Thirty-four
THE SPECTACLE IN front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater was unlike anything Taylor had ever seen.
Cameras, reporters, media vans, even a helicopter—every form of entertainment coverage and accoutrement thereto had shown up for the big Jason Andrews event, the premiere of his summer blockbuster,Inferno .
And the fans. Oh my gosh, the fans. Taylor warily checked them out as well.
An enormous screaming crowd had gathered in front of the theater, lining up along both sides of the red carpet. They cheered, they clamored, they swarmed. All in the hopes of catching just one glimpse of their hero.
Standing across the street from the mob scene, Taylor wondered for the twenty-seventh time since hopping in her car what the hell she was doing. It was madness. Pure insanity.
But it was also Jason’s life.
And if she wanted to be a part of that life, she’d better start getting used to it. Like, immediately.
Suddenly, she heard the crowd roar with a renewed fervor. The chaotic screams and cheers could mean only one thing.
Jason had arrived.
Taylor watched nervously from across the street. She had never backed down from anything in her life and wasn’t about to start now. It was time to rise to the challenge, to face her fears. It was time to woman up.
So with a determined look, she crossed the street and headed over to the theater.
Oh god.
TAYLOR FOUGHT HER way through the crowd. This was no small feat given that there were somereally stubborn people at that premiere, all who seemed to think they had some sort of right to see Jason Andrews. It took a lot of pushing and shoving, but she finally made her way to the entrance of the red carpet walkway.
Where an impenetrable wall of security guards loomed before her.
Their bulging arms were folded over their massive chests. Their faces never cracked a smile. They stood side by side in a row and glared down at Taylor, who suddenly felt about two inches tall.
The center guard raised one eyebrow disdainfully at her.
“Can I helpyou ?”
Taylor almost laughed out loud at what she had to say in response.
“Yes, well, you probably won’t believe this—and I apologize for the unoriginality—but it’s very important that I get inside this premiere.”
The guard rolled his eyes. Oh, if he had a dime.
“Are you on the list?” he asked dispassionately.
“Now that’s the interesting thing,” Taylor said, pointing for emphasis. “Iwas on the list. But, see, then we had this argument, and I said some really awful things and I probably should have called him two days ago but if I had, then you and I wouldn’t be here having this lovely moment, hehe . . .” She attempted to charm the guard with a smile.
It didn’t work.
Taylor nervously cleared her throat. “Anyway, as a point of fact, his assistant called me yesterday and mentioned something to the effect that I was, um . . . specifically uninvited to this premiere.”
The guard eyed her warily.
“It’s really kind of a long story,” Taylor explained.
“And I’m sure it’s quite touching.” Dismissing her with a look, the guard moved on to the person standing behind her, some slick-looking schmoe with sunglasses and some kind of special pass around his neck. Taylor fought the temptation to rip the schmoe’s pass right off him and make a run for the theater doors.
As she was shoved up against the red rope by the impatient crowd, Taylor contemplated her options. But as she took in the enormous security guards, all she could come up with were different versions of a distract-then-scramble-through-the-legs maneuver of theTom and Jerry variety.
But then fate intervened on her behalf.
That is, “fate” in the form of Jeremy Shelby.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the illustrious Taylor Donovan,” he said haughtily, strolling over on the “in” side of the rope. He looked slightly uncomfortable in his “dress” clothes, meaning a shirt that actually had buttons. From the way he eyed her warily, Taylor guessed he had heard all about her and Jason’s argument.
Jeremy took a cigarette out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. Taylor’s new bodyguard friend quickly put the kibosh on that.
“Hey, buddy—there’s no smoking around here,” he said.
Jeremy gave the guard a look, then put the cigarette back in his pocket and turned to her.
“So what brings you out this evening, Taylor? I thought I heard you were specifically uninvited.”
Taylor moved as close as she could get with the red-rope barrier between them. “Help me out here, Jeremy,” she said pleadingly.
He gave her a look. “Why should I do that?”
“Because once, nineteen years ago, you were wrong about him, too.”
Jeremy stared at her stoically. After a long pause, his face broke into a smile.
“Aw, hell, you crazy kid, you knew I was gonna let you in—I’m a sucker for this stuff.” He turned to the security guard and gestured for him to let Taylor in. “It’s okay, she’s cool.”
The security guard perked his head up. “Oh, that’s nice to know. And who are you?”
At the tone of condescension in the guard’s voice, something inside Jeremy snapped.
“Who am I? Who am I?” he asked in annoyance. “I’ll tell you who I am—elevenof the scripts I’ve written have been produced as feature films by major studios.”
The guard looked Jeremy over skeptically. “What films?”
“Well, for starters, I wroteVampire Nation ,” Jeremy said, proudly referring to one of the prior summer’s biggest block-busters.
