Текст книги "Just the Sexiest Man Alive"

Автор книги: Julie James

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Twenty-two

THE GIRLS SCRAMBLED to get ready. As they rushed in and out of the bathroom, trying on various outfits (Val’s fifteen now came in very handy), Taylor’s friends demanded to know every detail of her relationship with Jason. So she told them.

How she couldn’t stand him when they first met.

How he was arrogant and rude, and how he insulted her on national television.

How she fought and fought and fought to get off the Andrews Project, but nobody at her firm had listened.

“And now?” Kate asked, sitting cross-legged on Taylor’s bed. They both were already dressed. Val, however, still fussed in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

“And now, I don’t know,” Taylor said, shrugging. “I guess I find him, you know, tolerable.”

“Tolerable.” Val turned around from the mirror. “You find Jason Andrews tolerable.”

“Well . . .” she hedged.

“Would you like to amend your answer, Taylor?” Kate asked in a sly lawyer’s tone.

Then she told her friends about Vegas, and how in a moment of alcohol-induced weakness (that was still her story and she was sticking to it), she and Jason had almost kissed. Until they were interrupted by a horde of screaming fans.

“Man, I hate when that happens,” Kate interjected. “Screaming hordes of fans ruin everything.”

Then Taylor also told them about the party, describing in detail Jason’s amazing house. But for whatever reason, she didn’t tell them about the run-in with Naomi. Pride, perhaps.

“So now what?” Val asked. She had finally settled on a red sleeveless top and True Religion jeans. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing is going on with us,” Taylor said.

“Well, isn’t that a crime . . .” Val mused. “You need to get on that ASAP, Taylor. Like tonight. You’re a fool if you don’t.”

Before Taylor could respond, the doorbell rang. Val jumped up and ran excitedly into the living room. Taylor and Kate followed and caught up with Val as she peeked out the front window.

She turned around, gesturing outside. “This man you find tolerable just sent a limo to pick us up. What do you have to say about that?”

Curious, Taylor and Kate peered out the window.

“What on earth have you done to him?” Kate asked, taking in the limo outside.

“Oh, you know, slammed a few doors in his face, hung up on him a couple of times, tossed around a slew of insults.”

Kate nodded. “Ah, the usual stuff.”

She and Taylor shared a smile. Then they watched through the window as Valerie hightailed it outside. She paused at the limo and grandly blew air kisses to a few of Taylor’s neighbors before climbing inside.

EVERYWHERE THEY WENT that night, people stared.

At Koi, as the five of them (Jason had brought Jeremy along) ate ridiculously expensive sushi and knocked back several drinks, people stared.

At Teddy’s at the Roosevelt Hotel, as they laughed while at their poolside table, people stared.

When they left Teddy’s and walked right past the line outside Privilege, people stared.

As they were ushered into the club, with its white walls and white floor, by a manager (dressed all in white), and seated at a private booth (white leather, natch), people stared.

And Kate and Val ate up every minute of it.

It had to be one of the best, if not the best, nights of their lives. And certainly the most glamorous. They were treated like royalty everywhere they went. All because of Jason.

After the waiter took the group’s drink orders, Taylor found herself thinking about Jason’s attitude that evening. Or rather, his complete lack thereof. He was being entirely gracious with her friends. Charming. Friendly. Downright nice, actually. Throughout the night, he had been eager to make sure her friends were having a good time. He talked at length to both Val and Kate, making an effort to get to know each of them. To the point, frankly, where Taylor felt as though she had spent almost the whole evening with Jeremy.

Which was perfectly fine. Her friends could have Jason Andrews—she’d spent enough time around him as it was.

Hadn’t she?

They were on their second round of drinks when Taylor noticed that a thick crowd had grown around their table. When a sweaty drunk guy with overly gelled hair—some famous-for-being-famous oil heir who hung out with Paris Hilton (according to Val’s knowing whisper)—knocked into Taylor and nearly spilled his drink on her, Jason appeared to reach his limit.

“Let’s head to the back,” he declared.

Taylor took advantage of their change in location by heading over to the bar to settle their tab. Jason had paid for everything else that evening, and she felt guilty continuing to take advantage of his generosity. He may have money, but she certainly could handle paying for a few rounds of drinks.

