by Janice Lynn
“Pick one of the twelve to scratch your itch. Fall head over heels for him, and forget I exist, because once this shoot is over that’s exactly what I’ll do. Women mean nothing to me, but a good time. If we slept together, it wouldn’t mean a thing except sexual satisfaction. I doubt I’d even remember your name six months from now--or that I’d even care to remember.”
# # #
Rob watched from the studio as Jane punched Bachelor #10, Jeff Kensington, much harder than she should have.
Thank God, Dr. Doolittle wore protective gear.
The cameraman zoomed in on his face. Confusion shone in the man’s eyes.
“Come on, hit me,” Jane goaded, her gloved fists held high, protecting her face.
“My mom taught me not to hit girls,” Kensington said, keeping his tone light.
She jabbed, making solid contact again. “Did she tell you to let a girl kick your butt?”
Should he tell the cameramen to cut? Probably, but he waited to see what Kensington would do. Would the guy give in to Jane’s taunts?
He punched, pitifully, without any real effort.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” She rolled her eyes. “Knock me off my feet, and I’ll invite you to my suite tonight for a private dinner.”
He punched.
“Better,” she jeered, parrying his shot. “But not good enough.” She nailed him again, bouncing around a little. She held her gloves up. “Come on. I’ll give you a clear shot to make it even.”
He jabbed again, and she sidestepped.
Rob winced for the guy.
Yeah, he was going to have to stop this. They couldn’t use it for the show anyway.
“Nice try.” Jane tilted her chin in challenge and although her headgear hid most of her face, he knew she wore a stubborn expression of challenge.
“She’s making an absolute mockery of him,” JP commented as he stepped behind Rob to watch the live footage. “What’s got that girl so ticked?”
Rob didn’t look up although he could tell JP no longer watched Jane and stared at him instead. “Beats me.”
“Is that what she’d like to do and Kensington is taking your beating for you?”
Rob shrugged. “We’ll edit this. She’s acting out of character.”
“Or maybe not. I think you’ve done something to piss her off.”
JP eyeballed him, making Rob feel like he should open his mouth and spill everything that had happened between he and Jane. Not that he would.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Rob denied, hoping JP would drop the subject.
Instead, JP dropped into the empty chair next to him.
“I saw the kiss in the garden. You forgot to delete the footage from camera fourteen.”
Damn. How could he have missed one of the cameras?
Maybe because he’d been in a rush to get them deleted.
Or had been until he’d caught himself watching the man and woman on his computer screen with an ache in his chest--not to mention the one in his pants.
Kissing Jane in reality had made his dreams pale in comparison.
“I know you want her, but you’ve got to stay the hell away. Convince her she’s not your type.” JP wagged his finger at Rob. “Our show’s star isn’t available as another notch for your bedpost.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” he growled, frustration, regret, and longing swirling within him like leaves caught in a whirlwind. “Besides, if you watched the footage from this morning, you know I took measures to put an end to whatever is between Jane and I.”
“Just what is between you two?”
Rob didn’t meet JP’s eyes, as he muttered, “Nothing.”
“Just look at what nothing has done.” JP gestured to the screen where Kensington had called it quits, threw down his boxing gloves, and walked away before he lost his temper at Jane’s taunts.
The guy had been holding back, letting Jane take her frustrations out on him, and JP was right. Rob was to blame.
He gritted his teeth, knowing he deserved the talking down JP was going to deliver, but bristling just the same.
“No more touching.”
Rob didn’t like taking orders. Not even from JP. He didn’t need to be told to leave Jane alone. Look at how much he’d already sacrificed to put distance between them. The most enchanting woman he’d ever met, and he’d willingly pushed her away.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Just so long as that’s all you do.”
Rob bit his tongue. “There won’t be a repeat of what just happened with Kensington. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I’m more concerned about what happened in the garden between the two of you.”
“There won’t be any repeats of that either,” he bit out.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
JP watched him a while, before commenting. “You know, I told you I’d speak up when and if I felt I should.” He paused until Rob glanced at him. “I’m worried she’s gotten under your skin.”
“She’s just another woman.” Liar.
“Maybe.” JP shrugged, withdrew a cigar from his shirt pocket and lit it.
“Put that out.”
Continuing to eye him with apparent thought, JP sank into the chair next to Rob and took a long drag on the Cuban.
“Ah, that’s good.”
Rob curled his nose at the pungent smell. Such a nasty habit, but JP often said he thought the cigars gave him an intimidating look. He sighed when JP blew a puff of smoke in his direction.
“Now, tell me about Jane.” JP rocked back in the chair, blowing out another smoke puff. “And I want the truth this time.”
“She means nothing to me except as the star of my latest production. The rest is just physical.” Really big fat liar.
“I hope you’re right, because she’s not going to be happy with either of us when she finds out she’s being deceived along with the bachelors.”
Isabella. Yet another of the many reasons he needed to stay away from Jane.
“Yeah, I know.”