The guard smiled enthusiastically. “You wrote that? Man, Iloved that movie! Holy shit, I do remember you now—I saw you speak at Comic-Con last year!”
Jeremy folded his arms across his chest and threw Taylor a wink. “So?Now do you think you can let her in?” he asked the guard, gesturing to Taylor.
The guard held out his hands helplessly. “I’d love to, buddy, really. But . . . well, come on. You’re a writer. It’s a miracle you somehow got yourself into this premiere.”
Taylor tried to stifle her smile as Jeremy’s face fell.
As the guard started to turn away, Jeremy reluctantly changed tactics. “Fine. I also happen to be Jason Andrews’s best friend,” he said grumpily.
The guard grinned. “You and about five hundred other people, buddy.” He gestured to the teeming crowd trying to push their way past the red-rope brigrade.
Jeremy glanced over at Taylor and sighed. “I really hate this town sometimes. F*ck it—we’re gonna have to call in the big guns.” He waved to a man in a suit who stood about twenty feet away. “Marty! Marty!”
Taylor watched as the infamous Marty Shepherd, publicist to the stars and eighth most powerful person in Hollywood (excluding talent and studios heads), turned around and slowly walked toward her and Jeremy. He was shorter than she had expected, and older. His hair was gray around the temples, but his eyes were dark and shrewd.
As Marty walked over, he carefully looked her up and down. “You must be Taylor Donovan,” he said before Jeremy could introduce them. He cocked his head questioningly. “I thought I heard you were specifically uninvited.”
Taylor glanced over.
“There was a memo,” Jeremy explained.
“I have a problem, Ms. Donovan,” Marty continued. “This is a movie premiere. The world premiere of a film that is predicted to bethe blockbuster of the summer, starring my number one client.” He pointed up the red carpet. “But right now, my number one client is out there, rudely snapping at reporters, refusing to smile for the cameras, and generally being a tremendous prick.”
He gave her a hard stare. “I have never seen him act like this before, Ms. Donovan. I suspect it has something to do with you.”
“Marty, if you could just let me inside for a minute—”
“Why on earth would I want to do that?”
Taylor bit her tongue. If one more friggin’ person asked her that . . .
She suspected that Marty required a slightly different answer from Jeremy in order for her to pass.
“Because it will make for good publicity.”
Marty seemed tempted. He raised one eyebrow. “Goodpublicity?”
“Greatpublicity. The best.”
He considered this. “All right, Taylor,” he said cautiously. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” He turned to the guard and gestured. “Let her in.”
The guard immediately sprung to attention and let Taylor inside. Before she could think twice about what she was doing, she sprinted her way through the red carpet, weaving around actors and actresses, producers, studio execs, and the like. She was a blur as she breezed by all of them, and they in turn—catching merely a brief glimpse of a dark-haired woman in a suit—ignored her.
Taylor had made it nearly to the entrance of the theater when she spotted him across the way.
Over the past few months, as they had grown closer, there had been moments when she had nearly forgotten that Jason was an international movie star.
This wasnot one of those moments.
There he stood, the hub, the center of all activity, the person that everyone at the premiere wanted to see. The masses circled around him, paparazzi scrambled to get their shots, and the fans frantically screamed his name. Somehow, he hovered above it all, seemingly impervious and unfazed by the blinding camera flashes and the endless line of microphones waved in his face.
In that moment, there on the red carpet, Taylor saw Jason the way the rest of the world saw him. She saw Jason Andrews the actor, the celebrity, the idol. The Sexiest Man Alive, the man worshipped by women around the world.
Taylor suddenly felt uncertain. She took a step back.
She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Jeremy at her side.
“It’s still him, Taylor,” he said.
She nodded and took a deep breath. Okay, she could do this. The crowd shifted, and she suddenly caught sight of someone else, someone she hadn’t expected to see at the premiere.
Naomi Cross.
The graceful blonde actress linked her arm through Jason’s. She waved happily as she posed for the cameras.
Taylor took in the sight of the two of them standing together. She had better be right about this. She glanced over at Jeremy.
“Why did Jason lie about Naomi?”
Jeremy cleared his throat nervously. “Oh.That . Um . . . well, you know, uh . . . to see if you’d get jealous.” He caught Taylor’s expression. “His plan—not mine,” he added quickly. Then he cocked his head curiously. “How did you know?”
Taylor couldn’t help but smile. “The watch thing.”
“Ahh, yes . . . the watch thing.” Jeremy grinned as well. “The mighty have such simple weaknesses. I like to think it’s God’s way of keeping things fair.”
Taylor watched as Naomi leaned over and whispered something in Jason’s ear. The cameras went crazy as the knots in her stomach tightened.
“Are you sure there’s nothing going on between them?”
Jeremy squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Taylor—I think there’s something you probably should know about Naomi Cross.”
