Two Sexy!

by Stephanie Bond

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” She was so lovely, her skin as smooth as a child’s, her eyes wide and bright. He had to quell the sudden urge to kiss her again.

  She sipped from the glass and winced, then swallowed. It seemed Meg wasn’t much of a drinker. Surprise, surprise.

  “Did Taylor really do what they said she did?” Meg asked.

  He frowned and nodded. “She’d had a little too much to drink.”

  Meg looked at her glass and he laughed. “Don’t worry—I’ll stop you before you get that drunk.” Unless they were alone. Jarett pushed the dangerous thoughts from his mind.

  “I hadn’t heard that about her,” Meg said, worrying her lip with her straight, white teeth.

  “Doesn’t that make you angry?”

  “Sure it does,” he said. “She jeopardizes her career every time she pulls a stunt like that.”

  “No, I mean doesn’t it make you angry, considering you’re her…you know.”

  “Her what?”

  “Her boyfriend.”

  He frowned. “Boyfriend? Where did you get that idea?”

  Meg shrugged slowly. “The way she looks at you, the way you respond. I can tell you care about her.”

  Jarett nodded and drank from his glass, then extinguished the light. Things were getting too…personal.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No, it’s fine,” he said, then leaned his head back against the seat. “Taylor’s parents took me into their home when I was eleven and she was five. She has a brother who’s my age, David. He’s my best friend.”

  “So you and Taylor grew up together.”

  “Right. I lived with the Gumms until I was eighteen.”

  “The Gumms?”

  He nodded. “Taylor’s real name is Taylor Jean Gumm.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  He gave a slight grin. “It’s not a well-known fact.”

  She drank from her glass. “When were you in the military?”

  He was immediately suspicious. “How did you know I was in the military?”

  “From the way you shine your shoes.”

  He laughed, relieved. Meg really was refreshing. “Guilty. David and I helped out on the family farm for a couple of years after we finished high school, then we joined the Air Force together.”

  “And how did you…?”

  “Hook up with Taylor? After we got out of the service, David and I agreed to accompany Taylor to L.A., since she was hell-bent on breaking into show business.”

  “Where’s David now?”

  He told her, skipping the part about how much he missed his best friend.

  “And you stayed with Taylor.”

  He nodded. “I try to look out for her, as much as she’ll let me. She’s only twenty, you know.”

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “Twenty-eight. You?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “How did you get into the costume business?”

  “I didn’t—it’s my sister’s shop. I’m running it for her while she’s on her honeymoon.”

  He made a rueful sound in his throat. “Which makes setting the shop ablaze even worse. I’m so sorry.” Although without the fire, Meg might not have agreed to stand in for Taylor, and she wouldn’t be here right now. How selfish was that?

  “Thanks to you,” Meg said, “everything should be repaired and paid for by the time Rebecca returns next Sunday.”

  He turned his head. “So what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a teacher.”

  He lifted his head. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. See why I said you didn’t have to worry about me telling anyone? I’d probably be fired on the spot if this got out.”

  His stomach cramped—he should have been more thorough, asked questions. He’d had no idea what was at stake on her side of the equation. “You’d be fired?”

  “The school where I teach is very conservative, and lately the administration has been very free with their interpretation of a morality clause in our contract.” She lifted her glass toward him. “Impersonating one of the most popular sex kittens in the world would probably be in violation.”

  “Meg, you don’t have to go through with this.”

  She gave a little laugh. “Yes, I do.”

  “If you’re worried about the money—”

  “I know you’d give me the money regardless. But I gave you my word that I’d help Taylor. And you.”

  Guilt seized him again—he’d taken advantage of her goodness.

  “And besides…” She emptied her glass and sighed. “I’m twenty-seven years old, and I’ve never done anything exciting in my life.”

  Her admission that she considered this evening an adventure made him feel only marginally better. “Do you even live here?”

  “Nope,” she said cheerfully—a little too cheerfully, a state he attributed to the wine. “Peoria. I’m just visiting for the week.”

