Two Sexy!

by Stephanie Bond

  She knew this appearance was important. She’d gotten a hint of what was at stake when Jarett instructed her to take the freight elevator to the twelfth floor when she arrived.

  “Don’t ask for directions, don’t speak to anyone. Call me if you have any trouble,” he said. “The reporters would have a field day with this story.”

  More than he knew. Meg pictured the headline: Teacher Of The Year Impersonates Taylor Gee—Badly! and she thought she might be sick. She hesitated, debating whether to turn on her heel and run. After all, she already had the money—twenty thousand instead of the thirty he’d offered, just enough to save her skin.

  Then she sighed. No, she couldn’t simply take the money and leave the starlet in the lurch. Jarett either, for that matter. He must love Taylor very much to go to this much trouble finding a body double.

  She smoothed a hand down the loose khaki-colored dress she’d donned after a hasty shower.

  Her hair was still damp, and her makeup nonexistent, but Jarett had insisted that time was of the essence. Grooming had taken a back seat to visiting the drycleaners across the street and contacting the man Quincy had told her about to make arrangements for repairs to the shop. But suddenly Meg wished she’d taken more pains with her appearance.

  She rapped on the door lightly, deciding if no one answered, then she would have done her duty.

  But the door swung open to reveal Jarett, without the black leather jacket. A long-sleeve black knit shirt fit him snugly, hinting of the toned torso beneath. It was tucked into flat-front black slacks, hinting of—no, she wasn’t going there.

  “Hi,” he said warmly. “I was afraid you would change your mind.”

  “I did,” she admitted. “About a dozen times.”

  He smiled. “Come on in. Rosie should be here soon.” He closed the door behind them. “She’s picking up the hair dye and the contact lenses. Good thing we managed to get a copy of your prescription from your optometrist.”

  The foyer of the suite gave way to a large bathroom on the left, complete with separate vanity area, then a small galley kitchen, a breakfast bar, a sitting area, and a king-size bed in the far end, near the window. Meg practically gawked at the luxurious furniture and the spacious layout. “Whose room is this?”

  “Mine,” Jarett said casually. He opened the refrigerator. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Panic roiled in her stomach—she was in way over her head. How incredibly stupid to come to this man’s hotel room. She didn’t know him, not really, and she hadn’t told a single soul where she was. How many times had she admonished her seven-year-olds not to talk to strangers? Maybe this was his game—traveling from city to city, scamming Taylor Gee lookalikes and ravishing them in his hotel room. If Jarett—was that even his real name?—decided to get rid of her, Meg would be a Jane Doe in the morgue until Rebecca got back from her honeymoon and missed her.

  She watched him move with animal-like precision, the muscles in his back responding to the tiniest shift in position. He probably knew how to kill people with his thumb. Wasn’t he at this very moment trying to ply her with liquor? She judged the distance to the door, and wondered if she could get to it before he caught up with her. The only weapon she had with her was a bottle of hair spray, although she had heard about a woman who’d used her eyeglasses to stab an assailant in the neck.

  “I have root beer and lemonade,” he said, holding up two bottles.

  Oh. Her worries shriveled. “Root beer,” she said, feeling like an idiot all over again. Jarett Miller had been nothing but a gentleman.

  “Have a seat,” he said, nodding toward the overstuffed chairs flanking a glass-topped coffee table. “I’ll fill you in on some details while we wait on Rosie.”

  She sat, her heart beating double-time, her gaze inexplicably drawn to the king-size bed across the room. He didn’t share a room with Taylor? Then she spotted the connecting door. Ah….

  Jarett carried two bottles of root beer to the table and handed her one. “I can order you something from room service if you like.”

  The idea of solid food made her nauseous. “This is fine, thank you.” She took a drink and held the sweet nutty taste on her tongue for a few seconds. Funny—she loved root beer, but she never thought about buying it when she did her grocery shopping every Sunday afternoon. Why would she deny herself such a small pleasure? she suddenly wondered. And did she do the same in other areas of her life?

