Girl of My Dreams (24 page)

Free at last, but with a price. The party was over. This was it. Pain welled inside Jillian at thought of never seeing Blake again. She blinked back sudden tears.

“Are you all right?” he asked, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“I think so.” She drank in every detail of his deep blue eyes, coal black hair and firm chin. From now on, she’d have to settle for tabloid pictures, which would never do him justice.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t say goodbye. It was up to Blake.

He stared at her, brows furrowed, as if deep in thought. There was a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen before, not lust, but something warm and fuzzy.

Before she could ponder its meaning, an officer approached.

“Miss, if I could please have some minutes of your time. We need a statement.”

Though Blake had not been asked, he accompanied her to the manager’s office. “Please wait outside, sir. We’ll take your statement next,” the officer said.

Blake glanced at Jillian with concern, but obeyed. When she’d finish relating the chilling details and stepped back into the hallway, she found Denise and Troy in earnest conversation. They broke off when they saw her.

“Excuse me. I need to go to the ladies’ room and comb my hair,” Denise said, scattering fast.

This was Jillian’s opportunity. She had to take it. Swallowing hard, she faced Troy. “We need to talk.”

“You’ve got to be all in. Can’t it wait?”

“Not any more. It isn’t fair to you. We can’t stay engaged.”

“Why not?”

“I like you, but I don’t love you. You deserve more. I didn’t mean to lead you on. From the moment I entered the contest, everything kind of snowballed.”

He looked at her with regret. “It did for me, too.”

 She put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re a great guy. I wish things could’ve been different.”

“So do I,” he said. Hurt dimmed his eyes.

Just then, Blake stepped out of the manager’s office and all thoughts of Troy vanished. Dimly she heard Troy whisper, “I get the picture. I should’ve guessed.”

Denise reappeared. Now they were four again. It would be impossible for Jillian to get Blake to herself.

“Did you learn anything more?” Jillian asked him.

“Yes. Apparently Nadia has a history of irrational behavior. Her fingerprints match those of a black-haired trapeze artist, Hannah the Hungarian, from Chezky Circus. She’s already wanted for sawing the trapeze rope of a fellow performer who plunged to her death. The police are happy to haul her in.”

Denise gaped. “Good grief, she could’ve killed Jillian.”

“That was the intent,” Blake said, a thunderous look in his eyes.

Jillian looked from Blake to Troy. “I can’t thank you guys enough.”

Troy was the first to look away. Blake held his gaze.

“Now you and Troy can get on with your wedding plans,” he said.

“There won’t be a wedding.” she answered.

“Is that so?”

Her heart leapt at the look in Blake’s eyes. Maybe she still had a chance.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

JILLIAN WAS BRUSHING her teeth the next morning when the phone rang. Maybe it was Blake. She rushed to the kitchen to answer it, only to hear a spiel from an ad agency exec who wanted her for a commercial. After referring him to her newly hired agent, she hung up in disappointment.

More calls followed, typical since the conclusion of the show. With each peal of the phone, her hopes rose, only to be dashed when she learned the caller.

By Friday evening, gloom set in. Blake didn’t love her. She must have imagined the spark in his eyes when she’d told him the wedding to Troy was off.

Life goes on. She may as well pamper herself. She dropped a portion of her favorite bath oil into the tub and filled it with warm water. Luxuriating in the heavenly scent of Romantica, she took a long, leisurely soak. Afterward, she slipped into her comfy worn chenille robe and padded into the kitchen.

She had the entire evening free, with only herself to please. No need to pay attention to her hair, makeup or clothes for a change.

Before she got too comfortable, she called Carlo’s and ordered her usual Friday pizza, telling Franco, the clerk, to take his time. She’d eat some popcorn first while watching the DVD. She knew just what she wanted to watch.

With feet tucked under her on the couch and a box of tissues close at hand, she pushed the remote. As the introductory credits rolled, she braced herself for what was to follow. She’d heard all about
Helpless
, starring Barbara Branton, in which the heroin braved a multitude of calamities, beginning with a crippling accident.

The movie seemed to live up to the reviews. Barbara Branton proved an excellent actress. She carried the role so seamlessly Jillian lost herself in the character and suffered when each calamity occurred. He woman’s husband left her, saying he couldn’t live with a cripple. What more could go wrong?

Jillian’s eyes were puffy and swollen. She’d used up half the tissues. Would she have enough left for the rest of the movie?

She gave up eating the popcorn. How could she munch away in the midst of such catastrophe?

Miraculously, the clouds lifted and life grew better for the hapless heroine. Jillian breathed a sigh of relief when the physical therapist who’d been treating the heroine professed love his undying love and promised to stop by her house that evening. Barbara, with a heart-wrenching, hopeful look on her face, clumsily managed to get into a sapphire gown. She then sat in her wheelchair waiting for her love to appear.  

He rang the doorbell. In her eagerness to get to the door, the heroine leaned too far and fell out of her chair. She lay helpless on the floor as the ringing pealed on and on. Would he suspect anything? Would he give up and leave?

Jillian sat on the edge of the couch, watching poor Barbara painstakingly crawl across the floor. Would she get there on time?

The bell rang again. It was awfully loud for a movie and sounded a lot like Jillian’s.

Wait a minute. It was hers. How long had it been ringing?

Oh, dear. She’d been so wrapped up in the movie she’d forgotten about the pizza.

Jillian pressed pause on the remote, untangled herself from the couch, bumped her shin on the edge of the coffee table, and managed to make it to the intercom.                    

