Girl of My Dreams

by Morgan Mandel

  “You make it sound so simple, but I suspect it’s not. You did a great job. I didn’t even know you played the piano.”

  “Hey, I’m from a show biz family. I know all that good stuff,” he said with a sharp laugh. Yeah, and the bad stuff, too. That made him wise.

  The dream girl was a farce, but hopefully a moneymaker. No woman could live up to the qualifications he’d set: sexy yet innocent, smart, but unafraid to learn, an ace in the kitchen, forgiving, an avid listener, loyal and loving, as in “till death do us part.”

  The girl across from him had come close. He’d relied on her in many ways and would miss her presence. Damn, it was hard to believe she’d crossed him. Goes to show, no one’s perfect. The dream girl was just that, an impossible dream.

  Jillian had been the best and he was having a hell of a time replacing her. Where were all the good workers these days?

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get started in show business?” Jillian asked, disrupting his disgruntled thoughts.

  He smiled wryly. “It’s no secret. I was a curious kid. With my mom being Barbara Branton, I hung around the sets a lot. Both the big and small screens fascinated me.”

  “You share your mother’s love of the industry, but you don’t resemble her, except maybe for the eyes.”

  Blake frowned. “I take after my father in looks. I hope that’s all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you must know, my issues go way back. For as long as I can remember, Darryl Caldwell has been referred to in the industry and by the public as Mr. Branton. He has no life. He won’t take a step without Barbara’s approval.”

  Though in her mid-fifties, Barbara Branton was still a looker. She packed in millions at the box office and drew multi-million dollar contracts. In her down time, she flitted from man to man. Darryl, fool that he was, meekly waited in the wings, ready to assuage his wife’s ego when she so much as beckoned in his direction.

  “Maybe it works for him.”

  “That’s Darryl for you, but it’ll never work for me. That whole marriage crap is for the birds. No woman’s worth putting a noose around my neck and turning me into a fool when my back’s turned.”

  Jillian’s eyes almost bugged out. He realized he’d come on strong, but couldn’t help it. Marriage and all it entailed made him see red. He’d never risk losing his identity. His parent’s so-called marriage was a sham and an embarrassment.

  He reached for the gin and tonic. Now it was his turn to take a large gulp. Its bitter edge matched the taste in his mouth.

  “Judging from the son, your father must be quite handsome.” Jillian switched the topic.

  “You’re not my assistant any more. You don’t have to butter me up.”

  She flushed a bright red. He’d slammed a sincere compliment back in her face, and that was uncalled for. He should practice a little diplomacy.

  Reaching over, he patted Jillian’s arm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to round on you. I’m on edge lately.”

  Jillian sighed. “I’m sure my entering the contest didn’t help.”

  “Your intentions may have been good, but were misdirected. Jillian, you were a great assistant. Not just anyone can step in and take your place. It’ll be tough going for a while.”

  “But if I hadn’t entered the contest and instead picked out someone who didn’t know a thing about the show, it might have bombed. I couldn’t take that chance. You worked too hard to make a go of it. You deserve success.”

  Did she really mean that? Blake gave her a searching look. She seemed sincere. “Well, what’s done is done. We’ll never know how the other scenario would’ve played out. The good thing is the show did pull in the highest ranking for our time slot. And I have to admit, you did have the audience eating out your hand, not to mention, Mr. Billionaire. I don’t approve of your methods, but just the same, I thank you.”

  “The show’s your triumph. I didn’t do anything special, except try to keep myself from falling. I was dying to put my glasses on, but couldn’t. I’m lucky I got these contact lenses before I came here. They’re a godsend.”

  “They look good on you. They bring out your amazing green eyes.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.” She blushed and flashed a sweet, sexy smile that made his heart trip.

  Jillian still didn’t get it. She had no idea she owned enough charisma to magnetize an audience into submission. Actors studied to achieve it, but it couldn’t be learned. You either had it or didn’t.

  Even now, just looking into her eyes, her presence pulled at him, drawing him in.

  To get his bearings, he drew his eyes downward from her face. That was a mistake. Her well-rounded halter top made the blood rush to his head.

  He loosened another collar button. Mamma mia, they could use some air conditioning out here.

  Rising, he cleared his throat. “Listen up, everyone. Shooting’s bright and early tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I’m offering a private tour of the vicinity. Meet me in the main lobby at twelve sharp.”

  An excited murmur swept through the cluster of tables, making him glad he’d thought of the diversion to relieve the show’s tension.

  As they all rose from their tables to file out, his ex-assistant stifled a yawn.

  “You look a bit beat.”

  “Nothing a nap and shower can’t fix.”

  The seemingly innocent remark sent blood rushing to his nether regions. X-rated visions of Jillian in the shower, and Jillian with him in bed flashed through his mind.

  After inspecting the close-ups, he’d make a beeline for that shower. It would be solitary and damn cold enough to shake her out of his head.

  Reason told him the old, dependable Jillian had morphed into a loose cannon. If he had any brains, he’d go about his business and steer clear of her. Trouble was, if he’d listened to reason in the first place, he wouldn’t be where he was now.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JILLIAN STEPPED INTO the hotel room and breathed a sigh of relief. Now she could be herself. Pretending she didn’t care for Blake was becoming increasingly difficult.

