Authors: Janice Lynn
“No. It’s just right.” He shook his head, eyeing her from head-to-toe. “I’ve also decided I like how the extra few pounds fill out your face. You looked a bit gaunt in a few of those pictures. You were too thin.”
What was with the compliments? Didn’t he realize she already liked him too much? Add a great personality, intelligence and compliments to his hot bod, and she was in for some major problems.
“You know, I find it odd. Thanks to airbrush technology, people rarely look better than the photos they submit, but none of your pictures even come close to portraying your beauty. Casting couldn’t have chosen a more suitable woman. You’re sexy as hell, intelligent, and have a genuineness about you that can’t be faked.”
Right then and there she fell just a little bit in love with Rob Lancaster.
Sexy as hell
. Had a better compliment ever been paid?
Her gaze met his, and she shivered. How could she shiver when her insides were in total meltdown? This man made her hot.
“I plan to supervise your publicity shots. I want to make sure our photographers capture the real you, unlike whoever did your portfolio,” he continued.
His words were a sharp reminder that Rob wasn’t a man vying for her affections. He was her producer. She’d do well to remember that rather than fantasizing about what could never be.
Disoriented by the confusing emotions running through her, she dropped the photo back onto the desk. It landed on a stack of books. There it was. The transcript. Boldly labeled as such on its blue cover. She ran her finger over the smooth cover and wished she could magically absorb the contents, could magically be the woman Rob Lancaster thought she was.
“Looking for some late night reading material?” He stepped up behind her. She could smell his wonderfully male scent. Was that spicy mixture a cologne or pure Rob? And could she possibly purchase a few gallons of the stuff to pour on her pillow so she could breath in his intoxicating aroma all night?
“I’m not real sleepy. Would you mind? The thought of reading my interview converted into a transcript fascinates me.” Not realizing how close he stood, she swiveled. Less than a foot separated her from his magnificent bare chest. Why had she been wasting her time running her fingertip over paper when something much better stood before her? And why buy bottles of a fragrance when the real thing was within sniffing range?
Acting on instinct alone, she reached up to touch his tempting pecs. She yearned to smooth her palms over his wide chest, his sinewy arms, but he captured her fingers before she made contact. His larger hand clasped hers longer than necessary before he gave a gentle squeeze. Electric zings zapped their way to her brain, singeing her nervous system in the process. Holy smoke. How had he done that?
Two days later, Jill could feel Rob watching her. All morning he’d been in and out of the studio where she worked with Gregory on everything from memorizing her royal heritage to proper princess etiquette. Who would have thought there was so much to learn to star in a reality show?
Jessie couldn’t have realized how much effort this would be. Her sister was highly allergic to anything that remotely resembled work. Jessie. Jill inhaled deeply. After reading the entire transcript two nights ago, she’d concluded her sister had stolen
her
life. Jessie had listed Jill’s accomplishments—both during her competitive sports days and while on the police force. She’d listed
her
job on the San Padres Police department,
her
hobbies,
her
likes,
her
dislikes. Everything. Her sister had pretended to be her in all but name--and she’d even gone so far as to state that her friends called her Jill to explain all the references to ‘Jill Davidson’.
The question was
why
? Why would her fun-loving, sexy sister want to use dull Jill’s background when interviewing for an actress job? Jill couldn’t fathom her sister’s train of thought--but she would
ask
the moment she returned to California.
Refocusing her attention on the scheduled meeting, Jill glanced around the studio. Currently, she sat at a long heavy wooden table with yellow legal pads all around. JP, Rob, the director of photography, a couple of assistants and several others she couldn’t remember occupied the table, too. She was the only woman present. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen another female since arriving earlier this week. She leaned back in the gray, hard metal, fold-up chair.
“Why aren’t any women working on this crew?”
All eyes turned to her.
“We decided it would create a higher level of sexual tension if you were the only woman at the castle. We didn’t want to take any chances on one of the bachelors being distracted by one of the crew members or castle staff,” JP answered. Jill liked the older man. He had a fatherly air about him, although she’d heard rumors that he’d been a babe magnet in his day--still was, according to some sources.
“You eliminated the possibility of me having competition. Nice thinking.” Lucky her, she’d truly be the center of the bachelors’ attention. Why wasn’t she more pleased at the prospect? Her gaze shifted to Rob sitting at the head of the long, crowded table.
What precautions had they taken to keep her from falling for him? A paper sack over his head might help for starters. And gloves. He’d definitely need gloves to prevent conduction of those lightning bolts his fingertips had zapped to her nerve-endings.
She wasn’t sure any of those things would diminish her crush on Rob. From the moment she’d met the sexy producer, she’d wanted to be the center of
his
attention. And in many ways she was--until the filming ended. His sense of humor, quick wit, and looks of pure male appreciation over the past two days had only heightened her already keen awareness of everything about him.
He looked up and caught her ogling him. Where had he gotten those honey-in-sunshine eyes and dark good looks? She’d expected a Spanish flavor to his words, but his accent was pure Southern California. Foreign sweet nothings or not, she could listen to his sexy baritone for hours on end.
She smiled before she could check herself. He immediately averted his gaze to his notepad without acknowledging her gesture. Her smile sagged. Since their late night encounter, he seemed determined to keep their relationship as producer/actress--which was just as well since the more time she spent with him, the more she liked and respected Rob in ways that had nothing to do with anything physical--and the physical soared right off the Richter scale.
Rob Lancaster was dangerous to her sanity and to her bogus identity. She needed to be careful or he’d distract her right into one big mess-up and presto! everyone would know what a fake she was.
She was making a mockery of everything she held dear, worked hard to uphold, simply by being here. Guiltily, she admitted she was no better than some of the criminals she helped lock up. If she made a slip of the tongue, her honor, freedom, and her job as a police officer would all be on the line.
