Julie James - Just the Sexiest Man Alive

“I think you’ll do just fine, Ms. Donovan,” he said.

Taylor was just thinking that perhaps this was a good time to restate her “this is only business” speech, when the plane’s engines suddenly roared to life. At the sound, she turned in her chair and peeked out the window. Without thinking, her leg began to bounce nervously.

After a few seconds of checking out the runway, she glanced back and saw Jason looking curiously at her bouncing leg. Never one to show any weakness, Taylor steadied herself and feigned a casual smile.

“So . . . I guess we’re off now. Good. Great.”

The jet taxied to the runway, completed its turn, then shot forward with a thunderous firing of the engines. Taylor self-consciously began to tap her fingers on the arms of her seat.

Okay, fine. Yes, it was true.

She hated flying.

Feeling Jason’s eyes on her, she made an attempt to cover her nervousness with casual conversation. “So what kind of maintenance goes into a jet like this? I assume you have it serviced regularly?”

Jason shrugged unconcernedly. “I have no idea. I pay other people to worry about those things.”

Taylor’s eyes widened at this. Good god, they were toast. She spun back around to peer out the window.

The plane ascended, and they rose smoothly for a few moments. But then they hit a patch of turbulence, and Taylor’s hands tightly gripped the armrests of her seat. She closed her eyes, trying to push all thoughts of screaming death-plummets from her mind. Surely fate was on her side in this flight, she thought. Jason was her insurance policy, after all. The world would probably stop spinning on its axis if something were to happen to its Sexiest Man Alive.

“So I’ve been reading about your trial in the papers,” she heard Jason say.

She opened her eyes. “You have?”

The plane dropped with the turbulence, and Taylor’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She glanced out the window, uneasily studying the ground below as the plane began a turn.

Meanwhile, Jason reclined unworriedly in his chair. “And I have a question for you.”

“Hmmm.” Taylor looked up. “Wait.” She had definitely just heard a sound she had never heard on a plane before. She quickly looked over at Jason.

“Does the engine sound normal to you? I think we’re losing altitude.”

He ignored this. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking about your trial—”

“—Seriously, is this pilot certified? How long has he been working for you? And what kind of training do you need to fly private planes, anyway?”

“—and here’s the question I’ve been meaning to ask, Taylor: as a woman who defends companies from sexual harassment claims, don’t you feel like a traitor to your gender?”

Whoa.

Suddenly refocused, Taylor turned away from the window and stared at Jason.

Her look was death.

“A traitor to my gender?” she whispered in disbelief.

The hand came up.

“Let me tell you something, mister . . .”

They had leveled off at 40,000 feet before she paused to take her first breath.

“... AND WHILE I don’t disagree that there are legitimate instances of sexual harassment out there . . .

“. . . Frivolous cases do more to undermine feminist causes by clogging up the courts and creating bad precedent . . .

“. . . Clients I represent do everything they can to prevent such behavior, and in those rare cases where I do find a problem, I’m the first person . . .

“. . . Hardly deserves millions of dollars just because some low-level jerk-off with a manager’s badge doesn’t get laid enough and looks at porn on the office computer . . .”

Jason sat there, listening to the entire tirade. When Taylor had finally finished, she folded her arms over her chest.

“So? Does that satisfy your concerns over my being a traitor to my gender?”

She waited expectantly for his retort. But instead, Jason surprised her by nodding agreeably.

“All very good points. I hadn’t thought about things that way.” He got up from his seat and headed over to the wet bar. “Would you like a drink?” he asked politely.

Taylor blinked. Wait—that was it? He was just going to . . . agree with her?

Jason raised an eyebrow questioningly, still standing at the bar. Taylor tried to think through her surprise.

“Um, red wine, I guess. If you have it.

She watched as Jason opened a bottle, poured her a glass, and fixed himself a vodka martini. When he handed Taylor her drink, she looked at him knowingly.

“You were trying to distract me with the whole traitor-to-my-gender thing, weren’t you?”

