Текст книги "Just the Sexiest Man Alive"

Автор книги: Julie James

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Fifteen

WHEN SATURDAY EVENING rolled around, as many of Hollywood’s biggest names and most beautiful faces were presumably being primped and dressed, and as frantic publicists undoubtedly raced around coordinating the all-important last-minute details of who would arrive exactly when and with whom, Taylor sat quietly alone in her apartment.

She wasn’t going.

She took the Terrace Snafu as a warning sign that Jason Andrews plus alcohol (she still blamed the vodka) was not a good mix, and that things between them should remain on a purely professional level from here on out.

Yes, true, not going would mean spending another Saturday night by herself while the one person she knew in Los Angeles threw what appeared to be the biggest party of the year. And yes, not going would mean pathetically sitting home alone on what was previously supposed to be the night of her wedding, while being forced to listen to the long and pitiful messages Daniel kept leaving on her machine (he had called three times that day already).

And not going also meant not seeing Jason.

This was a good thing, Taylor reminded herself. After their night in Las Vegas, she had a pretty good idea what Jason was after and—judging from her completely unthinking reaction to him on the terrace—she worried that she couldn’t keep him at bay forever. Or rather, that she wouldn’t want to.

And she worried that this seemed to be worrying her less and less.

Taylor had replayed that moment on the Bellagio balcony a thousand times in her head. Actually, it wasn’t just in her head—the shots the paparazzi had gotten of her and Jason, right before they had almost kissed, had made the covers of all the tabloid magazines. “Jason and the Mystery Woman: It’s On!”; “Hot Desert Nights: Jason with Mystery Woman in Vegas!”; “Romance at the Bellagio!” Every morning, Linda left a different tabloid on Taylor’s chair. And every morning, she promptly tossed them in her garbage can.

Possibly after taking a quick peek or two.

She had paused the first time she’d seen one of the photographs of them on the terrace. Her back had been to the cameras, but Jason’s face could be seen as clear as day. Something about his expression had struck her, something about the way he had been looking at her right then. Like nothing existed except for her and him, in that moment.

But that was a ridiculous thought. A ridiculous and dangerous thought, and one that could get her into a whole mess of trouble.

And that was why she wasn’t going to the party.

SHE WASN’T COMING.

Jason stood on the balcony outside the living room of his Beverly Hills home. The party was crowded and wild, with people everywhere—around the pool, by his guesthouse, even spilling onto his basketball court. At least the security staff had done a good job of keeping everyone outdoors. So far.

He had stopped having interest in his party guests well over an hour ago, about the time when the degree of Taylor’s lateness had gone beyond being fashionable. He glanced at the front gate, the entrance to the party, once again.

“I don’t think she’s coming.”

Jason glared at Jeremy, who stood next to him on the balcony. To think this was one thing, but for Jeremy to actually vocalize the sentiment was pure treachery.

“She’s coming,” Jason assured him, sounding far more confident than he felt.

“I don’t know . . . it’s getting late,” Jeremy said, shaking his head skeptically.

Jason checked his watch. Four minutes since the last time he had looked, and still no sign of Taylor.

“You actually look anxious.” Jeremy sounded both surprised and amused by this.

Jason threw him another cautionary look—he was not in the mood to be trifled with that night—when he spotted something at the front gate. Or rather, someone.

Seeing the expression on Jason’s face, Jeremy turned and followed his gaze. Both men watched as Taylor walked into the party.

For a moment, Jason was speechless.

She wore a dress that would have no place inside a courtroom—a black strapless dress with a slit up to there that molded perfectly to her every curve. Her hair was long and wild and wavy, and her eyes were smoky. He had never seen this side of Taylor before, so overtly . . . hot. He vaguely heard Jeremy’s voice in the distance, telling him to pick his jaw up off the floor before someone tripped over it.

Jason swallowed, then turned to his friend. “I told you she was coming,” he said confidently. Then he quickly headed down the steps that led from the balcony and worked his way through the crowd. As he approached Taylor, her eyes met his and did not break away. He slowed as he drew near and stopped before her.

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

Jason boldly took in the way she looked.

“I take it you don’t often wear that dress in court.”

“Probably not a good idea.”

He grinned. “Yes, I can imagine it would be somewhat awkward standing before a judge who has a huge hard-on.”

“Is that the effect this dress has?”

