by Janice Lynn
Not even Dan. If anything, he’d done her a favor by their having sex. He’d probably had to clear cobwebs she’d been out of commission so long. It had been years since her previous lover. Her one and only previous lover and those few disappointing fumblings during college shouldn’t even count.
A blue bird flew over her head and landed on a flowering bush to her left. The bird tweeted a short melody. Jill sighed at her peaceful surroundings, so in contrast to the turmoil bubbling within her.
None of her fellow officers would accuse her of using her gender to advance on the force. She’d put in long hours, performed flawless investigations. Out-witted, out-maneuvered, and usually captured her quarry. How dare Rob question her integrity?
She kicked a foot-high stone container of sweet scented flowers. Along with a tiny puff of pollen, a bee buzzed from the bright yellow blooms.
“Ouch.” Jill jerked to dodge the insect she’d disturbed. She sneezed and grabbed her throbbing toe.
“I’d probably make a softer target--unless you aimed at my head,” a deep baritone said from behind her.
Almost toppling over, she spun at Rob’s voice. “Oh, you don’t want to hear what target I’d like to aim at.”
Both hands covered his groin in mock fear, and he grimaced. “You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t count on it.” She turned away. She didn’t want to see him. Just looking at him made her eyes water. Water. She did not cry. Not when her parents died. Not when Jessie had gotten involved with the wrong crowd and experimented with drugs. Not when she’d given up her athletic aspirations to take care of Jessie. Not when Dan had said he just wanted to be friends. Now certainly wasn’t the time to start.
“Jane?”
She blinked, hoping to clear the moisture. She must have stirred up more than just a little puff of pollen when she’d kicked that container cause she was not crying. Damn allergies.
“Look at me.”
She didn’t budge. His hand closed around her upper arm. Zing. Zing. Zing. There went those sparks again. She ought to toss him on his electrifying butt. It would serve him right.
“I’m sorry.”
Maybe she wouldn’t throw him to the ground after all. And the zings from his touch were…not supposed to happen. “For?”
A soft chuckle escaped his throat. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry I insulted you. I was a jerk.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Forgive me?”
If you kiss me and make it all better. Okay, so she couldn’t say that. But the intensity of his gaze made her want to, did that count? She had to get her emotions regarding Rob under control. She couldn’t afford any slip-ups that might reveal her as an imposter.
Annoyed with herself and consumed with guilt, she swiped at her eyes and faced him. “If you meant what you said.”
“About being a jerk?” His lips twitched.
She stifled the grin wanting to replace her glower. “Oh, I know you meant that. I was talking about the sorry for insulting me part.”
He threw back his head in laughter. Her insides fuzzed over--all nice and warm. Uh-oh. Rob Lancaster was wheedling his way beneath her protective armor. She already wanted his bod. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t? But she didn’t want to like the man quite so much. Maybe he should go back to being a jerk. For both of their sakes. Because she had a pretty good idea he wouldn’t be too happy to have his show ruined by discovering he had the wrong ‘princess’.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and walked her back toward the castle as if all was just honky-dory. Didn’t he feel those zings?
“You’re priceless,” he said, grinning.
She snorted. Priceless? “Yeah, well, let’s hope one of the bachelors thinks so.”
# # #
The night of the bachelors’ arrival, Jill read over their letters in her private suite. One of the cameramen recorded her as she read out loud and pondered over her decision. Of course, she’d have to spend an evening with whichever one received the most viewer votes.
She tried to ignore the cameras recording her every movement and let thoughts of Rob fill her mind.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him. For the past week, she’d spent most of her waking time with him, JP, or Gregory. And yesterday when Rob had wrapped his arm around her…
She reached up and touched one of the tendrils hanging from the elaborate hairstyle Gregory had concocted for her debut with the men and sighed. What would Rob think about the magic Gregory had once again created?
“Oh, that was perfect,” the cameraman applauded.
