Jane Millionaire (2 page)

“How can you be sure?” she asked, fighting the mental image of the man handcuffed and at her mercy.

“Just take my word for it.”

Jill’s eyes widened. This wonderfully scrumptious man saw her as a woman, a desirable woman. Having practically asked for his assessment, she felt foolish. She was a fool. Just being here proved that. Intellectual, tough as nails Jill Davidson--practical till the end.

But not for the next few weeks.

For a short while she had to be Jessie Davidson, her younger sister by ten months. Her irresponsible sister who was everything Jill wasn’t. Feminine. Flamboyant. Sexy. Jessie who had always been popular with the men and who was the center of attention no matter where she went. Jessie who would run her tongue invitingly over her lips and offer to let Rob handcuff
her
to the bed. Jill gulped at the mental image.

She was tired of being one of the boys.

Rob’s gaze made her feel deliciously female, and she liked the unfamiliar sensation.

“Thank you.” She smiled. If he was an example of what the bachelors would be like, the next few weeks might not be so bad, after all. Too bad he wasn’t one of the bachelors. She could make her pick right now and save the film crew a lot of hassle. “I look forward to working with you.” That had to qualify as the understatement of the year.

Her hand automatically extended, and he shook it.

“That’s some grip you’ve got there.” His eyes danced.

Heat infused her face. She wasn’t sure if it originated from his comment or from the lightening that streaked through her from where they touched. She jerked her hand away.

“I work out.” Competing in a man’s world she had to.

“Obviously,
Jane
.” His gaze raked over her with renewed appreciation. His lips curved.

Her heart flip-flopped.

The man had a killer smile and a tall, muscular body that probably had women dropping at his feet. She took a deep breath and shoved aside the wicked thoughts his smile filled her with. She had enough to worry about without complicating matters by lusting after the producer. She would lose her job, her reputation, possibly her freedom if she got caught and the network pressed charges. Fraud. Yep, that’s what she was and she needed to keep as much distance between she and Rob as she could. “You know Jane isn’t really my name.”

“Only JP and I know your true identity, and we both think of you as Jane. You have no other name. And, to answer your question, no, you don’t have to marry one of the bachelors.” He plowed a hand through the midnight silk on his head, then added with a thigh-melting wink, “Although, it might help the ratings if you did.”

“That’s a relief. I have no desire to get married.” Not to some guy she met while pretending to be her sister.

He looked taken aback. “That’s not what you said during your interviews. I may not have physically been there, but I did read over the transcripts.”

Transcripts? Her stomach plummeted. Had she just made a major slip?

They had recorded Jessie’s interviews.

She needed to get her hands on those so she’d know what
she
had said.

His eyes narrowed at her continued silence. Darn, she usually thought fast on her feet. In her line of work she had to. What was it about this guy that had her acting like some knock-kneed teenager in heat?

“You want someone to sweep you off your feet, marry you and make lots of babies,” he continued in an almost mocking tone, as if he, personally, found the prospect repulsive.

Jessie had said that? Nausea rose in Jill’s throat. Her sister better not rush into motherhood. Visions of changing baby diapers and walking the floor at all hours during the night caused Jill to shudder. She had enough responsibilities just looking after her sister without adding a little munchkin to the clan. Jessie better stay on her birth control or else.

“Don’t you remember what you said during your interviews?”

“Of course, I do.”
She
hadn’t said a thing. Jessie, however, had given an embellished mixture of both her and Jill’s lives. Mostly Jill’s from what her sister had admitted during her teary goodbye at the airport. “Isn’t a girl allowed to change her mind? Maybe I could read over those transcripts?”

“A woman’s prerogative and all that jazz, huh?” He stared a few moments longer with a cocky grin on his face, shook his head, then, walked across the large room with proud, confident strides. Several people scurried after him.

She sighed in relief. He’d bought it. He’d believed she was Jessie. He hadn’t offered to let her read the transcripts, but oh my God, she’d pulled it off.

“Jane?” A well-dressed thin man with a friendly face, paisley silk shirt, and too tight pants walked up the moment Rob disappeared through one of the high-arched doorways of the castle turned set.

She blinked. Twice. Jane. Oh yeah, that was her.

“I’m Gregory Bell. I’ll be doing your hair and make-up,” he explained as he stunned her by kissing both of her cheeks. “How are your accommodations?”

He clicked his tongue. “You don’t sound as if you understand the coup you’ve landed. You were chosen out of thousands of hopeful women to play her royal highness Princess Isabella Jane Strovanik.”

“Coup,” she muttered as she followed him to a catchall room slash beauty salon. He pointed to a parlor type chair.

“You’re not cutting my hair.” She grabbed her long tresses, free from their usual clips. She hadn’t cut it for the police force. She sure wasn’t cutting it for these TV jokers.

His mouth fell in exaggerated horror. “Absolutely not. Just a little snip here and there to give you some verve.” He stepped around her. “And a few highlights.”

Jill stared at her reflection in the antique full-length mirror set up in her suite. Gregory had taken her drab brown hair and added subtle streaks that caught in the light, making her resemblance to Jessie even stronger. He’d plucked her brows to almost nothing and performed magic with his make-up brushes. That stunning woman couldn’t be her. She was a tomboy, not a homecoming queen—or princess as the case was supposed to be.

With one last look of disbelief, she left her spacious room and descended the elaborate curved staircase. Masterpiece paintings of ‘her ancestors’ lined the walls. An intricately designed crystal labara hung from the embellished ceiling.

Three men stood in the large marble-floored foyer. Gregory, an older man she’d yet to meet, and God’s gift to women. Rob Lancaster. Her heart fluttered. Man, he was gorgeous.