Taylor’s eyes traveled downward, to the zipper of Jason’s pants, and he was momentarily caught off guard by her bluntness.

Her eyes sparkled, amused.

“You’re blushing, Jason. That’s cute.”

He smiled at her sassiness, then grabbed her hand. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

He led Taylor through the crowd, past all the people who stared, and the two of them headed inside the house.

AS JASON GAVE her the grand tour, Taylor couldn’t help but be impressed by his passion for and sizable knowledge of architecture, which appeared to be mostly self-taught. As he pointed out one detail after the next—everything from the teak floors up to the intricate crown molding—she learned that he had personally overseen the design of the 12,000–square-foot French Normandy-style mansion when he had built it five years ago.

Jason led her through the six guest bedrooms, master suite with two separate sitting rooms, vaulted glass foyer, screening room, private wine cellar, spa, steam room, and two-story reading studio/library. At several points along the way, Taylor couldn’t help but think how she had never before seen wealth like this. She was not someone who was particularly impressed by money—her firm paid her over a quarter million dollars per year and that constituted a far greater income than any other Chicago Donovan had ever seen—but being in that house with Jason was so far out of her league it was downright dizzying.

After the tour, Jason took her outside to one of the bars that had been set up on the first-floor terrace. As he handed her the French martini she had ordered (getting into the spirit of the Normandy style of the house), he gave her a coy look.

“So . . . is there any reason you waited until after midnight to finally show up?”

“Sorry. I had to stop at a party at Jack Nicholson’s along the way.”

“Actually, Jack is sitting about ten feet behind you, smoking a cigar in that lounge chair.”

As Taylor turned to look, Jason pressed on. “Seriously, I know you debated whether to come tonight. What made you decide?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It sounded like fun.”

“But I know how busy you are. So I’m touched by the gesture.”

Dismissing this with a wave, Taylor moved away from the bar. Jason followed her. Slowly they weaved through the crowd, going back and forth.

“You’re reading too much into this. I just thought I needed to get out for a few hours.”

“And you chose to spend those few hours with me.”

“I chose to go to a party. You just happened to be the host.”

“You chose to wear that dress.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting that a woman’s attire is an indication of her intentions?”

“No, but when this woman spends the little free time she has with me, I start to get curious.”

Taylor came to a stop in an alcove that was set off from the rest of the party. She leaned against the wall, holding her martini with one hand.

“Going to Las Vegas with you was part of the deal we made,” she said casually.

Jason moved in close and rested one hand on the wall next to her. He stared down into her eyes.

“But coming here tonight wasn’t—you did that on your own. Why?”

Taylor avoided the question. The truth was, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing there. On an impulse, she had hopped in the PT Cruiser and driven over—a totally last-minute, spur-of-the-moment decision.

After twenty minutes spent doing her makeup.

And thirty doing her hair.

And four dress changes.

Totally spur-of-the-moment.

Avoiding Jason’s gaze, Taylor gestured to the party. “You probably should get back out there. You’re ignoring your other guests.”

“Screw them.”

“I’m sure that many of them, you already have.”

She regretted the words the instant they came out.

Jason cocked his head with a knowing grin. “Hmmm . . . now that sounds a little bit like jealousy. How intriguing.”

Taylor could have smacked herself for making the comment, for giving him any ammunition. He was standing too close to her, that was the problem, she realized. It was . . . distracting. She needed to quickly extricate herself from the situation.

She stared him in the eyes defiantly. “Whatever you’re trying to get me to admit, Jason, it’s not going to happen.”

And, having gotten in the last word, Taylor slipped under his arm and walked away.

JEREMY HADN’T MOVED from his position on the balcony. It was the only place in the crowded party where he could safely drink his beer without being jostled by some drunken early twenties asshole threatening to throw his scantily clad date into the pool, or accosted by a hopeful starlet who believed that flirting with him would get her that much closer to Jason.

Frankly, Jeremy disliked the whole Hollywood scene, but he tolerated it not only as a sometimes-necessary part of his life as a screenwriter but also as an always-necessary part of Jason’s life. It was one of those things that anyone close to Jason inevitably had to accept, for better or worse, like the constant presence of the paparazzi.

He was not particularly surprised when Jason rejoined him on the balcony that evening, in a huff and alone. He personally thought Jason was approaching this thing with Taylor in entirely the wrong way. But once his friend set his mind to something, it was nearly impossible to steer him in a different direction.