Ugh. She’d forgotten he was filming. And she shouldn’t give a flying flip what Rob thought about the way she looked. She had twelve men to choose from. Surely, one of them would float her boat and make her quit pining after the producer.
She turned and smiled at the camera like a good little pretend princess should. “Wish me luck.”
# # #
Rob mingled with the newly arrived bachelors, as did JP, in the magnificent foyer at the bottom of the curved staircase. For centuries the large room had been used to host grand parties and introduce debutantes. Tonight was no exception. The air sizzled with excitement.
Along with lots of hidden video equipment, cameramen were everywhere, although most remained discreetly in the background. The entire evening would be recorded from every angle. All to catch the bachelors’ first sighting of Jane. How would they react to meeting her?
Tonight’s the night all the lunacy began. He let out a still-not-too-crazy-over-the-idea sigh.
He scanned the room. Which lucky man would Jane choose to spend a week long secluded island paradise with? Unease festered as he inspected each of the twelve tuxedo-clad men. All healthy, good-looking specimens he supposed. She had a variety to choose from. Average height to tall. Blond to coal black. Super intelligent to super jock.
None of them deserved her. Sure, they seemed like nice enough guys on the surface, but the thought of a single one touching her, kissing her, sickened him. Which was all wrong.
A bachelor would claim her heart and woo her to the tune of twenty million viewers. At least until he and JP played the cards they held up their sleeves for the show’s finale.
He’d make sure Jane and one of these men hooked up. JP’s career, his reputation, and Gambler’s future rode on doing so.
The music changed to an eighteenth century waltz, the melody chosen to cue Jane. The men paused in their conversations and drinking to line up at the bottom of the splendid staircase and stare at where Jane would appear.
Rob’s breath caught as she stepped into sight. He fought the urge to rush to the line and claim her as his own.
What was the matter with him? Was it because she was forbidden he couldn’t think of anything but her? Or maybe her beauty was what held him captive?
Gregory had certainly outdone himself. Of course, he’d had a lot to work with. Jane was a stunning woman. Her long streaked chestnut hair had been puffed and piled on her head into a mass of curls. Stray wisps begging to curl around a man’s fingers framed her face. Her lips had been glossed and shined full and ripe, like the plumpest strawberries. Her skin glowed flawless, and her high cheekbones had been powdered in an effect that gave her an almost exotic look. Like Aphrodite or Venus.
The strapless blue designer gown straight from a Paris showroom outlined her body to perfection. Her shoulders and upper body glistened. Had Gregory sprayed her with some special type of spray? A sapphire and diamond necklace and matching earrings on insured loan from Tiffany’s adorned her neck.
By far, Jane was the most breathtaking vision he’d ever seen. And that was saying a lot as he’d been around more than his share of beautiful women. But then he’d found Jane gorgeous yesterday when she’d been wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He’d even found her beautiful during their run when she was hot and sweaty. Al
l he’d been able to think was that he wished he’d been the reason for her breathlessness, her sweat.
He should look at the bachelors to gauge their reactions, but he couldn’t. His gaze remained glued to the goddess gracing the staircase with her beauty. With each step she took, his heartbeat drummed louder in his ears, like a seductive jungle beat calling to his primal instincts.
Large green eyes made up to dramatic perfection touched each man with an individual acknowledgement. Pure kryptonite. A soft smile played on her full lips, yet she didn’t completely hide her nervousness. After she’d nodded at bachelor number twelve, her gaze searched the foyer until she spotted him. Her eyes flashed, and his heart stopped. It had been a helluva long time since a woman had looked at him without ulterior motives. Jane’s eyes shone with excitement and desire. Desire for him as a man. Not as a ticket to fame.
But he was her ticket to fame. Just as she was his ticket to fulfill the dream his ex-wife had stolen from him. He’d never again risk letting another woman jeopardize his career. Not even one that attracted him as much as Jane did.
