Romancing the Hero

by Cate Masters

  Other than the chuckles it drew from the audience, the lackluster response in the room worried Jody. Would anyone care enough to show at her signing the following day?

  Jake, leaning against the back wall with his arms folded across his chest, had no trouble keeping attendees’ attention. Every woman in the room did a double-take when they glanced back. The second look lasted much longer, running over his tall body like a CAT scan.

  Relief flooded her when the panel ended. The audience shuffled toward the exit, slowing to better examine Jake. Jody hated to resort to gimmicks, but if posing Jake at her table attracted readers, she’d do it.

  Revenge was sweet when Stephenie made a beeline for Jake, and he gave her only a casual glance despite her tittering laughs. He kept his brown eyes focused on Jody’s approach, his grin giving way to a smile.

  “You were great,” he said. “No wonder your books are bestsellers.”

  Why hearing praise from this guy made her blush, she couldn’t guess. But his compliment went straight to her heart. Feeling shy as a schoolgirl, she smiled.

  Offering his arm, he asked, “Shall we? You should freshen up before dinner.” To Stephenie, he said, “She’s the keynote speaker, you know.”

  “Yes,” came Stephenie’s deadpan reply. “I know.”

  As he led Jody down the hall, he seemed to pay little attention to the gawkers. Like a princess, Jody held her head high.

  The carpet beneath her feet might have been a flying one, the moment felt that magical. “Did you check in yet?”

  Glancing away, he tensed. “No.”

  “You should, before all the rooms are taken.”

  A breath of a laugh accompanied a thin smile. “That’s the problem, love. No rooms left.”

  “Oh no—there isn’t another hotel for miles.”

  “No worries, I’ll get by. I always do. Let’s concentrate on you.”

  Cheerful optimism in the face of doom was Jake Emerson’s hallmark trait. Like his legendary libido. Sure, he’d have no trouble finding a room somewhere, she bet. Still, she should help him. He was her responsibility, wasn’t he?

  Glancing at her watch, she calculated. There might be time, if they hurried. Steering him toward the concierge, she leaned against the counter. “Any place in town we can rent a suit?” Hopefully a cheap one.

  Jake winced. “A monkey suit?”

  “Tonight’s dinner is semi-formal. If you’re going to be my guest, you need to dress the part.”

  “Only for you, love. I’ll grab the taxi outside.”

  After the concierge handed her the address of the rental shop, she hastened after him. For once, time seemed to be on her side.

  Leaning against the cab, he stepped aside to open the door. “Your chariot awaits.”

  And her hero, she stopped herself from adding. That remained to be seen.

  ****

  Pacing the carpeted floor of the men’s shop, Jody muttered to herself, “Hurry up. I need more primping than you.”

  Jake stepped from the dressing stall, tugging at his sleeve. “I don’t know. Does it work?”

  Work? Did he really not notice how the jacket accented his broad shoulders? Hugged his trim waist? It might’ve been tailored especially for him. The black knit shirt complemented the charcoal suit perfectly. He’d made heads turn in casual dress, but in this, he’d stop women in their stiletto tracks. Jody practically drooled.

  “You look—” Amazing. Mouth-watering. Like a GQ model. A Greek god. “Really nice.” No point feeding his ego, though honestly, he hadn’t exhibited one despite his I Won The Gene Pool Lottery handsomeness.

  Same as Jake.

  She stifled a sardonic huff. “Can we wrap this up? Time’s getting tight. It takes me awhile to look half decent.”

  Already heading back to change, he paused to say, “I find that hard to believe.”

  His devilish grin made her wonder. Like her mother always said, if something seems too good to be true, it is. The guy was an excellent actor, though.

  “Keep reminding yourself,” she whispered, heading to the cashier.

  During the ride back to the hotel, she snuck glances at him. He met each inspection with an easy grin. When the taxi stopped outside the hotel, he held the door open. Who did that these days?

  Jake Emerson. But he’s a fictional character.

  She shouldn’t risk it, but couldn’t help herself. “Would you like to rest in my room while I change? You must be tired after traveling.” From where? She had no idea how far he’d trekked to her condo.

