Just the Sexiest Man Alive (8 page)

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.”

Jason shook his hand. “Of course.”

“I was under the impression you and Ms. Donovan had finished your work together,” Sam said quickly. “I want to sincerely apologize for any problems or inconvenience she has caused you.”

Being taller, Jason could see over Sam’s head to Taylor, and his eyes met hers at the partner’s unctuous words. If looks could kill right then, Jason had no doubt he would’ve been lying flat on the ground with an expression of wide-eyed shock on his face and a twelve-inch hatchet lodged deep in his forehead.

Taylor came around the table to defend herself. “I’m not sure what the problem is either, Sam. It was my understanding that Mr. Andrews was very satisfied with the assistance I provided him last Friday.”

“Clearly, that’s not the case,” Sam snapped at her. “Otherwise, why would he be here?”

Jason saw how surprised Taylor was by the angry tone of the man who presumably was her boss.

“I . . . I don’t know why he’s here,” she faltered, turning to Jason in confusion. And in that brief moment, she suddenly looked utterly and completely lost.

It got to him. When Jason saw Taylor like that, he felt something odd . . . something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time . . . an unfamiliar emotion that took him a few seconds to place.

Guilt.

Jason saw that he needed to remedy the situation. If for no other reason than to avoid future hatchet-in-forehead death glares from Taylor.

So he turned to her boss. Of course he could fix this—he had won an Oscar for chrissakes.

“I think I may have created some confusion here,” Jason said. “Taylor and I did indeed finish our work last Friday. Today, I was calling her about a separate issue—a new matter on which I hoped she could share her immeasurably learned legal expertise.”

He winked at Taylor, proud of this last detail. Now this Sam character would think she had brought in new business for the firm.

He was a hero.

But the Sam character apparently wasn’t buying it.

“A new matter on which you need the advice of a
sexual harassment
attorney?” he asked skeptically.

Jason paused to think about this—damn lawyers with their pesky questions—when Taylor jumped in.

“That’s right,” she said, picking up Jason’s lead. “Mr. Andrews mentioned this to me during our last meeting. He owns a production company, and was looking for advice on some employment issues that have recently arisen at his office.”

Jason nodded along—hey, it worked for him. “Yes, yes, that’s right—employment issues that have arisen at my production company offices. Of course.”

Sam eyed them both suspiciously. “What kind of issues?”

Taylor didn’t bat an eye.

“Well . . . it appears that Mr. Andrews has some problems determining what is and is not appropriate behavior in the workplace.”

Jason—who had been nodding along—stopped and glanced over sharply. “Excuse me?”

Ignoring him, Taylor shook her head in grave disapproval. It was quite a performance.

“Unfortunately, it seems that Mr. Andrews has a fondness for telling dirty jokes around the office.” She leaned in toward Sam, whispering. “And not even good ones—juvenile stuff. Fifth-grade humor, really.”

Seeing Sam’s eyes dart over toward him, Jason shifted uncomfortably. Normally he was all for ad-libbing, but this was going a little far off script.

“Umm . . . Ms. Donovan, perhaps we should discuss this in—”

“And another thing,” she immediately cut him off, “he apparently demands that the women in his office address him only as ‘Your Hotness.’ And when speaking about him in the third person, he wants them to refer to him only as ‘
The
Hotness. ’ ”

The Derek guy, who still sat over at the conference table, snorted loudly at this.

Jason threw Taylor a look of warning. “I really don’t think—”

“—And of course there was the incident last week,” she said, cutting him off once again.

“The incident?” Sam asked, looking slightly uncomfortable.

With a coy glance clearly thrown in for Jason’s benefit, Taylor turned to Sam to explain.

“Last week, Mr. Andrews thought it would be amusing to sound the fire alarm and yell over the intercom that it was—quote—‘Time for all the cute girls to run around naked.’ ”

Jason broke into a loud coughing fit—at this point he was ready to try anything to shut her up.

He felt Taylor patting him on the back.

“There, there, now, Mr. Andrews, that’s okay,” she said reassuringly. “You don’t have to say a word. As your attorneys, we’ll do all the talking.” She turned to her boss with a wink. “Isn’t that right, Sam?”