JASON STARED DISPASSIONATELY at the cameras and the reporters who waved their microphones at him, desperate to get a sound bite or two.
During the limo ride over, he had told Marty he wouldn’t be doing the press line at the premiere. He gave his publicist no explanation for this. Nor did he explain his sullen mood when Marty had jokingly offered him twenty-five million for his thoughts.
“At least try to look like you’re mildly interested in being here, darling,” Naomi urged, speaking softly in his ear so the surrounding media couldn’t hear. “Your public demands to be entertained.” She waved elegantly to a group of fans calling her name.
Jason took a step closer to the theater doors, hoping to end the charade as soon as possible. Naomi reluctantly followed. Ever the professional, the smile never left her face as she and Jason continued their private conversation.
“Did I mention how surprised I was to get your publicist’s call?” she asked.
“I made you a promise,” Jason said.
“Oh right . . . for helping out with that little situation at your party. With that lawyer friend of yours.” Naomi gave him a look. “How is she these days?”
“I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Trouble in paradise?” Naomi grinned wickedly. “PerhapsI should call her then. You know, I’m always looking for a good attorney . . .”
Jason glared. “You’re not her type, Naomi.”
“Hmm, pity. Then what went wrong, darling? Why isn’t she here with you?”
It took every ounce of Oscar-winning acting talent Jason possessed to keep his expression emotionless. In truth, it killed him to even think about Taylor.
“She’s gone. She went back to Chicago,” he said flatly.
Naomi nodded, then grinned affectionately. “Are you sure about that?” She pointed to something behind Jason’s back. Confused, he turned around—
And saw Taylor.
She stood before him on the red carpet, just a few feet away.
The crowd suddenly caught sight of Jason’s shocked expression and everyone fell silent.It’s the Mystery Woman, somebody whispered. A low murmur of excitement spread throughout.
Next to Jason, Naomi cleared her throat. “Well. Look at this—now I get to play the part of the jealous woman.” She glanced over. “And jealous I am . . . ofyou , Jason. Bloody heterosexuals—you’re almost coming back into style these days.”
She proudly pulled back her shoulders, ready to do her thing. “Thanks for the publicity, darling. I owe you.” And with that, Naomi spun around and stormed angrily past Taylor. When she got close enough so that only Taylor could see, she threw her a wink. Then she pushed her way through the crowd, hamming it up for the cameras.
Leaving Jason and Taylor alone.
With thousands of people watching, that is.
JASON SPOKE FIRST, in an emotionless tone. “What are you doing here?”
Taylor smiled nervously at the question and tried for a joke. “I, um, heard you were here.”
Jason shook his head. “Not this time, Taylor. No sarcasm.”
She panicked at this. No sarcasm? But . . . that was herthing . Without it, she was naked. Defenseless.
Just then, a camera flashed brightly, right in Taylor’s eyes. Another immediately followed, and another, then ten, twenty—she looked away, trying to adjust to the flickering lights. As she did, she saw that the crowd and everyone on the red carpet was staring at her.
Waiting.
When Jason saw her fall silent, his face went from expressionless to cold. He turned and walked toward the theater doors.
Taylor reacted. “Jason—wait. Just give me a ch—”
He whirled around furiously, cutting her off. “Why are you here? It’s a very simple question, Taylor. For once, I’d like a real answer from you.”
Taylor nodded. Itwas a simple question. But she was horrible at this kind of thing. Being open and all.
But she knew that this was The Moment. Her one chance to do it right. So with thousands of people watching, she gathered her courage and checked her pride and turned to America’s most notoriously womanizing bachelor and said—
“I’m here foryou , Jason. Because I realized that the one person who could break my heart is the only one who should have it.”
The crowd fell dead silent.
Jason blinked, stunned by her words.
In the excruciatingly long silence that followed, Taylor’s heart pounded fiercely. Okay—maybe she’d shot over the moon with that one.
Or maybe she’d just been wrong.
But suddenly, Jason stormed across the red carpet. He walked up to Taylor and grabbed her by the waist and without thinking she wrapped her arms around his neck as the cameras, the reporters, the whole world fell away and—
He kissed her.
And the crowd went wild!
It wasquite a kiss. Somewhere in the distance, Taylor thought maybe she heard the screams of the crowd and thunderous applause, but frankly, she could’ve cared less who saw her right then. With Jason, in that moment, was the only place she wanted to be.
He pulled back first, gazing deep into her eyes.
“I love you, Taylor. I think that I’ve been waiting for you to come into my life for a long, long time.” He grinned self-consciously. “I didn’t think you’d ever give me the chance to say that.”
Deeply touched by his words, Taylor gazed up at him and smiled tenderly.
“You had me at Shit Happens.”
Jason burst out laughing. He pulled Taylor into his arms and kissed her softly on the forehead.
