That his mother knew about Douglas’ many talents didn’t surprise him. “No. I knew all I need to know about her family.”
“And what is that?”
Instead of answering, Lex watched Jillian leave the house with Chris at her heels. She looked furious. Her quick glance at the gazebo confirmed it, but she didn’t come toward him. Instead, she started around the pool. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he had a very bad feeling.
“What do you know about her family?” his mother asked again.
Lex removed his mother’s hands from his arm. “They raised one hell of a daughter, Mother, and I’m going to cherish her every second of our lives. Excuse me.” He dropped another kiss on her temple and started out of the gazebo.
Jillian had stopped right next to Margo, the lead actress in the movie, and was whispering something to her. He was moving toward the pool when Margo yelled something he didn’t get. Then everything happened at once. Jillian’s eyes met his as she started toward him, but Margo stepped away from her group of friends and bumped her.
Whether it was intentional or not, they were too close to the pool and Jillian swayed, her arms flailing uselessly before she tipped over. He was racing toward her, pushing people out of his way, when he heard the splash.
Lex stopped at the edge of the pool, squatted, and offered a hand to a drenched Jillian. Eyes flashing, she reached down and removed her shoes. For one brief moment, he was sure she’d hurl them at Margo, who was smiling smugly a few feet away.
Everyone went silent, stared, and waited. The cameraman his mother had hired to take pictures had his forefinger on the button, lens swinging from the actress to Jillian. Lex indicated for him to kill it. Then laughter reached him, and he found the source—Jillian.
It wasn’t hysterical laugh. She looked genuinely amused. She pointed her shoe at Margo. “You need to use your shoulder more and keep your arm closer to your side to make it look like an accident. Otherwise, not bad for a dry run.”
Margo’s frown said she was confused. Then she nodded. The people shook their heads, laughed off the incident, and went back to their conversations. Jillian waded to the edge of the pool and took Lex’s hand.
“Dry run?” Lex asked, not buying it.
“Yep. We have a water scene coming up,” Jillian mumbled through teeth beginning to chatter, and her eyes said she was pissed. It wasn’t until they were inside the house and away from the guests that she added, “That was me improvising. The bitch pushed me.”
CHAPTER 8
Lex took her upstairs to a gigantic gray and black bedroom with an equally huge custom-made bed¸ and led her into the bathroom.
“There are robes and towels in the closet to your right. I’ll be right back,” he said, sounding calm even though his icy gray eyes were almost silver in their intensity.
Jillian hoped he threw Margo out on her skinny butt. The bitch deserved to be knocked down a peg or two for humiliating her.
“Lex,” Jillian said just as he reached for the doorknob. He stopped and glanced at her. “She’s not worth it.”
“Her behavior was unconscionable and—”
“That of a spoiled celebrity,” Jillian finished. “She’s a product of her industry, and dealing with her is totally beneath you.”
He smiled, but the steely eyes didn’t change. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how low I can sink to protect those under my care.”
Cute, but so not going to work for me. “I don’t recall asking you to be my protector, Alexander.” He turned and sauntered back to her, eyes thawing as he got closer. “I have to work with her, Lex, and she’s more important to this movie than I am.”
“Then quit.”
She bristled. “I signed a contract. That means something to me.”
He hesitated as though debating his next move. “Okay. I’ll smile and be polite, but first thing tomorrow morning, I’m adding a clause in her contract that prohibits her from attacking you.”
Jillian cocked her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Or any other actress,” he added, clearly indicating he didn’t care what Margo did to anyone else, except Jillian. He stopped in front of her, reached out, and cupped her cheek.
“Can you really do that?”
The smile he gave her said he could do just about anything.
“Then make it more general. You know, no misbehaving in public.”
“You’re freezing and should be changing instead of worrying about her.” He leaned in and captured her lips in a scorching kiss, until warmth replaced the cold that had crept under her skin. She pressed closer to his warmth, but he broke the kiss and whispered, “You didn’t have to ask me to be your protector, Jillian. I took up the challenge the moment you smiled at me across that parking lot at Ferris in your clown makeup and the ugliest wig I’ve ever seen.”
