“I know,” she said. “Can you hand out numbers? Then those waiting for autographs can line up outside the restaurant and come in when their number is called. Maybe that way your guests won’t be disturbed as much.”
The maitre d’ nodded.
“Great idea,” Troy said. “Now everyone, did you hear that? Wait for the maitre d’ to get back. He’ll give each of you a number according to your place in line. You’ll all get a chance for an autograph.”
As the maitre d’ left to write the numbers, the crowd relaxed. The crisis appeared to be over. Jillian sighed and sat down. She wasn’t used to this sort of thing. Public life was definitely not for her. She’d be lucky if she got a chance to eat. Such was the price of fame, sought or unsought.
One by one, the autograph hounds approached the table. On the back of each numbered index card, Jillian and Troy signed their names.
The line seemed never-ending, constantly regenerating like a worm that had been cut, yet re-grew. Finally, after an hour-and-a-half, Jillian lay down the felt-tipped pen, rubbed her cramped fingers and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank goodness, I think that’s all of them,” she said.
Troy gave her a hug. “You handled that very well.”
She smiled at him with approval. “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.”
At that moment a flash went off, blinding her. She’d thought the autograph seekers had left.
“Thanks, that’ll make great copy,” a man with a fancy camera said before darting away.
Oh, dear. Her picture would be in another tabloid. What caption would this one show? So far, most had been embarrassingly inaccurate.
Troy released his hold on her and signaled to the waiter.
“We’re kind of hungry. Is it too late to get something to eat?”
As soon as the basket of Italian bread arrived, Jillian had to restrain herself from grabbing a piece and stuffing it in her mouth. Instead, she buttered it demurely. When she bit into it, she almost purred with delight.
After salad, veal scaloppini and mashed potatoes, Jillian managed to down a bowl of spumoni.
She stifled a yawn. “Well, it took us three hours, but we finished our meal. The food was heavenly.”
“I agree. It was worth the wait,” Troy said, pushing back his plate.
Inside the limo, she collapsed onto the seat. “Signing all those autographs wore me out. I’m totally exhausted,” she said, with another yawn.
It was the truth. Her hand felt cramped and sore. She could barely keep her eyes open.
“You’re a great sport, Veronica. Next time we’ll go somewhere less conspicuous.”
Next time. Oh, dear. All day long she’d dreaded breaking the news to Troy. She couldn’t do it now, not when she couldn’t even think straight.
“It was a nice place. Too bad we were seen. No wonder movie stars wear disguises,” she said.
“You still don’t get it, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re famous. You’re a star.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m no better than anyone else.”
“Au contraire. Television makes people larger than life. You’ll never be the person you were before. Lady, you’ve arrived.”
They pulled up to her apartment building. To hide her embarrassment, Jillian gave a short laugh. “I’ve arrived at my door and am very tired. Let’s leave it at that.”
He rushed out of the limo and opened her side.
They made it up two flights and were rounding the third, when she tripped. Troy caught her and held her close.
“You don’t mind if we find a place with an elevator after we’re married, do you?”
The situation was awkward. He held onto to her waist as they climbed the remaining stairs. He let go when they arrived at the top, only to reach into his pocket and pull out a small jewelry box.
Before she could protest, he was already down on one knee.
“Veronica Baker, would you do me the great honor of being my wife?” he asked.
She stood there tongue-tied. It was time to tell him. She opened her mouth to speak, but someone else’s words cut in.
“I spent twenty grand for the engagement ring on the show. Wasn’t it good enough?” a voice asked.
Jillian’s heart leapt, before it quickly sank. Blake was here. He couldn’t have come at a worse time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE BLOOD RUSHED to Blake’s head. It was true. He didn’t need a signboard to spell it out. Jillian was in love with Troy. They were getting married. End of picture, except, damn it, he hurt.
Troy said something about making the engagement more personal by purchasing his own ring for Veronica instead of the one from the show. The guy was really marrying her.
“Isn’t it late to be here visiting?” Jillian asked, changing the subject.
Her voice was not friendly or welcoming. He could kick himself for coming over tonight. She and Troy were an item. He was the outsider, and it smarted. How could he escape without seeming a fool? First, how to explain why he was here?
“I’m having trouble finding a decent assistant. The poor dears can’t handle the pressure. In the meantime, I’ve got a new show to put together. I was wondering if I could run a few ideas by you,” Blake said. Poor excuse, but all he could think of with his mind already in a panic at what he’d witnessed.
“I see.”
Troy frowned. “The security system here is rotten. You shouldn’t have gotten access so easily. Veronica, it’s a good thing you’re moving soon.”
“I’ve never had trouble before.”
Troy turned to Blake. “How did you get in, Caldwell?”
“I helped an elderly lady carry her groceries.”
“Mrs. Ridley. I better warn her to be more careful. It could have been anyone she let in,” Jillian said.
“No, it wasn’t like that. Genevieve recognized me from the show. As a matter of fact, we had a long conversation about you and the series.”
Jillian gave him a searching look, then sighed. “Well, anyway, I’d invite you in and help you, but tonight has been hectic. We were mobbed by fans at the restaurant. Before we could eat we had to sign zillions of autographs. Right now all I want is rest. I could give you a call tomorrow, if you’d like.”