Andthat was the picture the newspapers ran the next day, under the shocking caption, “Jason Andrews in Love!”
Suddenly, Marty appeared from out of nowhere.
“Jason, you’ve got to give the press something. They’re demanding to know the Mystery Woman’s name.”
Jason glanced over at Taylor. “It’s up to you.”
After a moment’s deliberation, she nodded. It was his life, after all.
So Jason gestured to the press line, the throng of waiting reporters, who frantically reached over the rope the moment he and Taylor stepped over. Ten thousand microphones were shoved instantly in her face.
“Who are you?” the reporter from E! demanded to know.
“Taylor Donovan,” she said, a bit awkwardly. Suddenly she knew what it felt like to be cross-examined.
“Are you an actress?”
“Are you a model?” another reporter called out from the back of the crowd.
“No, I’m a lawyer from Chicago.”
The reporters whispered amongst each other, confused by this.
The intrepid correspondent fromAccess Hollywood pushed out front, microphone in hand. “Are you and Jason dating?” she demanded to know.
Taylor hesitated. Wow—nothing like having to discuss your personal life with a few thousand strangers.
Far more used to this than she, Jason took the lead on that particular question. “No, I wouldn’t exactly call it dating,” he said. Everyone looked at Jason in surprise. Including Taylor.
He winked at her.
“Ms. Donovan is my fiancée,” he declared.
And the crowd went wild!
Again!
The frenzied paparazzi snapped one shot after the other as the fans cheered riotously at this revelation.
Taylor stared at Jason, shocked.
When she didn’t say anything for a moment—a long moment—he shifted nervously. Perhapshe had overshot a bit with that one.
“Well? What do you have to say to that?” Jason asked.
Taylor cocked her head. “Don’t you think we should have sex first?”
Jason laughed, hard. He yanked the pen out of the hand of the reporter nearest them, who had been scribbling eagerly in his notebook. “Don’t print that,” he said firmly.
Jason turned back to Taylor with a sly grin. “Well, yes, I was hoping we could get working on that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I see. So . . . what are we waiting for?”
Jason pulled her close and whispered huskily in her ear. “One of these days you’re going to learn that that question can get you into all sorts of trouble.”
Taylor turned her face to his. “How long do you have to stay at this premiere?” she whispered softly.
They left twenty seconds later.
AS IT TURNED out, Taylor Donovan was a naughty lawyer indeed.
First she was naughty in the car, as Jason raced along the streets to her apartment.
“If you keep doing that, you’ll be turning in another wrecked PT Cruiser.”
“You said you wanted to drive,” Taylor whispered teasingly as she nibbled at his neck.
“Because I’m the man.”
“Fine. I’ll stop then, if that’s really what you want . . .”
The car careened wildly as it took the next corner.
“F*ck it,” Jason groaned. “I’ll buy you a new car.”
THEN SHE WAS naughty in her apartment, in the foyer inside the front door, on top of the console table.
“My bedroom’s just down the hall,” Taylor gasped as Jason tore open her shirt. Buttons flew everywhere.
“We’ll get there eventually,” he said, pushing up her skirt while sliding one hand along her thigh. He smiled wickedly as his fingers slowly inched their way up. She moaned and arched her back against the wall.
“Let’s go therenow , Jason,” she commanded.
“My, my, aren’t we pushy . . .”
WHEN THEY FINALLY made it to the bedroom, she was naughty there, too.
“And you said you’d hate me forever,” Jason teased as he tossed Taylor onto the bed.
She reached impatiently for his belt buckle, yanking him onto the bed with her. “This is angry sex—I actually don’t like you at all.” She wrapped her legs around him, trying to get on top. He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head.
“Are you sure about that, Ms. Donovan? Because you seem to like it an awful lot when I do this . . .”
LATER ON, SHE was even naughty on the kitchen counter, after Jason innocently pointed out that they had forty minutes to kill until their Chinese food arrived.
“Are you sure you’re not too tired?” Taylor taunted, lacing her fingers through his hair and pulling him between her legs. “Although you do seem to have a lot of energy for a thirty-nine-year-old.”
Jason grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to his. “Thirty-eight, smart-ass. I have a December birthday.”
Hijinks ensued.
FINALLY, WHEN THEY were both so spent that they literally fell into bed, Taylor rested her head on Jason’s chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and they fell asleep instantly. A deep and peaceful sleep.
And in the morning, they were naughty all over again.
Thirty-five
“SO YOU REALLY quit your job?”
Jason handed Taylor another doughnut, the double chocolate with sprinkles per her request. Earlier, she had discovered the one drawback of sleeping with the Sexiest Man Alive: in the morning,she had to be the one to go out and hunter-gather breakfast. Unless, as Jason put it, she wanted a side of paparazzi with her orange juice and muffins.
