Romancing the Hero

by Cate Masters

  Slipping into her nightie, she called room service. So what if no one else saw her? She paid an outrageous price for it and needed to feel beautiful, if only to the delivery person.

  When the knock finally came, she threw on the matching silky robe, tied the belt, then untied it. She’d give the kid an eyeful. His wowed expression would have to get her through the night.

  One final primp and pushup, she flung open the door. “Come in.” Gulping hard, she wished she could swallow the words.

  Jake leaned against the jamb, her awaited tray in hand. “I’d love to.”

  “What are you doing?” Waiting for his response, she could hardly breathe.

  “I’ve been out here, hoping you’d call for room service. The kid handed it over when I showed him the key card.”

  Like in Bangkok Blues, her third novel. “You’ve been out here the whole time?”

  “Of course, love. I knew you were upset. I wanted to give you time to cool your jets, hoping…” He shrugged.

  “You could heat them again?” She knew. She wrote the line. The word game grew tiresome.

  His wry smile turned serious. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “Me? Don’t be silly.”

  “Are you?”

  “Never been better.” Sure. And Jake Emerson was alive and breathing, standing in front of her, lusting after her—caring about her—not someone paid to pretend. Because she wrote so accurately about love, she no longer experienced it first hand. Her nostrils burned with unshed tears.

  The slightest narrowing of his eyes alerted her to his complete focus. When she turned, he deftly glided next to her, set the tray on the table.

  His arm slid around her waist smoothly as if he’d practiced the move. “Isn’t it customary to ask the other person how he’s doing? Because I could use a hug, if you must know.”

  A bitter laugh escaped. “And none of the drooling masses of females downstairs would accommodate you?” What a crock.

  He squared off in front of her, his strong hands running down her back. “I didn’t ask them. I’m asking you.”

  “Oh, you’re almost too good to be true.” Tensing, she pulled away. “Because you are.” What the hell was she falling into?

  “Jody, love.” He eased closer.

  She gulped hard. “I’m not—”

  A hard rap at the door interrupted.

  Smoothing her hair, she stepped stiffly back. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t answer it,” he pleaded, fists balled.

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “You know it’s him.”

  “Him?” Who the hell did he mean? Steeling herself, she wrenched open the door.

  Brad lunged forward. “Jody.” He halted when his gaze flicked behind her to Jake. “What’s he doing here?” His gaze crawled over her, not unappreciatively, but with definite disapproval.

  “Brad? Why are you here?” This night proved to be a real comedy.

  Indignation caused his voice to raise a notch. “I hoped we could talk.”

  Behind her, Jake said, “Don’t let me stop you.”

  Pinpricks of alarm tickled her neck when Brad strode past her. Something wasn’t right. In fact, it was certainly wrong. It smacked of a staged scene. Rehearsed.

  The whole day had been surreal.

  Holding her thumb and index finger between her lips, she blew a piercing whistle.

  Both men turned toward her, surprised.

  Widening her stance, she set her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what’s going on, but something stinks.”

  They pointed at one another. “Him.”

  She pointed at the exit. “Get out.”

  Jake smirked. “Better leave quietly.”

  Stifling an explosion, she said, “Both of you.”

  Stepping toward her, Jake said, “You can’t mean that.”

  “Oh, but I do.” If luck turned in her favor, she’d find the hidden microphones or cameras or whatever before it hit YouTube. “Whatever games you two are playing, I’m out of it. Find some other patsy.”

  “Patsy?” Jake frowned. “Is that a pen name?”

  Had they schemed to cause her head to explode? It threatened to. Words, the tools she employed every day to cajole, entice, thrill and engage, failed her. Stamping her foot, she huffed. “Get out.”

  Succinctness had its place.

  Like chastised schoolboys, they slunk toward the hallway. Brad turned the corner.

  Jake grasped the jamb. “Jody, can we please—”

  She hurled the door shut.