  “I’m a born traveler. But you’re sweet to offer. If you don’t mind, I’d love to hang out in your room.” He leaned against the wall while she slid the key card into the reader. “Unless you’d rather I wait in the bar.”

  Goodness, no. The last thing she needed was for her poster boy to show up inebriated. “Come on in. I’ll call the events coordinator and let her know there’s an extra for dinner.”

  Tossing her purse on the king-sized bed, she wouldn’t admit to being one of the worst-ever travelers. At least the time zone hadn’t changed, that always threw her body clock off.

  Lifting the hotel phone, she glanced back. “Make yourself at home.” Her words trailed away, the thought lost.

  Frisky as a five-year-old, Jake jumped on the bed, landing perfectly in the center, wielding the remote like a weapon. The TV clicked on in synch with his touchdown as if choreographed. He relaxed against the pillows. “Ahh.”

  How could his hair still be perfect? His white cotton shirt not show a wrinkle? His jeans…

  Her gaze locked on those well-fitting jeans, contoured to his muscled thighs. Her grip on the receiver relaxed, but the faraway voice prompted her to speak. Arranging Jake’s dinner, she turned. You don’t know this guy. Don’t lose your head. This weekend, she would have to be very careful, or she most definitely could lose more than her head.

  “When you finish changing, knock on the door so I’ll know it’s safe to come out.”

  “Right.”

  Trying not to imagine him stripping, she grabbed her gown and stepped into the spacious bathroom. His knock came after about five minutes. She took extra care in dressing. The fact she was keynote speaker hardly registered. Picturing his reaction to her occupied all her thoughts. When she emerged from the bathroom, her nerves tingled in anticipation. At thirty-four, her body suffered writer’s fatigue from lack of exercise, but in this little black dress, accessorized with her dichroic glass necklace and bracelet, she might still turn a few heads.

  Holding up her hands, she asked, “Well? Do I look all right?”

  Perched on the end of the bed, Jake widened his eyes and his jaw literally fell open. “I could think of a few more descriptive adjectives.”

  Despite her resolve, she bubbled with happiness. “Really?” It had been too long since a guy lavished such appreciation on her. Come to think of it, no guy had ever been so attentive.

  He’s on the payroll. Her bubble popped, she reached for her handbag. Damn. A dress purse—she knew she’d forgotten something. Too late now.

  Instantly at her side, he asked tenderly, “Are you okay?”

  Sure; adapting had become a way of life. “I don’t want to be late for my own party. Are you ready?”

  His white teeth flashed in a smile. “I was born ready.”

  Oh boy. Change the subject. Leading him to the elevator, she forced a casual tone. “So did they send you instructions about which events to attend?”

  “Who?”

  “Mimi. Or whoever sent you.”

  Staring at the dropping numbers, his expression was blank. “Never met her.”

  The downward whoosh of the elevator matched Jody’s emptying reserve of questions. Directness might work better. “Fine. But who sent you?”

  “No one. You needed me, so I’m here.”

  The elevator’s ding signaled the ground floor. Jody had gotten nowhere. Mimi probably intended it as a test, to see how savvy an author she w
as.

  She’d show Mimi savvy, all right. Cogs clunked in her brain as ideas whirred to life, more than she’d had in weeks. “Tomorrow’s breakfast calls for something special to wake the crowd up.” Which adventure could she pilfer scenes from to pique the crowd’s interest? In her first novel, Jake posed as a waiter to spy on a suspect. With this guy waiting on them, Jody bet the attendees would salivate for more than the fruit plate.

  ****

  At dinner, Jake proved a liability. The women couldn’t focus on Jody’s speech with him in the room.

  Hell, Jody couldn’t focus on her speech. Not with him grinning at her through it. Her fifteen-minute talk lasted twenty because she lost her place a few times. Not her best presentation. But no one noticed anyway.

  Her spirits lifted when she took her seat beside him and attendees surrounded their table. Lifting a hand, she said, “The signing’s tomorrow.” She stopped herself from apologizing. They hadn’t come to see her. All eyes were on Jake.