“Yep, I really quit,” she told him, biting into the chocolately goodness she had wrangled from the bakery down the street.
“But you’re so calm about it.”
Taylor shrugged nonchalantly. “Something else will come along.”
When she said nothing further, Jason gave her a look.
“Look—it was a simple decision: you or them. I chose you,” she said.
“Aww, honey . . . that’s so sweet of you.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss. Then he pulled back with a knowing gaze. “You already have another job offer, don’t you?”
Taylor smiled proudly. “Three, actually.”
“Hmm . . . when did all this happen?”
She shrugged. “I made a few calls on the way to get the doughnuts.” She caught his look. “Well, I can’t just sit around and be unemployed forever.”
“It’s been twelve hours,” Jason said with a grin. Then he broke off a piece of his marbled frosted doughnut and handed it over, having noticed the slight glare she’d thrown him after he’d picked that one out of the box.
“So come on, tell me about these three offers,” he said.
“Well, they’re large firms, like my old one. And since Gray and Dallas made me a partnership offer before I quit, they all said they’d be willing to match it.”
“Not bad,” Jason said, impressed. “You can pick up right where you left off.”
Taylor nodded. “Mmm-hmmm.”
He caught her tone. “What? Now what are you up to?”
Taylor grinned. “Well, I’ve been giving these things a lot of thought—”
“—You really have been busy these past twelve hours—”
“—and I feel as though I’ve peaked in the large firm environment. After all, there’s only so much you can learn in one place—”
“—I’m pretty sure that’s a line from a song—”
“—and so I was thinking that maybe I should start my own law firm.”
With this having been declared, they both fell silent. After a long moment, Jason spoke first.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
Taylor jumped off the couch excitedly. “I know! I can see it now—Taylor Donovan and Associates. That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Jason gave her the strangest look. “Don’t you mean TaylorAndrews and Associates?”
Taylor laughed as if this was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.
She stopped abruptly when she saw Jason’s serious expression. “Ohh . . . I see our first fight as a married couple is going to be a big one.”
Jason got up off the couch and walked over. He gave her an affectionate kiss.
“I’ll start preparing now.”
Right then, they were interrupted by a knock at the front door.
Taylor looked over. “Shit—I forgot to call and cancel the movers. Oh, they are gonna bepissed .” She smiled sweetly at him. “Maybe you could answer it, honey? Go . . . sign some autographs for them or something.”
JASON GRUMBLED HIS whole way to the front door.
Thiswas what assistants were for. And managers and agents and various sorts of househelp. Taylor quickly needed to get used to her new way of life, before she started sending him to the store for milk or tampons or something.
And Jason Andrews did notdo milk or tampons.
However . . . he mused to himself with a smile,somebody was going to have to trek out to the store for some more condoms, the way they were going . . .
With this thought in mind, Jason opened the door in great spirits. “Gentlemen—I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”
He quickly explained the situation, paid the movers for their time, tipped them an extra grand for agreeing to keep Taylor’s address private information, and yes, he did also sign an autograph or two. As the movers got back into their truck, one of them congratulated Jason on his engagement.
Jason grinned. Of all the things he’d accomplished in his life, that may have been the congratulations he most enjoyed receiving.
He shut the door and headed back inside, into the kitchen where he could hear Taylor cleaning up. She was rinsing out a glass at the sink and glanced over when she heard him come in.
“How’d it go with the movers? Is everything okay?”
Watching her, Jason smiled.
“Everything is great.”
He walked over and scooped Taylor up. “Stop pretending like you know what you’re doing at that sink,” he teased. Then he carried her off into the bedroom.
They didn’t leave the apartment the entire day.
FINALLY, LATE THAT night as they lay in bed, Taylor rested her head on Jason’s shoulder, looking up at him.
“I love you,” she said softly.
Jason’s arms tightened around her. He grinned sleepily. “I know.”
Taylor drifted off contentedly. Until, through the darkness, she heard a low, sneaky whisper.
“Mrs. Taylor Andrews . . .”
She didn’t bother to open her eyes.
“Still not gonna happen.”
But then she lay there, awake. She opened her eyes and, for a long time that night, watched Jason as he slept peacefully by her side.
Only because she wanted to be sure she had gotten in the last word.
Of course.
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
JUST THE SEXIEST MAN ALIVE
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / October 2008
Copyright ? 2008 by Julie Koca.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without
permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the
author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN : 978-1-436-29003-6
BERKLEY? SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
http://us.penguingroup.com
To my grandfather
for inspiring me to start the journey,
and to my husband
for being my partner along the way.
GAME ON
“Am I correct in understanding that you dislike me, Ms. Donovan?” he asked coyly, circling around her in amusement.
Taylor followed him with her eyes, her voice even. “I won’t let my feelings about you compromise my career, Mr. Andrews. You got me in a lot of trouble at work, you know.”
