Jane Millionaire

by Janice Lynn

  She returned her attention to Rob, who did a double take. His throat worked. His gaze darkened as it slid over her bare shoulders and the generous amount of cleavage revealed by the gown Gregory had insisted she wear. Wicked slivers of desire sizzled through her at the way he dragged his gaze back to her face--as if he had to force himself to look away from her body.

  When had a guy made her pulse race with just a glance? But race it did. Indy 500, look out. Rob didn’t see her as one of the guys. Not by a long shot.

  Delicious heat pooled inside her. Moist, burning heat. She’d never felt more like a woman than at this moment wrapped in Rob’s masculine approval.

  Gregory glanced up and grinned. He made a grand gesture and bowed. “May I present her royal highness Princess Isabella Jane Strovanik?”

  She nodded at the other two men before facing Rob once again. Something in the way he stared reached inside and made her ache for the fulfillment his eyes promised. Instinctively she knew nothing he did would rank as mediocre. Could you fall head over heels for a man simply because he looked at you as if you were the most desirable woman he’d ever seen?

  “You’re stunning,” the silver haired man in his late fifties or early sixties exclaimed when his bushy-browed gaze landed on her. “Much more so than in your photos and interview tape.”

  She did feel beautiful, but for him to say she was lovelier than her sister--no one was lovelier than Jessie.

  She tipped her head in the manner she’d practiced with Gregory and held her hand out to the distinguished older man who had to be JP Scott. “Thank you. You are too kind.”

  He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and pressed his cool lips to her warm skin. “Just look at her, Rob. She’s absolutely perfect.”

  Rob was looking. He hadn’t been able to quit looking from the moment he’d spotted her. Like something from a fairytale, she’d practically floated down the ornate staircase.

  His body took notice of every minute detail. From the delicate curve of her exposed throat, to the creamy skin of her shoulders, to her toned arms. He skimmed her gown’s tight bodice and swallowed to wet his dry mouth. Full breasts narrowed into a tiny waist. Hips flared to legs his imagination worked overtime envisioning as long and shapely. He’d like to push the layers of her gauzy skirt aside to know for sure.

  Red-hot lust threatened to knock his normally steady feet out from under him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an innate response to a woman. He wanted her. In a bad way.

  But of all the women in the world, Jane was one he would deny himself. Which was a shame as he could see recognition of his longings in her shimmering green gaze. Recognition, curiosity and a desire of her own. Damn. A sexual attraction between them would screw up everything.

  Jane was here to fall for one of the twelve bachelors chosen to compete for her affections. JP’s career teetered on whether or not Rob could make this show a success. A success that wouldn’t happen unless Jane fell for one of the men and convinced millions of viewers she had found her prince charming.

  “Yes. Stunning. Very well, then—” Rob paused feeling like an awkward schoolboy. He squelched his rising libido. He was a grown man and could restrain his physical needs. He would control it. However, Jane’s sweet, flowery scent was quickly demolishing his resolve. He needed distance between them. Now. Without another word, he strode away, ignoring JP’s frown, Gregory’s wide eyes and Jane’s expression of total confusion.

  Rob slammed into the room he’d use for the next month and carefully avoided glancing at a connecting door he didn’t want to acknowledge. Damn. He headed straight for the shower. A cold shower. An icy shower.

  He wasn’t supposed to want to rip Jane’s clothes off and ravage her shapely body. The twelve clowns that would show up next week were for that. Still, Jane naked and beneath him was exactly what he craved. He groaned and hooked his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt to tug the material upwards.

  A knock rapped at his door.

  He froze. Excited anticipation filled him. “Who’s there?”

  “JP.”

  Rob let out the whoosh of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Did he really think she’d followed him to his suite? And if so, he’d only have to send her away. Frustrated, he opened the door and stepped aside, letting JP enter.

  JP glanced around the room and let out a whistle. “Nice.”

  “It ought to be for what we’re paying.” He sounded gruff. Too bad. He didn’t feel like socializing.

  “Castles don’t come cheap.” JP sank into an eighteenth century high-backed chair with deep, blue velvet cushions. “So, what did you think of Jane?”

  She’s sexy as hell, and I want to know if she’s as toned under those clothes as I think she is.

  Aw hell. He had to quit thinking like that. Right now.

  “She’s not what I expected,” he finally admitted, his mood easing some.

  “How so?”

  “I figured you’d go for some blond Pamela Anderson wanna-be to play Jane.” That much was true. He’d wanted to make the final decision, but had been tied up with a previous production.

  “Casting narrowed it down to the top five choices. I picked her based on her interviews, looks, and her background. You’ve seen her portfolio. She plays every sport and excels. She rides, shoots, and can probably kick my sorry hind-end into the next country. A modern day Belle Starr. She’s amazing.”

  “I’ll say,” he muttered. God, he hated ‘reality’ TV. Even when it had first hit the airwaves he hadn’t bought into the crazy phenomenon. The thought of contributing to such a phony production repulsed him. He’d worked damn hard to build a quality reputation after his one career blunder. His involvement with JANE MILLIONAIRE could revive old media clips of his one and only failure. He might never recover a second time.