Take your crumbs and to hell with my pride? Not on your life.
“Actually, while I was waiting, a few ideas popped into my head. I was about to leave when you came up. Thanks for the offer anyway, Jillian,” he said, purposely using the name she’d first given him and not the one Troy and her fans used.
Her emerald eyes darkened with either anger or regret. “Well, then, I wish you luck in your endeavor, Blake.”
“The first one worked for us. Maybe another couple will get as lucky.” Troy said, flashing a possessive glance at Jillian.
Troy had to be having sex with her. The jerk may as well advertise it. Blake gritted his teeth.
“Yeah, well, glad you’re so happy,” Blake said, as his fingers balled into fists.
He had to get a grip on his emotions. Making a show of checking his watch, he said, “I better go. I’ve got a certain model waiting for me at a bar. See you around.”
Without a backward glance, he bounded down the stairs, into the night, into a world without Jillian.
What the old lady had hinted at was true. Jillian and Troy were serious. The breakup Blake had hoped for would not happen. Instead, the billionaire would make Jillian his bride.
As he swerved out of the parking space, an approaching Lexus almost hit him. He must be more careful. He had to forget about Jillian. Still, the encounter with her neighbor in the hallway remained fresh in his mind.
“I know you. You’re that producer fellow,” she’d said.
“That’s right, ma’am. Can I help you with those groceries?”
“Thank you so much, young man. Please call me Genevieve. I’m not far down the hall, but the bags do seem heavier
each time,” she’d said, handing hers over, then opening the outer door. “If only my Edward hadn’t passed on. He did everything for me.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“He was also my gain. I thank God for the time we had together. Be that as it may, I’m sure you’re not interested in an old lady’s love life. Aren’t you just thrilled about your star, Jillian? I’m so happy for her. She deserves some light in her life, poor dear, losing her parents so tragically like that and having to fend on her own.”
“I never heard the story. What happened?” Blake said. He held onto the bag as they stood by the old lady’s door.
She told him about the father dying in a car accident and how the mother’s heart had been permanently injured, leading to her premature death.
“That is tragic,” Blake had said.
Now he knew why Jillian’s eyes looked haunted whenever he spoke of his parents. He wished he’d known sooner.
“The main thing is she’s happy now, and it’s all because of you. I watched every episode of your show and rooted for her. It’s so romantic when a happy ending comes true. She has a lot to thank you for.”
The old lady hadn’t heard the whole story, and Blake wouldn’t enlighten her. If it made her feel good, let her live someone else’s dream.
“Oh, by the way, I don’t think she’s in. When I walked my little Trudi earlier, Jillian and Troy were leaving. She was dressed up ever so nicely and my, he looked so spiffy. A fine pair they make. Don’t you agree?”
A knot had gathered in Blake’s stomach.
“Yeah, they both have it in the looks department,” he’d said absently.
The old lady had sighed. “If only the wedding were on TV, although I quite understand Jillian’s sentiments, wanting to get married in a church and all. It is the proper thing to do.”
“I don’t believe I heard the date yet,” Blake had said.
She’d flashed him a quizzical look. “Weren’t you invited?”
“Can’t say I was.”
“That’s strange. You should be the first one on their list. Without you, the two of them wouldn’t have gotten together.”
How true. If he hadn’t conceived the show Jillian wouldn’t have thought up that crazy idea to save his hide. Damn, if he’d guessed she’d pull that stunt, he would have stopped her.
A horn honked, shaking Blake from his reverie. He’d forgotten he was driving. Better snap out of it unless he wanted an accident.
He was tough. He could handle losing Jillian. He’d done without her for the first thirty years of his life and could do so for more.
But he didn’t want to. Cursing, he braked at the next stop light.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JILLIAN WAS STILL feeling sorry for herself more than a week later when Denise invited her over on Saturday night. An overdue talk with her friend was just what she needed. Thank goodness, Denise finally had some time off.
Like its owner, Denise’s apartment was warm and cozy. The cinnamon-scented candles gracing the mantle gave off a heavenly aroma, as did the glowing embers in the fireplace grate. Flowery priscilla curtains matched the pattern on the comfy couch, where Jillian sprawled.
Denise balanced an armful of goodies as she stepped out of the kitchen. “Here you go.”
“Let me take some of that.”
“That’s the idea.”
Reaching over for a bowl of popcorn and mug of hot chocolate, Jillian said, “You really spoil me.”
Denise’s gray eyes turned serious. “You could use some spoiling. Am I right?”
“Afraid so.” Jillian took a sip of the chocolate. Its warmth enveloped her. “Mmm, this is heavenly.”
“Okay, give. What happened?”
Jillian relayed the gloomy news of Blake’s inopportune visit. “I’ve waited and waited for a sign that he cared. Then he shows up at exactly the worst time. The whole thing’s hopeless.”
Denise chewed a piece of popcorn. “Because he overheard Troy’s proposal?”
