Girl of My Dreams (6 page)

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.

His jaw clenched. A flicker of doubt crossed his face before he set her upright.

“Damn, that’s all we need is for you to hurt your foot. That would be big trouble. I should’ve known better than to let you walk on the sand without your shoes,” he said.

Coldness gripped her. She’d temporarily forgotten her role, but now it was all too clear. It hurt to know all she meant to Blake was a way to make his show a hit. Her eyes flooded and her stomach tightened. To hide her disappointment, she looked down.

“I’m fine now. What was it I tripped over anyway?” she asked, as if her heart weren’t torn in two.

Blake joined in the search. Suddenly it seemed the most important thing in the world to discover what she’d stepped on.

Something shiny and cream-colored peaked out from beneath the grains of sand. Blake reached down, picked it up, then held it out for Jillian’s inspection. “Here’s the culprit, a baby seashell. Would you like to keep it as a souvenir?”

“No, that’s okay. There are plenty more out there. I think we should catch up with the others, though, before I get into more trouble.”

Sarcasm had crept into her voice, but she didn’t care. She had no need of a souvenir to remind her she meant little to him.

With head high, she turned and marched in the direction of the tour bus. Blake followed.

Once inside, Jillian concentrated on gazing at the scenery. Whenever Blake pointed out an item of interest, she barely glanced at it. Whatever he was saying bounced off her and into the stratosphere of unheard words, as her mind groped with the pain of lost hopes.

If only it were different. If only the seashell had meant something precious, like a reminder of their first kiss. In that case, she’d have kept it forever. As it was, she’d never have that sort of memory of him to hold.

He’d never pretended to care. She was a pawn in his search for greatness, and nothing more. Of course, she’d known that from the start, but it still hurt.

AFTER AN EARLY morning wake-up call, two security guards escorted Jillian to the designated makeup room in the hotel. The other nine contestants, in various stages of beautification, were already seated. After a boring hour while creams, lotions and powders were patted on her face and other body parts, Jillian was directed to Wardrobe. There she was presented with a few scraps of material a famous designer dared to call a bikini.

Jillian and the other contestants were escorted en masse to the beach area, a few yards from the main entrance of the hotel. Cheering crowds pushed against the ropes. Lewd remarks rang out, making Jillian’s cheeks burn. She wanted to grab the microphone and announce to everyone the skimpy swim suit wasn’t her style, but who would believe her?

“Listen, girls, this is the game plan,” Blake said. “The coach here, Tommy Rialto, will cover the rudiments. If you already know them, be patient.”

Since she’d never played the sport, Jillian listened intently. The concept of volleyball seemed easy, even to someone as non-athletic as she.

The familiar theme,
Girl of My Dreams
, rang out. The billionaire, dressed only in a Speedo and a leering smile, flexed his abdomen and biceps, then paraded around the court, and ended up sitting in a red velvet chair at mid-court.

The man looked buff. Not anywhere on his perfect body did an ounce of flab dare to protrude. He also appeared well endowed, in more ways than one. Not that she wished to verify, but was that gigantic outline below his waist a sock or something else?

“Okay, girls, gather around for a publicity shoot,” Blake said.

Jillian found herself sitting sidesaddle on the billionaire’s knee, with her tiny scraps of material the only separation between her vital parts and Troy’s flesh. His arm crushed her closer. His hand tightened around her waist.

“You make me hot,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Her cheeks burned. Her skin crawled. She wanted to swipe his hand away, but that would not be wise under the circumstances. The photo op couldn’t last long. She’d grit it out.

The others didn’t share her distaste. They pressed close to the billionaire, as if trying to claim a part of him, no matter how small.

Like a dog in heat, Ms. 44D, the so-called innocent one, straddled the billionaire’s other leg.

“Thanks, girls, that’s it,” the photographer said, as he dismissed them.

Troy stood up. Two grips rushed over to haul his throne to the sidelines.

Blake turned to the contestants and smiled. “Remember, girls, it’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game that counts. Don’t be bashful.”

“Let the contest begin,” Thaddeus Larimore boomed.

As Jillian waited for the ball to fly in her direction, fingernail preservation seemed definitely an issue. Her teammates appeared more intent on dodging the ball than hitting it.