Just the Sexiest Man Alive(50)

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“Well, for starters, I have other plans this Saturday.”

Jason scoffed at this. “Plans? What plans?”

Taylor shrugged innocently, keeping her eyes on the salad she was making. “Oh, just, you know, other plans.”

Ahh . . . now Jason understood what was going on here. A last-ditch effort to play hard to get. But really, he felt that it was time for them to cut through all the crap. A man like him could only wait so long.

He spotted something on the kitchen counter: People magazine, with his picture on the cover. Sexiest Man Alive. Aha! Evidence. Deciding to call Taylor’s bluff, Jason grabbed the magazine and held it up to her.

“Really, Taylor, you don’t have to keep up the charade. I mean, who wouldn’t want to go away for the weekend with this guy?”

She cocked her head, considering this. Then she pointed to something on the magazine’s cover. “Somebody who has a date, on Saturday, with that guy.”

Come again?

Jason turned the magazine around to see what she was pointing to. He saw a picture of Scott Casey in the corner, under a caption that read “Other Contenders.”

He glanced back at her.

“Scott Casey?”

Taylor raised an eyebrow proudly. “Yes. Kind of funny, huh? We’re going out this Saturday.”

Jason’s face fell.

No.

This could not be.

“Scott Casey?” he repeated dumbly.

Taylor cocked her head. “Why do you keep saying it like that? Yes, Scott Casey.” She reached around him to grab a fork out of one of the drawers.

Jason needed to sit for a moment. He suddenly felt a little . . . fragile. He sunk onto one of the counter stools, in a daze. “I don’t understand,” he managed to mumble, disoriented. “When did this happen? How did this happen?”

Taylor dished some salad onto her plate, tilting the bowl to ask Jason if he wanted any. He waved this off, impatient for her to continue.

“I met him at your party,” she said. “It’s a funny coincidence—we must have been leaving at the same time. Anyway, we hung out for a while, and you know what?—he was actually kind of fun to talk to. And whew—well, let’s just say that he is not exactly tough on the eyes.”

Taylor looked him over, then pointed with her fork. “He could even give you a run for your money.” With a wink, she took a bite of her salad.

Jason sat at the counter, speechless. By now, the two of them were supposed to be deep in the throes of I’m-so-glad-you-chose-me-Jason makeup sex.

He cleared his throat. “So where’s he taking you on Saturday?”

Taylor waved this off as she took another bite of her salad. “I don’t know, we didn’t talk about that.” She smiled slyly.

“Besides, as you’ve pointed out several times, it’s Scott Casey. Does it really matter where we go?”

Jason stood up so quickly the stool banged against the counter. He could not believe the shit she was saying.

“Seriously, Taylor—do you know who I am?” he demanded.

She smiled at this. “You celebrities actually say that? That’s cute.”

Jason raked his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone. Thoroughly worked up, he glanced around the kitchen. “I need something to drink—why is it so f**king hot in here?”

He went over to the sink, dumped his wine, and hurriedly filled his glass with water. He gulped the whole thing down, then finally turned back to Taylor.

She studied him for a long moment, then cocked her head. “Is something wrong, Jason?”

He was quite certain he detected the faintest trace of a smile on her lips.

JEREMY WAS DEEP in thought, typing on his computer at a table in the back of Reilly’s Tavern. The bar was quiet and empty, except for the manager, who occasionally wandered out of his office to accept deliveries from beer trucks in the alley.

The studio that had bought Jeremy’s latest screenplay wanted a “stronger midpoint.” According to the know-it-all development execs assigned to the project, things were proceeding too easily for the hero halfway through the story, and they wanted to shake things up a bit.

“Maybe there’s some villain who’s been quietly lurking in the shadows, and suddenly he makes a play for the heroine,” one of the studio execs had said. The rest of the suits in the room nodded excitedly in agreement as Jeremy rolled his eyes.

Fucking Hollywood.

Jeremy quickly reminded them that this was a serious film about vampire/alien hybrids waging a battle for world domination against an evil zombie/warlock hybrid empire, not some lame-o chick flick.

But, since nobody was listening to him—which apparently was the theme of the week—Jeremy plodded along, typing in the requested changes to the script.

When suddenly the door to the bar slammed violently open.

Startled, Jeremy peered up from his computer and saw Jason standing in the doorway, looking all dark and stormy.

“You.”

He pointed accusingly at Jeremy.

“Did you set this up?”

Jason furiously walked over to Jeremy’s table. “Fess up, funny boy. Did you set this up?”

Jeremy stared blankly at him. “Did I set what up?”