  It was too late to take back what she’d done. Nor could she regress to her old, frumpy self. Blake’s compliments on her appearance made her feel good, but that was as far as their relationship could go. It wasn’t as if she were a member of his exclusive set, nor were her attitudes about love and commitment anything like his. She may look different on the outside, but underneath, she was the same old-fashioned Jillian.

  She stashed her new outfits on the padded hangers, the new silk and lace undies in the dresser drawer, and then stepped into the shower. The stinging spray did nothing to revitalize her spirits.

  The few hours until the tour began could be spent primping, but the cool satin sheets of the princess style bed beckoned to her. It wouldn’t hurt to curl up for a few minutes.

  She drifted into an easy sleep. Blake lay beside her in a secluded alcove. The waves splashed against the shore. The sun warmed her arms and legs. He reached for her bra strap. The feel of his large, gentle fingers melted her insides. She wanted more. Her heart beat fast, like the Tahitian drums in the background, louder and more insistent.

  They weren’t drums. Groggily she opened her eyes. Where was she? What time was it? What was that noise?

  Someone was banging on the door in the outer room.

  “Jillian, are you awake? Can you hear me?” Blake’s voice boomed. The entire hotel could hear him.

  She almost said no. She’d planned on looking her best when she saw him again, not like she’d just jumped out of bed. The knocks and his voice grew louder.

  “I’ll be right there,” she yelled in the direction of the door.

  Running quick fingers through her tangled hair, she stumbled toward the noise.

  She opened the door a crack. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep. Would you like to come in? I won’t be long.”

  Where were her brains? She should have said she’d be right out instead.<
br />
  He looked her up and down. “That’s not a good idea,” he said.

  At his inspection, her nipples sprang to life, straining against the satin robe. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stared into Blake’s deep azure eyes. What she saw in them made her face burn. She was no Cleopatra, but could recognize lust when she saw it. And felt it. It was new, but unmistakable.

  She stared in fascination at the dark, curly hair springing from the open collar of Blake’s khaki shirt. He was rock solid, every inch a male, from his lean torso to his hard biceps. He’d earned a well-justified reputation as a lady killer. He could make her deliriously happy.

  She fingered the sash of her robe. In her mind, she peeled it off, rushed into Blake’s arms and pressed her hands against his heart. Did it beat as fast as hers?

  Dare she find out? Of course not. Even the new Jillian wasn’t that bold.

  “I’ll wait right here. Hurry up,” he said.

  Jillian almost ran into the bedroom, where she grabbed the most modest outfit she could find, which was the jade pantsuit. That would show him her mind wasn’t in the gutter. It was, but he needn’t know it.

  She dashed into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her burning cheeks and patted them dry with the gold crested towel.

  She could never replicate the makeup jobs from the experts, but had come away with a few tips. Her fingers shook as she extracted moss-colored eye shadow and earth tone eyeliner from the makeup kit. She smoothed tawny blusher onto her cheeks, then moistened her dry lips with peach gloss.

  Jillian took a deep breath and stepped out the door.

  Was that disappointment in his eyes? Maybe he’d expected her to wear something more revealing. That would happen soon enough during the show.

  As she and Blake stepped out into the bright sunshine, a chattering mob descended upon them.

  “It’s Veronica Baker,” a fan yelled.

  “Oh, my God, it is,” another screamed. “Veronica, can I have your autograph?”

  They couldn’t mean her. She wasn’t special.

  “Veronica, Veronica,” the chant rang out.

  Flashbulbs snapped, blinding her eyes. Bewildered, she glanced at Blake. His jaw was set.

  He pushed his palm out. “Everyone, back.”

  With the other hand, he reached into his pants pocket for the cell phone. “Security, front entrance of the Hibiscus Towers now.”

  The crowd closed in. A hand grabbed Jillian’s breast. Blake yanked it away, then shielded her with his arms.

  Her heart hammered. She couldn’t breathe. Was it because of the mob pressing in or because Blake held her so tight?

  A disappointed groan marked the arrival of uniformed security. Four navy-blue suited men snatched Jillian and Blake from the jaws of the sharks and escorted them to the waiting tour bus. The door slammed shut behind them.

  “I should’ve anticipated that. Are you all right?” he asked.

  She took a shaky breath. “I think so.” She stared wildly at the fans pressing against the windows. It all looked surreal, yet it was really happening.

  “You’re a hit. There’s the proof,” he said, pointing out the window.

  Jillian shivered. “If they like me so much, they shouldn’t attack me.” She sank into the remaining seat and turned from the window. Maybe if she ignored them they’d go away.

  Blake sat beside her. “Mob frenzy is a strange phenomenon.”

  “You’re telling me. This is insane.”

  “It’s all part of this crazy, wonderful business. Fans can build you up one day and tear you down the next.”

  “I’m not sure I like it.”

  He gave her a searching look. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. I can hardly wait until tomorrow’s show is over. Then I can fade into nothingness again.”