  But JP had believed in him when he’d been a greenhorn from East L.A. itching to make a name for himself, had believed in him even after his show flopped thanks to the antics of his ex-wife. Without JP, the doorway leading down Hollywood’s golden path might never have opened a first, or second, time.

  Only JP could have talked him into this reality sham.

  “She’ll get the works over the next couple of days. Then we’ll go over the agenda for the show, what our expectations are, and brainstorm on what she’d like to see the men go through to prove themselves.” Oblivious to Rob’s inner turmoil, JP’s voice grew louder with each word. “She’s fully trained in martial arts, holds a black belt. It might be interesting to let her duke it out with the guys.”

  “Should work.” Suspicion snaked through Rob as JP shifted in his chair for the third time. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “You always could read me like a book.” JP’s laugh bordered on nervous.

  Rob didn’t smile as he waited. Whatever JP had to say, experience said Rob wasn’t going to like it.

  “Last night when I met with the WOLF rep, I mentioned the series you were writing. Your name alone had him salivating. I gave him a copy of the script.”

  Rob cursed. He’d been playing around, toying with an idea for a new primetime series. He planned to write, direct, and produce the show. What he’d wanted to do from the beginning but a pricy mistake via the help of his ex-wife had kept him on a narrower path. On a whim, he’d asked J.P. to look over the script. GAMBLER wasn’t ready to pitch to a major network. JP shouldn’t have taken the liberty.

  “He called. If we pull off JANE MILLIONAIRE, they’ll give GAMBLER a primetime slot.”

  “You’re kidding.” He had to be. A primetime slot. Rob’s heart threatened to explode.

  “No. They loved the idea. All we have to do is make Jane a success.”

  “Just what kind of success are they looking for?”

  “At least twenty mil in the 18 to 49 adult viewer range.”

  Rob whistled. “Not asking for much, are they?”

  “If we hit over twenty, you get complete creative control over G
ambler, and they’ve promised me a Tuesday night sitcom, and a sizable bonus for both of us.” JP mentioned a figure that had Rob whistling a second time as he shook his head.

  “Twenty million plus viewers?”

  “You’ve seen Jane. Viewers are going to love her. She’s tough, yet has an innate vulnerability in her eyes. She’s classy, yet not afraid to get dirty.” JP stood and walked to French doors leading to a private balcony. “She’s the ticket to my staying out of the retirement home for has-been producers and your shot for Gambler. How many of our colleagues would kill for this chance?”

  “Every single one,” Rob conceded.

  “We have to hit twenty mil.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” Rob muttered, knowing the answer, yet unable to contain that very male part of him that didn’t like what JP’s response was going to be.

  “We have to make sure Jane falls in love with one of the bachelors, all of America falls in love with both of them, and we give our viewers the fairytale romance of a lifetime.”

  Chapter Two

  Jill cringed at every creak of the floor. How was she supposed to sneak around an eerily quiet castle in the middle of the night when the floors moaned and groaned with each step she took? Jeez, it was a wonder she’d ever made it to the studio without waking up the entire crew.

  She’d picked the studio’s lock and searched without success. Ugh. She had to find a copy of Jessie’s interviews. It would make life so much easier if she knew what her sister actually said while auditioning for this part.

  Another step. Another creak. Another cringe.

  Had she made that last creak? Tiny hairs prickled along her neck. Man, if she didn’t know better she’d think this place was haunted. Where was her Glock when she needed it? Not that her gun would do much damage to a ghost.

  She was almost to her room. Only a few more steps, creaks and cringes and she’d--A hand covered her mouth.

  Oh my God! Adrenaline coursed through her. She cocked her elbow to nail her ghostly assailant at the same time as Rob whispered in her ear.

  “What are you doing out here?” He let his hand fall away from her mouth.

  “About to crack a few of your ribs. Don’t grab me like that. I might hurt you.” She pulled free of his loose hold, her arm brushing against naked flesh, and with a sharp jolt of electricity she realized he wore only a pair of unsnapped jeans. Wow. Where were her handcuffs? Covering abs like his definitely constituted criminal activity.

  Rob chuckled at her warning, obviously not taking her seriously, although he should have. She could easily bring down a man twice his size and trained other women to do the same in the safety courses she routinely taught.

  He opened the door behind him and motioned for her to step inside. Light from his room illuminated his golden skin. Her gaze raked over his bare chest and the wispy smattering of hair that disappeared into his faded, snug but not too tight jeans. Maybe someone should handcuff her before she discovered first hand where that fine tracing of hair led. Uh-oh. She was in trouble. In more ways than one.

  “Where were you coming back from?”

  Did he know she’d broken into the studio? She stalled by looking around the suite similar to her own from its lush historic décor to the pleasant citrus scent. The suite next to her own. So that’s where that locked door in her room went. “Why is there a connecting door between our rooms?”

  “Because it was me, JP, one of the crew, or one of the bachelors. Guess I’m just lucky that way.” He sounded as if he didn’t consider the privilege an honor. Had he been assigned to baby-sit? Or spy, maybe?