Slip of the tongue. She’d like to slip her tongue into Rob’s. She swallowed, ran her gaze over his strong features one last time, then forced her attention to JP who had talked non-stop during her fantasizing about Rob.
“Okay, the first week the guys are here, they get the opportunity to wine and dine Jane.” JP continued the brainstorming session.
“While they’re still at the hotel, they’ll write a letter of introduction. At this point, Jane won’t have met any of them. She can choose which ones she likes and her choice will be made without the bias of outer appearances coming into play,” he continued.
“This portion is interactive as well. The audience will vote on which letter they like best and that bachelor receives a night out with Jane and a cash prize of ten grand. A special kick-off vote of sorts,” a creative assistant said with excitement in his scratchy voice.
“We’ve also added a viewers’ choice to air at the end of each episode,” Rob informed. “Viewers will have twenty-four hours after the show airs to vote. Audiences are much more likely to tune into the next show if they’ve participated in the decision process. They’ll want to know how their choices compared to the rest of the viewers’.”
“The audience is going to pick the guy I have to go on the pretend honeymoon with?” Jill didn’t like the thought one bit. What if they chose someone she couldn’t stand?
“No,” Rob said. “Ultimately, the choice between the last four bachelors is yours. Just like you’ll have information about the men that will be cut from the actual footage shown, we’ll give the audience different inside information.” He clicked the tip of his pen back and forth as he continued. “We’ll show clips of the men discussing you, etc. They’ll form their own opinions about which men are sincere and which ones are after the prize money that comes from being chosen.”
“Prize money? The guy I choose gets prize money?” This was news to her. Why hadn’t the packet they’d sent Jessie included this information? Or had it and Jessie just hadn’t seen fit to pass those pages along. Jill bit her lip to remain silent.
“The bachelors win a prize for each episode they advance. The chosen bachelor gets the choice of going on the honeymoon with you or taking a hundred thousand dollars cash.” JP’s tone insisted it was no big deal as he waved his pen around. Wrong.
“Holy smoke,” she exclaimed. The plot thickened. “So even though all these guys are going to be kissing my fanny for the next month, ultimately I’m going to be made a fool of when he walks away with the dough, and I’m left alone on national television?”
“If one of the men falls in love with you, he’ll choose you, not the money,” Rob assured from the opposite end of the table. He sounded confident, but she knew better. Men fell in love with Jessie, not her. And that was when nothing was at stake except her heart. Add in the bonus of a hundred grand for walking away, and Jill Davidson didn’t stand a chance.
“In a month’s time, some guy is supposed to fall so in love with me that he’d choose me over that amount of money?” she scoffed. “It’ll never happen.”
Not that she wanted it to. She was here to save Jessie’s butt. If she happened to have a little fun along the way, well that would have been an added windfall. It was beginning to look more like her usual luck remained true to form. What man would choose a tomboyish woman over that much cash?
“Ah, but you’re forgetting the guys don’t know you’re not really Jane.” Rob leaned back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully. “They believe you’re a princess, and someday they’ll be crowned king if they marry you.”
“So, if the guy does choose me over the money, I still won’t know if he’s choosing me or hoping for a bigger payout,” she mused out loud. This just got better and better. She should have known there was a catch. There was
always
a catch.
“After he’s chosen you, you’ll tell him the truth. That you aren’t a princess, but in truth, work at a low-paying job,” Rob said.
Her police salary wasn’t that bad--well, maybe it was to a big time Hollywood producer like Rob Lancaster. But at least there she knew where she stood and didn’t have to take any crap off any one--except the commissioner, and the mayor, and the… Okay, so she had to take some crap there, too, but at least it was acceptable crap. Most of the time.
“Either way, I’ll be humiliated when he takes off. Humiliated in front of millions.” Just great. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, staring at the exposed wooden beams that glistened with richness and age.
“If you’ve found true love, he’ll stand by your side.” The words were spoken low, but even. She glared at him, but he refused to make eye contact.
“Yeah, right.” She snorted with disbelief. Surely, he didn’t buy the garbage he’d just fed her? Regardless, she knew better. Dan had proved how much she knew about love. And about picking men.
“Whether or not any of the bachelors truly fall in love with you depends a great deal upon you.” Still the irritating man didn’t meet her eyes. He seemed to look anywhere but at her. “Choose how you spend your time with the bachelors wisely. Think about the worst dates you’ve had and what made them that way.”
“My worst dates?”
Rob nodded. “We’ll recreate them and see how these guys react in similar situations.”
“You want to recreate my
worst
dates?” Jill scowled. Was he out to torture her? She’d thought having to be constantly exposed to him when he represented prohibited goods was punishment enough. Apparently not. “I thought I was going to be romanced for the next month.”
She wanted a little romance--even contrived romance had to be better than constantly being considered just a good friend.
“People convince themselves every day they’re in love when things are bright and sunny. It’s when the rain comes that the truth is exposed. What they thought was love turns out to simply be lust.” Rob’s gaze bore into hers. “I want you to put these guys in situations to bring out their true nature. Make them work to show their charm.”
She rolled her eyes. Oh, she knew quite a few ways to kill the look of romance in a guy’s eyes. She had a lifetime’s experience. “Jeez, just put me in a game of one-on-one with them.”
Rob’s dark brow rose.
“I’ll win,” she clarified. She took a deep breath, trying to stifle her frustration at this whole set-up, and failed. She glared at the overabundance of testosterone at the table. “Men don’t like to lose to a woman. At anything, but especially not at sports.”
Several snickers sounded around the table.
“Okay, we’ll let you play them in a game of basketball.” He turned to an assistant. “There’s a gym here, isn’t there?”