  Jarett sat down opposite her, and Meg realized that her left eye had developed a nervous tic. She pressed her finger against the twitch as unobtrusively as possible. “You never said what Miss Gee is suffering from.”

  He lowered his bottle and swallowed. “It’s some kind of bug, but the doctor said she’d be better once she got some rest.”

  Meg nodded sympathetically. The woman’s immune system was probably compromised from traveling and exhaustion. She couldn’t imagine how hectic a celebrity’s life must be. “What’s so important about tonight’s benefit that she has to make an appearance?”

  “The children’s charity is the pet project of Mort Heckel, the president of the network. He’s going to be there, and he expects Taylor to be there, too.”

  Meg choked on the mouthful of root beer.

  “Will she, er, will I have to speak to him?”

  “Possibly. But he’s never met Taylor before so he won’t know what to expect.” At the knock on the door, Jarett said, “Excuse me,” then went to answer it.

  Meg sat frozen—she was expected to converse with Taylor Gee’s boss? Coherently?

  A short round-faced woman with jet black hair bustled into the room holding several bags and peered at Meg as if she were an animal in a zoo.

  “I’m Rosie Grant.”

  “I’m Meg Valentine.”

  The woman turned to Jarett and shook her head. “I don’t know, Jarett. I can’t see it.”

  “Meg,” he said, “would you please remove your glasses?”

  She did, and stared at the fuzzy pair. The little woman circled her. “My goodness, the resemblance is rather remarkable, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Jarett said softly, and Meg blushed at the thought of his gaze sweeping over her. She’d never been scrutinized quite so thoroughly. Especially by such a handsome man.

  “What are your measurements, Miss Valentine?” Rosie asked.

  Meg blinked. “I, um…”

  “She’ll be fine,” Jarett said quickly, in a voice that made Meg wonder just how much he’d discovered when he’d caught her in midair. Suddenly she was glad she couldn’t see his face.

  He clapped his hands together, as if changing the subject. “Meg, are you ready to get started? The hairdresser and makeup artist will be here soon.”

  She jammed her glasses back on her face. “I suppose so.”

  “Then I’ll leave you in Rosie’s capable hands while I check on Taylor.”

  Her nervousness increased tenfold as he walked away, which told her just how much she was relying on Jarett to get her through this charade. He disappeared through the connecting door to the darkened room on the other side. A foreign sensation plucked at Meg when she thought about his devotion to Taylor Gee. Jealousy? How would it feel to have a man like Jarett Miller seeing to your welfare?

  Trey’s face appeared in her head—he made her feel safe, all right, but now she wondered if the security she felt when she was with Trey had more to do with his family stature and financial stability than the man himself. She shook her head slightly. It wasn’t fair to compare the two men, Meg told herself. Any more than it would be fair of Jarett to compare her to Taylor. A sobering thought.

  “Don’t look so worried,” Rosie said with a shaky smile, pulling Meg toward the bathroom. “This will be…fun.”

  Meg wasn’t so sure, but in for a penny, in for a pound. She allowed the woman to wet her freshly washed hair and apply the strong-scented colorant. While she sat in the vanity area and waited for the chemical to work, Meg watched the woman
dart around, unpacking a range of products—contact lenses, skin bronzer, fake nails, body makeup. Rosie was a bit high-strung.

  “Have you done anything like this before?” Meg asked.

  “Goodness, no. This is an emergency.”

  “Well, I hope Miss Gee is feeling better soon.”

  “She will be,” Rosie said, fluttering about. “After she deals with her little problem.”

  “Problem?”

  Rosie stopped, wide-eyed. “Didn’t Jarett tell you?”

  “He told me that Miss Gee has a bug of some kind, and that she’ll be feeling better in the morning.”

  “Oh. Yes, she does. And a problem with…allergies.”

  Meg nodded. “I’m allergic to ragweed. I feel for her.”

  “Well, now, let’s get these contact lenses in,” Rosie said, fidgeting. “The doctor gave me two different kinds in your prescription in case one is more comfortable than the other.”

