She Does Know Jack (3 page)

Closing her
eyes, Brielle brought his face to mind. Long, dark hair curled from under his
hat and a two-day beard scuffed his wickedly sexy features. He appeared
dangerous, capable—a man hardened by the world, looking to her for some
pleasure in order to forget.

She’d gotten
used to his disconcerting presence and often-friendly smile and, after awhile,
found herself searching for him and his smoldering blue gaze. Electric,
erotically seductive, the blazing arousal in his eyes pulled her in and set her
whole body aflame. On her last day, after her tip about one of the dancers led
the L.A.P.D. to make their arrests, she’d stayed to see if Dodger was one of
the perps, or if he’d show for her performance. He’d shown, so, she took the
stage one last time. Hypnotized, mesmerized, she had danced just for him.

The rapid rise
and fall of the sexy man’s chest and the way his shirt had clung to his
suddenly sweat-soaked torso told her he’d felt the same frenzied pull. Never
had a man made her feel so desirable…so turned on…so achingly hungry for his
touch. When he’d unexpectedly shown up at her dressing room afterwards,
fighting the attraction had been the last thing on her mind.

For the first
time ever, Brielle had had a one night stand. She’d given herself permission to
enjoy the fantasy man.  Just the memory of the most crazy, thrilling wild sex
she’d ever experienced made her heartbeat push against the evening gown.

“Okay, we’re
ready.”

Her eyes snapped
open and she drew in a deep breath. That man had been one of a kind, and the
kind best left to fantasy. She’d detested her attraction to him, yet yearned
for it at the same time. He could’ve been married—God, she hoped not—or worse,
a criminal. She refused to think about him. Guilt over either would be too much
to bear.

“I’m ready, too,”
she said, turning from the mirror before joining the actresses in the middle of
the foyer.

That job, by
far, had been the hardest she’d ever tackled. This nervousness running through
her now was foolish. Like comparing Mt. Everest to a pitcher’s mound.
Completely ridiculous.

“Good.” Bill glanced
at his watch again before he signaled the cameramen. “It’s showtime.”

While adrenaline
shot through her veins and washed the last remnants of apprehension from her
body, Brielle contemplated what lay behind the door. If one of the contestants
was the perpetrator, would she spot her off the bat or would it take several
days, weeks to discover? As she glided with the others across the foyer, she
told herself the timeline didn’t matter, provided she flushed out the culprit
before someone got hurt.

Bill ushered
them toward the gathering room doors beginning to open. Blueprints she’d
studied last night specified the room to be a fancier, blown up version of a
common living room. Trust the rich to rename and make it bigger.

Adopting a
dancer’s grace, Brielle
Bennett
and her two sidekicks breezed onto the
landing—

And straight
into the seventh layer of hell.

No friggin’ way!

She stopped
dead.

Thankful her toe
hit the mark and her distress went unnoticed, she eyed the men standing across
the room. Handsome in their designer Italian suits, only one of them sent her
pulse into a tango. Broad shoulders, dark hair, blue eyes...

Dodger.

Brielle
swallowed back the gasp that threatened.
He
was an
Anderson
?
She forced her lips into a smile, while her gaze jumped from one handsome
brother to the other. The deep recesses of her conscience grabbed hold of the
knowledge she hadn’t slept with a creep. A sizable relief. She could lay that
demon to rest.  

But with both Anderson brothers dressed to kill, was Dodger the guard…or the groom?

“Hello, ladies.
I’m Greg Phelps, the show’s host,” an attractive Hollywood blond greeted them
from the center of the room. “Welcome to
Meet Your Mate
.”

The actresses blushed
and gushed like he was the cat’s meow. Greg wasn’t the one causing the flutter
in Brielle’s stomach.

Dear God what if
he recognizes me?

He won’t
, her mind
reassured, thanks to the radical appearance change—no red hair, no blue contacts.
Plus, the lack of accent and henna tattoo…and she’d gone up a dress size. Yeah,
she really needed to lay off the French fries.

But she wasn’t
the only one who’d changed.

Clean cut,
impeccable clothes, strong air of authority, the man oozed testosterone. Damn
him—he’d changed for the better. Like his gorgeous eyes and rock hard body
weren’t enough to elevate him to smokin’ hot status. Cripes. Her body already dampened
in special places.

Special places
that were not to take part in this job
.

