Текст книги "Just the Sexiest Man Alive"

Автор книги: Julie James

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Thirty-two

TAYLOR STOOD FROZEN on her doorstep as Jason headed over to her. He wore jeans and a lightweight navy sweater that brought out the blue of his eyes from ten feet away. He looked casual and rumpled and uncharacteristically tousled about. Taylor thought he had never looked better.

He stopped when he got to the edge of her doorstep.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I thought you were in New York,” she said. She had watched his live interview on the Today show that morning before leaving for court. Not that she needed to admit that to him.

“I flew back this afternoon.” Jason gestured to her front door. “Can I come in?”

Taylor nodded. As Jason followed her into the apartment, she noticed that he seemed nervous. Frankly, so was she. The two of them had an awkward moment, fumbling around each other as they stepped through the archway to the living room at the same time.

Taylor stopped and gestured for Jason to go first. Then she politely offered him something to drink. He politely replied that a glass of water would be nice.

A person could’ve cut the tension in the air with a spoon.

Taylor headed into her kitchen, berating herself for acting like such a moron. Miraculously, she somehow managed to pour a glass of water without dropping or spilling anything. When she returned to the living room she found Jason standing in front of the fireplace, checking out the family photographs she had set out along the mantel.

“You look like your father,” he said as she handed over his glass of water.

“Really? People usually say I look like my mom.” Relaxing a bit, Taylor moved next to Jason to see which photo he was looking at.

“It’s the eyes.” He turned and studied her, as if searching for an answer to some unasked question.

“I’m glad you came here tonight,” Taylor found herself saying. She saw this put Jason at ease for the first time since he’d got there. “There’s something I need to talk to you about as well.”

“Okay . . .” he said hesitantly, presumably remembering an earlier conversation between them that had begun this very same way. “You go first this time.”

So Taylor took a deep breath. “I settled my case today. It’s over. Done.”

Jason was surprised by this. “Over? I thought you said you were only halfway through your trial.”

Taylor nodded. “And then there were supposed to be posttrial motions and then likely an appeal, too. But today the plaintiff made us an offer we couldn’t say no to. It’s a great result. In fact, it was such a great result that, well . . . the firm said they’re going to make me a partner.”

Jason’s face broke into an enormous smile. “Holy shit—you’re kidding!”

“But I have to go back to Chicago.”

That wiped the smile right off his face.

He said nothing at first. He carefully set his glass of water down on her coffee table, unnecessarily adjusting it on a coaster as if needing a minute. Then he straightened up with his arms folded across his chest.

“So what did you tell them?”

Taylor met his gaze.

“I told them yes.”

They both fell silent.

Jason began to pace in front of the coffee table. He looked shocked. And angry. He appeared to be struggling for the right words to say.

“But . . . what about everything you have here in Los Angeles?”

Taylor shook her head. “It’s up or out at my firm. If I don’t go back to Chicago, I don’t have a job.”

“That’s the decision they force you to make? Then screw your job.”

Now that fired Taylor up. “Oh well, I suppose that’s easy for you to say. Do you even remember the last time you saw anything less than seven figures on a paycheck?”

For her sarcasm, Jason rewarded Taylor with a glare. It made her feel quite defensive.

“I’ve worked really hard for this,” she told him. “Three years of law school followed by six years of killing myself at that firm. I worked nights, weekends, even holidays. All that, and your only advice is ‘screw your job’?”

Jason circled around her. A floodgate seemingly had been opened.

“Oh, you want my advice? Okay, let’s see . . . Gee—I don’t know, Taylor, maybe you could find a new job. Here. Have you ever considered that? Did you even stop to consider the possibility of not running back to Chicago? Did you think about the fact that you might be walking away from something really good here? Did you once consider the possibility of giving—”

He stopped suddenly. Catching Taylor’s gaze, he shifted uncomfortably and regrouped.

“—Did you ever consider the possibility of giving L.A. a chance?” he finished.