“Yes, and it obviously didn’t phase him. A week has passed since then and he hasn’t bothered to call. Goes to show I don’t matter to him.” Jillian took another sip of the soothing brew to console herself.
“Guys are proud. Maybe he thought it was hopeless, you know, a done deal,” Denise said.
Jillian slipped out of her shoes and drew up her feet under her. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but I have to face facts sooner or later. Blake said he had a date with a model. That’s a big clue he couldn’t care less about me.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Jillian sighed. “I just don’t see him in the picture at all. He did ask me up to his room once. It was just a sex thing, and I couldn’t go through with it. Other than that, he’s never acted like I matter. Besides, he’s not into commitment, and I won’t settle for less.”
“You shouldn’t have to. Maybe you should go on to someone else. There’s always Troy. He seems like a nice guy, despite having too much money.”
“That is a problem. The money is awfully tempting. I know others have done it, but I can’t marry a guy just for that. I have to feel something.”
“But have you given him a chance? Other than your one date, you’ve only seen him on the show. After you get to know him, maybe he’ll grow on you.”
“No, he’s not a fungus or something,” Jillian said with a laugh. “Troy is a nice guy, but something’s missing. It would be wonderful if I could just wish it to happen and make it be there, but I can’t. The next time we meet, I’m telling him the truth. He shouldn’t waste his time on me. He deserves better.”
“Don’t kid yourself. You’re the best.”
“No, you are, Denise. You look good, you’re smart and you’re the nicest person I know. That qualifies you. Why don’t you go out with Troy?”
Her friend blushed a bright crimson. “Don’t be silly. He doesn’t even know me.”
Jillian stared at Denise thoughtfully. Well, well, she wondered. Was it possible? Could Denise have a crush on Troy? The nurse and the billionaire would make an interesting couple.
If somehow the two could get together, maybe something could be salvaged from the mess.
“You’ve got a strange look in your eyes,” Denise said. “You’d better not be plotting.”
“Spare me. I’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime. From now on, I’m trusting in kismet. If something’s meant to happen, it will.”
“All right then. Let’s watch the DVD. I picked a real tear-jerker. We’ll drown ourselves in someone else’s misery. That’ll make us feel better.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ON MONDAY MORNING, Blake’s latest assistant dashed into the elevator a few minutes before nine, almost colliding with his coffee mug.
“So sorry,” she said.
“Not a problem.”
Blake squinted to avoid being blinded by the purple hair and pink polka dot blouse over matching mini skirt and sky-high boots. Her earlobes glinted with a silvery moon and descending flashing stars.
Not professional looking, but he’d let it pass. Marti was his sole entertainment lately. Yeah, he was desperate, but not crazy. She was a spectacular typist. That’s what counted.
“Wow, I just made it,” she said.
He gave her a quizzical look. “Have a wild weekend?”
She flashed him a smug smile. “That’s right. Back-to-back parties. I’m dragging, but it was worth it. I met a scorching dude.”
“You don’t say.”
Out of the mouths of babes, or one babe, at least. An idea germinated in his mind as he stared at Marti, not really seeing her. It might work. He had nothing to lose.
“He’s already asked me out.”
“I’m glad for you,” he said absently, as he stepped back to let her leave the elevator first. He held open the office door and she sailed in.
Back at his desk, he steepled his fingers and plotted. This could be the out he’d hoped for. He p
ressed the intercom button. “Marti, see if you can round up a nightclub with room in it for two-hundred-fifty people, a week from Friday. We’re having a party.”
“Am I invited?”
He bit back a smile. “I wouldn’t throw one without you.”
“Right on, Mr. Caldwell.”
Okay, now it was war. Blake had seen the look on Troy Langley’s face when he’d glanced possessively at Jillian outside her apartment door last week. So the billionaire thought he had the wedding all sewn up. Not so fast.
It this were a TV special, he’d call it Blake’s Last Stand. He’d pull no punches this time. He’d be polite and flattering, do everything right. To the victor go the spoils. Let’s just see who would end up with Jillian before the night was over. He bet the initials would not be T.R.
“Mr. Caldwell, I found a place, Fabrici’s. They had a cancellation,” Marti’s excited voice broke in.
“Good. Forget that stuff on your desk. Bring up Girl of My Dreams on the computer. Get the addresses for the cast and crew. I want everyone listed to receive an invitation, including the subs. All except that Nadia creature. She’s trouble. You’ll find Veronica Baker’s address under Jillian Baker. Oh, and send an invitation to that nurse friend of hers, Denise McNeal. I’ll get you the address. I owe her big time. If it weren’t for her, I might not be around.”
“I know what you mean. I saw that episode. It was sure scary.”
“Damn right and real.”
“Oh, my goodness, it was? I wondered about that.”
“I’ll show you the scar to prove it. Stop wondering and get to work,” he said, with a laugh.
“Right on, Mr. Caldwell.”
Jeez, she made him feel old. From the start, he’d asked her to call him Blake, but she always forgot. Had directing Girl of My Dreams aged him that much?
Blake sighed. The answer was obvious. Since the end of his hit, nothing had been the same. No matter how hard he tried, hot party chicks didn’t do a thing for him. He just couldn’t get back into the groove.
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