  His expression registered sympathy. “Sorry ladies, but Ms. Feather can’t accommodate you right now.” Waving away their arguments, he flashed a megawatt smile. “We’ll be happy to speak to each and every one of you at tomorrow’s signing.”

  Clamoring to be heard, calls of “What time again?” and “Looking forward to it!” accompanied the mob’s dispersal.

  “Very nice,” Jody murmured, leaning closer. “I’ll be sure to tell Mimi to throw in a bonus.” His scent tantalized her, desert breeze and a hint of forest.

  “Not necessary, whoever this Mimi is. You deserve the spotlight, and I’m going to make sure you get it.” With a wink, he sipped his water, then held up his glass to the waitress who appeared. “May I have a beer?”

  Her breathy “yes” made Jody sigh. This weekend might be memorable for all the wrong reasons.

  Chapter Three

  Elaine Johnson, the hotel events coordinator, leaned beside Jody’s chair. “What a brilliant idea. Business has never been so brisk at breakfast.”

  “He’s a natural.” A natural what, Jody had no clue.

  Even wearing a waiter’s uniform, Jake’s stunning appearance drew every woman’s attention. Oh yes, he woke them up with a greater jolt than the strongest coffee, which he wielded with panache. One woman joked she wanted a Cup o’Jake, not a Cup o’Joe.

  His hearty chuckle and million dollar smile made every patron forget her breakfast muffin. His buns obviously interested them more. The women only wanting him to return to their tables, many a special order went untouched.

  A few waved pads and pens at him, obviously wanting an autograph. Jody bristled. His autograph, not hers? He aimed his easy smile at her and pointed, deflecting their requests. Amazing.

  Afterward, Jody gathered her briefcase. “What are you going to do while I’m judging entries?”

  He arched a brow. “You’re a judge?”

  “In the conference contest, yes.” Hadn’t anyone filled him in?

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Nothing until this afternoon’s signing. You’re welcome to join me at lunch if you like.”

  He brightened. “All right. Noon then?”

  “Yes. Do you need the room key?” Her better judgment had flown the coop last night, when she’d allowed him to sleep in her room. How could she turn him away? His snores from the sleeper sofa kept her awake half the night. That and imagining herself curled next to him.

  “Thanks. I’ll hit the gym, maybe the pool, and then see you at lunch.” With a wink, he strode off then walked backward. “Oh—which room?”

  Another woman answered for her. Jody would have to curb her tongue. And her hands. Her fingers itched to trace his sculpted abs. So did everyone else’s. The thought propelled her down the hallway to her judging gig.

  The sight of Brad at one of the long tables, entries fanned in front of him, arrested her.

  Damn. The one unforeseeable snag in the weekend had to be him. She’d hoped never to see his adorable mug again. Unless she could land a fist in it. He deserved to suffer for the pain he put her through.

  Steeling herself, she strutted toward the table that bore her name card. At least she wouldn’t have to sit beside him. She’d have preferred a wall between them, but five other judges would suffice. Sleep deprivation would not get the better of her. She’d concentrate on the task at hand, and then hightail it out of there.

  Forty-five minutes later, she mistakenly glanced over. Probably because he was staring at her. She eased back in her seat and out of his line of view. Jerk. It would take more than sad puppy dog eyes for her to forgive him. And damn her for letting him get to her.

  In fifteen minutes, she’d finished. She stood, gathered her papers, shouldered her messenger bag and then strode outside, tossing her hair for good measure. To no avail, apparently. Brad waited in the hallway. After a moment’s hesitation she continued, giving him a wide berth.

  He closed the gap and stood in front of her. “I didn’t get a chance to say hello earlier.”

  “No.” She hadn’t let him.

  “Hello.”

  “Sorry, I have to go.” Why am I apologizing? One of her worst habits. Always saying sorry when she had nothing to be sorry for. Sidestepping him proved useless again.

  He matched her step. “Come on, Jody. Can’t you treat me nicer than that?”