She shook off
her
Dodger
stupor and reminded herself of the mission.

Soon, nerves
disappeared, allowing training to kick in. Tiny sparks of tension, emanating
from the left, prickled her skin. She settled her gaze on the four contestants
while Greg explained the newcomers’ arrival. The attractive women, ranging from
short to tall, blonde to brunette, all wore similar, half-hearted smiles.
Though not pleased with the arrival of more contestants, none appeared hostile.

Good or bad?

Bad, Brielle
decided, because then she could’ve called the hostile one out and ended this
nightmare before it even started.

With all the
reluctance of a four-year-old at bedtime, she returned her attention to Greg,
as one by one, he introduced the new girls to the groom. It didn’t matter which
brother Dodger turned out to be—groom or guard—and yet she couldn’t explain the
relief shooting through her body when Greg pronounced him the groom’s brother,
Jack.

Why should it
matter?

It didn’t
, she insisted.
Her relief had nothing to do with the fact those four beauties wouldn’t be
throwing themselves at Dodger.

 
Not Dodger
,
Jack
. He was
Jack
Anderson. The former Army Ranger her uncle had
praised to high heaven. The Neanderthal, who—if he knew her real reason for
joining the show—would pressure his parents and her uncle to make her leave. The
sexy man standing thirty feet away was
not
Dodger. No. Dodger did not
exist. That was the past. Over and done with.

Tell that to her
tingling, happy parts longing for a repeat performance, wondering if there was
a small broom closet nearby…

Oh, hell no.
Brielle dismissed
the absurd notion the moment it surfaced. Her chin rose. And there was nothing
happy about her parts. She was just relieved to know which brother was which.
And now that she did, she could get on with the show.

As each actress
stepped forward to meet the groom, she used the time to resurvey the room,
noting more details. Posh, cream-colored furniture, shiny mahogany floors,
French doors to the outside, gold tapestry drapes and an open door to what
appeared to be a study on the left. The owners can’t be all bad, she reasoned,
as her gaze settled on their taste in artwork. An Andy Matthews original
painting hung above the handsome men patiently standing in front of the
fireplace. Two thumbs up for the show’s producers. They sure scouted out a
beautiful location. Although, the mansion did seemed a bit over-the-top for a
bachelor and his brother. That was Hollywood for you.

Uneager to give
them her attention, she swung her gaze back to the other contestants.

On her left, the
red-dressed brunette frowned. Brielle recalled the files mentioning this woman
to be a twenty-seven-year-old marketing director. The curvy blonde in blue next
to her appeared worried, chewing her lower lip. The hand model.

Heat, like an
open oven, blasted the right side of Brielle’s face. Forcing herself not to
turn toward it, she knew that appraisal, had felt it before. Basked under the
scrutiny, until her whole body had been on fire. Dodger’s stare. She ordered
her libido to cool off, and her mind back to task. The assignment mattered, not
the sexual frustration she’d ignored since her last Dodger encounter.

Turning her
scrutiny to the pretty brunette in white, she was surprised to find warmth
behind the eyes of the woman smiling at her. Shorter fingernails and lack of
‘poshness’ to her appearance matched the characteristics of a teacher.

Only one suspect
left. Shifting her attention to the final contestant, Brielle’s gaze collided
with a frank green appraisal. The woman glanced at her up and down, then raised
a perfectly arched brow. Not one to glance away, Brielle did some assessing of
her own. Dressed in red, this exotic beauty with long, silky black hair oozed
confidence and a tough-cookie demeanor. The nude model.

She should prove
to be a fun roomie.

Only when the
woman dropped her gaze did Brielle refocus on Greg's approach.

“And this is
Brielle Bennett.” He took her hand and led her down the four-stepped landing
toward the Anderson brothers.

She did not feel
like she was walking to the gallows. Okay, yes, she did. She really did.

“Brielle is a
twenty-seven year old dance instructor from Sacramento.”

Time to face the
music.

Heart hammering
out of control, she couldn’t shake the fear Dodger might recognize her, even though
the chance was slim. Under other circumstances, and in the distance future, she
actually wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. But not now. Hell no. Damn
sexy man was way too distracting. And she could
not
afford that right
now. The case would be so much easier to work if he didn’t realize they
knew
each other. Very well.
Intimately
well.