# # #
Jill plopped down on her bed, being careful not to muss her hair or the delicate, pale yellow, overtly feminine sundress. Gregory had dolled her up, insisted she wear the dress, and attached the microphone between her breasts before he’d left her suite.
Ugh. She’d behaved like a spoiled child during her boxing match with Bachelor #10, Jeff. Shame filled her at memories of how she’d taunted him in her need to relieve her frustration with Rob and the situation she found herself in.
JP had insisted she make amends, but she would have anyway. She’d invited Jeff to accompany her on a walk in the gardens. He’d responded like a gentleman to her temper tantrum.
Her, Jill Davidson, having a temper tantrum?
She was taking this pretending to be Jessie a bit too far.
A knock sounded on her door.
With reluctance she opened it, expecting one of the crewmembers had come to tell her it was time to meet her mid-morning victim for the promised stroll.
Rob stood in the hallway looking too good to be real in his worn jeans and navy t-shirt. Her heart lodged somewhere in her throat as she waved her hand.
“Come in.”
He shifted his weight almost imperceptibly, but she’d been trained to read people’s body language. At times her life depended on it. Whatever he had to say, she doubted she’d like it.
“I think it better if I stay out here.”
“Coward.”
“Smart,” he corrected, but she’d seen the flash of guilt on his face and wanted to bang her hand against the door as a fresh wave of frustration filled her.
“I came to remind you to stay in character.”
She nodded, feeling more than a little guilty at her earlier behavior. “It won’t happen again. I’ve already told JP that.”
“Good.” He averted his gaze, looking ill at ease.
Warning
bells dinged loudly in Jill’s head. Here came the bad part.
“I, also, want to remind you that you lost last night’s wager.”
Her eyes widened. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Surely, he wasn’t telling her to kiss another man? Not after this morning. Okay, so she meant nothing to him except as a woman he wanted to get hot and sweaty with. But he wanted her to kiss Bachelor #10?
“And?” she prompted, hoping she was wrong.
“You have to kiss someone. Today.”
Crap, she’d been right. No matter. She wouldn’t let him know he’d just added insult to injury. With a cocked brow, she smiled sweetly. “Maybe you’ve forgotten. I did kiss someone. First thing this morning.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Well, it should.”
His forehead furrowed. “Why?”
“Oh, never mind. Wasn’t much of a kiss, anyway.” Head held high, she pushed past him to go find her garden date before she slugged the man whose kiss had been everything she’d ever dreamed a kiss could be.
Chapter Eight
“What’s gotten into you?” JP asked when Rob barked at one of the assistants returning to the studio.
“Nothing.”
“Lots of nothings going on around here.”
Rob arched his brow at the older man watching the live feed from the garden.
“I saw Jane on her way out to the garden. She looked like she’d swallowed a lemon. When I asked what was up, she said ‘nothing’. Seems like you’re both reciting the same script.”
Rob rolled his eyes. The last person he wanted to talk about was Jane. Especially after all the lectures JP had already given.
Especially after he’d practically demanded she kiss another man.
“Now that’s interesting.” JP’s gaze returned to one of the monitors.
He looked. He didn’t want to, but he looked anyway.
Jane’s arm was linked with Dr. Doolittle, who led her through the well-tended shrubbery. She smiled. She batted her lashes. She flirted. Rob thought he might throw up.
He stared at the computer screen and could stand the silence no longer. He punched a button, and Jane’s voice came over the headset he slid into place.
“You wouldn’t happen to know the name of the bright orange blossoms on our right? They are so gorgeous. No? I’m going to have to remember to ask the gardener one morning,” she practically cooed.
More benign conversation followed. Rob’s ears perked up when she apologized for her behavior during their match.
“I was upset with someone else and shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I think you were very gallant not to take advantage of me.”
Taking advantage of her? Ha, he’d never met a woman more capable of taking care of herself.
“Thank goodness you’re so patient and gentlemanly. I feel so bad about earlier.”
There went those long lashes sweeping across her cheek again. Lord, she was laying it on as thick as molasses syrup.
“What I’d really like, Jeff, is to kiss and make up.”
The guy loosened his collar. Rob tugged on his own, fanning air beneath the cotton blend of his t-shirt. When had it gotten so hot in here?
“You’re serious? You want me to kiss you?” The poor sucker’s eyes were wide. “You’re not going to punch me in the nose afterwards, are you?”
Jane laughed softly and shook her head, a naughty expression on her pert face. “Kiss me.”
The urge to yell ‘Cut!’ rushed through Rob as the grinning bachelor lowered his head to Jane’s.
Cut. Cut. Cut!
He didn’t want to see this.
He couldn’t look away.
One of the cameramen zoomed closer.
Jane’s fingers crept into the man’s blond locks, and she twisted his hair.
Savage urges shook Rob. Her hands belonged on him. In his hair. If he went out there and choked the daylights out of Bachelor #10, reality TV would plummet into a whole new market. Murder and mayhem.