But Taylor wasn’t fooled; she knew exactly what Jason had been about to say. But she, too, found it easier to dance around the subject rather than to actually say out loud what they both were thinking.

“There are a lot of things I like about L.A.’” she said carefully. “Things I like very much. But it’s too risky. What if things didn’t work out, Jason?” Her voice cracked a little as she said this. She collected herself. “With L.A., I mean.”

But Jason had caught her hesitation. He crossed the room to her.

“Taylor, look at me,” he whispered huskily. “Look at me.” He waited until her eyes met his. “You have nothing to worry about. Los Angeles is a perfect match for you. You belong here. You know that.”

He paused. Then he looked deep into her eyes and laid it all on the line. “You belong with me.”

Finally, it was all out there between them. No more games.

And as Taylor’s eyes searched Jason’s, she knew he was right.

He was her match.

Right from the very beginning, even when she had told herself that she hated him, he’d made her laugh. From the very beginning, he had gotten her. He knew her, he understood her. In so many ways, they were the same. She may have fussed and fought, but secretly she loved every moment they spent together. He was smart and witty and sexy as hell, but underneath it all, he was generous and kind and—surprisingly—as vulnerable as anyone else. Most important, he challenged her. And he drove her absolutely fucking crazy.

And that’s what made him perfect.

But.

As she stared into Jason’s deep blue eyes, she finally faced her deepest, darkest truths.

She had gotten lucky with Daniel, she knew that. After the shock of his cheating had worn off, she had been able to move on. Of course there had been some sadness, and mostly a lot of embarrassment, but nothing that she hadn’t been able to isolate and control with her usual degree of calm and collected coolness.

But that would not be the case with Jason.

If she trusted Jason and she was wrong, and one day she walked in on him with another woman, she didn’t think she could handle it. And even if she didn’t catch him red-handed, even if there wasn’t any cheating at all, even if he just got bored with her one day—after all, wasn’t that inevitable, Hollywood relationships never worked out—the simple truth of the matter was—

She would never get over him.

With Jason, there would be no calm and collected coolness. No feelings that could be isolated and controlled. It would be all or nothing, and Taylor feared that if she lost him, she would never find her way back.

So with a heavy but firm heart, she looked up at Jason and gave him her answer.

“I can’t.”

He stared at her knowingly. “You’re afraid.”

“Yes.”

They were both surprised she admitted this. Jason reached out and took both of her hands. He laced his fingers through hers.

“Tell me what it will take, Taylor. I’ll do anything you ask.”

So raw and naked were his words, she had to look away. Deep down, there was a part of her who ached to hear him say exactly that. Which meant that the scared part of her needed to stop him from saying anything else. She had to find a way to remain strong.

Her eye caught something on her coffee table—something she had placed there several weeks ago, one Sunday afternoon when she’d been straightening her apartment. Perhaps to serve as a reminder.

People magazine. “The Women of Jason Andrews!” article.

Taylor removed her hands from Jason’s and held the magazine between them. The parade of all his ex-lovers/dates/ whatevers.

“Did you tell all of these women the same thing?”

Confronted with his past, Jason shook his head. “No. Those women have nothing to do with us.”

“Not even the supermodel? The one you brought to London?” Taylor saw that he was surprised she knew about this. “Did you tell her—”

“I’ll save you the trouble, in case you have a whole cross-examination prepared,” he said. “Yes, I’ve done a lot of bad things. I don’t deny it. But that all changed once I met you. I haven’t thought of anyone else from the first moment I saw you in that courtroom.”

Taylor’s expression remained surprisingly impassive.

“What about Naomi Cross?”

Jason’s shoulders sagged a little at this. “Naomi was different,” he said lamely.

Taylor’s face stayed firm. It had to. “I see. Naomi’s different.”

Jason shook his head in frustration. “No—that came out wrong.” He took a step closer and peered down at her earnestly.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re the one who’s different, Taylor.”

