Just the Sexiest Man Alive(28)

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not available.”

“We both know I can make this happen in one phone call,” Jason said matter-of-factly.

Her green eyes flashed at the threat. She got up from her desk and walked over, stopping just a few inches from him. Jason did a quick check for any sharp objects hidden in her hands.

But instead, she surprised him by speaking in a soft voice.

“Why me? Really, Jason. Why me?”

Hmm . . . his first name again. This was indeed progress. Moving in, Jason gazed down at her with a devilish smile.

“What can I say, Ms. Donovan? . . . You intrigue me.”

It did the trick.

Jason watched as Taylor gave in with the slightest of smiles. He knew she couldn’t help it.

She inched closer to him. “I intrigue you?”

“You know you do,” he replied boldly, his eyes burning into hers. Wow—things were suddenly heating up fast. He wondered if they would have sex right there on her desk. Somebody better move that stapler.

With a coy look, Taylor stood up to whisper in Jason’s ear.

“Then I think you’re going to find this next part really intriguing,” she said breathlessly.

He gazed down at her—he liked the sound of that—and raised one eyebrow expectantly as Taylor grinned wickedly and—

Slammed the office door right in his face.

For a moment, Jason could only stand there in the hallway with his nose pressed up against the cold wood of her door. After a few seconds, he knocked politely.

Taylor whipped open the door, unamused.

Jason grinned at her. “I just gotta ask: Where did you get the whole ‘all the cute girls run around naked’ thing?”

“I defend sexual harassment cases, Mr. Andrews,” she replied coolly. “I’ve seen and heard things even you haven’t thought of.”

“Care to test out that theory?”

She slammed the door in his face again.

This time, Jason rolled away and saw the entire law office staring at him. He gestured nonchalantly to the door.

“It’s a little drafty in here.” With a wink, he straightened up and headed through the hallway with a spring in his step. So . . . she wanted to play hard to get, huh? That was just fine—it was his favorite game.

Jason grinned as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, more than ready to match Taylor Donovan’s move.

“Marty—it’s me. Call Sam Blakely. Yes, again.”

Ten

“I CAN’T DO it. There’s no way.”

Taylor stopped and stood resolutely before Sam.

“I cannot work with that man.”

Sam sat quietly at his desk, watching as Taylor resumed her pacing. This had been going on for the past six and a half minutes. They were making progress—at least she was speaking now. On her first three attempts, she had made it only two steps into his office before turning right back around without a word.

Taylor listed her grievances at punctuated intervals between the furious high-heeled turns she made on the carpet in front of Sam’s desk.

“He’s impossible.

“He’s ridiculous.

“Selfish. Conceited.

“Beyond arrogant.

“Condescending, too—you should’ve see the way he waved off the mountain of work on my desk with his little ‘Oh, pooh-pooh, but I’m a movie star.’ ”

Sam tried to keep from smiling at her imitation.

“As if I have any interest in working on his silly little script.” Taylor argued to the air before her as she paced. “As if I don’t have enough real things to do with my life.”

She glanced over at Sam. “I mean—have you ever seen anyone so filled with his own self-importance?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. Maybe he had.

Taylor finally took a seat at his desk.

“All right—let’s get serious, Sam. My trial starts in two days. I can’t be trying to squeeze this shit in right now. I realize that this is Los Angeles, but come on—what’s more important: a thirty-million-dollar lawsuit, or babysitting Hollywood’s number one prick?”

Taylor paused as she waited for his answer.

Sam leaned in with an understanding smile.

THE DOOR TO Reilly’s Tavern flew open with a bang as

Taylor stormed in. Jason stood there, waiting expectantly with his cue stick in hand.

“Ms. Donovan! Back so soo—”

He was silenced by a hand as Taylor sailed by him and headed straight to the bar. She took a seat at one of the stools and nodded at the bartender. “Grey Goose, rocks,” she growled, like a hard-nosed detective in some 1940s film noir.

Jason slid into the stool next to her. As he opened his mouth to speak, Taylor warningly held up her hand. Not yet.

The bartender set the drink in front of her, and she polished it off in two swallows. Then she sat the glass down gently, and finally turned and looked over at Jason.

He smiled.

“I was told I should expect an apology.”

Taylor held her glass up to the bartender.

“I’m gonna need another.”

Jason laughed—he couldn’t help it. He had never met anyone so utterly, charmingly stubborn. He was about to compliment her choice in vodka when they both heard someone shout her name.