a place you could live? You wouldn’t miss Chicago?”

Taylor found his question a bit . . . strange. She could’ve sworn she heard a catch in his voice, as if their conversation had somehow turned into something more than idle chitchat. Too bad those damn sunglasses made it impossible for her to read his expression.

Then she shrugged these thoughts off. She was being too suspicious, she told herself. Too much of a lawyer. This wasn’t a deposition; not every question had a secret purpose or trick behind it. Jason was just being polite. After all, she had been living in Los Angeles for a couple of months by now; it was a natural question for him to ask.

“I suppose I’d consider it, if there was some great opportunity for me in L.A.,” she said. “But I guess I’ve always assumed that Chicago is where I’d live.”

With that said, Taylor put her sunglasses back on top of her head, not wanting to get raccoon marks from the sun. She closed her eyes and eased back in her chair. “Luckily, I don’t need to worry about that for a long time,” she told Jason. “With this trial, it’ll be a couple more months before I have to start thinking about leaving here.”

Enough about Chicago already, she thought, basking in the warm California sun. That world was thousands of miles away for now.

But strangely, when she opened her eyes a few minutes later to take another sip of her lemonade, she noticed that Jason was staring off distractedly once again.

Twenty-seven

AT FIVE O’CLOCK Taylor’s twenty-four hours were up. Her stay in paradise came to a reluctant end.

Jason pulled the Aston Martin up the driveway of her apartment building and shut off the engine. The two of them sat for a moment in his car.

“Back to reality.” Taylor sighed. “Good old apartment living.”

“You know, you could just ask the next time you want to sleep over. You don’t need to crash your car.”

Taylor laughed, relieved to see him joking again. He’d been so quiet all day, she had begun to worry that something was really wrong.

“I’ll remember that,” she told him. She was about to thank him for letting her stay over when it happened again—a shrill ring blared out from her purse. Cellphonus interruptus.

Despite the inconvenience of the moment, Taylor felt obligated to check and make sure it wasn’t Derek with some trial-related crisis. She felt Jason watching her as she pulled the phone out and checked the caller ID. When she saw it was Scott who was calling, she said nothing and tucked the phone back into her purse.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Jason asked.

“I’ll let it go into voice mail.”

But her phone was relentless. It began ringing again, immediately. Taylor smiled, thinking back to another person who had not so long ago similarly persisted in trying to reach her.

“I gotta say, you movie stars sure are tenacious,” she said teasingly over the phone’s ring.

Jason’s face hardened. “I’m nothing like him.”

She had meant the comment as a joke, but she saw that she’d insulted him instead.
You’re right,
she suddenly felt the urge to say.
You are so much more than him.

As her cell phone continued to ring, Jason turned away and stared straight ahead with a stony expression, his eyes fixed on the windshield of the car.

Say it,
Taylor heard the voice in her head urging her.
At least tell him that. After everything he’s done for you, he deserves to hear it.

But she couldn’t.

Because she knew that those words would lead to more words, and there were things going on between her and Jason that she wasn’t ready to face. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours; she needed time to pull her thoughts together.

So she hesitated. Seeing this, Jason set his jaw angrily and threw the car into drive.

“You should take your call, Taylor,” he said, refusing to look at her.

Nodding, she grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car. She had barely shut the door when Jason threw the car into gear and took off. She stood in the driveway, watching as the Aston Martin sped around the corner of her street. It took her a moment to realize her cell phone was still ringing.

Shit—Scott. She had forgotten about him. Yes, again.

She answered her phone, having a pretty good idea what his first word would be.

“Gorgeous!” he exclaimed enthusiastically as Taylor mouthed along. She instantly felt horrible for doing that. After all, lots of women would be thrilled to have Scott Casey calling them.

“Hey, Scott,” she said, trying to sound normal despite how flustered she was by Jason’s angry departure. She headed up the walkway to her front door and let herself into her apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, gorgeous,” Scott said.

Taylor suddenly wondered if perhaps he actually didn’t remember her name. “Thanks, really, I’m fine,” she told him. “I would have called, but I didn’t want to bother you.” Lies, lies, lies, she thought. But somehow, “I know we kissed five times but I can’t seem to remember you exist” didn’t have quite the same ring to it.