Sam took a moment, then nodded. “Yes, of course,” he said politely. “Our firm would be more than happy to help Mr. Andrews with his . . . uh . . . issues. You carry on with that, Taylor.”

Standing by Jason’s side, Taylor smiled proudly.

“Thanks, Sam. And don’t you worry—I’m quite certain that Mr. Andrews is quickly learning that there are just some things you don’t do in somebody else’s workplace.”

She looked up at Jason with a smile that was as sweet as pie. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Andrews?”

He glared at her.

It didn’t take a genius to catch her real meaning.

THE MINUTE HE and Taylor stepped out into the hallway, Jason could control himself no longer.

“Are you crazy?”

Taylor furiously shushed him, and before he could say anything further, she pulled him into a corner alcove. She looked around to be certain they were alone, then whirled on him.

“Who do you think you are, storming into my office like that?” She pointed angrily in his face. “Do you realize how much trouble you almost got me into?”

“Wait—you’re angry with
me
?” Jason stared at Taylor incredulously. “Do you realize the mess you’ve made?” Realizing that time was of the essence, he whipped out his cell phone and pushed the speed dial.

“Marty—we’ve got a problem,” he barked into the phone as soon as his publicist answered. “Listen, in about fifteen minutes, there’s going to be real shit storm—”

He was cut off as Taylor suddenly reached over and grabbed the phone out of his hand. She slammed it shut.

Jason stared at her in disbelief. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Furious now, he stalked toward Taylor, backing her up against the wall. Under other circumstances, his mind would have wandered nefariously at their close physical proximity, but by then he was angry even beyond the point of Naughty Lawyer fantasies.

“You know, I tolerated your little charade in there because I felt bad for getting you in trouble,” Jason hissed at her. “But if you don’t hand over that phone right this second, I swear I’m going to—”

“Calm down,” Taylor interrupted smoothly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to
—
”
Jason managed to refrain from shouting the rest. He looked up at the ceiling and counted to ten to keep from throttling her.

“You just told those people that I’m a sexual deviant,” he said through clenched teeth. “And apparently, one with the intelligence of a ten-year-old. Those stories will be on the Internet by this afternoon.”

“Those men won’t talk.”

Jason glared at Taylor and grabbed his cell phone out of her hands. “You obviously need a lesson on how my life works, missy.” He hit the redial button. “
Everyone
talks.”

“They think I was telling the truth in there.”

“No shit.”

“So, if they think the things I said in there were true, then they also think that information is protected by the attorney-client privilege. Those men are legally bound
not
to repeat what I said.”

His eyes meeting hers, Jason paused as this information sunk in. After a moment, he hung up his phone.

She winked. Gotcha.

“I’m not completely heartless, Mr. Andrews,” she said with a grin. She turned and headed down the hallway.

Jason watched her walk away. There was something about that confidence she always had. He liked it very much.

He hurried and caught up with Taylor in the middle of the buzzing hallway. “Wait—there’s something I need to talk to you about. You haven’t even asked the real reason I was calling.”

People stopped to stare all along the office corridor as Taylor and Jason breezed past them. “I’m very busy today, Mr. Andrews,” she said efficiently. “Perhaps you could make an appointment with my secretary for us to talk another time?”

Jason laughed out loud at this—surely she must be joking. But when Taylor said nothing further, he decided it was best to just ignore her.

“Anyway, as it turns out,” he explained, “the screenwriter did
not
consult a lawyer when writing his script. And now the director and I have realized there are several problems with the film.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Taylor said distractedly. She stopped in front of her secretary’s desk to pick up her messages. “Can you call Tom Jacobs and see if he has a few minutes to discuss his trial testimony?” After her secretary nodded, she stepped into her office.

Jason stood awkwardly in the hallway, unaccustomed to being left unattended to. After a few moments, when Taylor didn’t return, he followed into her office.

Inside she was already seated at her desk, riffling through some files. Jason decided it was best to cut to the chase.

“I want you to work with me on the script.”

Now
that
got her attention.