With all his heart he wished he’d met her under different circumstances, wished he had the right to act on the chemistry burning between them. But he hadn’t, didn’t, and too much rode on JANE MILLIONAIRE’s success for him to give any encouragement.
With regret, he motioned toward the bachelors.
Indecision, then sorrow, flared in her brilliant eyes, but she only paused on the bottom step long enough to allow the first bachelor to take her hand, and bring it to his lips. Rob couldn’t hear what the man said, but Jane’s laughter rang out like music on a soft sultry night. Enchanting. Seductive.
Damn. He walked over to a waiter holding a tray full of champagne and picked up a glass to down the contents.
Tonight was going to be a long night.
# # #
Jill’s face hurt from smiling, but she kept her lips turned upward as she shielded her nose from Bachelor #9. Bachelor #7 had wandering hands. Bachelor #8 had stomped her toes at least twenty times and Bachelor #9, well, his morning breath had decided to stick around for the evening’s excitement and smelled like something straight from San Padres’ sewers.
Relieved the song finally ended, she excused herself as Bachelor #10 made his presence known. She bit back a sigh and forced her smile to stay put as yet another hunky man took her in his arms.
“You look tired,” he commented as he gracefully led her through a waltz.
At least, he wasn’t stomping her already sore toes.
“Uh-oh. That’s not supposed to show. I’ve still got two more dances.” She was tired. Tired of dancing with all these men when what she really wanted was to find Rob.
No, she didn’t want to find him. What she wanted was to not even care that he was in the same room. Either way, it didn’t look like she was going to get what she wanted this evening. She kept smiling anyway.
“Maybe no one else noticed.”
“Maybe.” But she doubted it.
“And maybe the next two won’t use your feet as target practice.”
She laughed. A real laugh compared to the feigned ones at Bachelor #4’s incessant jokes. Ugh. “That would be nice. Was I grimacing that badly?”
“No, you were very gracious and kept your smile in place even after most women would have politely--or not so politely--excused themselves.”
“Most women aren’t having their every movement, and word,” she added, remembering the mike she wore. “Taped.”
“True.” He smiled, and Jill relaxed. She took a closer look. Bachelor #10 was a ruggedly handsome blue-eyed blonde who looked like he should model Stetson cologne for a living.
“I can’t remember your name. I’m sorry. I know it’s terribly rude of me as each of you introduced yourselves after I came downstairs, but the names ran together,” she said in her most practiced princess voice.
“Bachelor #10, Jeff Kensington.” He grinned, not seeming to care that she’d had to ask.
“You’re the safari doctor?”
He nodded, his smile reaching his eyes, letting her know he truly loved what he did.
“Tell me about your work.”
As they swayed to the music, he did. The song ended quicker than she would have liked. Jeff was a wonderful dancer, and the medical missions he was involved with in Central America fascinated her. But Bachelor #11 patiently waited for his turn.
The next two dances passed pain free, and she managed to keep a smile plastered on her face for the cameras.
The bachelors milled around sipping champagne and chatting. She joined the closest group--Jeff Kensington’s group. She’d fulfill her obligations by mingling with the men and would hopefully see Rob before the night ended.
No, she didn’t want to see Rob. She needed to forget Rob. She’d keep her eyes on the bachelors. However, if Rob just happened to wander into her field of vision, well, a girl couldn’t be blamed for looking. She mentally rolled her eyes, but kept her smile bright.
The next two hours flew. Jill allowed the men to convince her to join them in a few more dances—just not 4, 7, 8, or 9.
Someone tapped on her shoulder, and she turned to see which bachelor wanted another dance, praying it wasn’t one of the dreaded four. She’d only had two glasses of champagne but her insides bubbled with giddiness when she saw the tall, obscenely handsome man standing next to her.
“Rob!” He was the last person she’d expected, but the one she’d longed to dance with all night, if she was honest with herself. She raked her gaze over him. His tux fit to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and narrow hips. The crisp white of his shirt gave an added glow to his golden skin and his whiskey eyes sparkled.
