by Lynn, Janice
Causing a Commotion
Janice Lynn
Copyright 2012 Janice Lynn
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the author’s imagination, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown by the author, and all the incidences are pure invention.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by the law.
Other books by Janice Lynn
Jane Millionaire (Winner of national American Title contest, Golden Quill for best first book, & the Golden Pen)
Revenge for Hire (Amazon Bestseller)
The Glass Slipper
Harlequin Mills & Boon Medical Romances:
The Doctor’s Pregnancy Bombshell (Winner of National Readers’ Choice Award)
The Heart Surgeon’s Secret Son (Winner of Golden Quill)
Surgeon Boss, Surprise Dad
The Doctor’s Meant-to-be Marriage
The Playboy Doctor Claims His Bride
The Nurse’s Baby Miracle
Officer, Surgeon…Gentleman!
Playboy Surgeon, Top-notch Dad (HOLT Medallion Award of Merit)
Dr. DiAngelo’s Baby Bombshell
The Nurse Who Saved Christmas
The Doctor’s Damsel in Distress
Flirting with the Society Doctor
Janice Lynn’s novels have finaled in and won multiple writing contests
1
Causing A Commotion
Prologue
J.P. Scott chewed on the end of his cigar and longed to light the damn thing. Too bad the Karlton Regal forbad smoking. These days the whole world forbade smoking. He longed for the good old days when smoking wasn’t such a big deal. Not that he hadn’t been known to break rules on occasion, but today wasn’t one of those times. An in-his-sixties-has-been producer on his way back could only take so many calculated risks.
“So,” he drawled, eyeing the self-important young man, Maxwell Arnold, sitting across from him in the private suite. A man who held J.P.’s future in his hands. Which was a hell of a place for any man’s future to lie. “You want me to take this boring political news show and spice it up a bit?”
“Not a bit, a whole lot,” the Wolf television bigwig said. Maxwell’s father had been a well-known television executive during J.P.’s heyday and J.P. always respected him. He hadn’t cast his vote on Jr. yet.
Every item in the privately held Wolf hotel suite screamed with wealth and an inflated ego. With a desire to impress and intimidate. J.P. was too old to bother with being either one. However, he wasn’t above kissing a little behind if it got him where he wanted to be--producing a winning show.
“We want to create real competition for the Ophelia Winters show,” the man continued, causing J.P.’s brows to hike up a few notches. Ophelia Winters was the talk show of all talk shows. “We think Colin Crandall has the potential to do that.”
“The guy is flopping in his own time slot,” J.P. reminded.
Colin Crandall. He knew the name. Who that followed current events a few years ago didn’t? The image of a man in his early thirties came to mind. Crandall was a handsome enough fellow, he supposed, probably close in age to Jr., here. But the man made stiff ole Al Gore look like the class clown. He needed to loosen up. Big time. Of course, rumor had it that the one time he’d let loose, he’d ruined a booming journalism career. Still, the guy had his own talk show so it couldn’t have been that bad.
“Why is that?”
J.P. was sure the young executive already knew the answer. Bigwigs tended to do that, ask questions they already knew the answer to so they could appear superior. Not one for being put on the spot J.P. stretched his legs in front of him and stuck the cigar between his lips. Maxwell glared, but didn’t comment.
J.P. took his time answering, savoring a few rolls of the cigar against his tongue, enjoying the tangy tobacco flavor.
“Because Crandall looks like he has a corncob stuck up his rear-end, and he’s reporting on politics, economics, and world issues that most of the world doesn’t give a rat’s patootie about. They’d rather hear about Brad and Angelina, the Kardashians, and other celebrity news that isn’t really news.”
“Exactly. Colin isn’t giving the audience what they want. Which is a death wish. That’s where you come in.” Maxwell leaned back in his leather chair and scowled at the unlit cigar. “Make the show over to appeal to viewers. I want a talk show with a punch.”
“Let me get this straight.” J.P. pulled the cigar from the corner of his mouth and twirled the Cuban between his arthritic fingers. “You want me to give this guy’s show a Jerry Springer make-over?”
Maxwell laughed. “Exactly. We want to make it a talk show that appeals to men and women. A show with audience appeal, period. Colin has potential.”
J.P. had watched the show once. He’d rather have his prostate checked as to have to sit through another episode.
“Find him a co-host, a female, who’ll stir things up. Someone who’ll offset his seriousness with her outrageousness. I want him knocked him out of his comfort zone.”
J.P. liked the idea of turning someone’s world upside down. Chaos was always good--at least, when it was someone else’s life involved. Too often it was his own. Six divorces would attest to that.
“How do you propose I do this?” J.P. waited for the catch. There was always a catch. Particularly in showbiz and his gut instincts were that something didn’t add up in what Maxwell was telling him.
“It’s going to be your show.” Maxwell shrugged his tailored-suit-covered shoulders. “Do whatever you like. After your recent success, the network is willing to take a risk. Enjoy the creative freedom we’re giving to you and make us proud.”
J.P.’s brows lifted, brushing against the long locks of his white bangs. They were really giving him control? When he’d been promised a show of his own if he made Jane Millionaire a success, he’d believed Wolf would find a way to slot him in some lame late night show or something so early in the morning not even the sunrise would catch it.