“Any luck?” Jeremy asked as Jason pulled up alongside him at the balcony’s ledge, where they had a good view of the party below.

“Maybe . . .” Jason mused. He looked over with annoyance when he saw that Jeremy was smoking so close to the house. But he said nothing, as smoking was a necessary part of Jeremy’s life and something that anyone close to him inevitably had to accept.

“Maybe how?” Jeremy exhaled smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

Jason considered this. “I think I’m starting to get to her.”

“I bet that’s what she’s telling Hayden Stone right now.”

Jeremy nodded to the party below, where Taylor was engaged in what appeared to be a friendly conversation with the good-looking director.

With a look of disbelief, Jason pulled back from the ledge.

“I don’t get it,” he said, frustrated. “She should be coming up here right now to tell me she changed her mind. Or waiting in my bedroom, naked, to surprise me. Or giving you a secret message that I should meet her in the gazebo, where she’ll be waiting, naked. Or in the bathtub, with bubbles, champagne, and—”

“Naked. I get the point.”

“The point, Jeremiah, is that this is not how things were supposed to go tonight.”

Jeremy reached out and solemnly put his hand on the Sexiest Man Alive’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Jason. But maybe she’s just not that into you.”

It was a joke, but Jason’s face suddenly filled with worry. “Do you really think that could be it?”

Despite the fact that he generally enjoyed any fun that could be had at Jason’s expense, Jeremy felt a little bad seeing the look of concern on his friend’s face.

“No, I actually don’t think that’s it,” he said. “But I also don’t think she’s going to admit how she feels.”

The words seemed to reinvigorate Jason. “Well, too bad for her.” He ignored the look Jeremy gave him. “Hey—don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying this game of hard to get she’s playing. It’s been like three weeks of foreplay.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. The comment wasn’t even worth responding to.

“But it’s time for things to start moving along, to where she and I both know this is headed,” Jason continued.

“And I suppose, Evil Genius, that you have just the plan to accomplish this?” Jeremy paused when he saw the sly smile on Jason’s face. “You actually do have a plan, don’t you?”

“I do,” Jason said proudly.

“Do I even dare to ask what this plan might be?”

“Every woman’s weakness,” Jason told him. “Jealousy.” He folded his arms and leaned back against the balcony ledge. “Let her see me with someone else, and then we’ll see how stubborn she is.”

Jeremy waved this off. “Taylor’s hardly the type to get into some catfight for you.”

“That’s not what I’m looking for,” Jason said. Then he paused, as if suddenly getting the visual. “As hot as that might be . . .”

Jason shook this off. “Look—all I need is to see her reaction. Trust me, I know how a woman looks when she’s upset with me. And if she’s upset, that means she’s jealous, and that tells me everything I need to know.”

Jeremy shook his head. “This is not a good plan. I’ll tell you what—I’ve got a better idea for you.”

Curious, Jason leaned in as Jeremy lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“Now I know it’s a bit radical, but in desperate times—”

Jeremy paused dramatically.

“Give her . . . time to trust you.”

He glanced around furtively to make sure no one had overheard his devious plot.

Jason glared, unamused by Jeremy’s antics. “I don’t want to give her time to trust me. That’ll take too long.”

“So what if it does?” Jeremy asked. “Are you going somewhere? Dying? I better get the Aston Martin.”

“I’m just tired of waiting,” Jason said. “I want to know how she feels. I need to know how she feels.”

Jeremy glanced over, intrigued by this choice of words.

But seemingly not wanting to discuss the matter further, Jason turned away and headed back inside the house.

UNDERNEATH THE BALCONY, Scott and Rob huddled in a corner of the patio, out of view. They had just overheard everything Jason had said.

Scott grinned victoriously. “I told you they weren’t together.”

Rob nodded. “It’s the same thing I saw in Vegas—he has seriously got a thing for that girl.” He peeked around the corner, trying to get a better look at Taylor. “I wonder what her deal is? I mean, the guy could get anyone he wants.”

Scott yanked Rob back into the alcove. Perhaps a little rougher than necessary.

“Hey,” Rob complained, fixing his shirt. “I just meant, what’s so special about her?”