  He stared at her with a thoughtful expression. She’d seen that expression before. It usually meant the wheels were turning. After what seemed forever, he broke the silence. “I’d appreciate your not doing anything crazy to get yourself disqualified.”

  “You didn’t want me there in the first place.”

  “Yeah, that was before we were inundated with cartons of fan mail addressed to you. If you leave the show now, the ratings will shrink.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “No, it’s not. You’ve heard of overnight sensations. Guess what? You’re it. Once the series is over, you can name your price and probably have the billionaire to boot.”

  “But I don’t want Troy Langley.”

  “It’s not like you’ll marry the guy. You can break up after the hoopla dies down.”

  Jillian bit her lip. She hadn’t bargained for notoriety. With each step, she got even more entangled in the show’s web. Her debts were still high. The funds would be a godsend. It made sense to stay qualified for as long as she could, especially now Blake had done an about face.

  “I could use the money,” she said weakly.

  The trick was not to make a fool of herself in the process.

  “Thanks. I’m glad I can count on you. Oh, and by the way, I got a call from the front office. The stricken contestants have all recovered.”

  “That’s a relief. I imagine they’re not happy about missing out at their chance.”

  “Them’s the breaks, as they say. In this business, you take what you get. It’s a survival of the species sort of thing.”

  A shadow crossed Jillian’s face, then disappeared. “I feel rotten about taking someone else’s place, but now that I’m in there, I’ll do my best. I won’t let you down.”

  “Good. That’s all I ask. So, for now, why not forget the frenzied fans, ditch the whole works and relax?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Blake conferred with the driver. A mile later, the bus turned onto a side road. Soon they were out of the touristy section and into the farmlands.

  Blake stood up. “Okay, folks, for the time being I’m your tour guide. Those plants out there are sugar cane, one of the sources for our sugar. Hawaii is also a major producer of pineapples, macadamia nuts, mangos, papayas, guavas, and thimbleberries.”

  “Thimbleberries? That’s a cute name,” Jillian said, thinking aloud.

  Blake turned to her. “Actually, they’re raspberries in the shape of thimbles. We’ve got them in California, too, but not as many as out here. They’re adaptable. You’ll find them along the roadsides, slopes, forest edges, even streams.”

  Speaking animatedly, he pointed out some of the other sights. From the enthusiasm in his voice, it was obvious he loved this area. When the show ended or she became disqualified, she’d miss hearing that voice. It had become a part of her life.

  “Is anything wrong?” he asked, coming over to her.

  She shook her head. “I’m nervous about the shoot. I’m still not used to being in front of the cameras and I don’t want to botch things up.”

  “You’ll do fine. I’ve got great confidence in you.”

  His eyes shone warmly. His lips turned up at the corners, making her want to walk over a cliff for him and not look back. With Blake’s looks and personality, he should be the one on television, not her. If in no other respect than that, he was really his mother’s son.

  She forced her longing eyes away from him and stared out the window. The bus passed through a mountainous area, then around to the coast. The sun had begun to set when Blake ordered the driver to stop.

  “Let’s do some exploring,” he said.

  He stepped out first and extended his hand. At his touch, a tingle spiraled up and down her arm, straight to her core.

  He jerked his hand away. Did he feel it, too?

  She was silly for thinking so. The other contestants came down the stairs and he helped them get off as well. He was being polite, that’s all.

  The contestants gravitated toward Troy, who chose to walk beside Miss 44D and ogle the display from her low cut tank top.

  Jillian was so busy taking in her
surroundings she ended up trailing behind the others. It didn’t help that she’d removed her sandals to keep them from getting too dusty.

  Somehow Blake was beside her, as they walked silently along the shoreline. He was too close. He made her think things she didn’t want to think. The warm sand felt soft and giving beneath her feet. If only she were that sand, submitting to the pressure of his touch, molding herself to him.

  She’d never considered herself passionate, but new feelings seemed to awaken from deep within her. Maybe it was the effect of the romantic scenery.

  “When I see all this, I realize how insular my life is. Hawaii is just a sample. Now I want to explore it all.” Jillian made a sweeping gesture with her arm, as if to encompass the ocean and the world.

  “Uh-oh, you’ve got it, too,” Blake said.

  “What?”

  “The travel bug, or should I say, disease. Once it hits, you never recover. Take it from me. I’ve been almost everywhere, but it’s still not enough.”

  “You may be right. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after this trip.”

  “After you snag Troy, you can commute here all you want,” he said in a low voice.

  “I told you I don’t want him.”

  “That’s right. I forgot.”

  Was he being deliberately obtuse, or trying to egg her on? Whatever game he was playing, she didn’t want any part of it. She forged ahead across the sand, digging in her feet, feeling them sink and slide, doing her best to distance herself from her tormentor. It was hard to cover ground. She bit her lip in frustration.

  Her right sole hit something hard. Pain shot through her foot. As fast as the “Ouch,” escaped her lips, Blake was beside her, catching her around the waist and keeping her from falling.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  Her body felt suspended, as if she were doing a ballroom dip. Blake’s face was so near, it invaded her space, but it was an invasion she welcomed. Instinctively, she raised her lips to meet his. He looked down at her, holding her at abeyance for what seemed an eternity.