  A yowl echoed through the hall. It took all her reserve not to run to him, kiss his fingers. Tell him how sorry she was.

  No. No more apologies.

  Her character’s reflexes were cat-quick. He was no Jake.

  Securing the lock and chain, she sighed in relief. This weekend qualified as the longest ever. And she still had another day to get through.

  Chapter Five

  The ringing phone signaled morning. Her wake-up call. If only such a thing existed in life: Hello? Get yourself in gear! She would’ve availed herself of that service many times.

  Guilt pricked at her while she readied for breakfast. Where had Jake slept? Don’t kid yourself, he probably grew tired of the whole scene and left.

  She couldn’t wait to leave either. A reading after lunch would end her official duties. After returning her few belongings to her luggage, her gaze swept the room. Everywhere, Jake’s image came to vivid life.

  Except downstairs in the hotel. Jody purposefully held back, pretending to check cell messages in the lobby, studying the program in the hallways. No Jake.

  Had he seriously left? Without saying goodbye? You did kick him out. Because he and Brad acted like middle-schoolers. Why did she attract only immature men? Did she emit some sort of signal drawing underdeveloped males with raging hormones to her side to beat their chests in a show of Neanderthal dominance?

  The front desk will know. Hurrying over, she forced a casual tone. “Can you tell me if the gentleman returned the other key for room 323?”

  The pretty girl didn’t need to check the computer. “Jake? Yes, he left it here last night.”

  “Thanks.” As she slunk away, anger fought with other emotions.

  To hell with him, then. From now on, she’d do the rejecting. No more playing with little boys. She wanted a real man.

  Jake didn’t fit the bill either way.

  Why did that thought sadden her most?

  ****

  The chicken Caesar salad at lunch held no appeal. Yesterday, Jody had imagined lunching with Jake beside her, making wisecracks. Making her laugh. Today, everything from the lettuce on her plate to the conference attendees appeared wilted. Everyone, it seemed, missed Jake. Enough had asked about his whereabouts she’d begun making up stories. His mother had been rushed to the hospital. His beloved dog had been hit by a car. Anything to spare her the embarrassment of the truth: he couldn’t care less about her.

  Since she’d met him, she’d hardly cared about food. Maybe when she returned home, she should order one of those incredible workout machines everyone said changed their lives.

  No way she’d rely on a gadget to change her life for her.

  At least meeting Jake had one good effect. Besides having fun for the first time in who knew how long, she’d taken a long look at herself. And her life. Too many others controlled it instead of her. Now she wanted to take back the reins. Or the rudder. Or whatever the hell steered her course through the murky future. Instead of writing about adventures, she wanted to live one. Mimi had discouraged her from accepting a position teaching writing workshops in Belize—a dream destination. I’m going to do it, at least once, to see if I like it. A jungle might be what she needed to jumpstart her stagnant imagination.

  Realizing she’d left her reading pages in her luggage, she hurried over to Elaine.

  “We’d better hurry,” the event planner said. “Attendees are notable for leavin
g before the end of lunch. You’re up last.”

  Right. And they’d already heard her, and bought her books. Why hang around while she read?

  Glancing at the tables where servers set dessert, she tensed. “I’ll only be a minute.” Following Elaine to the locked office where her bags waited, she crouched to rifle through them.

  Her fingers found only air within the inside pocket supposed to hold her pages. “No.”

  Elaine’s tone held a caustic edge. “Everything all right?”

  After shooting her a tense smile, Jody continued searching. “I’m sure it’s in here.” No it’s not! Now what? All the copies of her books had sold. “I must have left it in the room.”

  With a huff, Elaine checked her wristwatch. “The room’s surely been cleaned by now.”

  What a disaster. Unless…“You don’t, by chance, have one of my books on hand, do you?”

  The events planner’s expression screamed pleeeease. Not an adventure romance reader, apparently.

  Slipping away when someone else captured the woman’s attention wouldn’t go over well with her publisher.