Of course, ratings would probably skyrocket. He could see the headlines now. Hollywood producer strangles bachelor on the make with co-star. He slammed the button to kill the monitor instead of the unsuspecting bachelor who’d already had one undeserved beating today.
“You’ve got it bad,” JP swore under his breath, leaning back in his chair so far Rob thought he might tilt right over.
He pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and chewed on the tip as he stared at him.
“Maybe you should make a trip into the city, pick up some European hottie, and work off your excess testosterone.”
If Rob thought it would help, he’d do exactly that. Not any woman would do. He stared at the blank screen. He wanted her.
“My testosterone levels are just fine.”
JP snorted. “If you say so.”
“I say so.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll be in the exercise room if you need me.”
JP had the gall to laugh. “Tired of cold showers, eh?”
Rob called him a foul name and walked away, but not before hearing JP’s parting shot. “Just think, you’re only stuck with her for another four weeks.”
Aw, hell.
Murder and mayhem might be the theme of this reality show yet.
# # #
Princess Isabella Jane Strovanik paced across the floor of her private quarters in the west wing of Strovanik Castle. What had she done by allowing these crazy Americans into her home?
“Gregory, I think I have made a horrible mistake,” she muttered to the dashing young man she had spent the last month with so he could learn all the things he’d need to impart to the woman impersonating her.
“Your Highness?” he asked from where he sat in a wingback chair that had been her great-great grandmother’s.
“I should never have agreed to this.”
“Why ever not?” He sipped vintage wine from her late father’s wine cellar in a goblet that was three centuries old. Just the sight of the goblet in his careless hands provided a reminder of what she had brought upon herself. All because of a man.
“I am making a mockery of my heritage, allowing another woman to pretend to be me. My father would be outraged if he knew what I have done.”
“The film company is paying you good money for your role in this,” he reminded.
She threw her hands up in frustration. “I am not doing this for the money.” Which wasn’t entirely true. The royal coffers were not as full as they’d once been. Her father’s refusal to modernize the workforce had stifled her country.
Gregory’s shoulders lifted. “Then why are you doing this?”
Good question. She had sold herself a crock full of lies, telling herself the show would be good for her country’s tourism industry as the show would reveal the terrain’s beauty.
Yet, she knew it was much more complicated than that. Her cousin, Jiovanni Alarik, planned to lay claim to the throne if she didn’t fulfill her father’s last bequest and marry within the next three months.
Marriage. Shivers prickled her skin. And not to just anyone. Only a man of royal heritage would do.
Unfortunately, the spoiled playboy royalty she had grown up socializing with left her insides cold.
Which is where the bachelor she’d insisted be sent a personal invitation came into the picture. He did not leave her insides cold. Quite the opposite.
She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath.
“When a representative from your television network approached me, I agreed for many reasons.” Namely, she’d been searching for a way to see the man she’d not been able to forget while she’d been doing mission work in the name of her country.
“Although Jane is fabulous, I still think you should have done the show yourself. It certainly would have simplified things.”
“No.” She’d had to see him one last time, but being forced to interact with him in front of the prying eyes of the film crew held no appeal. “I am not an actress.�
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“To play yourself, you wouldn’t have needed acting skills.”
“But the woman your television is portraying is not me.” She’d watched the films of the woman’s great athletic abilities. Her father would never have allowed her to develop such masculine talents. Charity work and looking beautiful was still the expected behavior of female royalty. Unfortunately, her country had much to learn about women’s rights.
Which is why she couldn’t just walk away and allow Jiovanni to control the throne. Her stoic cousin might set them back a hundred years on equality issues. She owed it to her people to marry soon.
And she would accept one of the offers she had received once the filming had finished. For now, she would continue her period of mourning while hidden away at Strovanik castle.
“My heart is my own, but for a short while longer. My methods may not make sense to one such as yourself, but I will take this time for myself, then I shall do what is right for my people.”
“Yes, your Highness.” He saluted her with the goblet, before taking another drink.
Foolish man to guzzle the wine when one was meant to drink slowly and savor the flavor.
She walked to the window facing one of the many gardens below. She gasped at the sight of the embracing couple.
“I have indeed made a grave mistake in allowing this invasion of my home.”
And of her heart.
# # #
Crap. Would it look bad on National television if she spit to rid herself of Jeff’s kiss? Kissing him just didn’t evoke passion in her blood. It was nice enough, she supposed, but it felt kind of like kissing a brother--if Jill had a brother, which she didn’t. One trouble-making sister was more than enough.
Jill suppressed her inclination to spit--just in case.
What a good little princess she was, she thought in ill humor. Her partner didn’t notice. Seems all was forgiven from her boxing match abuse. She glanced at him and smiled. He had been talking a mile a minute prior to their kiss. Uh-oh. What had he just said to her?
She hadn’t a clue. No matter his lips covered hers again. It was bad enough she’d had to pretend her heart wasn’t breaking because of one man, but she’d bit the bullet and kissed another.