“You’re not mad at me for not picking you up at the hospital, are you?”

“No, not at all,” Taylor assured him. And this part was true—she of all people understood that work often had to take priority over personal matters.

Which is why she would never forget the moment she heard Jason’s voice and saw him standing in the doorway of the hospital emergency room. In that moment, everything had changed.

Up until that moment, Taylor could’ve at least pretended she’d been doing a passable job of keeping her feelings toward Jason in check. And most of that success was due in large part to her firm belief that his attraction to her was little more than a passing fancy, merely a spoiled movie star’s desire to have something he’d previously been told he couldn’t.

But the emotions she’d seen on his face in the emergency room had been
real
. And seeing that was something she had not prepared herself for.

She could resist his charm and wit and devilish smile. She could try to ignore the fact that he was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on, both on film and in person. But she had no defense against the man Jason was when he wasn’t busy trying to be Jason Andrews the movie star.
That
man was someone that somebody could really fall in love with.

And that thought was so very dangerous.

Falling in love with anyone was a gamble. Falling in love with a known womanizer—well, Taylor had been there, done that, and the results had been disastrous.

But falling in love with the most famous womanizer of all, a celebrity who proudly flaunted his bachelor ways on national television? The thought was sheer lunacy.

Still . . . that didn’t mean the situation between her and Jason needed to end on such a sour note. There were things that needed to be said, she realized.

So distracted was Taylor with these thoughts, she barely paid attention to a word Scott said as he rambled on about his rough week of filming. She finally tuned back in when she heard him mention something about homemade chicken soup, realizing that he was asking if he could come over that evening.

“Oh, that’s sweet,” she said quickly. “But I really need to take it easy tonight and catch up on work.”

The line went silent.

“But we have plans tonight.”

From his sharp tone, Taylor sensed he was less concerned about not seeing her and more annoyed over the fact that he was being blown off. Or maybe that was just the unappreciative bitch in her talking.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just
so
exhausted,” she said dramatically. Lies, lies, lies. “Can we do it some other time?”

Scott paused. “Well, I was planning on asking you about this in person, but since that’s apparently not an option . . .” He paused grumpily before continuing. “Have you heard of the Black and Pink Ball?”

The Black & Pink Ball, he explained, was a black-tie (hence the black) charity benefit thrown every year at the house of Tony Bredstone, head of one of the major studios. The party was one of the most elegant and lavish thrown in Hollywood: a five-course dinner, followed by dancing and a silent raffle. All the proceeds were donated to a breast cancer research foundation (hence the pink).

Scott asked if she would like to go with him.

Taylor hesitated.

Being Scott Casey, he assumed there was only one reason any woman would ever hesitate to go anywhere with him.

“I saw that your friend Jason was on the invite list,” he said pointedly. “Perhaps he already mentioned the party to you?”

Taylor couldn’t help it—she felt a stab of disappointment. “No . . . no, he hadn’t.”

“Well then, gorgeous,” Scott said, his confident tone restored. “How about going with me?”

And so she said yes.

In truth, her agreeing to go had almost nothing to do with Scott and pretty much everything to do with Jason. After the way he had sped off, Taylor wasn’t sure when she would see him again and the Black & Pink Ball provided her with the perfect opportunity.

There were things she needed to say to Jason Andrews.

And next Saturday would be the night.

ACROSS TOWN, PERCHED high above the city in his Hollywood Hills home, Scott hung up the phone having the very same thought as Taylor.

Next Saturday would be the night, he told himself.

Jason Andrews’s Mystery Woman had been the hottest story in every tabloid newspaper, gossip column, and entertainment news program for the past several weeks. It seemed as though the whole world was waiting with bated breath to discover the identity of the elusive dark-haired woman who had so obviously caught the eye of the Sexiest Man Alive.

Scott knew that Saturday night was the perfect time to introduce Taylor to her public. After Saturday, everyone would know who was merely the “Other Contender.” Let the world see that Jason Andrews’s Mystery Woman had moved on to bigger and brighter pastures.

Him.

Landing the lead role in
Outback Nights
had been one thing. But this was far better—Scott had a feeling that stealing Taylor from Jason would be a much bigger blow to the so-called King of Hollywood’s ego.

