by Janice Lynn
A romantic week on a tropical island with Jill.
Jeff Kensington was a lucky man.
Rob took a slow, cool sip letting the smooth liquid slide down, soothing his dry throat.
“Do you think he’ll go for the money?”
“Or for love,” Rob snorted as his gaze went back to the monitor. The bachelors and Jill were laughing and carrying on like they were having a blast. Jealousy slammed him. He was as jealous as jealous got. Damn.
Had he ever been jealous of a woman? Not since Mandy, and never with this intensity. Rob set his beer down, not liking how the cold brew churned in his flaming body. Or maybe it was the green monster agitating his insides. Either way, he didn’t like the unsettled sensation.
“Huh?” JP stared at him, rocking back in his chair.
“You missed it. Jill’s card was ‘For love or money’.”
JP cackled. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. And, of course, loverboy picked right up on it.” Rob put his hand over the computer mouse and clicked to zoom in on camera number two.
“Kensington answered?”
Rob nodded. He turned and saw JP’s eyes practically glowed. Was that dollar signs he heard cha-chinking inside his friend’s head?
“We’ll have to use the footage,” JP said. “Did you plant the card?”
“I figured you had.” Rob returned his attention to the screen. Just in time to see Jill kiss Kensington.
Okay, so it was just a quick smack of her lips, but fierce longings shook him. Or maybe he shook because that green monster battered his body, trying to break free.
“Nope. What a damn coincidence.”
Rob had decided long ago that there were no coincidences. Only actions and reactions. The fact he wanted to punch Jeff Kensington in the face--now, there was a classic example. Jill had kissed Kensington and was possibly going to go on a “honeymoon” with the guy, and Rob wanted to punch his lights out. Action. Reaction. Simple enough.
See, he was still keeping it simple. JP should be proud.
Nonetheless, he squeezed the computer mouse as if he could somehow diminish his frustrations by doing so.
“A few months after the show airs, when the media hoopla has died down, look her up if you’ve still got an inkling to have her.”
Rob forcibly loosened his hold on the defenseless computer mouse. “You don’t think Jill and Kensington will stay together?”
JP snickered and shook his head. “She wants you. A blind man could see the lust in her eyes when she looks at you. Frankly, I’m damn jealous of the way women fall at your glorified feet. And Jane’s a looker. Three or four months from now, you should go for it if you still want her as another bedpost notch.”
Hell, he had a feeling he might still want Jill in three of four years, possibly longer. Why did life have to be so complicated? And he cringed at classifying Jill as just another notch on his bedpost. Somehow thinking of her in the terms he connected with the kind of women he generally dealt with just didn’t fit.
“Three months from now, I may be on the other side of the world,” Rob answered noncommittally staring at the monitors.
“Great. That should put you right smack dab in California where she just so happens to live when she’s not fulfilling her royal duties as a European princess.”
“Smart ass.”
“And don’t you forget it, boy.” JP guffawed as he took another sip. “I like her, you know.”
“What’s not to like?” He wished he knew. He’d focus all his energies on that flaw in hopes of dashing his ever-increasing fascination with her. However, so far he could only come up with the presumption that she would likely turn out to be just another casting couch starlit wanting to use him to advance her career.
And even that didn’t fit his gut instincts about her.
“Yeah, she’s nothing like Mandy, is she?”
“Thank God.” JP had never liked Rob’s ex-wife. If only he’d asked for JP’s advice before he’d given the fame hungry witch his name. Maybe his view of the fairer species wouldn’t be quite so jaded had he not married Mandy and their marriage ending so publicly. “One Mandy in the world is more than enough.”
But he’d run across many more with hunger for fame and fortune in their eyes. Mandy had only provided the initial inoculation for him to develop immunity to that greedy breed. Or so he’d thought until meeting Jill.
“Have you seen her lately?”
“A couple of months before we started filming Jane. I ran into her at an opening. She was with husband number five and contemplating divorce once again.”
JP’s eyes widened, obviously impressed. “One more and she’ll be caught up. Guess I’d better start the search for lucky number seven.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “I thought you swore you were finished with marriage after number six took you to the cleaners?”
“But the down and dirty sure was fun while the getting was good.” JP waggled his bushy silver brows, no doubt thinking of the barely legal blonde who’d reportedly been so much fun, albeit expensive, for the eighteen months JP and she had been married. JP’s expression sobered. “Man wasn’t meant to be alone.”
“I like being alone.” Rob adjusted the computer mouse to keep from meeting his friend’s eyes. Alone was much better than his marriage to Mandy or the revolving door bride and groom swap most of his Hollywood counterparts, including JP, participated in.
“If you say so.”
“I say so.” And being alone truly had never bothered him. At least, not before meeting Jill. But the thought of facing that unlocked door tonight, knowing it was his last chance, made him seriously doubt the conviction he heard in his voice.
Only one more night to be haunted by thoughts of what lay behind an unlocked door, to be haunted by thoughts of an empty house half-a-world away.
Alone. Yeah, he liked being alone alright.
# # #
Long into the night, Rob lay in his king-sized bed, still trying to convince himself he wanted to be alone. Not an easy thing to accomplish while lying in a bed that had seemed much too large for just one person ever since he’d shared it with Jill for those few brief blissful hours.