She got her credit card out of her purse and was trying to flag down their waiter when Jason pulled up next to her at the bar.

“What do you plan to do with that?” He pointed to her credit card with amusement.

“At least let me pay for the drinks,” she insisted.

“Why? So you can turn around and expense them as part of my legal bills?” Jason grinned teasingly.

Recalling how awkward their earlier conversation on the subject of billing had been, Taylor blushed. “Don’t worry—I’m not going to expense it,” she told him. “I doubt I could get away with calling this work.” She gestured to the bar and the crowd surrounding them.

Jason leaned against the bar. “No? Then what exactly would you call this?” He gestured to the bar and crowd, imitating her.

Right then, somebody bumped into Taylor, pushing her into Jason. He steadied her, putting one hand on her hip to protect her from the crowd. Pressed against him, Taylor glanced up and found his eyes staring straight into hers.

There were hundreds of people in the club that night.

But suddenly it felt like it was just the two of them.

AS THEY STOOD together amidst the low, seductive candlelight that illuminated the bar, Jason’s mind raced in a million directions.

He watched as Taylor took a step back, putting some distance between them. She seemed a little flustered. Good, Jason thought. It was about time.

“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to continue on with a normal conversation. “What would I call what, exactly?”

He pointed between them. “I think you once described this as me ‘pestering’ you.”

Taylor smiled. “Me? That doesn’t sound like something I would say.”

Jason could’ve sworn he heard a flirtatious tone there. “No, I distinctly remember the conversation,” he said. “We were at the Bellagio, on the terrace . . .”

Taylor’s cheeks flushed tellingly, and Jason knew then that she remembered not only the conversation but also what had happened, or almost happened, immediately afterward.

Just at that moment, the crowd surged again. To avoid crashing into Taylor, he braced himself against the bar, one arm on either side of her. Trapping her in.

He grinned down at Taylor, referring to their position. “Yes, I think this is exactly where we were last time.”

She gazed up at him. “We should get back to our friends.”

“We’ve already spent a lot of time with them tonight.”

She cocked her head. “I thought you liked talking with Val and Kate.”

“Because they’re your friends.” Jason paused. “It’s all for you, you know.”

He saw a flash in her eyes, but it wasn’t anger this time. “Jason . . .” she said in a husky voice.

Man, that did it every time. Forgetting where they were, and everything around them, Jason leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Say it again, Taylor. I love the way you say my name.”

He heard the quick intake of her breath at the intimacy of his words. He moved his head, so that their lips were just inches apart. Her eyes were dark and sultry. She turned her face up toward his and slowly began to lean in as if she, too, was being drawn in and couldn’t help it—

“Jason.”

But this time, the person saying his name wasn’t Taylor.

It was Jeremy.

Jason glanced over and saw his friend standing next to him. His look said it all—You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Jeremy wore a sheepish expression. “Sorry, buddy—but we’ve got to get you in back. In case you hadn’t noticed, these people are going crazy.” He pointed to the crowd behind him. “I don’t think the club’s bouncers can keep everyone away from you for much longer.”

Jason peered over Jeremy’s head and saw that he was right. A throng of people, both women and men, surged forward, trying to slip past the three bouncers who had formed a perimeter to protect him.

Jason nodded in agreement. Normally, he was very cautious in public places, but he had completely forgotten himself in the past few moments with Taylor.

“Lead the way,” he told Jeremy while eying the frenzied crowd. He glanced down at Taylor and put his arm around her waist. “Stay between me and Jeremy,” he told her.

Right then, a woman in her midtwenties broke past one of the bouncers. She lunged for Jason, shoving both Jeremy and Taylor out of the way.

“Oh my god! Jason—I love you!” she screamed frantically.

One of the bouncers grabbed hold of the woman right before she got to Jason and pulled her away.

Jason reached for Taylor. “Are you okay?”

But she seemed not to hear him. Her gaze was fixed on the woman, who was making a scene, clawing frantically at the bouncer who pulled her away from Jason. “Wait—please!” the woman cried out desperately. “I only want to talk to him for a minute! I just want to talk to him!”

Taylor was mesmerized.

Jason took her by the arm. “Taylor, we have to move away from here.”

Hearing his words, she snapped out of it and nodded. “Sorry. Of course.”

