Taylor had a view of the television from the kitchen, so she peered over with mild interest. She would generally watch “Hollywood Minute” if she happened to be in range when the segment came on, but it was hardly something she ran out of the bathroom with a mouth full of toothpaste for.

She watched as the television cut to Sarah Stevens greeting her public with excitement.

“Good morning, everyone! Today I have a treat for all you viewers—at least the female ones, that is.” The reporter lowered her voice conspiratorially. “This weekend, Hollywood Minute caught up with someone special as he enjoyed a four-day gambling spree in Las Vegas—none other than our favorite leading man, Jason Andrews!”

The coffee mug fell from Taylor’s hand and tumbled loudly into the sink.

She stood there and watched in disbelief as the television cut to footage of Sarah Stevens holding a microphone outside the Bellagio hotel. Just then, Jason Andrews exited through the revolving door, with some grungy-looking guy who appeared wholly uninterested in the mob of fans and paparazzi that immediately swarmed them.

The reporter pushed her way through the crowd and called out eagerly.

“Jason! Hi! Sarah Stevens with L.A. Mornings.” She barreled over to him, cameraman in tow. “Do you have a minute to say hello to our viewers?” She immediately shoved the microphone in his face.

For the quickest second, Jason appeared annoyed. But then he flashed Sarah Stevens one of his perfect-teeth smiles.

“Of course. I always have time for fans.”

“Have you been enjoying Las Vegas?” The reporter asked breathlessly.

“I always enjoy Las Vegas.”

Taylor noticed how the reporter glowed, positively basking in Jason’s presence. Or maybe it was just the blinding white light of his teeth.

“You know I have to ask,” Sarah continued coyly. “Who are you here with?”

Jason gestured to the grungy guy, who stood somewhat uncomfortably on the outskirts of the crowd.

“Sorry, no gossip to report this time. We decided to come out here on Thursday, sort of a last-minute guy’s trip. You know how it is—sometimes, the tables just call you.”

Taylor’s mouth fell open as she glared incredulously at the twenty-seven-inch prick in her living room.

A last-minute guy’s trip? That was the reason she had to work all weekend?

But that wasn’t enough. Oh no, far from it.

“I hear you’re about to start production on a new film—a legal thriller,” Sarah Stevens said. “That must be keeping you awfully busy.”

Jason shrugged this off with a breezy smile and delivered the final blow.

“Obviously not busy with anything important enough to tempt me to miss a weekend in Vegas.” He and Sarah Stevens shared a hearty laugh over this.

But back in her kitchen, Taylor Donovan was not laughing.

Jason Andrews had just insulted her in front of the entire world.

Well, fine—maybe only the people who were watching “Hollywood Minute” on that particular morning. And really only those people who actually knew he had been scheduled to meet with her last week.

Jason Andrews had just insulted her in front of at least fourteen people.

And suddenly, Taylor’s feelings toward the actor were no longer very cordial.

She grabbed the remote control and with a satisfactory push of the button, made Jason Andrews disappear.

“Asshole!”

It was the only word she could manage.

Four

GIVEN HER FOUL mood, when Taylor walked into Judge Fowler’s courtroom that morning to argue her motion in limine, she was ready to kick some serious ass.

She and Derek took their seats at the defendant’s table. Her opposing counsel, Frank, was already waiting at the table opposite them. Seeing that all parties were present, the clerk of court called the room to order as the judge entered.

“All rise! This court is now in session, the Honorable Arlander Fowler presiding.” The clerk, judge, and court reporter all sat. Taylor and Frank approached the podium as the judge sifted through his papers.

“Frank Siedlecki, representing the EEOC, Your Honor.”

“Good morning, Your Honor. Taylor Donovan, for the defendant.”

And then the most extraordinary thing happened in that courtroom that morning, at the very moment when Taylor stated her name for the record.

Jason Andrews walked in.

Hearing Taylor introduce herself, Jason looked over curiously. Without being noticed, he took a seat in the empty back row of the galley as the judge, Taylor, and Frank continued on with their business.