God, he was magnificent. Benjamin Bratt eat your heart out.
“May I?” He extended his hand to her. Quivers of anticipation shot through her.
“Of course.” She turned to the bachelors she’d been talking to and excused herself in what she hoped was a princessly manner and not an I-shouldn’t-be-doing-this-but-I’m-going-to-anyway-nervous-bumbling like it really was.
“You are absolutely breathtaking,” Rob whispered into her ear the moment she slipped into his arms. His warm breath tickled the inside of her ear, making the tiniest of hairs on her neck to prickle to attention.
“Thank you. I was thinking the same thing about you.” Her face flamed. She wasn’t supposed to have said that out loud. And she’d forgotten to whisper, which meant good old mike had captured every word.
“What is it about a man in a tux?” she laughed, another of those forced, fake ones. She’d spent the whole week with him, talking for hours on end, what was wrong with her that she suddenly couldn’t think? Oh yeah, now she remembered. She hadn’t been enveloped in his arms, hadn’t been snuggled against his hard frame, hadn’t been so close she breathed the same air as he did. That’s why she could barely string two words together, much less obtain coherency.
“Actually, we guys look like a bunch of penguins and you look like a beautiful fairy princess.”
Her insides melted. Oh, why, oh, why couldn’t he be one of the bachelors?
“I didn’t realize I was allowed to dance with you.” If she had, she’d have found him earlier, bachelor or not.
“You aren’t.” His voice was filled with frustration, rebellion and a hint of humor.
“Oh.” She wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
“Now that all the bachelors have held you in their arms, I decided one dance between the ‘host with the most’ and the ‘star of the show’ wouldn’t hurt.”
She liked his reasoning. She liked him. Although liked seemed such a mild word for the sensations churning inside her at his closeness. “I’m glad you did.”
His spicy masculine scent tickled her senses, dulled the reasons why she should resist this man. “You smell so good. Not overpowering or so strong it chokes a woman.” Not like Bachelor #9. Ugh.
He chuckled and brushed his face against
her hair. “You smell like flowers.”
“I should. Gregory sprayed enough stuff on me I probably have a cloud of fumes hovering around me. I’ve never been so powdered and perfumed in my life.”
“Gregory’s the best.”
“Apparently. I couldn’t believe it was me when I looked in the mirror.”
“Why not?” His feet slowed, his hand gently pressed into the small of her back, his gaze searched hers.
“Because I looked…” she paused searching for the right word and trying not to read anything into the way his eyes seemed to delve right into her soul or the fact his body was noticeably hard.
“Beautiful?”
“Do you think so?” Her breath caught. Was that what he saw when he looked at her? When he looked beyond the physical?
The sane, methodical cop in her poked her conscious with a reminder that she was a phony. Becoming emotionally involved with Rob Lancaster could only lead to trouble. Nevertheless, the woman in her craved what shimmered in his eyes.
He swallowed, his eyes glittering with the truth. He wanted her. “You know I do, but it would be better if I didn’t.”
She could barely hear his low words, but they touched her more than if someone else had screamed her praises over the intercom system at a Laker’s game.
“Rob.” She didn’t say more. She couldn’t. Not when all the cameras focused on her. Not when everything said was recorded by the tiny microphone hidden between her breasts. They both knew it was there, although she wondered what Rob would say if technology didn’t capture every word, every look, every touch. Would he kiss her? She wanted his mouth on hers.
Knowing she couldn’t act on the lust coursing through her, she rested her head against his chest for the remainder of the dance, enjoying the beat of his heart against her cheek. The steady, rapid rhythm pounded the message he wasn’t immune to her body pressed against his, not by a long shot.
The world faded, and she lost herself in his embrace, his scent, his warmth. Her own heart raced, as did her mind. She wanted Rob Lancaster. Not just a little, but like a crackhead lusted after his next fix. She’d never comprehended how a person could risk their freedom for a temporary pleasure--Rob’s arms provided a crash course in understanding.