Ahhh . . . the magic words. The very words she had promised herself to never believe again.

But what about the look in Jason’s eyes? He seemed so forthright. So convincing.

Taylor hesitated.

She needed to stay firm. She looked down at her hands. At the magazine she held. “The Women of Jason Andrews!”

Seeing this, Jason yanked the magazine out of her hands. “Stop looking at this bullshit!” He threw the magazine against the wall and it crashed to the floor with a noisy flutter.

And then . . .

A tiny card slipped out from the magazine’s strewn pages.

Both Jason and Taylor saw it. He walked over and picked it up. Realizing what it was, Taylor looked away as Jason read the words on the card out loud.

“I’m sorry. And I love you. Daniel.”

Jason’s expression changed the moment he read the card. He turned back to her with a strange look.

“Now I see what the problem is. Tell me, Taylor, whose mistakes am I paying for?”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed. How dare he.

She picked the magazine off the floor and held it up. Her words were cold. “Your own.”

And with that, Jason’s eyes filled with hurt. But then, almost as quickly, they turned stony. Dead. His voice was flat and emotionless.

“If that’s how you feel, then I guess there’s nothing more we have to say to each other.”

And without so much as another look, he turned and walked out of her apartment.

When she heard the door slam, Taylor sat down on her couch. She fought hard against what happened next. She took a deep breath.

There’s no crying in baseball.

She blinked.

There’s no crying in baseball.

She wouldn’t do it. There’s no crying in baseball.

But it was a futile struggle. For the first time in her adult life, a tear ran down her face. And then another.

Taylor sat quietly on her couch, alone.

She did not brush the tears away.

Thirty-three

LINDA HELD UP the last of the remaining boxes, one marked “Miscellaneous.” Taylor gestured to the stack they had collected by her office door. “That one gets shipped to Chicago.” Linda nodded and put the box with the others.

They had been going at this for the past two days. For only having been in Los Angeles for a few months, Taylor had managed to collect a lot of files.

“I think that’s the last one,” Linda said.

Taylor nodded. She felt tired. Probably from all the packing, which seemed endless. When she wasn’t packing at the office, she was packing at home. The movers were coming to her apartment first thing the next morning, and then she’d be off to the airport. She already had several meetings scheduled for tomorrow afternoon in the Chicago office. As a new partner, she wanted to hit the ground running.

At the thought of being back in Chicago, Taylor looked out her office window. She knew Linda wanted to ask about Jason but Taylor really hoped she wouldn’t. It was bad enough that she was a mess at home. Every time her phone rang, she ran and checked the caller ID, hoping to see Jason’s number. She’d even skimmed the cable guide a time or two, looking to see if any of his movies just “happened” to be on.

Sensing that Taylor needed a moment alone, Linda turned to leave the office. But then she stopped in the doorway. “I just realized, we forgot to pack your desk drawer.”

The desk had one narrow drawer in the center. Taylor glanced at it, and then waved Linda off. “It’s no problem. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Are you sure?”

Taylor nodded. “Yep. There’s not much in there anyway, just a few pens and notepads.”

Linda nodded and left. Taylor stayed at her desk until she knew the coast was clear, then walked over and shut her door. When she got back to her desk, she slowly opened its one drawer. Folded inside was the “Shit Happens” T-shirt.

Taylor took the shirt out and set it on top of her desk. She ran her finger over the words. It was where it had all begun.

She got up and headed over to the box marked “Miscellaneous.” Being careful to keep the shirt neatly folded, she placed it inside the box, smoothing it to make sure it didn’t wrinkle.

She took a step back and nodded. That was that.

She closed the lid of the box and tightly sealed it with the roll of packing tape Linda had left behind.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Taylor heard laughter and excited voices outside her office: the familiar chatter of the secretarial cohorts. She realized that she would actually kind of miss it.

But then she heard a man’s voice. A lazy drawl she would’ve recognized anywhere.

“Well, I’m glad to see you ladies missed me,” the voice said teasingly.