  “And you were wandering around the castle because?” he prompted, sliding one hand into his jeans pocket. Had that unsnapped gap just widened to reveal more of his muscular six-pack? She wasn’t going to look. She was not going to look.

  She looked.

  Was the sweat on her neck from fear of getting caught or thoughts of peeling Rob’s jeans right off his pin-up poster body? Gulping down the lump in her throat, she tore her gaze from his exposed flesh and met his amused expression.

  “I couldn’t sleep?” Now, why had her words come out sounding like a question? She’d been making a comment, damn it. And she hadn’t been staring at his hard abs. Uh-huh. No way.

  “And needed a drink of water?” Mischief danced in his golden eyes.

  “Water?” She blinked. “Oh! Water. Yes. I was thirsty.”

  He grinned, and she had no doubt he was on to her. Ugh. She was a trained police officer. Posing as Mafia Max’s girlfriend hadn’t made her this nervous. Why was she coming across as a total moron?

  He nodded at a high-backed settee and chair with fine-stitched velvet padding. “Have a seat.”

  Not able to answer her own questions about why he affected her so intensely, Jill sat in the chair.

  “Did you quench your thirst?” his deep timbre pulled her gaze back to his six-foot plus frame.

  “I, uh, never made it to the kitchen.” But looking at him did make her thirsty. Desperately so. His smooth golden chest and abs were cut like the proverbial washboard--and she had a sudden longing to do laundry. Heat flushed her face—as well as other, more hidden parts of her body.

  He walked over to a small refrigerator cleverly disguised to blend with the room’s antiques and authentic atmosphere yet with modern day conveniences. He took out a bottle of water and tossed it to her. She twisted off the lid and swallowed a long sip of the cold liquid hoping to cool down her body and thoughts.

  Sinking onto the settee, Rob drank some of his water. Lucky water.

  After a long moment, he spoke. “Want to tell me what you were really doing in the hallway at two in the morning?”

  “What were you doing out in the hallway?” she challenged, having regained some of her usual aplomb and having learned long ago the best defense was to go on the offensive.

  “I heard a noise and came to investigate.” The corner of his mouth lifted, and she was pretty sure her stomach had taken up skydiving because it raised and plummeted with his sexy grin. “Have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to find you.”

  “Really? What were you expecting? Ghosts?” she asked hoping to distract both him and her sex drive. Those dark hallways had been a bit spooky, but she’d rather be beaten than admit that out loud.

  “Not hardly.” He shook his head. “Actually, you’re not what I was expecting, period.”

  Now he’d distracted her. She leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

  “You seem more real than the type of woman I’d have thought would audition to play Jane.” His gaze bored into her.

  “More real,” she laughed, relaxing a little. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “I meant it as one.”

  She swallowed. If she poured the rest of her water over her head, she doubted it would douse the fire he’d started. An attraction to the producer could only lead to trouble, but how did one explain this to a body that, for the first time ever, seemed to be on sexual hyper-drive?

  Without looking away, he took another drink. “Why are you here?”

  “Here, as in your room? You dragged me in.” So, she was still stalling. Maybe it would work.

  “I mean in Europe as part of this crew.”

  She shrugged. “To be Jane Millionaire, of course.”

  His lips quirked at her flippant tone. “Why?”

  Every instinct told her to be honest, to give him the truth, or at least as close as she could manage. Damn. She really didn’t want to admit to the boring shambles of her personal life, but he’d see right through her if she tried to lie, and she preferred honesty anyway. The more she could stick to the truth, the less likely she was to trip up.

  “Because my boyfriend decided to resign from his position in my life. My overrun-with-one-problem-after-another sister is currently engaged, and she seems blissfully happy for the first time in ages. I feel like a party pooper.” She looked away from his penetrating gaze. “Leaving California f
or six weeks right now is a God-send.”

  “You were in love with this man?”

  “What’s love?” She laughed to hide her pain. She had fancied herself in love with Dan once upon a time. She’d wanted to love him as she’d believed he loved her, and he had--as a best friend. Ugh. She hadn’t wanted another friend--she’d wanted a lover. Her gaze collided with Rob’s darkened one.

  His expression remained unreadable for several seconds. She got the impression he wanted to ask more, but had decided to change the subject instead. “I read you played college ball. You were predicted to go Pro. Why’d you drop out?”

  Just how much of her life had Jessie listed as her own? She’d said she’d fibbed a little, borrowing a few aspects of Jill’s life--not the whole thing. From what she’d encountered up to this point, Jessie had listed more of Jill’s history than her own. Why wasn’t she surprised?

  “At the beginning of my sophomore year, my parents died and I had to take care of my sister. I dropped out of the university, got a job on the police force, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “Is this the engaged sister you mentioned earlier?”

  “Yep.” Jessie had danced around like a child with a prized toy when she’d shown Jill the diamond her latest beau had given her. That had been right before she’d begged Jill to pretend to be her. Although she was beginning to question whether she was pretending to be herself. Why had Jessie listed so much of Jill’s history?

  “How much younger is she?”

  Jill sighed. “Ten months.”

  “Ten months?” His forehead creased. “And you had to drop out of school to take care of her? She would have been what? Eighteen? Nineteen?”