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Authors: Janice Lynn

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BOOK: Jane Millionaire
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She shot him an eat-crap-and-die look, and he burst out with laughter.
“Just make sure you don’t blame it on your old age when I beat you,” she warned.
“Okay, spring chicken. Bring it on.”

She brought the ball in, and he blocked her shot. She got the rebound and shot again. He jumped and snagged the ball. She stayed on him, fighting gallantly, but he pulled back at the last second and sank another from three-point land.

Yes
.

“Game over.”

“Best two out of three?” She wiped her hand across her brow, then bent over to catch her breath.

“Not on your life.” He tried not to look down the neckline of her t-shirt at the tantalizing glimpse of her sport’s bra- covered breasts. Tried, and failed.

She wasn’t the only one trying to catch her breath. He was almost woozy from lack of air.

“Now who’s chicken?” She looked up and grinned impudently when she caught his stare. Had she purposely provided him with the view?

“Nice try. Just see to it you keep your end of the deal.”
Her lashes swept her cheeks. “You’re sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
“About?” he asked. Damn, but she was flirting with fire with her pouty lips and bedroom eyes.
“Your prize.”
Oh crap. He’d just won the game and lost her kiss to one of the bachelors. What had he done?
The right thing.
So why did it feel like the wrong move?

Still, he said what needed saying, “Make sure you wear kiss proof lipstick on your outings with the bachelors tomorrow. You’re going to need it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

The next morning, a frustrated Rob jogged around the corner of a tall hedge in one of the castle’s many gardens. Until they’d rented the estate, it had been used as a private playground for the mega wealthy. The setting was perfect for JANE MILLIONAIRE.

The sun was barely in the sky. Streaks of red and gold light broke through the early morning haze. A bird chirped in the distance, singing its early morning song.

No matter that Rob should still be in bed. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep and he’d needed to work off some steam. Out of the castle. Away from Jane.

Barely less than two weeks since he’d met the bewitching woman, and she occupied his every waking thought.

And a great many of his sleeping ones based upon the dreams he’d had during the night. Dreams starring Jane. Hot dreams of them battling it out on the basketball court and his winning her kiss. Dreams of his stripping those tight shorts and t-shirt off her and making love to her right there on the basketball court. No cameras allowed.

Sweat trickled down his neck and he picked up his pace, hoping to exhaust his body to the point of forgetting her. If only for a few hours.

Jane. Had he ever wanted a woman more? Not even Mandy had wound him into such a blundering mass of hormones--and he’d been seventeen, hormonally over-endowed and cocky with his film success when he’d first met his ex-wife.

Which explained a lot of things, but not his fascination with his current star.

JP had done an excellent job in choosing Jane. The bachelors were sure to be eating out of her hands before the end of the month. Only four days and they were already making fools of themselves left and right--not that he blamed them or could claim to be any better. He was doing a pretty bang up job of foolhardy behavior himself.

When had staying away from a woman been so hard? Actually, staying away wasn’t what was hard. He was. The mere thought of Jane had his body tightening into a contracted bundle of muscles.

The woman was driving him insane. The need to kiss her, taste her, plunge inside her. He groaned at the image of Jane arched beneath him. She would meet him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, thrust for thrust. She wouldn’t lie there mentally rehearsing her film debut, planning her acceptance speech at the Oscars and her wardrobe for the Golden Globe--not like the last woman he’d accidentally let close a few years ago.

“Oh!” A surprised feminine grunt sounded as a firm body slammed into his.

He stumbled back but managed to stay on his feet, which was more than he could say for his early morning attacker. “Are you okay?”

Jane stared up at him dazed. She wore baggy jogging pants and a t-shirt that left little to his imagination--which had already been working overtime for hours on end.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here this early,” she said, not moving from her fallen position.

Yeah, he hadn’t expected to run into anyone either--especially not her. And not literally.