Scott thought about this for a moment. “You know, I think we should find out.” He moved Rob aside in order to have an unobstructed view of Taylor. “I think it’s about time that Jason Andrews’s Mystery Woman became a little less of a mystery.” With a purposeful grin, he headed back into the party.

Rob watched him go, calling after him. “Great! Sounds like a plan.” He pointed to the buffet table. “I’m just gonna grab a few snacks first.”

Sixteen

JASON FOUND NAOMI Cross out by the koi pond, chatting intimately with a group of women. He approached her with a warm smile.

“Hello, Naomi. Are you enjoying yourself?”

The actress turned when she heard Jason’s voice. She was long and blonde and tan, appearing every inch the California girl until she spoke.

“Darling, you know I always enjoy myself at your parties. I’d never miss one.” Her smooth British accent was the only indication that she was London born and bred.

“Got a second?” Jason gestured to a table off to the side. When Naomi nodded, he led her away from her girlfriends.

As Jason was about to sit down at the table, he spotted Taylor across the pool, still talking to Hayden Stone. Deciding it was high time to put an end to that, he grabbed a bouncer who was walking by.

“Got a cell phone?”

The bouncer nodded affirmatively.

“Good.” Jason pointed. “Hayden Stone is over there, talking to a dark-haired woman. Walk up to him with the cell phone and say that his wife wants to speak with him.”

Satisfied when he saw the bouncer take off in Taylor’s direction—that should take care of that—Jason joined Naomi at the table.

“So Cindy told me that she and Marty have been talking,” Naomi said, referring to her publicist.

“The two of them seem to be quite the matchmakers these days. Marty suggested that you and I have drinks at the Peninsula.” Jason rolled his eyes at the unoriginality of the idea. “It was the same place he sent Jen and Vince before the release of The Break-Up.”

The two actors shared a grin. Although this was the first time they’d worked together, they had known each other for years and got along well.

“Drinks at the Peninsula?” Naomi laughed. “I give it three weeks before the tabloids say we’re engaged.”

“And five before you’re pregnant.”

Naomi groaned. “Another bump watch. Cindy would love it.”

Jason leaned in, peering at her across the table. It was time to get down to business. “Naomi—I need to ask you for a favor. There’s something I’d like you to help me out with tonight.”

Always one for a good intrigue, Naomi met Jason halfway across the table, tilting her head in toward his. She lowered her voice to a secretive whisper.

“What exactly did you have in mind, darling?”

TAYLOR NODDED ALONG politely as Hayden Stone rattled on about his newest project, a romantic “dramedy” about a self-centered man at a crisis point in his life who becomes a better person through the love of a quirky-but-cute woman, all set to an eclectic classic rock soundtrack. Given that Hayden was the only person at the party who had bothered to talk to her other than Jason, she resisted the urge to point out that this sounded strikingly similar to the plot of his last three films.

While Taylor was talking to the director, she couldn’t help but see Jason out of the corner of her eye, sitting at a table near the pool with Naomi Cross. She recalled the People magazine article Linda had given her a few weeks ago that suggested Naomi was Jason’s “next conquest.”

A few weeks ago, Taylor could have cared less about such gossip. But now, for some reason, seeing them together made her stomach feel as though it was tied up in knots.

She forced herself to look away from Jason and the actress, just as Hayden wrapped up his ten-minute diatribe on the protagonist’s “character arc.”

“So that’s the point where we see that the character has really come full circle,” he said. “What do you think?”

Taylor blushed at the question. This really was not her field of expertise.

“Oh, I’m not the right person to ask,” she said lightly. “I don’t see that many romantic comedies.”

“Dramedies,” Hayden corrected her. “And why is that? You don’t believe in love?”

Taylor was momentarily put off by his bluntness. But she grinned, trying to play nice. “Of course I believe in love.” She deliberately put just a tinge of mocking emphasis on the word. “Although I’m not sure I believe in love like you see in movies.”

Hayden appeared to like this challenge. In the Hollywood food chain, as Taylor quickly was about to learn, the only person more arrogant and self-assured than an Oscar-winning actor was an Oscar-winning director.

“Oh? What is it you don’t believe in?”

Under his probing gaze, Taylor suddenly felt like she was back in law school, being grilled by her torts professor over the court’s holding in Hadley v. Baxendale.

