Just the Sexiest Man Alive
Page 73

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.
There were things she needed to say to Jason Andrews.
And next Saturday would be the night.
ACROSS TOWN, PERCHED high above the city in his Hollywood Hills home, Scott hung up the phone having the very same thought as Taylor.
Next Saturday would be the night, he told himself.
Jason Andrews’s Mystery Woman had been the hottest story in every tabloid newspaper, gossip column, and entertainment news program for the past several weeks. It seemed as though the whole world was waiting with bated breath to discover the identity of the elusive dark-haired woman who had so obviously caught the eye of the Sexiest Man Alive.
Scott knew that Saturday night was the perfect time to introduce Taylor to her public. After Saturday, everyone would know who was merely the “Other Contender.” Let the world see that Jason Andrews’s Mystery Woman had moved on to bigger and brighter pastures.
Him.
Landing the lead role in Outback Nights had been one thing. But this was far better—Scott had a feeling that stealing Taylor from Jason would be a much bigger blow to the so-called King of Hollywood’s ego.
True, he didn’t exactly seem to have her eating out of the palm of his hand. Yet. But this soon would change. Of that he was quite certain.