He could really do something with this opportunity, could once again prove he was as good as he ever was, not a has-been despite what that gossip rag had claimed right after wife number five moved out. Wife number six had been young and beautiful and all about proving he wasn’t a has-been in all aspects of his life. Much as it pained him to admit, if number six hadn’t left, he’d have had a heart attack trying to keep up with her physical demands. Getting old pretty much sucked.
Maxwell tapped his pen against his desk, a thoughtful look playing on his face. “I’ll break the news to Colin.”
“The guy doesn’t know what you’re doing to his show?” J.P. crammed his cigar back into his mouth.
“What you’re doing to his show.” Maxwell shook his head, a self-serving grin on his face. “Not a clue, but it really doesn’t matter because Colin’s contract is ironclad.”
Was the network trying to make a mockery of Crandall? In the dog-eat-dog world of Hollywood even a wizened veteran such as himself couldn’t always tell. Perhaps Maxwell truly wanted to pull Crandall’s show out of the rating’s gutter. Or perhaps he wanted to see the other man’s career completely crash and burn. Since his own reputation hung on the line, J.P. opted for the first.
“I’ll do it, but I’ll find the co-hostess. I’ve got just the woman in mind.” J.P. smiled, knowing he was on the verge of brilliance with the idea that just struck him. “Nobody does chaos like Jessie Davids
on.”
Chapter One
What was it about being in love that made every song on the radio seem filled with happiness and joy? On the reverse side, when love goes sour, every song reminded of your miserable, lonely, broken heart?
Jessie Davidson smiled at all the right times and at all the right people, but if the deejay didn’t find some upbeat music soon she was going to serve his balls for breakfast.
“Are you having a good time?” Rob Lancaster, Jessie’s soon to be brother-in-law, handed her a glass of champagne. Both Rob and Jessie’s gaze sought her sister, who reined center of attention in the middle of the large hotel banquet room. Jill glowed. Which was how it should be, and Jessie intentionally maintained a low profile tonight to keep from doing anything that might take the spotlight off her sister in any way.
Well, as long as that deejay changed his freaking tune. Otherwise, all eyes would be on her while she wrapped her hands around his neck and…
“Jess?” Rob called her by the nickname Jill often used. “Something wrong?”
A new song came on. Air Supply? Puh-leeze. She was not going to listen to this. Not tonight. Not when Larry, the ex-fiancé-slash-father-figure, called to inform her of his engagement to some Hollywood blow-up bimbo moments before she’d left for her sister’s engagement party. She wanted Larry to be happy, but following a less than savory taxi cab encounter with a stranger who’d turned out to be a first rate jerk, she couldn’t take any more sappy love songs. Lost in love indeed.
She glanced around the luxurious ballroom. Smiling couples were everywhere. Was the whole freaking world in love?
The mysterious man from the taxicab flashed into her mind.
Which did not sit well. For more reasons than she could fathom. Mainly that she’d been totally attracted to him and he’d dissed her the moment he’d found out she was an actress.
“Just honky-dory.” When her sister’s laughter floated across the room, guilt slammed Jessie at her negative thoughts. Jill looked happy, truly happy for the first time in years. Since their parents died, really.
A big part of that lack of happiness had been caused by a little sister who couldn’t stay out of trouble.
Being in trouble was one area where Jessie excelled.
“Been auditioning for a Southern role lately?” Rob smirked, looking handsome in his tuxedo. A perfect match for her beautiful, talented, and brilliant sister.
Rob and Jill made a great couple. If she didn’t love her sister so much, she might gag at their constant googly eyes.
“A remake of Redneck Rousers.” She smiled. If not for Jessie’s trouble-making, Jill would never have met Rob, would never have discovered her love for law enforcement, would have had a boring life. The good balanced out the bad. Surely. “I auditioned for the role of Petunia Peaches.”
The name bordered on porn star, but then, although rated R, so did the movie. Perhaps the remake more so. She hoped not.
“Petunia Peaches? That why you dyed your hair bleach blond?” Rob grimaced, drawing all the right conclusions, except for the hair. On that, Jessie would never admit that she hadn’t been able to stand being told a single time more how much she looked like Jill. The hair color change was drastic, but lately drastic change was the story of her life. “You know, I’d be happy to put in a word for you down at Wolf. I’m sure I could help you find a regular gig. Possibly on Gambler.”
Rob’s reputation and phenomenal success guaranteed Jessie a better than average shot.
“No thanks.” She wanted to stand on her own two feet. Why didn’t anyone understand her need to do this herself? She’d been leaning on Jill for years. Far too long. She didn’t want to get into the habit of leaning on Rob, too. Instead, she wanted to cut the apron strings. Now was the time for Jessie Davidson to show what she was really made of.
Too bad she wasn’t sure what that was.
But she wasn’t going to tell Rob, Jill, or anyone else that little tidbit. A woman had to have her secrets.
Jessie had oodles. Mainly to do with her panic attacks at being alone. Just the thought made moisture bead on her skin and her heart to race.