Jason grinned guiltily. “I had a feeling that might do the trick. Have you always been a nervous flier?”

Taylor debated whether to answer that. Then, realizing the jig was up, she leaned back in her seat and got comfortable for the first time in the flight.

“Since I was a summer associate at my firm,” she admitted. “They asked a bunch of us to be test jurors for this big class action they were working on, an airplane crash case. As part of the evidence, they made us listen to the black box recordings so that the lawyers could get a sense of how a jury might handle that kind of evidence.” She paused. “Needless to say, that was the summer I developed a fear of flying.”

“That bad, huh?”

Taylor cocked her head, considering this. “It made me realize that things would be completely out of my control, if anything ever were to happen on a plane.”

Jason studied her. “I sense this control thing is a big deal with you.”

“Says the man who stormed into my office when I didn’t return his phone calls within the hour.”

Jason grinned. “Fair enough.” Then he looked at her interestedly. “I feel like I should know more about you.”

“Such as?”

“Do you date a lot?”

“Don’t be a jackass.”

Jason laughed, then held up his hands innocently. “What? Is there something about my question that makes you uncomfortable, Ms. Donovan?”

From his teasing look, Taylor sensed that refusing to answer would only invite more probing into the subject.

“I’m sure that by the standards of the Sexiest Man Alive, no—I don’t date a lot.”

Jason was delighted. “You saw it.”

Taylor thought of the fifty magazine covers plastered to her door. “My secretary brought in a few copies for the office,” she said vaguely.

“And what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Would you say you agree with the magazine’s characterization?”

Taylor waved this off. “You already have enough people complimenting you.”

“That’s not a denial,” Jason noted.

Taylor saw his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You really need me to tell you what I think?”

“Of course. Your good opinion is always welcome, Ms. Donovan.”

She looked Jason over. Truth be told, as he sat there with the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up casually around his forearms and his long legs stretched out in front of him, she wasn’t sure there was much room to debate the magazine’s claim.

“I suppose you’re attractive,” she told him. “Physically speaking.”

“Stop—you’re making me blush.”

“Your personality, on the other hand, appears to have several defects.”

“I see. Such as?”

“How long did you say we have left on this flight?”

Jason laughed. And Taylor couldn’t help it; she smiled, too. Just then, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, with the announcement that they were expected to have a smooth ride for the rest of the flight.

Taylor exhaled in relief. Taking advantage of the interruption, she steered the conversation to safer topics. The time flew by as she and Jason chatted amiably about nothing, anything, and she was surprised when the pilot’s voice interrupted them again, indicating that they soon would be landing.

Taylor immediately set about trying to find her seat belt, when she caught a glimpse out the window. She leaned over in her chair to get a better look at the dazzling spectacle outside. Before her blazed the brilliant glow of millions of sparkling lights. The sight was unmistakable—only one place on earth could illuminate the night sky that way.

Taylor turned back to Jason in surprise.

He grinned. “Ever been to Las Vegas, Ms. Donovan?”

THINGS HAPPENED SO quickly the moment she and Jason landed, Taylor barely had a chance to catch her breath. A car met them at the jet, where a driver and two security guards whisked them off to the Strip. Jason still refused to give her any clue as to their plans for the evening.

They pulled up at what appeared to be the back entrance of a hotel—a large hotel, but that was all Taylor could gather. The two guards escorted them through an elaborate maze of hallways and corridors, until they somehow popped out into the casino and were quickly shuffled over to the VIP room.

When Jason and Taylor were safely ensconced behind the red-velvet ropes of the private VIP area, Jason gave the security guards a nod of dismissal. As Taylor watched them walk away, trying to process everything that had just happened, the casino’s director approached to shake Jason’s hand. It was then that she finally learned where they were.

“Welcome back to the Bellagio, Mr. Andrews,” the director welcomed them with a warm smile. As he led the two of them to a table, Taylor pulled Jason closer.

“You’re taking me gambling?” she asked in a low whisper. She’d never been gambling before. Frankly, she didn’t see what all the fuss was about.