  He marveled at the amazing series of coincidences that had accumulated for their paths to cross. “What grade do you teach?”

  “Second and third.”

  So he hadn’t imagined her connection with that little girl in the shop. “That’s why you said what you did about taking the time to read to a kid.”

  “Yeah. A Book in Every Nook is a great cause.”

  “Do you have children of your own?”

  “No, I’m not married.”

  He smiled in the dark at her naiveté. In L.A., having children out of wedlock was not only common, it was en vogue. “Ever been married?”

  “No. You?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “What’s funny?”

  “I’m not the marrying kind.” He knew firsthand how elusive the American Dream—husband, wife, and 2.5 kids—could be. Statistics didn’t lie. The way to circumvent a broken family, he reasoned, was to not have a family. “I like to travel, I enjoy my freedom.”

  “Sounds exciting,” she said.

  But lonely.

  She didn’t say the words, but he somehow knew she was thinking them. Because he was thinking them too. It made him feel close to her, closer than he’d felt to anyone in a long, long while, and he wanted to hang on to that feeling. He was tempted to tell the driver to skip the Royale, then take teacher Meg Valentine who’d never done anything exciting in her life out for a night on the town. And if the intensity of her kiss was an indication of the passion hidden behind her scholarly glasses, he had a feeling they could find something to do between the hours the clubs closed and dawn.

  He looked at her shadowed profile, the angle where she and Taylor differed most. Meg’s nose was straighter and her mouth and chin slightly more forward. It gave her a sensual, European look. He had the suspicion that the woman next to him was what his Air Force buddies would call a “sleeper.” An unassuming exterior, but unbelievably passionate.

  Then Jarett scoffed inwardly. There he went again, projecting his fantasies onto Meg Valentine. He barely knew her. What had compelled him to ask a near stranger to double for Taylor, he didn’t know. Or maybe he didn’t want to know.

  The driver’s window buzzed down. “The Roy ale is up ahead, sir.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Jarett said. As the window buzzed up again, he set aside his half-empty glass of wine. Best to keep his head about him tonight.

  “Are you ready?”

  Meg nodded and smiled, then she put her hand over his and squeezed. Jarett couldn’t help him self. He leaned forward and, when she didn’t re treat, he gently kissed the wine taste from her lips and lifted his head to look into her eyes.

  “Was that for luck?” she whispered, her breath warm and sweet.

  “No,” he murmured. “That was because I wanted to.”

  The limo came to a stop, forcing Jarett to collect his thoughts and rein in his libido. If possible, the chaste kiss left him more turned on than the kiss in the hotel room.

  He cleared
his throat. “Wait until I come around to open the door. Taylor is scheduled to be at the reception for an hour, but we can leave whenever you want.”

  He hadn’t meant for the words to sound like an invitation, but there they were, for her to interpret.

  “I’ll let you know,” she said softly. “Will the press be asking questions?”

  “Not after we get through the mob in the lobby. Attendance at the reception is by ticket only.”

  She suddenly covered her mouth with her hand and gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing serious,” she said. “I just remembered I was supposed to meet a friend here tonight and I forgot to tell him I wouldn’t be able to make it.” She gave a little laugh. “At least not as the woman he was expecting.”

  There was that weird sensation in his chest again. “He?”

  “A friend of Rebecca’s. A deliveryman.”

  “Was it a date?” Jarett asked casually.

  “He’s gay,” she said. “But he’ll be worried if I don’t show up.”

  Stupid relief threaded through him. “When you see the guy, point him out, and I’ll give him the message.”

  “Okay.”

  “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Meg said in Taylor’s voice.

  MEG STEPPED OUT of the car and steadied herself against Jarett’s arm. Between the stilettos, the wine and his kisses, she wasn’t as sure-footed as she would have liked to have been in front of the throng of reporters, cameramen and cheering fans. She waved and smiled, even though reporters converged on her, throwing out some of the same questions she’d been asked before.