He blew out a frustrated breath.
The sun wouldn’t be up for a few more hours, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t go back to sleep and it was too early for a jog. He’d dozed off and on all night. The few times he had slept, he’d dreamed he was a knight come to rescue a beautiful princess, Jill, from her castle prison. He’d dreamed of knocking down the door between them, of making love to her, of her sweet moans as he thrust inside her, dreamed of her fiery, demanding kisses.
God, it was hot in here. Rob kicked his covers off his bare body and flicked on a lamp that looked like a fancy lantern of some sort, although, like everything else in the castle, it ran solely on electricity.
His gaze landed on the connecting door. Just as it had a thousand times previously during the long hours he’d lain awake fighting his body’s need for a certain woman.
Need. He needed Jill. The realization terrified him, yet on some inexplicable level the admission freed him at the same time. What would she do if he opened that door and made love to her? Branded her with his kisses? Told her he didn’t want her to choose Kensington or any of the bachelors?
Now where the heck had that come from?
He wasn’t going to open the door. Nor was he going to make love to her. Branding her was simply out of the question, although he wouldn’t mind stamping a big R across her forehead. Of course, she’d take that to mean rejected rather than “claimed by Rob”.
Not that he was claiming her.
He couldn’t. Not for at least three months, probably more, if he didn’t want media backlash. The press could kill a career faster than ten bad films in a roll.
Or make a career as he suspected would happen with Jill. Offers would pour in and she’d move on to bigger and better things just as the other women in his life had.
&n
bsp; Rob groaned. The sad truth of this whole reality nightmare was that he might never make love to Jill again if he didn’t go to her tonight.
But opening that door, well, he was pretty sure she’d take it to signify more than what he was willing to give. More than what he had to give.
When she’d come to his room, she’d mentioned regrets. What regrets was he going to have tomorrow afternoon when their time together would possible end with the arrival of the real princess? Two weeks from now? Two months?
Since the night she’d taken the initiative, he could have been with her, spending time with her. Could have opened that connecting door on the night they’d gone to the lake and she’d have welcomed him. Instead, he’d done the professional thing and stayed away, in half-hearted hopes she’d fall for another man.
He’d watched the footage of her and Kensington. She liked him. A lot. She’d even kissed him a couple of times that had been more than the pert smack she’d given during their drawing game. Damn it all to hell. He’d had to vent his violent emotions after each real kiss by punishing his body in the exercise room. He’d barely been able to walk the next morning after his last grueling workout.
He’d ached in more ways than physical. And those aches were the ones that plagued him. Jill had gotten under his skin. More than Mandy. Which was saying a lot, because at one time, he’d have hung the moon for his ex-wife.
What if Kensington chose to go on the trip with Jill and she fell for him during their “honeymoon”? So what if she’d had the hots for Rob first? She might marry Kensington and then where would he be?
Because even before JP had suggested it, he’d known he would look Jill up after the show’s media attention had settled. He wanted to explore a relationship with her outside of this dreamy setting that was more like a nightmare.
If she fell for Kensington, he’d never have the opportunity to hold her, never be able to kiss her lips or taste her honeyed sweetness again. Could he live with the knowledge that he’d willingly shoved her into another man’s arms and allowed that to happen?
And just how was she going to react when the real princess was thrown into the whole twisted equation?
Reality television. He hated it with a passion.
When Isabella made her appearance, who knew what Jill would do? Certainly, forgiveness wouldn’t come easily.
Tonight could truly be his last opportunity to hold Jill, to breath in her rose-scented fragrance, to feel her heartbeat next to his.
Rob stood, raked his fingers through his already tousled hair, flicked off his lamp, and strode soundlessly toward the connecting door.
The cold floor of his suite sent chills down his spine, or maybe it was anticipation of what prize lay behind door number one that had goose bumps covering his skin.
His heartbeat bounded. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Harder. Faster. Until he felt like he featured in a thriller movie and a slasher was going to jump out at any moment.
Was he a fool?
Probably, but he couldn’t stay away. The cameras were still in her room, but it would be dark. He’d toss a shirt over the video equipment. If they were quiet, no one would ever know he’d been in her room.
If she didn’t throw him out, which was probably what he deserved. He’d known when she slipped into her room on the night they’d gone to the lake that she’d wanted him to join her via the connecting door. And he’d not gone to her. Because he’d been afraid.
When had he turned into such a coward?
With trembling fingers, he twisted the skeleton key to unlock his side of the door. Heaven waited on just the other side.
Chapter Fifteen
Lying in her made-for-a-princess bed, Jill reached over and picked up her watch off the antique nightstand. She shifted the jewel-encrusted loaner until the moonlight hit the face.
Four o’clock.
Breakfast with the bachelors was at eight. And she had to make her decision at noon. Today.
When all was said and done, she’d be on a plane back to California. Possibly tonight.
Alone.
She didn’t want to be alone.
Oh, she’d have Jessie--if she didn’t kill her sister for getting her into this physical and emotional mess.