Jillian sputtered in indignation, which earned her a grin from Lex and another silencing kiss. Then he was striding toward the door. “Get rid of those wet clothes, sweetheart. I’ll get you something to wear.”
“I’m not your sweetheart, and I did not look like a clown,” Jillian yelled at his retreating back.
“An adorable clown,” he called over his shoulder and opened the door. He glanced at her and added, “Inside that bristly, tough exterior is a total sweetheart, and I’m going to enjoy knowing her.”
Jillian opened her mouth to protest, but he was already gone, the door closing behind him. She didn’t have a tough exterior, and “adorable clown” was even more insulting. It brought to mind kittens playing with balls of yarn, or cooing babies. Both were distractions, but easily forgotten. Was that how he saw her? A temporary source of entertainment? Just when had he decided she was the perfect material for a fake wife if she’d looked comical?
She couldn’t figure Lex out. She’d grown up surrounded by men and knew how easy it was to please them. Feed them, stroke their egos. Give them a remote and a six-pack, and you had them eating out of the palm of your hand. She just had to end up with one so complicated he drove her crazy whenever he opened his mouth. Or closed it on hers.
Sighing, Jillian entered the bathroom and peeled off her wet clothes. Her new dress was ruined. And her silk panties were wet and clung to her skin. She wrapped a towel around them, hoping the towel would absorb most of the water. Now where did he say the robes are?
She found one hanging on a peg, ran a hand down the material, and purred as she shrugged it on. From the familiar masculine scent wrapping around her senses, it was Lex’s. Despite being humiliated beyond measures, she couldn’t ignore the pure luxury of her surroundings.
The bathroom was done in gray marble with blue accents, the sunken tub huge enough to accommodate two people. A mounted TV faced the tub, and the assortment of expensive jars and tubes of—
A knock resounded at the bedroom door, and Jillian jumped.
The knock came again, followed by, “May I come in, dear?”
Estelle Fitzgerald? Jillian tightened the sash of the robe and left the bathroom. She expected the door to open before she reached it. The room was huge. She swept her wet strands away from her face, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Mrs. Fitzgerald’s smile was apologetic. “I’m sorry for what happened downstairs, my dear, but Lex tells me you insist the woman be left alone, so I come bearing gifts.”
Jillian tried not to fidget when Mrs. Fitzgerald gave her a once over.
“You and I are about the same size,” Estelle said. “And I haven’t worn this since it was dropped off.”
She unzipped the dress bag to reveal a silver dress Jillian recognized from Spring Fashion Week. It was one-of-a-kind, something she could only afford in her dreams. Jillian remembered it because the dress had been a hit with editors and online fashion bloggers, and the designer’s collection was featured in one of the top fashion magazines.
“Try it on,” Mrs. Fitzgerald urged.
“Mrs. Fitzgerald, I couldn’t possibly—”
“
Estelle, please, and if you don’t accept it, I will be very hurt. You were accosted in my home, at my party, and your beautiful dress is ruined. I have way too many of these just sitting in my closet gathering dust.”
Jillian smiled. “It was editor’s top pick from Falasha’s Spring Collection.”
Mrs. Fitzgerald chuckled. “Now you know my secret. I hoard beautiful gowns, but Faith’s creation deserves to be noticed. No one will blame you if you choose to stay up here for the rest of the evening. But if you decide to rejoin us…” She pushed the dress into Jillian’s arms. “This could show them that a dunk doesn’t break you.”
Jillian knew a challenge when she heard it. “I think I’ll rejoin the party.”
Mrs. Fitzgerald grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now about some intimate apparels, the dress doesn’t need a bra, but—”
“I have that covered,” Jillian said, heat rushing to her face.
“Okay then. I’ll be back to check on you in case in you need anything else.”
