Just the Sexiest Man Alive(75)

So she hesitated. Seeing this, Jason set his jaw angrily and threw the car into drive.

“You should take your call, Taylor,” he said, refusing to look at her.

Nodding, she grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car. She had barely shut the door when Jason threw the car into gear and took off. She stood in the driveway, watching as the Aston Martin sped around the corner of her street. It took her a moment to realize her cell phone was still ringing.

Shit—Scott. She had forgotten about him. Yes, again.

She answered her phone, having a pretty good idea what his first word would be.

“Gorgeous!” he exclaimed enthusiastically as Taylor mouthed along. She instantly felt horrible for doing that. After all, lots of women would be thrilled to have Scott Casey calling them.

“Hey, Scott,” she said, trying to sound normal despite how flustered she was by Jason’s angry departure. She headed up the walkway to her front door and let herself into her apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, gorgeous,” Scott said.

Taylor suddenly wondered if perhaps he actually didn’t remember her name. “Thanks, really, I’m fine,” she told him. “I would have called, but I didn’t want to bother you.” Lies, lies, lies, she thought. But somehow, “I know we kissed five times but I can’t seem to remember you exist” didn’t have quite the same ring to it.

“You’re not mad at me for not picking you up at the hospital, are you?”

“No, not at all,” Taylor assured him. And this part was true—she of all people understood that work often had to take priority over personal matters.

Which is why she would never forget the moment she heard Jason’s voice and saw him standing in the doorway of the hospital emergency room. In that moment, everything had changed.

Up until that moment, Taylor could’ve at least pretended she’d been doing a passable job of keeping her feelings toward Jason in check. And most of that success was due in large part to her firm belief that his attraction to her was little more than a passing fancy, merely a spoiled movie star’s desire to have something he’d previously been told he couldn’t.

But the emotions she’d seen on his face in the emergency room had been real. And seeing that was something she had not prepared herself for.

She could resist his charm and wit and devilish smile. She could try to ignore the fact that he was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on, both on film and in person. But she had no defense against the man Jason was when he wasn’t busy trying to be Jason Andrews the movie star. That man was someone that somebody could really fall in love with.

And that thought was so very dangerous.

Falling in love with anyone was a gamble. Falling in love with a known womanizer—well, Taylor had been there, done that, and the results had been disastrous.

But falling in love with the most famous womanizer of all, a celebrity who proudly flaunted his bachelor ways on national television? The thought was sheer lunacy.

Still . . . that didn’t mean the situation between her and Jason needed to end on such a sour note. There were things that needed to be said, she realized.

So distracted was Taylor with these thoughts, she barely paid attention to a word Scott said as he rambled on about his rough week of filming. She finally tuned back in when she heard him mention something about homemade chicken soup, realizing that he was asking if he could come over that evening.

“Oh, that’s sweet,” she said quickly. “But I really need to take it easy tonight and catch up on work.”

The line went silent.

“But we have plans tonight.”

From his sharp tone, Taylor sensed he was less concerned about not seeing her and more annoyed over the fact that he was being blown off. Or maybe that was just the unappreciative bitch in her talking.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just so exhausted,” she said dramatically. Lies, lies, lies. “Can we do it some other time?”

Scott paused. “Well, I was planning on asking you about this in person, but since that’s apparently not an option . . .” He paused grumpily before continuing. “Have you heard of the Black and Pink Ball?”

The Black & Pink Ball, he explained, was a black-tie (hence the black) charity benefit thrown every year at the house of Tony Bredstone, head of one of the major studios. The party was one of the most elegant and lavish thrown in Hollywood: a five-course dinner, followed by dancing and a silent raffle. All the proceeds were donated to a breast cancer research foundation (hence the pink).

Scott asked if she would like to go with him.

Taylor hesitated.

Being Scott Casey, he assumed there was only one reason any woman would ever hesitate to go anywhere with him.

“I saw that your friend Jason was on the invite list,” he said pointedly. “Perhaps he already mentioned the party to you?”

Taylor couldn’t help it—she felt a stab of disappointment. “No . . . no, he hadn’t.”

“Well then, gorgeous,” Scott said, his confident tone restored. “How about going with me?”

And so she said yes.

In truth, her agreeing to go had almost nothing to do with Scott and pretty much everything to do with Jason. After the way he had sped off, Taylor wasn’t sure when she would see him again and the Black & Pink Ball provided her with the perfect opportunity.