She sighed. No, she wouldn’t threaten her sister. Instead, she’d hug her. Without this trip, she wouldn’t have realized what a rut she was in. She had needed to quit hanging onto the idea of her and Dan getting back together. She hadn’t even realized that’s what she’d been doing. No wonder Dan’s girlfriend hadn’t trusted her.
She should have gotten out, dated, and looked for Mr. Right.
Rob’s image plastered itself in her mind.
No, he wasn’t her Mr. Right. He was a famous Hollywood producer, and she was a cop. Had they met under different circumstances, he wouldn’t have given her the time of day--unless she’d pulled him over for speeding. Then, he probably would have flashed his toothpaste-ad-perfect smile and tried to schmooze his way out of his ticket.
And darn if she probably would have let him.
She grinned and pulled her covers tighter around her as she realized she most definitely wouldn’t have let him sweet talk his way out of a ticket. She’d have slapped handcuffs on his wrists and hauled his sexy Hollywood butt in to the station.
Oh, yeah. She’d have made a lasting impression on him, one way or the other.
She rolled over to stare through the moonlit room at the shadowed corner where the connecting door loomed. She’d offered her body to him, and he’d refused, continued to refuse each and every night that door remained shut. She had too much pride to go to his room again and throw herself at him.
She wasn’t a fool. She meant nothing except a quick tumble in the sack to pass time. Not really. She’d never had any great expectations of them having a happily ever after together. Rob wasn’t the type. He was pure Hollywood with all its glamour and glitz.
She suspected that for her their time together had been much more, and if he’d been receptive, she would have offered him her heart, along with her body.
Tugging the goose down covers closer around her, she closed her eyes and prayed sleep would come.
Squeak.
Her eyes sprung open.
Had she imagined the noise? Her gaze focused on the dark corner. Nothing. No shafts of light indicating the door had opened. Nothing at all.
Go to sleep, Jill. You’re imagining things.
Or maybe she’d gone to sleep and was going to have one heck of a dream starring Rob Lancaster in the buff. Maybe of him carrying her from the lake, peeling her swim suit off with his teeth and making love to her on the dock. A girl could hope.
Squeak.
Still no light, but she had heard a noise, and it had come from the direction of the door.
The connecting door.
The moon had apparently gone behind a cloud, because she could no longer make out much of anything, but she wasn’t dreaming. That much she was sure of. The door had opened.
Instinctively, she sensed someone was in her room, and even though she couldn’t see him, she knew that someone was Rob. Excitement shimmied through her. He’d come to her. What did it mean?
“Who’s there?” she asked anyway, barely daring to breath.
“Shhh,” came a low masculine voice from close to her bed, causing her to jump. She hadn’t realized he’d crossed the room. Had she been away from the force so long that her police instincts had dulled completely?
“You scared me.” She sat up in her bed, finally able to make out his outline.
“Shhh, don’t talk. I covered the camera, but our conversation will still be picked up if we don’t keep our voices down.” Rob’s whisper reminded. He reached out and touched her plait, stroking his fingers over the long rope she’d braided her hair into prior to crawling into bed. His touch bordered on reference. And uncertainty. “Am I welcome here?”
He was asking… Her heart skipped a beat. Not that she hadn’t known the moment she’d re
alized he was in her room why he’d opened the door, because she had. There could only be one reason.
She should say no. She should tell him to get lost after the way he’d completely ignored her since the night at the lake, but to do so would be punishing herself.
This was their last night. Forever. Because once they left this idyllic setting they’d each go back to their lives and he’d forget about her. He’d even told her as much.
But she couldn’t deny him. Didn’t want to. She’d love him with all she had and make memories to cherish during the lonely nights ahead.
“Yes,” she whispered, clasping his hand and pulling it to her lips. She pressed a kiss against the strong surface of his palm. “I left the door unlocked, didn’t I?”
“Shhh, no talking. Just feel.” He climbed into her bed, and she welcomed his emanating warmth by wrapping her arms around him.
“Okay.” Talking wasn’t what she wanted anyway.
She wanted his touch, his caresses, his breath as the very air she breathed.
He gave her all those things and more.
Occasional moonbeams illuminated his naked body above her, casting a surreal glow to his skin.
A God. He looked like some Greek God come to earth for a night of earthly passion. She whimpered as he kissed, suckled, touched, stroked, tasted every pore on her skin. When she knew she was going to cry out if he didn’t fill her body with his hard shaft, his mouth took hers, capturing any sound she might have made.
Now, she mentally begged. Oh, please now.
As if he could read her thoughts, his hardness nudged her slick, wet folds, separating her mound of hot flesh. He clasped her fingers with his and pushed their locked hands down on either side of her head as he rose above her and thrust inside.
Deep. Hard. A shiver passed over her skin, and she wondered what he was feeling as he held his passion under tight reign. Did he feel the completeness, the oneness of their connected bodies?
His hips moved, slowly at first as he drove his thick length full hilt into her time and again, filling her with him. Then, his rhythm picked up speed and intensity. Her body and heartbeat matched his pace as his pelvis’ pistoning movement swept her sanity far, far away to a fantasyland where she was a real princess being eternally claimed by Prince Charming.