When she continued to sit on the hard ground, he reached to help her to her feet. Big mistake. He knew better than to touch her. Lightning flashed any time their skin made contact. He’d promised himself after their game last night that he wouldn’t touch her. Not ever again. Yet, here he stood waiting for her to put her hand into his.

Her dazed eyes shifted to his outstretched hand, stared at it a moment, then she looked away. Without a word, she licked her lower lip, and held her palms out to inspect them. A tiny drop of blood pooled on her scraped skin.

He’d hurt her.

His free hand clenched.
Emotions he couldn’t label, as he’d never experienced them before, rushed through him.
Emotions he didn’t understand and was pretty sure he didn’t want.
Emotions that demanded he protect this woman no matter what the personal cost.

He didn’t like the feeling, didn’t want to examine why he’d feel this way about her, and why he didn’t have the power to walk away when she needed him.

He lowered and lifted her to her feet.
“Are you okay?” he repeated his earlier question.
She shook her head, not speaking. His arms still held her, and he became achingly aware of her body mere inches from his.
Her tongue darted out again. When he looked into her intense, desire-filled eyes, he knew he was a goner.

“Jane,” he practically groaned her name. His heart pounded wildly, which seemed impossible as all his blood still loitered below his waist.

Not speaking, her hungry gaze lowered to his mouth. She slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, sensitizing each strand to her. Every warning he’d ever heard sounded loud and clear as her body melted into his, as she pressed her lips to his.

Her lips were gentle, her touch tentative, testing, tasting. Fire spread through him. Hot, raging fire that consumed everything in its path.

Pull away
, his mind ordered.
Kiss her
, everything else demanded.

A million reasons why he should stop her raced through his mind. None of them capable of making him push her away. He stood frozen in time unable to react one way or the other to the temptation she presented.

“Rob,” she pleaded when he remained unyielding, barely managing control of his body’s action. “Please kiss me.”

The vulnerability, the raw need in her voice, a need that matched his own, gave him no choice. He
had
to kiss her, taste her feminine pureness like spring’s first dewdrop on the softest rose petal. Her beauty outshined every bloom in the well-tended garden. Her scent sweeter than the most fragrant blossom.

He ran his hands over her ribcage, and pushed against her lower back, pressing her fully to his aroused body. No longer caring if she knew how much he wanted her, his mouth covered hers.

He’d been right. She was meeting him touch for touch and her tight bottom fit perfectly in his hands.
A sheen of sweat covered his body that had nothing to do with the miles he’d jogged this morning.
Sweet heavens above.

She moved her hips, grinding her body against his hard midsection. Blinding heat flooded him. He wanted more. On cue her mouth opened. The need to plunge into her sugary depths, to discover what she so generously offered, threatened to bring him to his knees.

But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t even be kissing her.

Where had they placed those cameras in the gardens? Damn, he couldn’t remember. Anyone who happened to be in the studio early this morning could be watching them.

JP would kill him if he got wind of this.

“We’ve got to stop.” He pulled back, but was trapped by her arms.

“Why?” Her eyes held confusion amongst desire so hot he longed to say to hell with the cameras and take everything she’d give him, right here and now in the garden.

“This isn’t right.”

“It feels right.” She touched her lips to his and proved her point.

His gaze fell on the soft green grass of the grounds just a few feet away. He could lower her there and--no, he couldn’t. They had to stop.

“Well, it isn’t.” Even to his own ears he sounded lame. “You don’t need to be out here alone before the sun’s up.”

Her chin jutted forward. “I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t be out here alone. I won’t chance something happening to you and not being able to finish shooting Jane Millionaire.” He tried to step back, but she prevented him by tightening her hold.

She averted her gaze for a moment to stare off in the distance before returning her attention to him. “Why are you pretending you don’t feel anything for me?”

She had every right to ask after the way he’d just kissed her. He had to stop this, now, before things got any more out of control. Before he didn’t care that he would be ruining his friend’s career, risking his own, and losing out on his dream for GAMBLER. No woman was worth those risks, he reminded himself. The sexy one in front of him included.