“Who’s there?”

A muffled voice answered, “Pizza delivery.”

 “Come on up.”

Knowing the poor guy had to make it up three flights of stairs to get to her apartment, in the meantime she had a few minutes to make herself presentable.  She groaned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her kinky hair stuck out like the bride of Frankenstein’s. She grabbed a brush to smooth out the tangles, but it got stuck. She yanked it out and settled for a quick splash of water instead.

She threw more water in the direction of her bloodshot, puffy eyes. She shot a last look at herself in the mirror and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her eyes looked bloodshot, her robe frayed and scruffy, reminding her of a bag lady on a binge.

The poor delivery guy would get an eyeful. What a shame. She really liked pizzas from Carlo’s, but would be too embarrassed to order from there again.

All too soon she heard the knock.

She creaked opened the door. First she saw the pizza box, then the hands holding it. It took a moment for her to realize something wasn’t as expected. She looked up to verify what her mind had trouble registering.

“You’re not the...”

“That’s right.” Blake stepped in and shut the door behind him.

“You tricked me. I look horrible,” she said, ready to crawl under the couch.   

He shot her a look of concern. “Are you all right?”  

Relatively speaking, she was, but she looked a fright, and hated for him to see her like this. She didn’t know whether to be upset or glad he wasn’t the delivery man.

Jillian took a deep breath to still her frantically beating heart. “I’ll survive, but I’m not so sure about Edith.”

“Who’s that?”

“Your mother, who is also the star of the tearjerker I’m watching.”

As if to emphasize her plight, Edith’s heartrending cries carried over from the television.

Blake lifted his eyebrows, then grinned. “That’s Barbara all right. She makes grown men cry. Well, at least your distress is nothing serious.”

Actually it was, but she’d die rather than admit she’d been wallowing in a pool of self-pity, and that’s why she’d chosen that DVD. To change the subject, she asked, “Would you like some pizza?”

“Definitely. I thought you’d never ask.”

She smiled widely. “I do remember many a brainstorming session over pizza.”

Blake followed her through the hallway to the kitchen where she pulled out some plates.      

“Pure brain food. We cooked up many a great idea over cheese, sausage and mushroom pizza,” he said, following her through the hallway to the kitchen where she pulled out a few plates.

Laughing nervously, Jillian wondered where the conversation was headed. Blake couldn’t have come over to share a pizza he hadn’t known for sure would be delivered. Maybe he needed help with the show. That’s what he’d said when he’d found Troy proposing to her on the landing.

She dished out two thick, gooey slices and placed them on the plates. “So you happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to abscond with Franco, the delivery boy’s pizza. Is that your story?”

“Something like that. I was counting on the fact Friday was still your pizza night. Also, that he wouldn’t feel like walking up three flights of stairs if he didn’t have to. When I pulled out my wallet and offered a hefty bribe, it clinched the deal.”

“He’s such a traitor. It could’ve been anyone after my pizza,” she said, with a mock horrified look.

“Yeah, you’re right. The guy should be lynched.”

She laughed again and snuck a glance at him, which was her undoing. His thick, dark hair begged to be touched by her eager fingertips. His twinkling blue eyes were deep enough to drown in. There should be a law against a man looking so handsome.

The pizza sat untouched on her plate. Blake didn’t reach for his either. For such avowed pizza lovers, they behaved contrary to reason. Instead of eating, all they seemed capable of doing was staring at each other.

The tension built inside her. Something had to give. She couldn’t take any more. “Now we’ve established your motive was not to steal the pizza, what did bring you here?”

“You. I need you back.”

Her heart flip-flopped. She fingered the edge of her plate.

“You know I can’t come back to the studio, especially after winning the show.”

“I’m not talking about the studio.”

Something in his eyes scared and excited her. The veins in her neck throbbed. Her heart thumped madly. “Then what are you talking about?” she said in almost a whisper.

“Damn it, Jillian, I can’t stand it without you. At first I thought it was because I was used to having you around. Then it really hit me when you and Troy got engaged. The thought made me sick, but I still fought what I knew in my gut was true.”

“And what’s that?” she asked, not daring to believe he might say what she hoped. If so, it would go against everything he’d said he believed in.  

“I love you so much I have to spend the rest of my life with you, Jillian, if you’ll have me.”

She gaped at him. This couldn’t be real. She must have slipped into a movie. Any minute it would end. The silence lengthened.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

With a jolt, she realized her dream was really happening. Choked with emotion, she couldn’t think straight. All she could say was, “I don’t believe this. I’m a wreck. I hardly look like the girl of your dreams.”

That’s all she could come up with? What was the matter with her? Blake had just said he loved her.

“You look fine. More like the old Jillian, the dependable one who used to work for me.”

“But I’m the new Jillian, too,” she said, almost daring him to admit he didn’t care for her.

He grinned wider. “Also known as Veronica. I can accept that, under one condition.”

She knew there had to be a catch. “What’s that?” she said, afraid to breathe.

“If both Jillian and Veronica love me. Do they?”

“They always have,” she said.

“More than pizza?”

“Lots more. I can prove it.” She pushed her plate away.

Almost in a trance, she stood up and walked toward him. He scraped back his chair, rose and reached for her.

His kiss took her breath away, or was it because he crushed her so tightly she could hear his heart beat?       

They finally came up for air. “Damn, I’m a fool. What took me so long?” he said.

“You’re a producer. You went for the perfect Hollywood ending.”