  Wringing her hands, Jody stepped into the hallway. “Might any of your staff have a book?”

  Clucking her tongue, Elaine said, “Not with them, certainly.”

  A man nearby cleared his throat. Something about it seemed so familiar. Whirling, Jody knew before she saw him. Jake, leaning against the wall.

  She wanted to laugh. And cry. And wring his neck. “I thought you’d left.”

  He shrugged. “Temporarily. I always come back.”

  Biting her lip, she didn’t even want to know what that meant.

  Brows knit, he straightened and studied her. “Something’s wrong.”

  “I lost the pages I was going to read.” She glanced at Elaine’s watch. “In five minutes.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Hm. I have an idea.”

  Thank goodness! “What is it?”

  “We’ll act out a scene instead.”

  “No.”

  “They don’t want to listen to you read, love. Not when they could be getting a jump on traffic.” He slid his hand in hers. “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “To get my whip and hat, of course.” His gaze swept over her. “We’ll have to improvise your costume.”

  “Costume?” She liked this less every second.

  To Elaine, he called over his shoulder, “Stall them for a few minutes. Tell them Jake said it’ll be worth the wait.”

  Jody wished she’d meet someone worth her wait. She’d waited long enough.

  But right now, she had no time to even sigh, as Jake tugged her down the hall to the front desk.

  ****

  The most money she’d ever spent on a dress, and Jake ripped it. He slit the skirt up her thigh. His look of appreciation made it all worthwhile. Dresses came and went. She could get another dress any day, but an expression mixing admiration with lust proved rare.

  “You’re crazy,” she protested again.

  He smiled. “What better way to hook your readers? Show them one of your famous cliffhangers in 3D.”

  It sounded crazy enough to work.

  “I’m going to flub my lines.” Despite writing them.

  “No one will notice. They’ll be watching us, not following along in the book.”

  True. Well, true enough for him.

  If only she shared his confidence. “Let’s get this over with.” She still couldn’t imagine how they’d replicate a jet’s interior, but when she asked, Jake only smiled and said they’d improvise. Trust her readers.

  If they hadn’t all checked out by now. No sound came from the banquet room. When she peeked inside, the room was filled with a hushed expectancy from the still-full tables.

  Jake lagged behind, speaking to Elaine, who nodded, her earlier enthusiasm returned.

  “They waited,” Jody said in wonder.

  Stepping beside her, so close his breath rustled her hair. “Of course. They knew you’d deliver something spectacular.”

  Fear made her freeze. “Jake.”

  He must have sensed her panic. Caressing her arms, he crouched to eye level. “You always do, love. It’s why they’ll wait for you, and why they’ll keep buying your books. They know how wonderful you are.”

  If only she could believe that. The sound of scraping chairs made her turn. “What’s going on?”

  “Setting the stage.”

  Within minutes, the attendees moved their chairs into rows resembling a plane’s cabin. Anticipation made their eyes bright. Of course, they were all too happy to participate because Jake had asked them.

  Elaine strolled between the rows, doling out pretend snacks. The flight attendant in the scene, apparently.

  When Elaine pointed to a man in a cook uniform, Jody asked, “What’s that waiter doing?”

  “Filling in as Max Munroe. Our villain du jour.” Facing her, he asked excitedly, “Ready?”

  No! “Where are we starting from? I need a minute to look over the lines.”

  Jake had already slit open the door, raised his hand and lowered it. The lights dimmed. “Follow my lead.” Grabbing her hand, he led her inside to the two empty seats.

  Heart thumping, Jody said a silent prayer: Please don’t let this be a disaster.

  The house lights brightened again, revealing some of the kitchen staff leaving a cart to the side.

  Jake nodded to Elaine, who stood at the front of the rows of chairs. Taking her cue, she moved through the pretend aisle.

  Jake halted her when she approached. “How soon till we land?” When she stammered, he whispered, “Forty-five minutes.”