True, he didn’t exactly seem to have her eating out of the palm of his hand.
Yet
. But this soon would change. Of that he was quite certain.

And it all would happen on Saturday night.

The thought put Scott into a great mood as he stepped out onto his deck. The scene hadn’t changed much since he’d left to call Taylor: the three girls he’d picked up earlier at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf frolicked happily in the pool, splashing each other and drinking frozen margaritas. Off to the side, Rob reclined in a lounge chair, eating Cheetos and using his towel as a napkin.

Scott resumed his place in the lounge chair next to Rob.

“How did it go with what’s-her-name?”

Ignoring Rob’s question, Scott looked pointedly at the Cheetos bag that had started off full just twenty minutes ago and now appeared to be virtually empty.

Rob made a face in response. “They’re
baked
.”

“Whatever. Just don’t get into my pool with that orange shit all over your hands.” Scott leaned back to watch the girls, who smiled at him in collective invitation. “As for your question, everything’s fine with what’s-her-name. I’m taking her to the Black and Pink Ball next Saturday.”

“That should at least be worth a blow job.”

“You would think so, right? But she needs to ‘rest’ tonight,” Scott said with mocking finger quotes. Then with his arms folded casually behind his head, he eyed the girls in the pool. He wondered how much longer he should let them go on splashing each other before he jumped in and gave them something to really splash about.

“So I’m gonna have Marty make sure she and I are photographed together at the party,” he told Rob. He had officially signed with Marty Shepherd three days ago and was eager to take his new publicist out for a spin. “Then he can leak her name to the press.” He grinned, proud of this plan. “Taylor Donovan—the girl
formerly
known as the Mystery Woman.”

Rob looked over as he scrunched up the Cheetos bag. “I thought you told me she had issues with the press—something to do with her trial or whatever.”

“She does. But that’s not my problem, is it?”

Scott glanced back at the girls in the pool, who were coyly gesturing for him to join them.

“Ladies . . . how’s the water?”

In response, one of the girls took off her bikini top and smiled. The other two quickly followed suit.

“Looks like it might be a little chilly,” Scott said, enjoying the view. He got up from his lounge chair, glancing at Rob as he walked by. “Now that you’ve finished your snack . . . I assume you know your way out?”

Rob looked at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding.” He pointed an orange-tipped finger at the three girls in the water, whose bikini bottoms had now gone the way of their tops. “What about me?”

Scott shook his head with an oh-so-sorry grin. “Sorry, buddy—but this one’s all mine. I told you, you need to lay off the desserts anyway.”

And with that, Scott dove cleanly into the pool. When he surfaced in the midst of the three naked girls, Taylor Donovan was the last thing on his mind.

JASON HAD A meeting with Marty later that week to discuss his promo schedule for
Inferno
, which opened the following Friday. It was a whirlwind of a lineup that would have him jetting all across the country: press junkets, photo shoots, the
Today
show,
The Tonight Show
,
The Early Show
,
The Late Show
, Ellen, Oprah, and Barbara Walters on
The View
. All in the span of four days.

Since Jason would still be in Los Angeles the upcoming weekend, Marty asked if he planned to attend Tony Redstone’s Black & Pink Ball. Jason was just about to caustically reply that indeed he was not so planning—Redstone was the head of the studio that had greenlit
Outback Nights
and supposedly (according to Jason’s sources) the man who had balked at his salary and decided to go with the far less talented (again, according to Jason’s sources) and less expensive Scott Casey.

But then Marty casually mentioned that if Jason was planning to attend, perhaps he could bring Naomi Cross. Given the fact that Taylor Donovan was already going with Scott Casey.

Hearing this, Jason felt a pit form in his stomach.

He hated the way he’d left things with her last weekend, but he’d been too mad and later, too embarrassed to call her. He had realized over the past couple days, however, that they really needed to talk. And not over the telephone.

So if Saturday night had to be the night, so be it. Fuck Scott Casey—he was a cocky little pissant and Jason could give a crap about the fact that he would be there, too. There were things he needed to say to Taylor. Important things.

So he told Marty to put him down as a yes.