As soon as the door closed behind her, Jillian hurried to the bathroom. In seconds, she was studying her reflection. The dress hugged her curves in the right places and moved when she did. The designer—Faith, as Mrs. Fitzgerald had called her—was gifted. The best part was the sleeves, which came to her wrists and covered her bruises.
There was not much she could do with her hair except pin it in a bun. She never went anywhere without hairpins. She also always carried a change of clothing whenever she was doing a scene. Rehearsals were a bitch on her regular clothes. Too bad she hadn’t thought of carrying something to the party. Maybe next time.
A knock came just when Jillian finished her makeup. She thought of putting on her panties, but they were still wet and cold. She hid them under her dress in the sink, grabbed her clutch and shoes, and headed for the door.
No one would know she was cruising commando.
Lex stood on the other side of the door. The look in his eyes sent heat shooting straight to her core. She waited for a compliment. Instead, he said, “I think I’m going to enjoy dressing you up.”
There he goes again, being unpredictable.
“I’m not a doll, and you’re too old to play dress up,” she said.
“Ah, but taking them off is so much fun.” His voice had gone rough and low, eyelids also low. He stepped forward, invading her personal space, and ran his knuckles down her arms before resting his hands on her hips. He tugged her closer, and she didn’t resist. “You look stunning. Maybe we should forget about the party and…” His hands skimmed the fabric, a frown on his face. When he murmured “damn,” she knew she was busted.
Jillian pretended not to have heard him, took a step back, and slipped on her sandals.
“Are you wearing anything under that dress?” He sounded outraged, but his expression said he was intrigued.
“Yes, I am,” she said. Shoes on, she stood and dared him to call her a liar. “A chainmail with a lock that says keep your hands to yourself.”
He laughed. “I cannot let you loose on the poor male population—”
“Oh put a cork in it, Alexander,” Jillian said, wrapping her arm around his. “No one will know, except you. And you know about the chainmail.”
“I’m going to regret this,” he mumbled as they headed for the stairs.
“Which part? Having a human doll to dress up, or the fact that she’ll fight you every step of the way?”
“Knowing you’re naked under that dress.” He pressed a kiss on her temple and said, “And you won’t fight me. You’re going to love everything Faith designs for you.”
Whoever the designer was, she must be a favorite of the Fitzgeralds. Oh, well, if she was going to be a trophy fake wife, she might as well enjoy the ride, including the sex, which was inevitable. She wasn’t an idiot or a simpering virgin. The chemistry between them was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and the only way to let it run its full course was to meet it head on.
~*~
The day after the party, the headlines were cringe-worthy.
Trouble at the Set of Terra Frost: Stunt Double Attacks Margo Jenkins
Jealousy and Tantrums: Margo Jenkins Accosted by a Jealous Stunt Double
Delays in Production of Terra Frost: Infighting Between Margo Jenkins and Her Stunt Double
They followed Jillian wherever she went. In stores. At the backlot of the studio. Her coworkers talked of nothing else. Jealous? Someone had taken a wrong turn to the corner of reality and delusion. She could never be jealous of Margo.
Margo had never warmed to her as her stunt double and could barely tolerate breathing the same air now. Jillian wasn’t sure whether it was the way she’d saved the pool incident by pretending they were rehearsing a scene or the way the Art and Entertainment section of the L.A. Times had displayed Jillian and Lex’s picture. Instead of focusing on Margo, the biggest star at the party, the piece had focused on Lex, the reclusive billionaire and his mysterious date. Jillian suspected he had something to do with that. Still, the piece didn’t eclipse the tabloids, and soon someone would connect Lex’s mysterious date to the drowned rat feuding with Margo.
There was no feud, except in Margo’s head. Where the hell had she gotten the idea that Jillian wanted to replace her and had seduced Lex to achieve it?
She didn’t get the entire story from Shay on Saturday, but Margo seemed to know that Jillian had talked to Lex before her skydiving scene at Ferris. Somehow, that meeting had made Margo paranoid. Lex might be close-mouthed about the list of actresses he’d selected for his “pretend wife project,” but someone at the studio had told Margo that the Fitzgeralds had requested her portfolio. According to Margo, Lex had gone to Perris Valley Skydiving School to see her, but their meeting hadn’t gone well because he’d talked to Jillian first. Whatever Lex had told the actress that day wasn’t Jillian’s doing.