Jason!

Taylor flew out of her desk chair and ran into the hallway and—

–stopped when she saw the secretaries crowded around Linda’s desk, watching television. On the screen, Taylor could see Jason being interviewed on The View. Her face fell in disappointment.

Seeing Taylor’s expression, Linda came over. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just got back from dropping your boxes off in the mail room and found them watching the TV again.”

“It’s okay, Linda.”

The other secretaries turned when they heard her voice. “Oh good, Taylor, you’re here,” the secretary nearest the television said. “I think you might want to see this.”

Taylor couldn’t help but be curious. “You’ve seen this before?”

“I recorded it and brought it in. I thought you should watch for yourself,” the secretary replied.

Unable to help herself, Taylor watched as Barbara Walters began the interview with some standard chitchat, asking Jason about his hectic schedule. Ever the movie star, he smiled and agreed that things were crazy, promoting one film while in the middle of shooting another.

Then Whoopi jumped in and told Jason to cut the crap and just tell everyone who the Mystery Woman was.

Jason laughed. He shook his head.

“Oh my god, he’s blushing!” one of the secretaries gushed, squeezing Taylor’s shoulders excitedly. She watched as Whoopi refused to accept Jason’s silence on the subject.

“C’mon, Jason, tell us something!” she demanded. “Tell us just one little something about the Mystery Woman.”

When Jason remained coyly silent, Whoopi raised one hopeful eyebrow. “Not even just one tiny word? At least give us that.”

Jason thought about this for a moment. Then on national television, he summed up Taylor Donovan in just one word.

“Amazing.”

The secretarial cohorts gasped out loud. Taylor felt her stomach do a little flip-flop.

“He never talks about women like that,” the secretary nearest the television told her. “I just thought maybe you should see this. You know, before you go back to Chicago.”

“When did you tape this?” Taylor quickly asked. “What day was this interview?”

The secretary had to think for a second. “Ummm . . . two days ago, I think.”

Taylor’s heart sunk. Jason must have taped it the same day he’d been in New York for the Today show. The morning before their fight. She highly doubted he would describe her as “amazing” anymore. An “amazing” bitch, perhaps.

She turned back to the television just as the blonde girl, that one from Survivor, steered the conversation to Jason’s newest film.

“So, Jason, your new film, Inferno, opens on Friday. Tell us a little bit about the movie. What was it that drew you to this part?”

“Mostly, it was the chance to work with Steve Clarentini,” Jason said.

“And what was that like, working with him? He has a reputation for being a somewhat difficult director—did you experience any of that?”

Taylor laughed at the question. Linda glanced over.

“I can’t wait to see him answer this—Jason told me he hated every moment he worked with that guy,” Taylor explained.

She and Linda watched as Jason nonchalantly leaned back against the couch.

“Steve is a great director,” he said casually. “I wouldn’t say we had any particular problems getting along. We had the normal actor-director relationship.” As he said this, he absentmindedly turned his watch around his wrist.

The gesture caught Taylor’s eye. She took a step closer to the television.

“So all those rumors of the two of you not getting along on set, none of that was true?” the blonde Survivor chick persisted.

Jason pooh-poohed this with a smile. “No, no—the tabloids blew all of that out of proportion. Steve and I didn’t have any problems on the set.” Again, he toyed casually with his watch, turning it around his wrist.

Taylor stood in the hallway of her office, stunned.

She knew that gesture.

That thing with the watch, it was the same gesture he’d made that first day they’d met, during her cross-examination, when he said he’d had a “film emergency.” It was the same gesture he’d made when he’d been flirting with Naomi and said there was nothing he’d rather do than go to Napa Valley with her.

Suddenly, Taylor’s eyes widened knowingly.

“He lied,” she whispered.

Hearing this, Linda waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, these actors lie all the time about problems they have on the set. It’s what their publicists tell them to say.”

“No—he lied about Naomi.”