  Meg had had plenty of opportunities to get contact lenses over the years, but she’d clung to her glasses out of familiarity and security. She’d gotten her first pair at the age of eight, and aside from bringing the world into focus, she’d discovered she could retreat behind them if need be. They were both a badge and a shield—girls assumed she was smart and boys assumed she was uninteresting. And as the years passed, she’d grown accustomed to the weight of the frames on her nose. There was something so…naked about exposing her bare face to the world.

  Yet she was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable the contact lenses were. Everything seemed larger, the colors more vivid. And seeing herself with blue eyes was a shock.

  But not as much of a shock as seeing herself with white-blond hair. Rosie dried and fluffed while Meg stared at the stranger in the mirror. She looked years younger and…dare she think it? Sexy.

  While she marveled at the transformation, the red nails were glued on and filed down to one inch at Meg’s request.

  “Is it safe to enter?” Jarett’s voice sounded through the door.

  “Yes,” Rosie sang, filing away.

  Meg’s heart jumped as Jarett came to stand behind her chair. He seemed to study every inch of her. His eyes held a strange light, and he seemed far away. Her pulse throbbed in her ears. After a long pause, he nodded slowly.

  “Until this moment, I don’t think I believed it myself, but by God, Meg, you’re going to pull this off.”

  Panic flooded her anew as the unknown stretched before her. “But I don’t know what to do or say when I get there.”

  “I’ll brief you later,” he assured her. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave your side.”

  She met his dark gaze in the mirror, and the same energy that had passed between them in the shop reverberated between them in the reflection. Her body reacted to the sound of his voice. Her skin sang with awakened nerve endings. She’d never felt so close to the edge of reason…and she’d never felt more aware of herself as a woman.

  Behind her, his hand inched toward her hair. But just before he touched her, a knock sounded at the door, and the moment was gone.

  “That will be our reinforcements,” he said. “Rosie, the dress and shoes are in my closet, as well as some other bits of clothing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He produced a spectacular color headshot of Taylor. “Here’s something for the makeup artist and the hairstylist to go by.” Then he looked back to Meg.

  “Meg, from this moment on, you are Taylor, and that’s how we’ll address you. These people are professionals that the network uses regularly, although they’ve never worked with Taylor be fore. They’re trained to not engage in personal conversation with the celebrities they service, but for insurance, I’ve explained to the agency that Taylor’s voice is strained, and that she is—I mean, you are under doctor’s orders to save your voice for tonight.”

  Meg sighed with relief—a respite before she was required to perform.

  “Rosie,” Jarett said. “I need to make a security sweep of the hotel where we’ll be going to night. I’ll be back in an hour and a half with a limo to pick up Taylor. Meanwhile, keep all the doors locked.”

  A look that Meg couldn’t interpret passed between Rosie and Jarett, then Rosie nodded. Jarett gave Meg a salute and a little smile. “See you in a little while…Taylor.”

  Meg tried to smile, but her face was frozen in fear. How had she gotten herself into this? The gag would be over when the hairdresser and makeup artist walked in and burst out laughing. “No, really,” they would say, “where is Taylor?”

  “Put this on,” Rosie said, handing her a white terry cloth robe to wear over her drab dress. Good thinking, Meg decided, kicking off her low-heeled shoes. Taylor Gee probably didn’t own anything that could be called neutral.

  She heard Jarett open the door and greet the visitors. Two female voices reached her ears. As their voices grew louder, Meg thought she might pass out, but Rosie gave her a reassuring pat.

  When the women appeared to Meg’s left, she turned and presented them with what she hoped was a Hollywood smile.

  “Taylor,” Jarett said, giving her an encouraging nod. “Meet Paris and Tori. I explained about your voice.”

  Meg gave them a nod, and the two women, both of them young and attractive, practically curtsied.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gee,” said Paris. She held a suitcase which Meg assumed contained makeup.

  “I’m such a big fan,” Tori said, beaming. She carried a shoulder satchel brimming with hair implements.