  She repeated the line in a theatrical tone.

  “Can you tell me,” Jake continued, “has anyone asked about the pilots?”

  Ah, now Jody had her place. Toward the end of book five, right before the plane landed. But how would Jake pull it off?

  “What do you mean, sir?” Elaine asked, clearly pleased she remembered the script on her own.

  Jake eased closer. “The man in 20B. Has he made any unusual inquiries?”

  In a stiff tone, Elaine responded, “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  “Never mind. But can you let me know if he says anything to raise suspicion? Anything at all.”

  Mechanically, Elaine nodded and continued past.

  Turning to Jody, he said loudly, “I’m going to the rest room. Maybe he’ll give something away when I walk past.”

  Jody grasped his arm. “No, Jake. What if he tries something?”

  “We can’t sit here and wait for him to make a move. We need to flush him out.”

  “But he might try and kill you.”

  “He might. But he’s in for a surprise if he does.” Standing, he sent a hard glance toward the waiter, with the restrained intensity the scene demanded.

  Something in Jody relaxed. If anyone could pull this off, he could.

  The scene played out very similar to the one running in her head while she’d written it. Well, except it had been an actual airplane, not a hotel dining room. But it surprised her how Elaine pushed the cart from the top of the aisle as Jake got out of his seat. As written, the villain reached for something, and Jake fell atop him. Gasps went up through the audience as they struggled, crashing into the cart.

  Jody rushed up as Jake sent the fake villain hurtling back down the aisle atop the cart to intercept the woman who’d been Max Murdoch’s accomplice, wielding a kitchen knife from the cart. Jody pretended to shoot mace, and the woman fell away, clutching her eyes and screaming.

  After Jake pretended to cuff the bad guy, he rushed to her. “You all right?”

  Straightening, Jody evoked the appropriate panache. “You’re lucky I’m here to watch your back.”

  When he grabbed her rear, she caught her breath.

  “Very lucky. I hope you’ll let me return the favor.” Silence filled the room. Fearful everyone had left sometime mid-scene, Jody stared into J
ake’s dark eyes, so warm and inviting. He winked, a conspiratorial congratulations.

  “You’re amazing,” she whispered. So convincing, she had to remind herself it wasn’t real.

  A burst of applause accompanied whistles and cheers. Kitchen staff even lined the walls, clapping.

  With a low bow, Jake gestured toward Jody. How could he act so calm? Her heart beat wildly, wishing she could rewind the moment and feel his arms around her again. The crowd surged around them, snapping photos and chattering. They pushed between Jody and Jake, separating them.

  He glanced over frequently, and she had trouble focusing on the kudos and gushing praise from those surrounding her. People thrust pens and paper at her, demanding autographs. They pressed so close she grew dizzy. And could no longer see Jake.

  When the crowd finally thinned, relief flooded her at the sight of Jake, one leg draped across a table, speaking casually to a small group.

  He excused himself and strode toward her, grinning. “I hate to say I told you so.”

  “You were right. I’d never have believed we could pull it off. Your acting skills will really pay off someday.” If he could embody her own character better than anyone Jody might’ve selected, he must be a wonderful actor. With his physique and rugged handsomeness, he’d soon star in movies. “I’ll be watching you soon on DVD, alone with my popcorn at home.” The thought saddened her.

  He sighed deeply. “That’s your problem.”

  “What?”

  “You write amazing stories. Create worlds for others to lose themselves in. But you never cut yourself any slack.”

  “How so?”

  “Don’t you deserve the same happiness as your characters?”

  Flustered, she stammered, “Well, I suppose.”

  “Don’t you think you’re as good as your characters?”

  “That’s silly. They’re fictional.”

  His laugh had a sardonic edge. “They’re happier than you.”

  Bristling, she straightened her spine. “Stop it.” She found no humor in that.

  “Because you don’t love yourself as much as you love them.”