  “Taylor, what do you have to say for yourself about the incident at Zago’s?”

  “Are you an alcoholic?”

  “Taylor, is it true that the stunt you pulled at the restaurant has jeopardized your role on Many Moons?”

  As Jarett directed, she ignored the questions, refusing to make eye contact with the reporters, but the last question gave her pause. Had the incident jeopardized Taylor’s role on the hit show? Is that why Jarett had been so adamant that “Taylor” be present at the reception where the president of the network was supposed to make an appearance? Meg maintained her Taylor smile, but her stomach churned. Was she expected to save the day?

  A porter started to help her out of her coat, but Jarett stepped behind her and took over. His fingers were warm, curved against her collarbones. Her breasts swelled and budded at his proximity, and a shiver passed over her shoulders.

  “Be ready for photos as soon as you turn around,” he murmured over her shoulder, his mouth lingering behind her ear a split second longer than necessary. Sure enough, when she turned, the room exploded with flashes.

  Drawing on the many times she and Rebecca had played Beauty Queen and walked down a makeshift runway—the coffee table—Meg walked and posed, posed and turned, turned and styled, then waved to the crowd, buoyed by an incredible rush of confidence—she felt sexy and desirable and adored, all at the same time. It was a heady experience.

  The crowd cheered and held up We Love Taylor signs. A few fans were even dressed as lookalikes, wearing knockoffs of the yellow dress that Kathie coveted for her collection. Taylor Gee was a very lucky woman, Meg thought as she waved and blew kisses to the fans. People from all walks of life loved her and followed the details of her life. Why would she do something so stupid as to take off her top at a restaurant?

  Some shrinks would say because she was an exhibitionist. But Meg wondered if, when Taylor misbehaved so outrageously, she was doing the same thing as precocious little Claire O’Dell when the girl shut herself into the locker of the one boy in class who ignored her?

  She glanced over at Jarett, who, true to his word, hovered two steps away, dividing his attention between her and the crowd, his eyes constantly moving. One zealous male fan jumped the barricade and lunged for her, but Jarett pulled him up short and shoved him none-too-gently toward a hotel security guard to dispose of.

  Meg flashed Jarett a grateful smile, and, despite the once in a lifetime experience, wished they were on a real date as Jarett and Meg instead of a make-believe assignment as Jarett and Taylor. As if he’d read her mind, he reached out to touch her arm. To an onlooker, it wasn’t an unusual gesture between bodyguard and body, she assumed. But it meant the world to her. Every atom in her body gravitated toward him.

  Then her gaze dropped to a crest on his sleeve. A memory chord stirred, and she recalled the picture of Taylor Gee wearing the infamous yellow gown, directing an adoring gaze toward the man cropped out of the photo except for his sleeve and the telltale crest. Jarett.

  Taylor was in love with him. And either Jarett wasn’t aware of the fact, in that thick, oblivious way men had sometimes, or he was aware of her feelings, but honor-bound to the family to maintain a protective distance. Or maybe Jarett was aware of Taylor’s feelings, but thought of the woman as a sister. Meg discarded that option because any man who didn’t have the same blood running through his veins would be hard-pressed to look upon Taylor Gee in a sisterly way.

  Meg moved across the foyer and entered the ballroom where the reception was in full swing—a band played a jazzy version of “Jimmy Crack Corn” to entertain the dozens of children in attendance. At the happy expressions on their shiny faces, a pang of homesickness struck Meg. She missed her students, missed hearing the little details of their lives that were central to their happiness—their pets, their friends, and their parents, usually in that order.

  “Hello, Taylor,” a man’s voice boomed behind her. She turned to see a handsome man perhaps in his mid-forties, dressed in an impeccable suit. The man looked like an actor, and Meg’s mind raced through the cast on Many Moons—was he a character? She glanced around for Jarett, but he had his head together with another hotel security guard. Darn it, she needed help.