“If you change your mind, just say the word. It wouldn’t be any trouble to drop your name to the right person.” Rob smiled when Jill joined them. He bent to kiss her lips.
Googly eyes and kisses and a slow Journey song. Separate Ways. Gag. Gag. Gag.
Jessie took a deep breath, willing the deejay to throw on some Lady Gaga, Usher, or her all time favorite Aerosmith, something with a party beat. Anything but another boo-hoo tune.
“What’s wrong?” Jill waved off her fiancé’s affections, much to his chagrin, and zeroed in on Jessie’s mood.
How was it her sister could always read her thoughts? Could see right through her? Well, not this time. She wouldn’t ruin Jill’s goodtime by pouting. She pasted on a bright smile, one that looked real, because she was quite the actress even if Hollywood had yet to discover it.
“Rob and I were discussing my last audition, and I slipped into my role.”
“You’ve landed a part?” Jill’s face lit. She squeezed Jessie’s hands. “Oh Jessie. I’m so proud of you.”
Heat filled her face. And shame. How could she have been worried about the sorry state of her love life and a handsome stranger in a taxi cab on Jill’s night to shine? A night when the network was celebrating its fortieth anniversary. Celebrities from all walks of life filled the hotel ballroom. Celebrities such as her sister and Rob. A fame her sister hadn’t wanted, but Jessie thrust upon her. Invisible hands clutched at Jessie’s throat and breathing became difficult.
No, she was not going to think about all the roles she’d auditioned for, only to be told she looked too much like her sister. Nor would she think about all the roles she’d been offered for the same reason–-only they’d wanted to reveal every secret she’d been born with.
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.” She spotted J.P. chatting up a brunette babe less than a third his age. “Y’all have fun, ya hear? I’m going to go talk to the best man and see what kind of mischief we can plot for y’alls big day.”
The Southern twang rolled effortlessly off her lips. She really should land the Petunia Peaches role. She’d always wanted to act, to make it big, and she didn’t intend to give up until she made it. Even if she had panicked, gotten engaged to a man twice her age who she’d thought she could love, and sent Jill in her place as the star of the mega-hit reality show Jane Millionaire.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jill and Rob melt together on the dance floor. At least one of the Davidson sisters, the deserving one, really, had found her soul mate and could enjoy the sappy music.
Not that Jessie really wanted a soul mate. What she wanted was a Golden Globe. An Emmy. An Oscar. Her name up in lights. A few hours alone with Mr. GQ Smooth from the taxi to show him what he’d been missing out on his entire life. No biggie.
Right.
The dude from the taxi cab would be a nice cherry on top, but her career came first. That’s the promise she’d made to herself. No more putting men to the forefront of her world. No matter how great, good looking, sweet talking, son-of-a-guns they were. Of course, that promise never entered her mind during her brief taxi encounter.
She’d thought of him all afternoon. He didn’t deserve her fascination. Unfortunately, he’d made an impression she worried might last a lifetime.
“Hey there, Gorgeous.” She winked at J.P. and flashed her most dazzling smile at the brunette hanging onto his every word. Must be an actress. “Those snazzy shoes got a dance for little ole me? That is, if I’m not interrupting.”
J.P. enveloped her in a bear hug. “This is Tamara Harrison. I was just telling her about my Jane Millionaire adventures.” He gestured in her direction. “This is Jill’s little sister, Jessie.”
Jill’s little sister. Was it evil to think how much she resented being referred to that way? She wasn’t jealous of Jill’s success. She’d always wanted good thin
gs for Jill. Goodness knows Jill sacrificed enough trying to make sure Jessie found happiness, but sometimes living in the shadow of her talented sister was a hard pill to swallow.
“Nice to meet ya.” Jessie stuck her hand out and gave the girl a friendly shake and a heapin’ dose of Southern charm.
“You’re from the South, too?” The girl’s accent dripped heavier than molasses poured over cornpone. “That’s wonderful ‘cause I’m from Alabama and have been feeling so homesick.”
“What’s a sweet young thang like you doing out here in L.A.?” Jessie asked, ignoring the girl’s question.
“I’m an actress. Just moved here last month when my agent lined up an audition for a role he says I’m perfect for. I must really be, cause,” the girl flashed a Southern Belle smile, “I’m going to be Petunia Peaches in Redneck Rousers.”
You don’t say. Jessie tried not to let her smile slip too far. Wouldn’t want to trip over her lower lip when she sulked away. “That’s nice,” she fibbed.
“How about you?” The girl’s accent grew sickeningly more twangy. “Have I seen you in anything?”
“Not unless you watch porn flicks,” Jessie said flippantly and grabbed J.P.’s hand. “Dance with me. Now.”
Laughing, he hooked her elbow. “Maybe you can tell me about those porn flicks because, as your friend, I should support you by checking them out.”
“Get real.”
When on the dance floor, J.P. playfully scolded, “Now you know you probably just shocked the hell out of that sweet youngin’.”
“Which is a whole lot better than what you planned to do to that youngin,” she sassed, enjoying dancing even if she hated the love song playing in the background. Crazy slow music.