The judge pulled Taylor’s motion out from the stack of papers in front of him. “All right, we are here today on a continuance of defendant’s final motion in limine.” He peered down from the bench at Taylor. “Counselor, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

Taylor addressed the judge from the podium, fully aware that this motion was crucial to the success of their case.

“Your Honor, the EEOC intends to have several witnesses testify about non-gender-based profanity they allegedly heard in the workplace. We’re moving to prohibit all such testimony.”

Frank jumped in. “Your Honor, this is a sexual harassment case—”

And Taylor promptly cut him off. “That’s right. This is a sexual harassment case, and we are moving to prohibit testimony about language that, while profane, certainly is not sex-based. I apologize for my language, Your Honor, but I just don’t see what the word ‘shit’ has to do with sexual harassment.”

Over in the gallery, Jason smiled at this.

Up at the podium, Frank tried to regain control over the argument. “But these plaintiffs are women, Your Honor, and the EEOC can establish that they often heard that particular word and others like it in the workplace, and that they found such language to be harassing.”

Taylor quickly responded. “The EEOC’s problem is that everyone in the workplace heard this kind of profanity—both men and women.”

“Your Honor, our position is that the defendant should have been aware that women as a whole, as a gender, would be more . . . sensitive to these types of words,” Frank said in his most self-righteous tone.

At that, Taylor held up a hand with disdain.

“I’m sorry, Judge. But that kind of paternalistic view is more offensive than anything my client is accused of. The purpose of the Civil Rights Act is not to turn our workplaces into Sunday school; it’s meant to prevent discrimination. The EEOC might not like the word ‘shit,’ but too bad. It’s not discriminatory.”

Considering the argument finished, Taylor folded her arms over her chest and waited for the ruling.

Up at his bench, the judge peered down at the parties as he debated the merits of each position. After a moment, he spoke.

“I have to agree with Ms. Donovan on this one. There are a lot of things that all of us have to put up with at work, things we don’t particularly like, but that doesn’t make those things discriminatory. Defendant’s motion in limine is granted.”

The judge banged his gavel as the clerk of court stamped the motion. “I think that wraps us up for today, counselors. Submit your joint pretrial order to me by Friday. This court stands in recess.”

As the judge stood to leave, everyone in the courtroom rose. Satisfied with the ruling, Taylor turned pleasantly to Frank.

“So, should we plan to talk tomorrow about the pretrial order?” Arguing was like a sport to Taylor and like all professionals, she left the game on the field.

Frank, however, did not appear to be of a similar mind-set. Ignoring her, he grabbed his briefcase and stormed off without saying one word.

Taylor shrugged this off. Oh well. He probably was just pissed he didn’t get to swear in court, too.

She returned to the defendant’s table and began packing files into her briefcase. Suddenly, she felt Derek nudge her hip.

“Isn’t that Jason Andrews?” he asked in a low, excited whisper.

Taylor glanced up and saw a man heading over from the galley, walking up the aisle toward her.

It was indeed Jason Andrews.

The twenty-five-million-dollar-per-picture star paused for a brief moment when she first looked up. Then he flashed her that famous smile.

“You must be Taylor.”

Taylor maintained her even stare. Well, well, well. His Exalted High-and-Mightiness had finally decided to drop in after all.

As Jason Andrews strolled over in his black button-down shirt and charcoal-gray pin-striped pants (both of which fit so perfectly they appeared to have been hand-tailored just for him), two thoughts crossed Taylor’s mind.

One—he wasn’t wearing a suit and tie in court.

Two—he was unbelievably gorgeous in person.

She quickly obliterated this second, wholly irrelevant, thought from her mind. She managed to keep her face a mask of steady indifference as the actor sauntered up to her.

“Your office said you would be here,” he said easily, explaining his presence. “Looks like I got here just in time for the fireworks.” He winked as if they were in on some joke together.

Taylor glared at him. So deadly was her look, a lesser man would’ve been out the courtroom door in two seconds flat.

But Jason was undaunted. He smiled amiably. “You’re right—where are my manners? I haven’t properly introduced myself.” He held out his hand in introduction. “I’m Jason—”

Taylor cut off the whole charm routine ASAP. She had seen smiles like that before and was now decidedly immune from them.