Her steamy reaction to his magnetism surprised her. She’d rarely dated since her break-up with Dan two months ago. She’d thought Dan had been the one--that special someone just for her. They’d gotten along so well, perfect partners on the force, having complete trust in each other. Too bad there’d been no passion. She’d accepted mediocre sex as a small price to pay for the affections of a man like Dan. Obviously he hadn’t been willing to make the same concessions.

She returned her attention to Rob, who did a double take. His throat worked. His gaze darkened as it slid over her bare shoulders and the generous amount of cleavage revealed by the gown Gregory had insisted she wear. Wicked slivers of desire sizzled through her at the way he dragged his gaze back to her face--as if he had to force himself to look away from her body.

When had a guy made her pulse race with just a glance? But race it did. Indy 500, look out. Rob didn’t see her as one of the guys. Not by a long shot.

Delicious heat pooled inside her. Moist, burning heat. She’d never felt more like a woman than at this moment wrapped in Rob’s masculine approval.

Gregory glanced up and grinned. He made a grand gesture and bowed. “May I present her royal highness Princess Isabella Jane Strovanik?”

She nodded at the other two men before facing Rob once again. Something in the way he stared reached inside and made her ache for the fulfillment his eyes promised. Instinctively she knew nothing
he
did would rank as mediocre. Could you fall head over heels for a man simply because he looked at you as if you were the most desirable woman he’d ever seen?

“You’re stunning,” the silver haired man in his late fifties or early sixties exclaimed when his bushy-browed gaze landed on her. “Much more so than in your photos and interview tape.”

She did feel beautiful, but for him to say she was lovelier than her sister--
no one was lovelier than Jessie
.

She tipped her head in the manner she’d practiced with Gregory and held her hand out to the distinguished older man who had to be JP Scott. “Thank you. You are too kind.”

He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and pressed his cool lips to her warm skin. “Just look at her, Rob. She’s absolutely perfect.”

Rob
was
looking. He hadn’t been able to quit looking from the moment he’d spotted her. Like something from a fairytale, she’d practically floated down the ornate staircase.

His body took notice of every minute detail. From the delicate curve of her exposed throat, to the creamy skin of her shoulders, to her toned arms. He skimmed her gown’s tight bodice and swallowed to wet his dry mouth. Full breasts narrowed into a tiny waist. Hips flared to legs his imagination worked overtime envisioning as long and shapely. He’d like to push the layers of her gauzy skirt aside to know for sure.

Red-hot lust threatened to knock his normally steady feet out from under him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an innate response to a woman. He wanted her. In a bad way.

But of all the women in the world, Jane was one he would deny himself. Which was a shame as he could see recognition of his longings in her shimmering green gaze. Recognition, curiosity and a desire of her own. Damn. A sexual attraction between them would screw up everything.

Jane was here to fall for one of the twelve bachelors chosen to compete for her affections. JP’s career teetered on whether or not Rob could make this show a success. A success that wouldn’t happen unless Jane fell for one of the men and convinced millions of viewers she had found her prince charming.

“Yes. Stunning. Very well, then—” Rob paused feeling like an awkward schoolboy. He squelched his rising libido. He was a grown man and could restrain his physical needs. He
would
control it. However, Jane’s sweet, flowery scent was quickly demolishing his resolve. He needed distance between them. Now. Without another word, he strode away, ignoring JP’s frown, Gregory’s wide eyes and Jane’s expression of total confusion.

Rob slammed into the room he’d use for the next month and carefully avoided glancing at a connecting door he didn’t want to acknowledge. Damn. He headed straight for the shower. A cold shower. An icy shower.

He wasn’t supposed to want to rip Jane’s clothes off and ravage her shapely body. The twelve clowns that would show up next week were for that. Still, Jane naked and beneath him was exactly what he craved. He groaned and hooked his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt to tug the material upwards.

Rob let out the whoosh of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Did he really think she’d followed him to his suite? And if so, he’d only have to send her away. Frustrated, he opened the door and stepped aside, letting JP enter.

JP glanced around the room and let out a whistle. “Nice.”

“It ought to be for what we’re paying.” He sounded gruff. Too bad. He didn’t feel like socializing.

“Castles don’t come cheap.” JP sank into an eighteenth century high-backed chair with deep, blue velvet cushions. “So, what did you think of Jane?”

She’s sexy as hell, and I want to know if she’s as toned under those clothes as I think she is.

“I figured you’d go for some blond Pamela Anderson wanna-be to play Jane.” That much was true. He’d wanted to make the final decision, but had been tied up with a previous production.

“Casting narrowed it down to the top five choices. I picked her based on her interviews, looks, and her background. You’ve seen her portfolio. She plays every sport and excels. She rides, shoots, and can probably kick my sorry hind-end into the next country. A modern day Belle Starr. She’s amazing.”

“I’ll say,” he muttered. God, he hated ‘reality’ TV. Even when it had first hit the airwaves he hadn’t bought into the crazy phenomenon. The thought of contributing to such a phony production repulsed him. He’d worked damn hard to build a quality reputation after his one career blunder. His involvement with JANE MILLIONAIRE could revive old media clips of his one and only failure. He might never recover a second time.

But JP had believed in him when he’d been a greenhorn from East L.A. itching to make a name for himself, had believed in him even after his show flopped thanks to the antics of his ex-wife. Without JP, the doorway leading down Hollywood’s golden path might never have opened a first, or second, time.

Only JP could have talked him into this reality sham.

“She’ll get the works over the next couple of days. Then we’ll go over the agenda for the show, what our expectations are, and brainstorm on what she’d like to see the men go through to prove themselves.” Oblivious to Rob’s inner turmoil, JP’s voice grew louder with each word. “She’s fully trained in martial arts, holds a black belt. It might be interesting to let her duke it out with the guys.”