Jane Millionaire (3 page)

“Last night when I met with the WOLF rep, I mentioned the series you were writing. Your name alone had him salivating. I gave him a copy of the script.”

Rob cursed. He’d been playing around, toying with an idea for a new primetime series. He planned to write, direct, and produce the show. What he’d wanted to do from the beginning but a pricy mistake via the help of his ex-wife had kept him on a narrower path. On a whim, he’d asked J.P. to look over the script. GAMBLER wasn’t ready to pitch to a major network. JP shouldn’t have taken the liberty.

“He called. If we pull off JANE MILLIONAIRE, they’ll give GAMBLER a primetime slot.”

“You’re kidding.” He had to be.
A primetime slot.
Rob’s heart threatened to explode.

“If we hit over twenty, you get complete creative control over Gambler, and they’ve promised me a Tuesday night sitcom, and a sizable bonus for both of us.” JP mentioned a figure that had Rob whistling a second time as he shook his head.

“Twenty million plus viewers?”

“You’ve seen Jane. Viewers are going to love her. She’s tough, yet has an innate vulnerability in her eyes. She’s classy, yet not afraid to get dirty.” JP stood and walked to French doors leading to a private balcony. “She’s the ticket to my staying out of the retirement home for has-been producers and your shot for Gambler. How many of our colleagues would kill for this chance?”

“Every single one,” Rob conceded.

“We have to hit twenty mil.”

“How do you propose we do that?” Rob muttered, knowing the answer, yet unable to contain that very male part of him that didn’t like what JP’s response was going to be.

“We have to make sure Jane falls in love with one of the bachelors, all of America falls in love with both of them, and we give our viewers the fairytale romance of a lifetime.”

Chapter Two

Jill cringed at every creak of the floor. How was she supposed to sneak around an eerily quiet castle in the middle of the night when the floors moaned and groaned with each step she took? Jeez, it was a wonder she’d ever made it to the studio without waking up the entire crew.

She’d picked the studio’s lock and searched without success. Ugh. She had to find a copy of Jessie’s interviews. It would make life so much easier if she knew what her sister actually said while auditioning for this part.

Another step. Another creak. Another cringe.

Had she made that last creak? Tiny hairs prickled along her neck. Man, if she didn’t know better she’d think this place was haunted. Where was her Glock when she needed it? Not that her gun would do much damage to a ghost.

She was almost to her room. Only a few more steps, creaks and cringes and she’d--A hand covered her mouth.

Oh my God! Adrenaline coursed through her. She cocked her elbow to nail her ghostly assailant at the same time as Rob whispered in her ear.

“What are you doing out here?” He let his hand fall away from her mouth.

“About to crack a few of your ribs. Don’t grab me like that. I might hurt you.” She pulled free of his loose hold, her arm brushing against naked flesh, and with a sharp jolt of electricity she realized he wore only a pair of unsnapped jeans. Wow. Where were her handcuffs? Covering abs like his definitely constituted criminal activity.

Rob chuckled at her warning, obviously not taking her seriously, although he should have. She could easily bring down a man twice his size and trained other women to do the same in the safety courses she routinely taught.

He opened the door behind him and motioned for her to step inside. Light from his room illuminated his golden skin. Her gaze raked over his bare chest and the wispy smattering of hair that disappeared into his faded, snug but not too tight jeans. Maybe someone should handcuff her before she discovered first hand where that fine tracing of hair led. Uh-oh. She was in trouble. In more ways than one.

“Where were you coming back from?”

Did he know she’d broken into the studio? She stalled by looking around the suite similar to her own from its lush historic décor to the pleasant citrus scent. The suite next to her own. So that’s where that locked door in her room went. “Why is there a connecting door between our rooms?”

“Because it was me, JP, one of the crew, or one of the bachelors. Guess I’m just lucky that way.” He sounded as if he didn’t consider the privilege an honor. Had he been assigned to baby-sit? Or spy, maybe?

“And you were wandering around the castle because?” he prompted, sliding one hand into his jeans pocket. Had that unsnapped gap just widened to reveal more of his muscular six-pack? She wasn’t going to look. She was
not
going to look.

She looked.

Was the sweat on her neck from fear of getting caught or thoughts of peeling Rob’s jeans right off his pin-up poster body? Gulping down the lump in her throat, she tore her gaze from his exposed flesh and met his amused expression.

“I couldn’t sleep?” Now, why had her words come out sounding like a question? She’d been making a comment, damn it. And she hadn’t been staring at his hard abs. Uh-huh. No way.

“And needed a drink of water?” Mischief danced in his golden eyes.

“Water?” She blinked. “Oh! Water. Yes. I was thirsty.”

He grinned, and she had no doubt he was on to her. Ugh. She was a trained police officer. Posing as Mafia Max’s girlfriend hadn’t made her this nervous. Why was she coming across as a total moron?

“I, uh, never made it to the kitchen.” But looking at him did make her thirsty. Desperately so. His smooth golden chest and abs were cut like the proverbial washboard--and she had a sudden longing to do laundry. Heat flushed her face—as well as other, more hidden parts of her body.

He walked over to a small refrigerator cleverly disguised to blend with the room’s antiques and authentic atmosphere yet with modern day conveniences. He took out a bottle of water and tossed it to her. She twisted off the lid and swallowed a long sip of the cold liquid hoping to cool down her body and thoughts.

Sinking onto the settee, Rob drank some of his water.
Lucky water.

