Just the Sexiest Man Alive
Page 36
“—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 p**n 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.
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 p**n 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.