“Brielle, meet
Matthew Anderson, our bachelor.” Greg stopped in front of the closer of the two
brothers.

The epitome of
tall, dark and handsome, Matthew confused her. With a smile that made his brown
eyes sparkle in devilment, cheeks dimple while flashing, even, white teeth, she
couldn’t understand why he was on the show. Surely the guy never lacked for
dates. What was going on? A question she intended to ask the moment they were
alone.

“Hello,
Brielle.” Warm fingers grasped hers as he lifted her hand to brush his lips
over her knuckles, all the while holding her gaze. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She let her
smile widen and lied through her teeth. “So am I, Matthew.”

“This is my
brother, Jack. He’s helping me out on the show.”

He placed her
hand into Dodger’s strong grip. Heat instantly slashed through her belly.

Brielle drew in
a breath, then released it in a gush, taking comfort her unease fit with her
character. Unease her foot. The tremors were pure desire.

Dammit.
Apparently the zing she’d experienced at The Limelight hadn’t been a figment of
her imagination, either.
Nosiree
. The energy was as real as the gorgeous
man frowning down at her.

 Not quite as
tall as Matthew, Jack’s strength and confidence filled the room, along with a
bunker load of magnetism. Jaw shaved, hair cut into a short, alpha male style, he
looked like a man hardened by world experience and ready to take on more. Lord
help her, he was even more attractive than before…if that was even possible.
She hoped his mind was as broad as the shoulders blocking out the cameraman
behind him, and prayed Dodger/Jack wouldn’t recognize her when she finally worked
up enough nerve to meet his gaze.

B
rielle’s heart literally hiccupped in
her chest. Those eyes…those magnificent blue eyes, warmed her, heated her,
pulled her into a place she longed to be, teasing her mind and body with
memories of acute arousal. And utter satisfaction.

Pulse jumping,
mouth dry, she worked hard to keep any signs of recognition from her face, but
failed to suppress the tremor of awareness shooting down her spine. Her nipples
beaded. Damn them. And her happy parts tingled. Great. This was going to be a
hell of a lot more trying than her
Limelight
assignment.

Jack blinked,
then cleared his throat. “Hello, Brielle. Welcome to the show.” He released her
hand, his smile guarded.

“Thank you,
Jack. It’s nice to meet you.”

He jammed his
hands into his pockets and nodded. Good. He didn’t recognize her. At least, if
he had, he didn’t show it. And she was more than happy to do the same. Just
dealing with the knowledge of who he was and what they’d done was enough to
keep her tongue firmly planted in her mouth.

Bad word choice.
Her body heated at the memory of her tongue eagerly exploring
his
mouth.

Damn sexy man
was too dangerous. Hell. Jack surpassed dangerous and went straight to lethal.
She had known something was off about him at The Limelight; no way had this hot
man been at the club just to blow off a little steam. Women fell at his feet. In
droves. He didn’t need to go there for sex. Although, he’d found it…with her.

That was beside
the point.

Uncle Franco may
have said everyone checked out except the remaining four contestants, but
Brielle was adding the older brother to her suspect list. Her attraction to him
gave him top honors. She'd learned not to trust her judgment in this type of
situation.

This
reality show
investigation had to be different.
Would
be different, dammit. She
hadn’t felt anything nearly this strong for…what’s-his-name…from that other
show? Grant. Right. She hadn’t felt anything nearly this strong for Grant, and
look at the mess that had gotten her into. No. She would
not
be fooled
again.

So what if Jack
was the groom’s brother and supposedly investigating this show—he could still
have motive and be the perpetrator. After all, the man had
full
access
to the client, the set and the convenience of hiding behind the title of Security.

“Brielle, if
you’ll join the other contestants, we’ll get the night started.” Greg motioned
toward the group of women standing across the room.

Alleluia
. Happy to
distance her body from the blue-eyed temptation, she made her way across the
room to where the trio of white-tuxedoed hunks handed out flutes of champagne.
Taking a healthy sip, she savored the bubbly and listened to Greg explain the
night’s festivities.

“Ladies, tonight
is elimination night. But with the arrival of the new girls, specifically
chosen by the groom’s parents,” the host paused to nod at Brielle and the two
actresses before continuing, “Matthew has to eliminate three out of the now
remaining seven contestants.”