  Meg smiled and shook both of the women’s hands, mindful of the nails she was unaccustomed to wearing.

  “Ladies,” Jarett said cheerfully, shooting Meg an “I-told-you-so” look in the mirror. “I’ll leave you to your jobs. Taylor, I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  When she acknowledged him with a little smile, he angled his head and held her hostage for a few extra seconds. She could get lost in that gaze, Meg decided, and finally tore her gaze away.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him leave. She didn’t have time to digest the meaning of his glances because she was soon swept up in the world of powder puffs and curling irons.

  “You’re not as tanned as I thought you’d be, Miss Gee,” Paris said shyly. “I hope I brought the right color palette.”

  Meg balked, but Rosie didn’t miss a beat. “Miss Gee prefers bronzers to sun exposure.” Then she produced a box of the brown powder she’d purchased.

  “Much better for the skin,” Paris agreed, then pursed her mouth when she saw the brand on the box. “And this is the best stuff in the industry.” Then she set to work giving Meg the same golden glow that Taylor sported year around.

  “Your hair is in marvelous shape,” Tori said, feeling the texture. “Very healthy. But would you mind if I cut off a few split ends?”

  Meg indicated that she didn’t mind.

  “No more than an inch,” Rosie warned.

  Paris squinted in the mirror, then looked back and forth between Meg and the picture of Taylor. “Hmm.”

  Meg’s stomach squeezed.

  “What?” Rosie asked.

  “I’ll need to shape up the eyebrows,” the woman said.

  Meg exhaled in relief.

  “Fine,” Rosie said, fluttering her hands.

  “And I brought false eyelashes because I heard that you like them, Miss Gee, but honestly, I don’t think you need them.”

  “And isn’t her skin amazing?” Tori asked.

  “Yes,” Paris agreed. “So fresh—as if you’ve never worn makeup.”

  Rosie cleared her throat. “We’re in a bit of a hurry,” she reminded them.

  The women got to work and Meg succumbed to their ministrations for forty-five minutes. They were masters, she decided, amazed at the number of sins loose powder could conceal. She was dabbed and stroked and swabbed and patted and dusted and gelled and sprayed until the two professionals finally announced she was finished.

  Meg stared in the mirror, ast
ounded and a little frightened that nothing of Meg Valentine remained. Hair, eyes, makeup. She was, for all intents and purposes, Taylor Gee.

  “Amazing,” Rosie murmured.

  “She is, isn’t she?” the clueless makeup artist said.

  “Beautiful,” the hairdresser agreed. “But that’s why you’re the most famous actress on television.”

  “Thank you,” Rosie said, shooing the women on their way. “And Taylor thanks you, too.”

  The women gushed and waved, and Meg waved back, mildly distracted by her own red nails. How did Taylor wear these things?

  Rosie scampered back, hopping in joy. “They fell for it—they actually believed you were Taylor!” The woman looked over Meg’s shoulder in the mirror. “I swear, I could almost believe it myself.” Then she stood abruptly. “The only thing that remains is the dress.” She whipped a garment bag out from the closet.

  Meg turned and waited, her mouth completely dry. Rosie pulled out a long glittery teal green gown, long sleeved, with a slit on the side. It was a beautiful color. Trouble was, it looked as if it was sized for a child.

  “It’s too small,” Meg croaked.

  “It stretches,” Rosie assured her. “Come on, off with your dress.”

  Meg closed her eyes briefly and tossed up a prayer.

  9

  JARETT TOOK A DEEP BREATH as he stepped off the elevator and headed back to the room where he’d left Meg Valentine. Images from his sweep through the hotel where the children’s charity reception was to take place left a stone in his stomach. Reporters had already gathered, more than he’d seen since the Emmy Awards show. And fans toting We Love Taylor signs were already pushing at the barriers the police had erected.

  Taylor’s character, Tess Canton, had become a bit of a cult figure with her outrageous clothes and venomous mouth. Taylor’s fans often showed up at events dressed as her character, although, Jarett conceded, the gap between Taylor and the character she played seemed to be closing.