  His smooth move caught the attention of a few passers-by. She couldn’t afford a diva reputation. Someone might whip out a cell, video their tête-à-tête, and upload it to YouTube for all the world to laugh. Not the kind of publicity she sought.

  Forcing a pleasant tone, she said, “Nicer than you treated me when I caught you in bed with your assistant?” How trite. He couldn’t have cheated with someone less obvious? More insistently, she added, “Now excuse me.”

  His eyes shifted left and right, as if considering. With a shrug, he stepped aside.

  Her wobbly knees carried her to the elevator. Suppressing hot tears, she pressed the button, and then spotted the exit. Climbing the stairs would alleviate her tension.

  At the fifth floor, she petered out. Stopping to catch her breath, and her dignity, she halted outside the hallway entrance. Why couldn’t Brad have treated her the way she yearned for, the way Jake treated her?

  Careful, Jody. Jake’s playing a part. Which explained his perfect manners and only-for-you smile.

  The reality check bolstered her enough to get to her room. Digging out the extra key card, she pushed open the door. Jake lay splayed on the bed, sound asleep. So innocent. So gorgeous.

  Oh, she needed more coffee. Or some Long Island Iced Tea, perfectly brewed with all its alcoholic impersonation of the summer drink. Slipping into the bathroom, she ran her fingers under cold water and dampened her hot neck. “I need to get through this weekend without completely embarrassing myself.”

  Emerging, she relaxed at seeing Jake awake, elbows propped behind him, legs splayed over the edge of the made bed. A photo op if ever she saw one.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  Raking a hand through his tousled hair, he yawned. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Don’t apologize.”

  “Right.” He might have read her mind from earlier. No more apologies. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving. You?” He sidled toward her, his hips shifting.

  So sexy, it made her forget about eating. “I am, actually.” But his attention satisfied her craving. Or whetted her appetite for more. “Let’s go.” Before she did something stupid, like fall into bed with her own character. Maybe Mimi had made that part of the deal. It would explain a lot. Why her agent suddenly had gone MIA. A dozen times, Jody had dialed. She’d given up leaving messages.

  Maybe some things were better off unanswered. For now.

  ****

  Women crammed the restaurant, way more than had signed up. Elaine stopped at Jody’s table. “It’s incredible. We’re turning away last-minute registrations. They’re desperate to get in.”
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  To see Jake, no doubt. “That’s great.”

  A few waved their empty coffee cups in the air with leering smiles.

  His good-natured grin never wavered, but he stopped looking around the room. “What time’s your signing?”

  “Two. It’ll give me time to set up.”

  “Us,” he stressed.

  “What?”

  “It’ll give us time to set up.”

  Her neck warmed in a blush. The waitress saved her from stammering by setting chocolate cake by her plate. Surprisingly, it held no appeal. Watching Jake eat his slice sated her. He talked as though they were a couple.

  Reminding herself that after this weekend she’d never see him again, she stiffened. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Before he could ask, she bolted. She wouldn’t know how to answer if he asked what was wrong.

  Her feet carried her out the front door and along the sidewalk. Without knowing where she was headed, she walked down a side street. A storefront window jerked her to a halt. “Incredible.”

  A wide-brimmed tan hat and a worn leather bull whip. In her last novel, Jake used those same items. Perfect props for the signing. They’d remind her what she had trouble remembering: Jake, too, was a prop.

  In minutes, she hurried back to the hotel banquet room. Jake stood near Elaine, who batted her lashes at him.

  He broke away as soon as he saw her. “Where have you been?”

  When he moved, she saw it. The life-sized cardboard cutout figure of her hero. “Where did this come from?” Moving closer, she inspected it. The high resolution photo didn’t clearly show his face, but beneath the hat’s brim, his features matched the guy beside her.

  Hugging her portfolio to her chest, Elaine stepped beside her. “Your publisher sent it. It’s gorgeous.”

  “Incredible.” Jody glanced at Jake. The eerie likeness sent a shiver through her.

  “You must get a wonderful reaction at signings.”

  “I’ve never used one before.” Hadn’t they gone overboard, with a cardboard cutout and an actor?