A bout of
groaning filled the air. The contestants turned to her and glared.
Why did
they only look at me? What about the two actresses?
She sipped her
champagne and tried to ignore the familiar heat blasting her right side again.
Dammit. Her willpower took a direct hit and lost. She snuck a peak at Jack. His
intense blue eyes followed her every move. She shivered. This was going to be a
long four weeks.

“But have no
fear,” Greg continued with a smile, “Matthew and Jack will both get alone time
with each of you tonight. So remember ladies, this is your chance to impress
the men.”

Her grip
tightened around her glass. How did the women do this every week? It was
nerve-wracking and the show wasn’t even real for her. She glanced at the
contestants. The things people put themselves through for love. Was it worth
it?

She was still
contemplating the answer when the first two actresses were called. One went
outside with Matthew while the other followed Jack into the study, giving her
some alone time with the other four contestants. Suspects.

“We might as
well have a seat. This is going to take a while,” the blonde said, plopping
onto a cushioned chair.

Brielle
positioned herself between two of the contestants on the couch as the remaining
girl settled into another chair.

Seated next to
her, the woman in white smiled. “Hi, I’m Danielle.” She extended her hand. “But
my friends call me Danni.”

“Nice to meet
you, Danni. I’m Gabrielle but my friends call me Brielle.” She shook the
woman’s hand, liking her sturdy grip.

“Okay, Brielle.
This is Stacy, Mandy and Carla.” Danni pointed to the tall brunette, short
blonde and exotic sitting on her other side.

Brielle had
already known from their photos and bios in her file, but she nodded to them,
surprised again by their guarded, yet non-hostile greetings. “It must be hard
to go through this every week,” she said, observing their reactions.

“Yes.” Danni
sighed. “It is.”

“I hate it,”
Mandy announced with a pout.

Stacy nodded.
“Me, too.”

“Not me.” Carla
smiled. “I enjoy the drama.”

Brielle eyed the
woman, noting her relaxed posture. “You do? You like the suspense?”

“You bet. I
thrive on it.” Her green eyes flashed as she tossed her hair back.

“You would.”
Stacy snickered, seemingly unaffected by Carla’s lethal glare.

“So, Brielle.”
Mandy pushed a blonde curl behind her ear. “You teach dance, right?”

Disappointed in
the change of subject, Brielle reluctantly played along. “Yes. I teach all
kinds of dance to all ages.” She smiled and lied through her teeth, one of the
downfalls of her profession. She could lie and bluff with the best of them.

“Really? Do you
teach erotic dance?” Carla slung her arm across the back of the couch and
crossed her long legs.

At the mere
mention of erotic dance, Brielle’s mind drifted to Dodger and The Limelight.

“Stacy, you’re
next,” Jack declared from the opened door on her right.

Brielle’s head
snapped in his direction, and she watched him step aside to allow the actress
he’d been questioning to escape.

“Well, Brielle?
Do you?” Carla prompted.

Jack’s raised
brow made it clear he’d heard the question. He smiled, a devastating, yet
watchful smile. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”

Bravado lifted her
chin and kept her attention fixed on Jack. “Yes, as I said. I teach all kinds
of dance.”

Something
unintelligible came out of his mouth, but she was too far away to understand. Brielle
held his gaze until Stacy walked past him and he shut the door, lowering the
tension back to a dull buzz.

“Geez, what’s up
with him tonight?” Mandy rolled her eyes.

“Men. Who knows
what’s up with them,” the actress said as she took a seat.

Danni raised her
drink. “Here’s to being enlightened.”

She clinked her
glass with theirs, and was about to take a sip, when Greg appeared and
announced it was Brielle’s turn to meet with the groom on the patio.

Shoot. She’d
wanted more time with the girls to use her ‘rookie’ status to question them.

Years of
undercover work had taught her to switch gears without effort, so, that’s what
she did.  By the time she reached Matthew, the fresh, lavender-scented air and
soothing sounds of water cascading into the fountain basin filled her with
calm.

“Hi, Brielle,” he
said, bending to kiss both of her cheeks.

Yep. Definitely
an Anderson. She’d experienced the same treatment from his parents before his
mother had gone for the jugular with a show of tears.

“You don’t have
to watch what you say out here. The girls can’t hear you.” He grabbed her hand
and led her to a stone bench.

She eyed the
nearby cameraman. Bald, bearded and a ball cap worn backward, the man raised
more than her brow. The look in his eyes didn’t help—almost devious. “What about
him?”