Jillian sighed and raised her arms as the wardrobe assistant finished adjusting her outfit. She wiggled a bit to release the tightness around her chest.
“Is it okay?” the girl asked.
It was a bit snug, but she’d bear it. In the last three days, she’d heard it all. How she would demand special treatment because she was dating Lex.
“It’s fine.” She sat and let a makeup artist transform her face, her thoughts drifting to last Saturday.
She would have ignored Margo bad-mouthing her and the whispers from the others had the bitch not gone too far and started lobbing her salvos at Chris. Jillian could put up with a lot of smack from anyone any day, but to imply that Chris would behave unprofessionally toward another man? The conniving bitch! Margo had gone after Chris to hurt her. That much was clear. Refusing to talk privately then pushing her into the pool had been the last straw. One more word from the actress and she’d give the tabloids a few pictures they’d never procure on their own.
How the hell had the tabloids gotten a hold of the pictures? From the angle of the pictures, several people must have had their cell phones out the moment she nose-dived into the water. No one was talking about the nice pictures of the party in the L.A. Times. Yet three days later, everyone was still jabbering on about the ones in the tabloids: the fight, her drowned-rat look, the gloriously radiant Margo glaring at her.
“That’s perfect,” Chris said, coming to stand beside her.
“Thank you, Rossi,” Jillian said to the artist, staring at her reflection and seeing Margo’s face. Clown makeup. She giggled, remembering Lex’s words. Her eyes met Chris’, and the smile disappeared from her face.
Now that it was just the two of them, he studied her makeup, lifted her chin, and frowned. “You okay?”
Jillian nodded. She hated the tension between them. She’d told him the truth about her contract with Lex, and he didn’t approve. She was tempted to tell him about her father and the money he owed, but it wasn’t her secret to share. Her family didn’t even know that she knew. Besides, the bulk of the money had nothing to do with her family. She couldn’t help
thinking he was judging her. Still, he’d thawed a little after he’d seen Sunday’s headlines. He was the one who’d called and warned her.
“Go,” he said, nodding toward the middle of the set where the director was talking to Keith. They were about to start filming a fight scene.
Jillian hesitated.
“Don’t let them get to you,” Chris added firmly, his voice low. “You’re bigger and better than this.”
She couldn’t help wondering if he meant the friction between her and Margo or the contract with Lex. “Thanks.”
“Not that you need me to tell you that,” Chris added and left.
Sighing, Jillian stared after him. As the stunt coordinator, he choreographed and worked closely with the director on the stunt sequences. Maybe this wasn’t about her. Maybe he’d heard the stupid rumors Margo had started about him and Keith. As if Chris would ever cheat on Greg.
Jillian stood, rolled her neck and shoulders, and left the makeup area. They’d been filming at a set for the last three days. Next week, they would be in Vancouver.
Keith saw her and grinned, one eye closing in a wink. If he’d heard the rumor about him and Chris, he wasn’t letting it affect him. However, his attitude toward her had changed since the party. She wasn’t sure whether he’d bought the rumor about her seducing Lex or not, but he’d been giving her strange looks.
Jillian listened as the director and Chris rehashed the fight. Then she took her cue, and faced Keith. He smirked as they circled each other. A bit irritated, she attacked a second too soon and connected with his ribs. The smile left his face as he took on the persona of his character.
The choreography was simple and straightforward. As the director and camera crew followed them, they chased each other, fought, ran some more, and then she finally face him and executed a roundhouse kick to his head. He ducked, swept his foot, and caught her by her anchoring leg.
Jillian lost her balance and landed on her back. The blue mat cushioned her fall, but the impact was still jarring. Keith pinned her down with his hips, trapped her hands, and pushed them above her head. His head lowered as though he was about to kiss her.
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