After a long moment, he spoke. “Want to tell me what you were really doing in the hallway at two in the morning?”

“What were
you
doing out in the hallway?” she challenged, having regained some of her usual aplomb and having learned long ago the best defense was to go on the offensive.

“I heard a noise and came to investigate.” The corner of his mouth lifted, and she was pretty sure her stomach had taken up skydiving because it raised and plummeted with his sexy grin. “Have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to find you.”

“Really? What
were
you expecting? Ghosts?” she asked hoping to distract both him and her sex drive. Those dark hallways had been a bit spooky, but she’d rather be beaten than admit that out loud.

She swallowed. If she poured the rest of her water over her head, she doubted it would douse the fire he’d started. An attraction to the producer could only lead to trouble, but how did one explain this to a body that, for the first time ever, seemed to be on sexual hyper-drive?

Every instinct told her to be honest, to give him the truth, or at least as close as she could manage. Damn. She really didn’t want to admit to the boring shambles of her personal life, but he’d see right through her if she tried to lie, and she preferred honesty anyway. The more she could stick to the truth, the less likely she was to trip up.

“Because my boyfriend decided to resign from his position in my life. My overrun-with-one-problem-after-another sister is currently engaged, and she seems blissfully happy for the first time in ages. I feel like a party pooper.” She looked away from his penetrating gaze. “Leaving California for six weeks right now is a God-send.”

“You were in love with this man?”

“What’s love?” She laughed to hide her pain. She
had
fancied herself in love with Dan once upon a time. She’d wanted to love him as she’d believed he loved her, and he had--as a best friend. Ugh. She hadn’t wanted another friend--she’d wanted a lover. Her gaze collided with Rob’s darkened one.

His expression remained unreadable for several seconds. She got the impression he wanted to ask more, but had decided to change the subject instead. “I read you played college ball. You were predicted to go Pro. Why’d you drop out?”

Just how much of her life had Jessie listed as her own? She’d said she’d fibbed a little, borrowing a few aspects of Jill’s life--not the whole thing. From what she’d encountered up to this point, Jessie had listed more of Jill’s history than her own. Why wasn’t she surprised?

“At the beginning of my sophomore year, my parents died and I had to take care of my sister. I dropped out of the university, got a job on the police force, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Is this the engaged sister you mentioned earlier?”

“Yep.” Jessie had danced around like a child with a prized toy when she’d shown Jill the diamond her latest beau had given her. That had been right before she’d begged Jill to pretend to be her. Although she was beginning to question whether she was pretending to be herself. Why had Jessie listed so much of Jill’s history?

“How much younger is she?”

Jill sighed. “Ten months.”

“Ten months?” His forehead creased. “And you had to drop out of school to take care of her? She would have been what? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

“She was eighteen, but she didn’t deal well with our parents’ death. She needed me, and I was there.” Jill shrugged and didn’t bother explaining the legal fiascos Jessie had landed in following their parent’s fatal car crash. Why bother? Things had worked out for the best. If not for Jessie’s minor transgressions with the law, Jill wouldn’t have seen the job posting on the police department’s bulletin board, wouldn’t have personally known the chief. Now, she couldn’t imagine any other career. Law enforcement was in her blood.

“I hope she appreciates the lengths you go to for her.”

If he only knew.

“Yeah, me too.” She finished her water in one swig. “Why did you leave so quickly earlier in the evening? Did I do something wrong?”

Oops. She hadn’t meant to ask that. But she did want to hear his answer. Her head still spun from his abrupt departure. One minute she’d been staring at a man moved with desire, the next she’d been retracing every minute detail, wondering what she’d done to scare him off.

He took a swallow of water and regarded her. “Your entrance was perfect. I left because,” he paused and quasi-shrugged. “I needed a drink?”

“Oh. A drink. Right.” Jill smiled at the way his eyes twinkled mischievously. Her gaze dropped to his bare, muscular chest and her stomach flip-flopped. Before she stuck her foot in her mouth by asking why he’d needed a drink, she stood. “Guess I should let you go back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t asleep.” Which explained why he’d heard her creeping around outside his doorway.

“It’s two-thirty in the morning. Why aren’t you in bed?”
With me.
Oh! Where had that last thought come from? If she wasn’t careful she was going to get herself into mega trouble yet.

“I was reviewing your portfolio, making notes on ideas for the show.” He nodded to a desk littered with papers, several bound notebooks, and a laptop that had a photo of Jessie on the screen. “The pictures you submitted really don’t do you justice, nor does the interview video.”

Do her justice? Jessie was the beauty queen, not her.

“I never photograph well.” Which was true enough. Her gaze lingered on the notebooks. Was one of them the transcript?

She walked over to the desk, hoped she appeared casual, and picked up a photo of Jessie. Jessie’s beauty never failed to move Jill. She’d never seen this one before, but then she hadn’t had a lot to do with Jessie’s pursuit of acting.

For once her sister had attempted something on her own, and Jill had been relieved. She should have known better. Just look at where leaving things to Jessie had landed Jill. In Europe in a sexy man’s suite in the wee hours of the morning. Hmm. Maybe she needed to rethink this and send Jessie a thank you note. If only Rob wasn’t forbidden territory. As things were, she couldn’t risk him finding out he had the wrong woman. Just how far could she push things before he’d realize the truth?

“Personally, I like this one.” She stared into Jessie’s almost identical eyes. How could two sisters be so different, yet so similar? “Of course, my hair was lighter then.”