Then she quietly followed Jason and Jeremy to a private room in back.

JASON BARELY GOT a chance to talk to Taylor again.

She spent the rest of the time with her friends, and he didn’t want to intrude. He suspected she’d been unnerved by the incident with the woman and wanted to give her some space. People around him unfortunately had no choice but to get used to that kind of thing. Even if it was more than a little weird.

The group stayed until the club closed. As they were leaving, the bar manager told Jason that a mob of paparazzi had formed out front and suggested they exit out back. As the five of them headed toward the limo that waited in the alley, Jason could hear the girls chatting excitedly about their evening.

He watched as Taylor broke apart from her friends and headed over. Jeremy subtly walked ahead as she fell into stride alongside him.

After walking a moment or two, she stopped and reached out to him. “Jason—hold on.”

She paused awkwardly, then looked up to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For tonight.”

With a slight smile, Jason nodded.

“You’re welcome.”

The two of them stood there, and Jason noticed that for once, she didn’t ruin the moment with a sarcastic comment.

Nope, instead the moment was decidedly ruined by Valerie, who yelled over to them.

“Hey! Slowpokes!”

Jason and Taylor looked and saw Val hanging out the roof of the limo. “Would you two mind stepping it up a bit?” she asked, clearly tipsy. “You can continue your secret little chitchat at Taylor’s—we’re all going back there for after hours.”

Jason glanced at Taylor, curious to see her reaction to this turn of events.

With a shrug, she grinned.

“Shall we?”

Twenty-three

SO THE GROUP adjourned to Taylor’s, where there was much laughing and drinking. Merriment, Kate jokingly declared, that’s how she would describe it when she told Us Weekly all about the night as soon as she got back to Chicago. Ballyhoo, Jeremy said, backing Kate. Taylor wondered if they were flirting.

Meanwhile, Valerie sprawled across the couch. In her inebriated state, she had just remembered something that now didn’t seem to make much sense.

“Taylor, didn’t you say something earlier about having a date?” She waved her glass around, mango martini sloshing precariously inside.

It was like a record had skipped to a stop in the room.

Somehow, Taylor had completely forgotten all about Scott Casey for the entire evening.

Reading the frozen look on Taylor’s face, a more sober Kate quickly intervened. “Oh, who cares about that after everything we’ve done tonight? Taylor—you can fill us in tomorrow.”

But then a voice spoke out from corner of the room.

“Actually, I would like to hear more about Taylor’s big date.”

Everyone turned and looked over at Jason, who sat in the armchair in the corner of the room.

“After all,” he said, holding Taylor’s gaze, “it’s not every day that a woman is lucky enough to go on a date with Scott Casey.”

This news was just too much for Valerie to bear.

“Scott Casey?” she gasped. She grabbed Taylor’s hand, nearly cutting off the circulation. Sitting next to her, even the usually cool Kate appeared shocked at this unexpected development.

Taylor strove for nonchalance. “It was just one date. I planned to tell you about it in the morning.”

And with that, mass hysteria erupted.

Val shrieked and leapt off the couch. Mango martini flew everywhere. Kate immediately began firing questions at Taylor. Who? What? Where?

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” cried Val, her contribution to the interrogation. Kate continued firing away, full speed. How? When? And then what?

As Taylor tried to wave off their questions, she caught a glimpse of Jason out of the corner of her eye. To put it mildly, he looked pissed. His grip on the highball glass grew tighter and tighter with every question asked.

Suddenly, Taylor found herself a bit annoyed. First of all, he had brought up the subject of her date with Scott Casey, not her. Second (and far more important in Taylor’s mind), she hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, it was just recently that Jason had been flaunting his date with Naomi in front of her. She didn’t know exactly what kind of game Jason was playing, but she did know one thing for certain:

Two could play at it.

So she flung her hair back, happy to answer any and all questions her friends might have.

First they covered the basics. Including how Scott had cooked for her.

“Oh . . . how sweet.” Valerie sighed romantically. This was about the point at which Jeremy excused himself to have a smoke in the courtyard outside. Jason, on the other hand, sat quietly in the corner, simply listening, and for a few minutes, the girls forgot he was there.

“So, what does this mean?” Kate asked, moving onto the more substantive questions. “Are you going to see Scott again?”

Taylor paused. “Yes. This Saturday.”