Jason stopped, surprised to find himself uncomfortable at the thought. “I’ll tell you what,” he said magnanimously. “Let me buy you a drink. We can start over—get to know one another properly.” He flashed her the smile that made hearts flutter worldwide. Five and a half billion dollars in lifetime box office gross for his “little projects.” Take that.
Taylor cocked her head, appearing to consider his offer. Then, with her arms folded across her chest, she took a few steps toward him. When she was close enough that they were practically touching, she stared up at him, her green eyes boring deep into his. Jason could feel the warmth of her body, and he wondered if she knew what he was thinking right then.
Apparently, she did.
“Let’s get something straight, Mr. Andrews,” she said steadily. “This is business. Nothing else.”
Before Jason could get in one word edgewise on the matter, Taylor backed away and turned to leave. “And I’ll expect you to be at my office first thing tomorrow morning. Do try not to be late.”
Turn the page for a preview of
the next romance from Julie James
Practice Makes Perfect
Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!
PAYTON REVIEWED THE schedule of events for the Gibson’s executives a second time.
To say she was displeased would be an understatement.
She had been swamped this week, preparing for both the Gibson’s pitch and a sexual harassment trial that was set to start the following Wednesday. J.D. had caught her at a particularly bad time when he stopped by her office yesterday to discuss the agenda for wining and dining Jasper Conroy and his in-house litigation team. She’d been arguing all morning with opposing counsel over last-minute additions to the exhibit list. She had hung up the phone, spotted J.D. standing in the doorway, and sensed her morning was only about to get worse. But instead, in a rare moment of apparent helpfulness, J.D. had offered to take the lead in setting up the Gibson’s schedule.
And, in a just-as-rare moment of receptiveness to anything J.D.-related, as her phone began ringing off the hook and she saw the familiar number of her opposing counsel on the caller ID and she realized she was about to begin round 137 with him, she accepted J.D.’s offer.
Big mistake.
Clutching the agenda in her hand, Payton looked up at her secretary with a mixture of frustration and trepidation.
“Is this really the agenda?” she asked.
Irma nodded in the affirmative. “J.D.’s secretary just dropped it off.”
“Okay. Thanks, Irma.”
Payton pretended to resume typing at her computer as Irma left her office. She watched as her secretary headed back to her desk, waited a moment or two more, then casually got up and walked across the hall to J.D.’s office.
J.D. peered up from his desk when he heard the knock on his door.
“Got a sec?” Payton asked pleasantly. One never knew who was watching.
“For you, Payton—anytime. How can I be of assistance?” he asked magnanimously.
Payton stepped into his office and shut the door behind her. They both instantly dropped the charade.
Payton held out the agenda accusingly. “You told me we were having dinner with the Gibson’s execs tomorrow evening.”
J.D. eased back in his chair, gesturing to the agenda. “And as you see, we are.”
“But you’re also playing golf with them tomorrow afternoon. Why wasn’t I invited?”
“Do you play golf?”
“No, but you didn’t know that.”
J.D. grinned. “Actually, I did. I overheard you mention it to Ben last summer.”
Stunned by the snub, Payton opened her mouth to respond. She clenched her fist as she searched for some response, some insult, anything, and a moment passed . . . and then another . . . and—
Nothing.
J.D. smiled victoriously. “Tell you what—why don’t you think about it for a while? Come back when you’re ready—make it a good one.” Then he ushered Payton out of his office and shut the door behind her.
She stood there in the hallway. Staring at that stupid name-plate, J.D. JAMESON. She was seriously tempted to tear it off the wall and chuck it straight at his face.
It was true that she didn’t know squat about golf; she had never even swung a club. Her avoidance was purposeful. She had distinct opinions regarding the sport and, more importantly, those who played it.
Payton considered her options. On the one hand, she hated the idea of J.D. getting the better of her. And shereally hated the idea of looking like a clueless novice playing golf in front of Jasper and the Gibson’s team.
On the other hand, the thought of being left out for the entire afternoon was not appealing. With the partnership decision looming, she needed to ensure she was an integral part of the effort to land Gibson’s as a client. And she simply didn’t think she could stomach playing the part of the little woman sitting back at the office while the men talked shop at the twenty-first or whatever tee.
So as far as Payton could see, she had no choice.
Despite the fact that she was already internally worrying over how she was going to squeeze in a quick at-least-I-won’t-look-like-a-total-jackass golf lesson that evening, Payton strode confidently back into J.D.’s office.
J.D. glanced up from his desk as the door opened, surprised by her sudden entrance.
“That was fast.” He leaned back in his chair and beckoned with his hand. “Okay, let’s hear it, Kendall. Give me your best shot.”
Payton saw the stapler near the edge of his desk and had to fight the urge to take him up on his offer.
“I’ll do it,” she announced. “Count me in for tomorrow’s game.”