Linda looked at her, confused. “Naomi? Naomi Cross?”

Distracted, Taylor ignored Linda’s question. Why would Jason do that? She turned and slowly headed back to her office and took a seat at her desk.

He had been lying about Naomi.

So? What did that mean?

Well, it might mean that he’d been telling the truth when he said he’d thought only of her since the moment they met.

Which then meant . . . what? What, exactly?

She was packed and ready to go. She’d be in Chicago tomorrow. She’d be a partner in Chicago tomorrow.

Taylor needed a minute to think.

He said she was amazing.

He said she belonged with him.

Maybe those weren’t just words.

But it was too late. She had already accepted the firm’s offer. There was nothing she could do. Fine—nothing she would do. Nothing she wanted to do.

Was there?

Taylor braced herself against the edge of her desk.

Her leg began to bounce nervously.

Oh god.

TAYLOR KNOCKED ON Sam’s door. He looked up and smiled. “Hey there, Partner.”

Taylor gulped nervously, hesitating in the doorway. “Got a minute?”

Sam waved her in. “Sure, sure. Come on in.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

Taylor chose to remain standing. She fidgeted nervously. “Um, so . . . wow.” She laughed shakily. At Sam’s odd look, she pulled herself together.

“I wanted to thank you again, Sam, for the partnership offer. I know you had a lot to do with it.”

“You did it yourself,” he told her in all seriousness. “You should be very proud.”

Taylor struggled with her next words. “But I’ve just been wondering, does it really have to be Chicago?”

Sam sighed, as if he had been expecting this. “The head of our employment group is in Chicago. You know it’s where you’re the most marketable.”

Taylor nodded. She did know this. She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that took up an entire wall of the partner’s office and looked out at the view of Los Angeles. The city was right there at her feet. Waiting.

Sam approached her from behind. “I don’t want to play hardball with you, Taylor. I respect you far too much for that. But the firm has never before made an offer for early partnership to any associate. They’ve gone out on a limb here. If you don’t take this now, they’ll never offer it to you again.”

Taylor gazed out the window. “I know.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem . . . is that it seems I’ve become rather attached to this city.”

Sam wasn’t fooled. “I know what you’re attached to, Taylor. But you need to be pragmatic about this. You know his reputation.”

She remained silent.

Sam persisted. “Come on—what do you think? That it won’t be that way with you? That you’re different?” He shook his head. “You can’t honestly believe that.”

When Taylor still didn’t answer, Sam looked over.

“Do you?”

Taylor stared out at the city below.

Actually . . . yes. She did believe it.

Her voice was soft, barely audible. “I do.”

Sam’s head snapped back, surprised. “Do you really? Are you willing to risk your career on that?”

Taylor turned around. “I think that for him, I’d risk everything.”

With that, she apologized to Sam and walked out of his office. She felt as though an enormous weight suddenly had been lifted off her shoulders. And she felt steadier, more confident than ever in knowing exactly what she wanted.

Okay, Jason Andrews, she thought. Game on.

TAYLOR RUSHED BY her secretary’s desk on her way to the elevators.

“Linda—I need you to go to the mail room and put a hold on all the boxes we’re shipping to Chicago.”

Hearing the urgency in her voice, Linda jumped to attention.

“Why? Oh my gosh, what’s happening? Wait—does this mean you’re staying in Los Angeles?” She hurried after Taylor, following her down the hall.

When they hit the elevator bank, Taylor pushed the down button. “I don’t know—I guess that’s what I’m about to find out.”

The elevator doors opened and she turned to Linda. “Wish me luck,” she said, stepping inside. She stopped after taking two steps into the elevator. And stepped right back out.

Taylor glanced over at her secretary. “What day is today?”

Linda had to think for a moment. “Thursday. The fourteenth. Why?”

Taylor immediately checked her watch, then swore under her breath.

“What? What is it?” Linda asked.

Taylor turned to her, her eyes filled with horror.

“He’s at his premiere.”