Jason glanced over sharply. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Taylor shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

Valerie turned toward Jason, leaning tipsily over the arm of the couch. “See, women know how to ask the right questions,” she explained.

“I see that,” Jason said. “Please continue. I’d like to know what else I’ve missed about this date.”

Kate appeared uncertain. “Maybe we should finish this later.”

Jason waved her on, encouraging. “No, really—keep going. Pretend I’m not here. What would you ladies normally cover next? What kind of shoes he was wearing? What type of dressing they had with their salads?” Scoffing, he took a macho sip of his drink, all haughty man-like.

Kate shrugged matter-of-factly. “Actually, I’d ask if he was good in bed.”

Jason choked on his drink. He leapt out of his chair and pointed at Taylor.

“Well, I certainly hope you don’t know the answer to that!”

She stared at him. “Why? How many first dates have you had sex on?”

Jason sat back down. Shutting up now.

“Exactly,” Taylor sassed him. “So don’t act so appalled. You men ask the same questions.”

Jason snickered at this. “No, generally, men start with whether she has big . . .” He trailed off, considering his audience. “. . . whether she’s well-endowed,” he rephrased politely.

Kate shrugged, happy to play along. “Fine. Is Scott Casey well-endowed?”

Jason gasped and pointed at Taylor again.

“Not one word.”

Taylor studied him carefully. This was an interesting development. If there was indeed some game being played between her and Jason—which of course there was not—then she would have to say that Team Donovan had just scored another point.

She got up from the couch and began picking up the group’s empty glasses. “Is there a problem, Jason?” she asked casually. “I thought you said you weren’t jealous of Scott Casey.”

In response, Jason grabbed some glasses and followed her into the kitchen. “It’s not jealousy,” he said. “I’m just trying to rush us through the girl talk so we can move on to the pillow fight or whatever other activities you ladies have planned for your sleepover.”

They passed by Jeremy, who was coming in from outside, having finished his cigarette.

“Because we don’t have to talk about my date, if it bothers you.” Taylor began stacking glasses in the dishwasher.

Jason laughed this off. “Go ahead, talk all you want. I don’t care.”

She looked at him, trying to decide if he was telling the truth.

Jason looked at her earnestly. “Really, keep going. I think maybe you were about to tell us whether you slept with Scott Casey.”

Taylor was about to answer when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of—

Kate, Val, and Jeremy.

The three of them sat in a row, wide-eyed, staring over the back of the couch at her and Jason. Mesmerized by the scene. Val had gotten hold of some M&M’s from the dish on the coffee table and was chewing them distractedly, as if watching a movie.

Taylor cleared her throat. Ahem . . .

Kate and Jeremy blinked and jumped off the couch, realizing they were busted.

“Oh, wow, look at the time,” Jeremy said in a rush. “You know, Jason, I really think it’s time for us to get going.”

Kate grabbed Valerie by the wrist, thinking along the same lines. “Come on, Val. It’s time to crash—there’s a lot we want to do tomorrow.” She pulled her reluctant friend off the couch and led her down the hallway. Valerie dragged her feet the whole way. “But Katherine, this shit is better than Grey’s Anatomy . . .” she whispered loudly.

And so the party came to an end.

Taylor walked the men to the door, where Jeremy held out his hand in good-bye. “Taylor, it was a pleasure, as always.” With a wink, he left.

Leaving just her and Jason.

Jason leaned against the door with his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t say anything, but Taylor knew what he was waiting for.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said, “but the answer to your question . . . is no.” She braced herself, expecting his smug comment.

But instead, Jason’s reaction surprised her. His entire demeanor changed. Softened.

“Okay . . .” He exhaled. Then he headed over and stood before her to say good-bye.

“Good night, Taylor,” he said gently. He lightly kissed her cheek.

The kiss and the soft tone of his voice gave her butterflies. A moment later, he was gone.

Taylor shut the door behind him and leaned against it for support. Then she headed down the hallway to her room.

Val and Kate were sitting on the bed, waiting, just as she knew they would be. Kate pointed at her.

“Talk.”

TAYLOR FLOPPED ON the bed next to them and sighed.

“I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

“Fine, I’ll start then,” Val said. She seemed to have sobered a little while waiting for Taylor. “I’ll begin with the obvious: he’s Jason Andrews.”