J.D. stared at her, surprised. He clearly had not expected her to say this.
Payton nodded in response to his silence. “Good. That’s settled, then.” She turned to leave, her mind already running in a hundred different directions. She needed to find a set of clubs; perhaps Laney had some she could borrow. And of course there was the matter of attire—should she wear shorts? A polo shirt? A jaunty little cap, perhaps? Were special shoes required? The details surrounding this kind of event were—
“You can’t go.”
J.D.’s words stopped Payton right as she reached the door. She turned around to face him. “You can’t be serious. You’rethat desperate to get some alone time with the Gibson’s reps?”
“No, that’s not it,” J.D. said quickly. He hesitated, and for the briefest second Payton could’ve sworn he looked uncomfortable.
She put her hand on her hip, waiting for him to finish. “Then what, exactly, is it, J.D.?”
“We’re golfing at Butler,” he said.
Butler? Oh . . . of course,Butler , Payton thought sarcastically. That meant bupkiss to her.
“And?” she asked.
“Butler National Golf Club?” J.D. said, apparently believing this should ring some sort of bell with her.
Payton shook her head. No clue.
J.D. shifted awkwardly.
“My family has a membership there. Ben suggested it because it’s a nationally ranked course. But, as it happens, it’s aprivate club.” He emphasized this last part.
Payton failed to see what the problem was. “But if you can get the Gibson’s people in as guests, I don’t see why I can’t come, too.”
J.D. cleared his throat uneasily. He shifted in his chair, then met her gaze.
“They don’t allow women.”
The words hung awkwardly in the air. Drawing a line between them.
“Oh. I see.” Payton’s tone was brisk, terse. “Well then, you boys have fun tomorrow.”
Not wanting to see what she assumed would be the smug look on J.D.’s face, she turned and walked out of his office.
“WILL I SOUND like a total crybaby if I say it’s not fair?”
Laney patted Payton’s hand. “Yes. But you go right ahead and say it anyway.”
With a frustrated groan, Payton buried her head in her arms on top of the coffee shop table they had just sat down at moments ago.
“I hate him,” she said, her voice muffled. She peered up at Laney. “This means he’s going to get twice as much time with the Gibson’s reps.”
“Then you will have to be twice as good when you meet them for dinner,” Laney replied. “Forget about J.D.”
“Screw him,” Payton agreed. She saw Laney’s eyes cast nervously around the coffee shop at this.
“I mean, it’s bad enough he plays this card with the partners,” Payton continued. She lowered her voice, doing a bad male impersonation. “ ‘Hey, J.D.—you should come to my club sometime. I hear you shoot a two fifty.’ ”
“I think that’s bowling.”
“Whatever.”
Payton pointed for emphasis. “The problem is, getting business is part of the business. It’s like a ritual with these guys: ‘Hey, how ’bout those Cubs,’ ”—the bad male impersonation was back—“ ‘let’s play some golf, smoke some cigars. Here’s my penis, there’s yours—yep, they appear to be about the same size. Okay, let’s do some deals.’ ”
When the woman seated at the next table threw them a disapproving look over the foam of her jumbo-sized cappuccino, Laney leaned in toward Payton. “Let’s use our inside voices, please, when using the p-word,” she whispered chidingly.
Ignoring this, Payton took another sip of her vanilla latte. “In the business world, what’s the female equivalent of going golfing with a client?”
Laney gave this some thought. Payton fell silent, too, contemplating. After a few moments, neither of them could come up with anything.
How depressing.
“Well, that’s it. I guess I’ll just have to sleep with them,” Payton sighed, feigning resignation.
Laney folded her hands primly on the table. “I think I’m uncomfortable with this conversation.”
Payton laughed. Actually, it felt good to laugh—she’d been quite cranky since her encounter with J.D. She couldn’t believe he had managed to exclude her from the golf outing with the Gibson’s reps by taking them to a club that didn’t allow women. Wait, back up: what she really couldn’t believe was that there was actually still a club around that didn’t let women in. Once the existence of said club had been established, however, she had no problem believing that J.D. was its Grand Poobah.
But enough about J.D. already. Payton resolved not to let him ruin another minute of her day. Besides, she saw a prime opportunity to engage Laney in another one of their “debates.” The two of them couldn’t have been more opposite on the social/political spectrum. Having been raised by an ex-hippie single mother who was as socially radical as one could get while staying inside the boundaries of the law (most of the time, anyway), Payton found Laney’s prim-and-proper demeanor fascinating. And strangely refreshing.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Laney. I guess being a conservative means you don’t believe in free speech,” Payton teased.
“Don’t get on your liberal high horse—of course I believe in free speech,” Laney said, toying with the heart-shaped locket she wore.
“Then I should be able to say anything I want, right? Even the word ‘penis’?” Payton asked.