  “Hello,” she said pleasantly, hoping the man would elaborate on his identity.

  “I was hoping I could get you alone for a minute or two,” the man said in a lowered voice. He touched her arm in a proprietary gesture. “Shall we find a private room?”

  One of Taylor’s lovers? Regardless, Meg bristled at his presumption, pulling her arm away. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but I have no intention of going with you to any room, private or otherwise.”

  He scowled and opened his mouth, but Jarett suddenly appeared.

  “Am I glad to see you—” she said under her breath.

  “Taylor,” Jarett said, a little too loudly, then turned on a kilowatt smile. “I see you’ve met your boss, Mr. Heckel.”

  Meg looked back to the man she’d rebuffed and swallowed hard. He studied her up and down, rocking back on his heels, looking less than pleased. This was the man who held Taylor’s future in his hands?

  11

  JARETT’S HEART THUDDED in his ears as he watched Meg recover, adopting a Taylor-made smile.

  “Forgive me, Mr. Heckel, for not recognizing you immediately. This is Jarett Miller, my friend and b-bodyguard.”

  The men exchanged curt nods.

  Meg extended both hands to Heckel, a gesture of grace and friendliness. “It’s wonderful to meet you, sir. You’re much younger than I expected.”

  Mort Heckel’s face rearranged itself into a less unpleasant expression as he took her hands in his. “I got the feeling, my dear, that you thought I was hitting on you.”

  Jarett eyed the man warily—considering the way the recently divorced executive was devouring Meg’s curves, he probably had been hitting on her.

  “I’m afraid I overreacted,” she said, looking adorably contrite. “I was still upset over a male fan who tried to grab me in the lobby.”

  Mort Heckel’s smile was tight. “Perhaps he heard about your little scene at Zago’s last week and assumed you wanted to be grabbed.”

  Jarett closed his eyes briefly and prepared himself to pull Meg away to safety.

  “A terrible lapse in judgment,” she
murmured. “I’m afraid wine goes straight to my head on an empty stomach, and I’d been dieting. It won’t happen again, sir.”

  Ingenious, Jarett decided. Forthright, apologetic, and with those eyes, impossible not to forgive. Indeed, Heckel seemed taken back.

  “I appreciate your honesty, my dear. And I hope you keep your word.”

  Jarett hoped that Taylor kept Meg’s word.

  “And may I say that the diet must be working. You’re even more lovely than your pictures.”

  Jarett massaged the sudden pain at his breast-bone as he watched Meg blush prettily.

  The executive coughed, obviously not wanting to go overboard. “You’re doing a fine job on Many Moons,” he added gruffly. “How do you like it so far?”

  “I absolutely love it,” Meg said. Then she tucked her hand in his arm. “But right now I’d rather talk about A Book in Every Nook. Shall we go get some punch?”

  Jarett hovered behind them, telling himself it was his job, after all, to stay close to Meg. But deep down, he admitted he was just as interested in eavesdropping on their conversation. A necessity, he told himself, since he might have to intervene.

  But, as it turned out, he didn’t. Meg Valentine, dressed as Taylor, was in her element talking about the charity and interacting with people. She posed for pictures, and gave away all the autographed headshots Jarett had brought. She removed the gold dangly earrings she wore and donated them to the silent auction. And she surprised everyone by sitting on the floor and reading a classic story to the children gathered round, using animated gestures and different voices for the characters. A toddler scooted close and leaned against her, and he doubted if Meg even realized when she shifted the little girl to her lap.

  Jarett stood back, enchanted. It was easy to picture Meg standing in front of her classroom, with a book in the crook of her arm, pushing up her glasses, her braid swishing back and forth. Funny, but even with all the Taylor trappings, when Jarett looked at Meg, he saw nothing but Meg.

  “I had no idea she was so charming.” Mort Heckel had walked up next to him, his eyes riveted on Meg. Reporters and parents snapped pictures right and left, and Mort was eating up the prospect of good publicity.