“Who? Phil?
Don’t worry about him. He’s been great, and this won’t be aired until the whole
show is in the can,” Matthew said, reaffirming what Bill had told her an hour
earlier. Once seated, he released her hand and sighed. “I’ll just be happy when
I can let my guard down and not have to worry if the woman I’m dating is going
to turn ballistic.”

She frowned.
“Have there been any more threats?”

“No. I haven’t
gotten any since last week, and your uncle knew about that one.” He sent her a
small smile. “I’m sorry you’re being thrust into this, but I do appreciate it.”

“No problem.
It’s my job. Although, I’ll be honest, I hate deceiving the innocent
contestants,
and
that I’m making you send some home in order to keep me
here.” She titled her head to get a better read on his expression before she
continued. “Matthew, I have to ask, why are you even bothering with this show?
Surely a good-looking man like you can find a date?”

He smiled, his
eyes crinkling with well-worn practice. “You sound like my mother.”

“Gee, thanks, I
think.” She grinned. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Yep, just like
my mom.” He threw his head back and laughed. Moonlight glinted off his teeth
and sparkled in his dark eyes as he sobered. “Sure, I can get dates, but they
always seem to be with women who are more interested in my bank account than my
heart.” He rose to his feet and stalked toward the fountain. “Not once have I
met someone who hasn't asked about my portfolio before our second date. I saw
this show as an opportunity to escape that.”

“How?” she asked
quietly, joining him at the cascading wall.

“The candidates
for this show were told the bachelor was a struggling artist, which of course,
I’m not.” He shrugged. “I don’t like deceiving them either, but it’s only a
small lie. I am an artist.”

“Just not
struggling.” She frowned, trying to recall what her uncle had told her about
Matthew. For some reason, only Jack’s bio stuck in her mind.

“No. I’m far
from struggling these days.” He chuckled. “I paint under the name Andy
Matthews.”

Her head jerked.
“
You’re
Andy Matthews? Wow.” She blinked several times. Her uncle
certainly hadn’t mentioned that. Matthew was famous. Very famous. And very
good. She definitely would’ve remembered. “Wow,” she repeated.

A smile tugged his
lips. “That’s the reaction I usually get.”

“I’m sorry. It’s
just that I’m a big fan of your work.” She smiled, feeling like a fool. “I own
one of your paintings, it’s not as grand as the one hanging inside, but I love
it just the same.”

“Really? I’m flattered.”
Matthew’s pleased expression warmed his eyes. “What do you own?”

“One of your
seascapes—
Tranquil
Shores
. It’s hanging over my bed. Pure
brilliance. Your use of light and colors transports me. I swear I can hear the
roar of the ocean and feel the waves lapping at my feet every time I look at
it.”

“I’m glad. Thank
you.” His smile turned into a frown. “But please don’t tell the other girls.
That’s the reason I came on this show.”

“Don’t worry.
Your secret’s safe with me.” She nodded, then put her arm through his and led
them back to the bench. “Believe me. I understand your motives. I have a
similar problem but for different reasons.”

His head tilted toward
her as they sat down. “You do? But you’re so beautiful. Why would anyone want
to leave you?”

She snorted.
What
was in this Hollywood make-up?
Too bad she couldn’t score a lifetime
supply. “Since we don’t have all night, I’ll give you the most popular reason.
My job and proficiency at it scares the h—” She paused, glanced at the camera
and continued with, “It scares them silly.”

“Well then,
they’re just plain stupid.” He brushed a curl from her eye. “Your strength and
confidence is very attractive, and if they’re too thick-headed to realize that,
then they aren’t worthy of you.”

“That’s sweet of
you to say.” Maybe she could bottle him up and use him when she needed
ego-boosting. “I have one more question.”

“Okay, but you’d
better make it fast. Unfortunately, our time is almost up.”

“Have you fallen
for one of the contestants?”

His gaze
dropped, but even under the soft glow of the garden lights, she noticed his
flushed face. “Yes, I…ah…think I have, but I’m too afraid to let go and show it
in case she’s the lunatic or worse.”

“Worse?”

“The lunatic
might realize I have feelings for this woman and cause her harm. I couldn’t
live with that.” Apprehension dulled the light in his eyes, while dread
deepened the lines on his forehead.