She stared at Taylor pointedly, making sure they were on the same page with this. “He’s Jason Andrews.”

“I know that, Val.”

“Do you?” she asked skeptically. “Because from what I’ve seen, I’m not so sure.”

“Trust me, I know who he is.”

“Good—then let’s move on to the fact that he’s gorgeous, smart, witty, and—I hate to say it—filthy rich.”

Taylor stopped her there. “You know I don’t care about that.”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t go in the plus column.”

“I’m already aware of all these things,” Taylor told her. “Every woman in the world is aware of these things.”

“But he doesn’t look at every woman in the world the way he looks at you.” Valerie smiled. “He’s crazy about you, Taylor.”

She considered this. “You know, Val, for one brief moment, I thought the same as you. But you’re wrong.”

Val held her hands out, frustrated. “How do you know that?”

Taylor was tempted to tell them about Jason’s party and her encounter with Naomi Cross. But she knew that Naomi Cross was only a small part of a much bigger problem.

“He’s Jason Andrews,” she said. “I could name a hundred women—very famous ones at that—who would tell you that he once looked at them the same way you think he looks at me.” She caught Val’s skeptical look. “He’s an actor. A very good actor.” Taylor held up a finger warningly. “Don’t ever tell him I said that.”

Seeing that Val remained unconvinced, she continued. “Think about who he is. He’s the guy who said on national television that women should be treated like film scripts: kicked to the curb after an hour if they don’t hold his interest.”

Valerie shook her head resolutely. “But that was before he met you.” She turned to Kate, who had been strangely quiet thus far. “Help me out here. Talk some sense into her,” she pleaded.

Kate paused. When she finally spoke, her words were cautious. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I think.”

“Oh no, not you, too,” Val said despairingly. “What am I missing here?” She glanced back and forth between Kate and Taylor.

Taylor saw Kate’s hesitation. “Go ahead—you can say it.”

“It’s just that . . .” Kate proceeded carefully, knowing that she was about to enter very risky territory. “Well, you’ve been down this road before, Taylor.”

Valerie snorted disdainfully at this. “Jason Andrews is nothing like Daniel.”

“You’re right—he’s worse,” Taylor said dryly. “He’s the legend that men like Daniel only aspire to be. You guys should’ve seen it at the bar—this woman went crazy just trying to talk to Jason.”

“All of us were so infatuated with Daniel in law school,” Kate told Valerie. “And we all knew about his reputation. But the way he acted with Taylor . . . I thought he had changed.”

She shook her head apologetically at Taylor. “Wow—was I ever wrong about that, huh?”

“We all were,” Taylor said. “Most of all me. I should’ve trusted my instincts.”

“And I think that’s what you need to do this time.” Kate squeezed Taylor’s hand reassuringly. “As much as I might like Jason, as much I think it would be a dream come true to date a movie star like him, I can’t be the one who tells you to go for it this time. You’re not going to get any more bullshit from me about love changing people. They can save that stuff for fairy tales and movies.”

Val was crushed by what she was hearing. “I think this is the single most depressing conversation I’ve ever heard.” She turned to Taylor for assurance. “Tell her she’s wrong, Taylor. You’re living proof that these things can happen. Tell her you still believe that.”

Taylor stared into Valerie’s hopeful eyes. Her friend, the romantic, who idolized celebrities because to her, they lived the dream. The glamorous life. Beautiful people who had adventures and romance, who fell deeply in love with other beautiful people and lived happily ever after.

And in Valerie’s mind, if it could happen to her—Taylor Donovan from the south side of Chicago, who didn’t know a soul in Hollywood when she got there—then maybe, just maybe, it could happen to anyone.

But there was one small problem.

Taylor didn’t believe it.

She believed in logic. She believed in studying the evidence and following it to its natural conclusion. She did not believe in fantasies and fairy tales. She had learned, all too well after finding Daniel and his assistant and the naked thrusting butt cheeks, that life is not a romantic comedy.

So she turned to Valerie with her answer.

“What I think, Val, is that the biggest mistake a woman can make is convincing herself that she is the one who will be different. I’ve made that mistake once—it’s not going to happen again.”

Taylor had nothing further to say on the subject of Jason Andrews.

The conversation was over.