Laney sighed. “Do we have to do this right now?”
“You should try saying the word sometime.”
“I’ll pass, thank you.”
Payton shrugged. “Your choice, but I think you’d find it liberating. Everybody could use a good ‘penis’ now and then.”
Laney looked around the coffee shop, then glared at Payton. “People are listening.”
“Sorry—you’re right. Good rule of thumb: if you’re gonna throw out a ‘penis’ in a public place, it should be soft. Otherwise it attracts too much attention.”
The woman at the next table gaped at them.
Laney leaned over. “I apologize for my friend. She gets this way sometimes.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Tourette’s. So sad.”
The woman nodded sympathetically, then pretended to make a call on her cell phone.
Laney turned back to Payton. “If you’re finished with the First Amendment lesson, I thought maybe we should turn back to the subject of J.D. Because I do have a suggestion as to how you can solve your problem.”
Payton leaned forward eagerly. “Great—let’s hear it. I’m open to anything.”
“Okay. My suggestion is”—Laney paused dramatically—“learn how to play golf.” She let this sink in a moment. “Then you’ll never have this problem again.”
Payton sat back in her chair, toying with her coffee mug. “Um, no.” She brushed off the suggestion with a dismissive wave. “Playing golf is just so, I don’t know . . . snooty.”
Laney gave her a pointed look. “You know, when you make partner, you’ll have to get used to being around people who grew up with money.”
“I don’t have any issues with that,” Payton said huffily.
“Oh sure, right. You don’t think that money has anything to do with why you’re so hard on J.D.?” Laney asked.
“I’m hard on J.D. because he’s a jerk.”
“True, true . . .” Laney mused. “You two do seem to bring out the worst in each other.”
Ineach other ? “I hope you aren’t suggesting that I somehow contribute to J.D.’s behavior,” Payton said. “Because if so, we really need to get this conversation headed in asane direction.”
“It’s just kind of odd, because J.D. has lots of qualities that you normally like in a guy. A guy who maybe isn’t quite so . . . you know . . .” Laney gestured, trailing off.
“So what?” Payton prompted.
“Rich.”
Payton rolled her eyes. “First of all: please—like I said, I don’t care about that. Second of all: What are these alleged other ‘qualities’ J.D. has?”
Laney considered her answer. “He’s very smart.”
Payton frowned and grumbled under her breath. “I changed my mind—I don’t want to talk about this.” She grabbed the dessert menu sitting next to her and stared at it intently.
Appearing not to hear her, Laney kept going with her list of J.D.’s attributes. “He’s also passionate about the law, interested in politics—albeit on the opposite side of the spectrum. Which, interestingly, doesn’t seem to bother you about me.”
Payton peered over the top of her menu. “Youhave charm.”
“That’s true. I do.”
“It’s quickly fading.”
Laney went on. “And J.D. works hard, just like you, and he can be funny in that sarcastic kind of way that—”
“I object!” Payton interrupted. “Lack of foundation—when has J.D. ever said anything funny?”
“This isn’t a courtroom.”
Payton folded her arms across her chest. “Fine.Total crap —how about if I just go with that instead?”
“Gee, sorry, Payton—I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable,” Laney said with a grin, throwing Payton’s words back at her. “I won’t say anything else.”
Laney picked up her menu. “Let’s see, now. What looks good? That flourless chocolate cake we split last time was divine.” She glanced at Payton. “Except just one last thing on the subject of J.D.: he’s totally hot.”
Just in time, fighting her smile, Laney put her menu up to block the napkin that came flying at her face.
“Hot?” Payton nearly shouted. “That smarmy, prep-school-attending, pink-Izod-shirt-wearing jerk who’s been handed his career on a silver platter?” She covered her mouth. “Well, look at that—maybe Ido have one or two issues with money.”
Laney nodded encouragingly, as if to say they were making progress. “But you’re about to be named partner. I get why you’ve been guarded in the past, but you’ve made it. You don’t have to keep trying so hard to prove that you fit in with these guys.”
Payton was surprised by this. “You think I come across as guarded?”
“At work, you can sometimes . . . have a bit of an edge,” Laney said carefully. “Like this thing with J.D., for example.”
Payton tried to decide whether she should be offended. But as much as she might not want to admit it, a part of her knew that what Laney was saying wasn’t completely off base.
“I suppose this ‘thing’ with J.D. has gotten a little out of hand,” she sniffed reluctantly. “You’re right—I should be the better person in this.” She smirked. “That shouldn’t be too hard, in comparison to J.D.”—she caught Laney’s look—“isexactly what Edgy Payton would’ve said. But the New Payton won’t go there.”
Laney tipped her coffee mug approvingly. “Good for you. To the New Payton.”
Payton clinked her mug to Laney’s, wondering what she was getting herself into.
“The New Payton.”