“I don’t know . . .” she said, shifting her drink to the other hand. She saw that the director was not going to let her off that easily. “I suppose it’s the idea that there’s one person out there for you. The so-called perfect match. It’s not a logical concept.”

Taylor quickly glanced around the party, looking for a way out. This whole conversation had turned a little flighty for her taste.

Hayden rocked back and forth on his heels, smug in his obvious superior knowledge on the subject.

“You know, just because love like that hasn’t happened to you doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

At this, Taylor tried to recall what her torts professor had said about justification being a legal defense to smacking someone upside the head. But she managed to resist the urge to find out.

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said to Hayden with a polite smile. “I suppose I’m not your target audience, that’s all.”

Hayden leaned in closer. “Let me give you a bit of friendly advice, Taylor. Life isn’t always about logic and reason—sometimes you just have to close your eyes and jump. Particularly when it comes to relationships.”

Taylor tried to keep from rolling her eyes. It now was most definitely time to make her escape.

But Hayden, apparently (and quite mistakenly) believing his conversation skills were charming, moved closer to her.

“But perhaps we could continue this discussion further. Maybe sometime over dinner?”

Taylor shook her head regretfully. “Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t. I’m really too busy with work these days.”

Hayden appeared quite offended—and surprised—by the rejection. “Is there a problem here? I own a restaurant with Bruckheimer, you know.”

Taylor tried not to smile. Ahh . . . Hollywood. Just when you might think all the stereotypes and clichés aren’t true, you realize, yep—they are.

She gave Hayden a look. “Aren’t you married?” Everyone knew his wife was an actress who had been in two of his movies.

“Separated,” he said insistently. “I haven’t spoken to my wife in months.”

Just then, a bouncer walked up to Hayden and Taylor, holding a cell phone.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone—but your wife is on the phone for you.”

Taylor watched in amusement as the director’s face turned red with embarrassment.

“And on that note . . . I think I’ll go,” she said.

She headed off to find a bathroom, the one place she hoped Hayden Stone wouldn’t try to follow her.

THE GUEST BATHROOM of the pool house had been richly designed in beige-and-black marble and dark mahogany wood, with a separate lounge area. With an appreciative glance, the lawyer in Taylor couldn’t help but think that if Jason ever did get married, he better have one hell of a prenup.

She had just shut the bathroom door when she heard the loud, gossipy voices of two women entering the lounge.

“It has to be her,” the first voice was saying. “She looks just like the woman in that photograph on the balcony at the Bellagio. And didn’t you see the way he stared when she first walked into the party?”

“But I thought he and Naomi Cross were supposedly hooking up on set,” the second voice said. “You know Amanda, who works in the mail room at Marty Shepherd’s firm? She told me that.”

It took her a moment, but Taylor realized that the women were talking about her and Jason. Such petty gossip. Thankfully, she was above that kind of nonsense.

She pressed her ear tightly against the door to hear better.

“That thing about Naomi is just a rumor,” the first woman said knowingly. “You know Max, the waiter at Mr. Chow? He told me that he was there when Jason had dinner with the Mystery Woman, and that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.”

Without meaning to, Taylor smiled at this.

“And supposedly,” the woman continued, “she made him smile. A lot.”

Taylor quickly thought back to their dinner. Yes . . . she had been particularly charming that evening.

“Do you think she’s a model?” the second woman asked.

A model? Wow. Behind the door, Taylor proudly tossed her hair back over her shoulders.

“I bet she has extensions.”

Taylor stopped, mid hair-toss. Her mouth opened defensively. Hold on there.

“And I think she’s got lip implants.” The second woman raised her voice in a mocking imitation. “Excuse me, doctor, I’d like the Angelina Jolie.”

Taylor’s hand self-consciously flew to her mouth.

“And what about her boobs?”

Taylor peered down at her chest. Okay—wait just a second there—

She heard the other woman scoff.

“Are you kidding? Who actually has real boobs anymore?”

“I don’t know—maybe that’s why Jason was smiling so much during their dinner.”

The two women shared a laugh at this.

Taylor heard their voices fade as they left the bathroom. She cautiously opened the door, stepped out into the lounge, and headed over to the mirror.

Of all the things the little trixies had said, two comments stuck with her most.

Jason had dinner with the Mystery Woman, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

And supposedly, she made him smile. A lot.

Taylor couldn’t help it—she felt a rush of excitement hearing this. She stared at her reflection in the mirror.

