Just the Sexiest Man Alive(25)

Feeling a cool evening breeze cutting across the Hollywood Hills, Scott pulled on the Von Dutch T-shirt he’d left on the lounge chair. His pool overlooked an amazing view of downtown Los Angeles that should have captured his attention. But the picture of Jason Andrews sitting on the chair next to him sullied the sight on that particular evening.

Scott ripped the picture of Jason out of the magazine and crumpled it into a ball. Then he pitched it into the garbage can sitting on the edge of the deck.

This cover story would be the last thing he lost to Jason Andrews, Scott vowed. Next time, it would be Jason who wanted something. Something important.

And he would be there to make sure Jason didn’t get it.

Nine

“HOW WILL THE alleged harassers do in court?”

Taylor confidently met Sam’s gaze from across the gray marble conference table. They were now only two days from the start of trial, and he had called her earlier that morning wanting to meet for a last-minute “strategy talk.” This was partner-speak for making sure Taylor knew what the hell she was doing.

“They are prepped and ready,” she replied without hesitation. “They’ll do great.”

Derek sat to Taylor’s right, taking notes on his laptop as Sam continued his questions. He had been firing them at Taylor all morning.

“And your cross-examination of the named plaintiffs?”

“By the time I’m done, the jury will want to sue them for wasting their time on this ridiculous lawsuit.” Sam, Taylor, and Derek all got a good chuckle out of this. A little lawyer humor.

Taylor subtly checked her watch and saw that it was almost noon. She hoped they were nearing the end of their meeting, since she and Derek had over twenty exhibits to compile and she still had an opening statement to write. It was time to move things along to the standard pretrial partner wrap-up: a brief lecture on the subject of managing client expectations, followed by closing remarks of the pep-talk variety.

As if reading Taylor’s mind, Sam ceased his interrogation and eased back in his chair.

“Well, it looks as though you and Derek have all the bases covered,” he told her. “One last thing we should briefly discuss is making sure our client fully understands the risks—”

Just then, Sam was cut off as the door to the conference room slammed opened, rattling the walls as if a tornado had just hit the building.

And a very angry-looking Jason Andrews stormed into the room.

Linda followed closely on his heels, looking highly apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Taylor—I tried to stop him,” she said, out of breath.

Wholly oblivious to (or simply uninterested in) anyone else in the room, Jason stopped before Taylor and pointed furiously at her.

“Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

The shock of his entrance and his demanding tone rendered her temporarily speechless.

“I called you three times today,” Jason continued his rant. “Myself,” he added pointedly.

Taylor quickly pulled herself together and nodded reassuringly to her secretary. “It’s okay, Linda. I can handle things from here.”

Then she turned to face Jason.

“Mr. Andrews . . .” she said in a coolly professional tone. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise, you dropping in unexpectedly like this?” She glared at him frostily. How dare he interrupt her in the middle of an important business meeting with what appeared to be some sort of ridiculous celebrity tantrum. For about ten minutes when they’d been working together last Friday, she’d actually begun to believe that maybe there was some semblance of a normal guy hidden beneath the self-centered, arrogant, movie-star façade.

Apparently, she’d been mistaken.

“I wasn’t aware you had called today,” she told him. “I’ve been away from my office, in this conference room all morning.”

Jason appeared to have a retort ready on his lips, but then he paused when he heard her explanation. It apparently had not been the response he had expected.

“Oh.”

But his next words were far more eloquent.

“I see.”

Jason looked around the room, took in Sam and Derek (who sat frozen at the table, wide-eyed), then turned to Taylor with his most charming smile.

“So how are you this morning, Ms. Donovan?”

TWENTY MINUTES AGO, when Jason had jumped into the Aston Martin and sped down to Taylor’s office, his actions had seemed perfectly rational. There wasn’t a person in Hollywood who didn’t immediately drop everything to take his call. So when Taylor hadn’t returned the three—count them, three—messages he had left with her secretary, he had assumed she was blowing him off. And he’d been furious thinking this—especially after the progress he thought they had made last Friday.

Unfortunately, they now appeared to have reverted back to the whole “Mr. Andrews” routine. But before Jason could say anything to clear up what obviously was just a simple miscommunication on the part of someone other than him, the gray-haired guy at the head of the conference table stood up.

“What the hell is going on here, Taylor? You told me you and Mr. Andrews had completed your project.”

Quick to make amends, the gray-haired guy headed over to Jason with his hand outstretched. “Mr. Andrews . . . I’m Sam Blakely, head of the litigation group here at Gray and Dallas. I’ve spoken on the phone with your manager a few times.”