He didn’t want to hurt her, but it was the only way. If she hated him, maybe she’d focus on one of the bachelors. She had to, and he had to make it happen.

His harshness in the exercise room hadn’t been enough.

He mentally cringed at what he was going to do. His heart begged him to forget taking that next step with his career and to explore his emotions for this woman.

And maybe if that’s all that was at stake, he’d risk it.

Instead, he met her gaze without wavering and said words he knew would kill any feelings she had for him.

“Pick one of the twelve to scratch your itch. Fall head over heels for him, and forget I exist, because once this shoot is over that’s exactly what I’ll do. Women mean nothing to me, but a good time. If we slept together, it wouldn’t mean a thing except sexual satisfaction. I doubt I’d even remember your name six months from now--or that I’d even care to remember.”

# # #
Rob watched from the studio as Jane punched Bachelor #10, Jeff Kensington, much harder than she should have.
Thank God, Dr. Doolittle wore protective gear.
The cameraman zoomed in on his face. Confusion shone in the man’s eyes.
“Come on, hit me,” Jane goaded, her gloved fists held high, protecting her face.
“My mom taught me not to hit girls,” Kensington said, keeping his tone light.
She jabbed, making solid contact again. “Did she tell you to let a girl kick your butt?”

Should he tell the cameramen to cut? Probably, but he waited to see what Kensington would do. Would the guy give in to Jane’s taunts?

He punched, pitifully, without any real effort.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” She rolled her eyes. “Knock me off my feet, and I’ll invite you to my suite tonight for a private dinner.”

He punched.

“Better,” she jeered, parrying his shot. “But not good enough.” She nailed him again, bouncing around a little. She held her gloves up. “Come on. I’ll give you a clear shot to make it even.”

He jabbed again, and she sidestepped.
Rob winced for the guy.
Yeah, he was going to have to stop this. They couldn’t use it for the show anyway.

“Nice try.” Jane tilted her chin in challenge and although her headgear hid most of her face, he knew she wore a stubborn expression of challenge.

“She’s making an absolute mockery of him,” JP commented as he stepped behind Rob to watch the live footage. “What’s got that girl so ticked?”

Rob didn’t look up although he could tell JP no longer watched Jane and stared at him instead. “Beats me.”
“Is that what she’d like to do and Kensington is taking your beating for you?”
Rob shrugged. “We’ll edit this. She’s acting out of character.”
“Or maybe not. I think you’ve done something to piss her off.”

JP eyeballed him, making Rob feel like he should open his mouth and spill everything that had happened between he and Jane. Not that he would.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Rob denied, hoping JP would drop the subject.
Instead, JP dropped into the empty chair next to him.
“I saw the kiss in the garden. You forgot to delete the footage from camera fourteen.”
Damn. How could he have missed one of the cameras?
Maybe because he’d been in a rush to get them deleted.

Or had been until he’d caught himself watching the man and woman on his computer screen with an ache in his chest--not to mention the one in his pants.

Kissing Jane in reality had made his dreams pale in comparison.

“I know you want her, but you’ve got to stay the hell away. Convince her she’s not your type.” JP wagged his finger at Rob. “Our show’s star isn’t available as another notch for your bedpost.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he growled, frustration, regret, and longing swirling within him like leaves caught in a whirlwind. “Besides, if you watched the footage from this morning, you know I took measures to put an end to whatever is between Jane and I.”

“Just what is between you two?”

Rob didn’t meet JP’s eyes, as he muttered, “Nothing.”

“Just look at what
nothing
has done.” JP gestured to the screen where Kensington had called it quits, threw down his boxing gloves, and walked away before he lost his temper at Jane’s taunts.

The guy had been holding back, letting Jane take her frustrations out on him, and JP was right. Rob was to blame.
BOOK: Jane Millionaire
10.79Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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