What had gotten into her these past few weeks?

First, she’d almost kissed Jason in Vegas. Then she’d made the decision to come to his party despite the fact that there was a pile of work waiting for her at home. Despite the fact that she definitely knew better.

Standing there, her mind wandered back to the way Jason had greeted her when she’d first walked into the party. He’d looked really happy to see her.

Maybe that look was genuine.

Maybe it wouldn’t kill her to be a little less cynical.

Maybe she should . . . well, she didn’t know exactly how to finish that thought, but maybe just thinking “maybe” was enough for now.

So Taylor gave herself a long, hard look in the mirror.

Then she smiled.

She turned and headed out of the bathroom, ready to rejoin the party. But she stopped just before she reached the door and glanced back in the mirror. She paused, then most discretely adjusted her dress to show a tad more cleavage.

Fake, huh?

Taylor grinned knowingly.

Like hell they were.

TAYLOR HAD JUST stopped off at the bar to refresh her drink when she heard a familiar drawl behind her.

“There you are, Ms. Donovan . . .”

A smile crossed her face. Just the man she was looking for. With a coy toss of her hair, she turned around and—

Found herself staring right at Naomi Cross.

Jason graciously made the introductions. “Taylor, I thought you might like to meet Naomi. She’s one of my costars in the film you’re helping me out with.”

He turned to the actress to explain. “Taylor’s the attorney I’ve been consulting on the script.”

Naomi shook Taylor’s hand. “Oh, so you’re the one who’s responsible for all the last-minute page changes they keep sliding under my trailer door.”

Recovering from her fluster at encountering the actress, Taylor smiled. “Sorry—I’m sure I’m being way too picky with all the legal issues.”

Naomi dismissed this. “It’s not your fault. The whole shoot has been a challenge, particularly with the schedule the director is trying to keep.” She glanced back at Jason and, after a slight pause, wrapped her arms around his neck.

“That’s why this weekend will be so great, darling.” With a grin, she turned back to Taylor. “Did Jason tell you? We’re sneaking off to Napa Valley—just the two of us.”

And despite herself, Taylor couldn’t help it.

Her face fell in disappointment.

“No,” she said quietly. “He didn’t mention it.”

She looked away, trying to hide her surprise. When she glanced back up, she noticed that Jason was watching her intently.

Naomi ran her fingers along Jason’s arm as she peered adoringly at him. “How could you forget it? I know how much we’re both looking forward to this trip. Aren’t we?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” Jason smiled wickedly as he casually turned his watch around his wrist.

Naomi returned his look with one of her own. “Anything you’d rather do . . . or anyone?”

Alrighty, then—Taylor had heard quite enough. “Listen—I really should get going,” she interrupted. “It’s getting kind of late. Naomi, it was nice meeting you.” As she left, she brushed by Jason with a curt nod in good-bye.

“Jason.”

She had made it only a few steps from the bar when she heard him calling after her.

“Taylor, hold on a second—”

She stopped and turned around.

Jason stood there, staring at her innocently, with Naomi at his side.

“We’re still on for Thursday, right?” he asked. “There are those changes the writer made to Act Two that I want you to take a look at.”

Taylor paused, but somehow managed to keep her cool. “Sure. Thursday,” she said evenly. “I’ll see you then.”

Without further ado, she turned and walked away.

NAOMI AND JASON watched Taylor leave, waiting until she was safely out of hearing range. Then the actress glanced over.

“So? Did you get what you wanted?”

“Definitely,” Jason said. Did he ever.

“I did all right then?”

“You were perfect, Naomi, as always. I owe you.”

She threw him a coy wink. “You know how you can make it up to me, darling.” Then she sashayed off to rejoin her girlfriends.

More than pleased with the way things had turned out, Jason stepped up to the bar to order himself a victory cocktail. He thought back to the crushed look Taylor had been unable to hide when she heard he would be spending the weekend with another woman. In Napa Valley, no less. Throwing in that detail last minute had been a stroke of pure genius.

Yes indeed, Taylor Donovan had put up quite a fight for a while. But now, well . . . Jason smiled at the thought of what was soon to come. As they say, to the victor goes the spoils.

The bartender set a drink down on the bar. Jason picked up the highball glass and tipped it with a self-satisfied grin.

“Cheers.”