Girl of My Dreams (22 page)

The circumstances ate at her, though other items claimed her attention. For one thing, the paparazzi had gotten wise to her whereabouts.

She couldn’t step out of her building without someone photographing her. Her phone rang at all hours and her mailbox overflowed with tempting and not-so-tempting business and personal offers. Would-be suitors suggested she marry them instead of Troy. Those were the decent proposals. In others, marry was not the word used. Jillian tore up and threw away the offensive missives. The nice ones she answered politely.

Talk show hosts had gotten into the act as well, inviting her to appear so they could get the scoop on her wedding plans. She declined, since it wasn’t fair to tell the world there would be no wedding when Troy didn’t even know.

Curly Q, a shampoo conglomerate, presented her with the best offer. For a gigantic sum, she’d spend two days primping and saying the innocuous phrase, “Watch your Curly Qs.” That she accepted.

Others followed. The pay from
Girl of My Dreams
had been enough to clear her of debt and set her on the road to financial security. Any gigs she accepted now were icing on the cake. For sure she’d not need to be anyone’s assistant again. The thought made her kind of sad. She’d enjoyed working for Blake.

After the fifth offer of the day, the phone rang again. She stared at it in exasperation. Caller I.D. showed an unlisted number. She considered not answering, but force of habit made her pick up the receiver.

“Did you get one?” Denise asked.

“What? A parakeet, dog, cat?”

“Don’t be silly. An invitation.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m trapped here. I can’t even go down to my mailbox, except in the wee hours of the morning, when the photographers and reporters are taking their beauty rest.”

“Why not ask the super to bring up your mail?”

“I should’ve thought of that.”

“We’re straying from the subject.”

“Oh, yes, an invite. No, I don’t have one, unless it’s still downstairs. What’s it for?”

“Only the social event of the year. You’ve got to be invited, too.”

“Don’t tease me. What is it?”

“Well, the one and only love of your life is holding a cast party for
Girl of My Dreams
in a week and half, on November 20th.”

A chance to see Blake again. Jillian’s heart hammered. “Maybe he didn’t invite me. I’m not on his “A” list, you know.”

“Of course you are. Besides, he has to invite you. Also, Troy. You’re the stars of the show.”

“That settles it. I can’t wait. I’ve got to go downstairs and find out. Maybe I can wear a disguise. Talk to you later,” Jillian said, hanging up quickly.

She rummaged in the back of her closet and pulled out an outfit she’d saved for sentimental reasons. It was a reminder of the good times she and Dad had spent together.

Mom had hated anything to do with the water, so when Dad’s fishing buddies weren’t available, Jillian had accompanied him. Blue gill and pan fish would gravitate toward Dad’s lines, yet he’d always clung to the notion that some day he’d catch the “big one.” She smiled, remembering her father’s eternal optimism.

Jillian slipped into a pea green thermal top, overlarge Dockers and waterproof shoes. Next, she scrunched her hair down with bobby pins and stuck it into the knit navy blue fishing cap. To complete the ensemble, she put on an out-of-style pair of prescription sunglasses, which, for some reason, she’d never gotten around to throwing away.

She put her apartment key and mailbox key in the pocket of her pants. Before leaving, she glanced in the hallway mirror. My goodness, she looked horrid. Should she appear in public like this? What if someone recognized her and took a picture? That would be embarrassing.

Impossible. How could anyone believe the tomboy staring back at her was the beauty queen courted by a billionaire, with legions of adoring fans?

Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the door, then dashed down the stairs.      

Would her invitation be in the mailbox? Seeing Blake again would be heaven and hell.

She stepped into the vestibule. It looked peaceful and quiet. After all her efforts at deception, not one reporter was present to greet her. Maybe someone else was making headlines today.

To be on the safe side, she glanced to the right and left. The coast seemed clear. She stepped up to the mailbox, inserted the key and reached inside.

The lobby door opened. She froze. Would she be discovered? Yes, she was wearing a disguise, but it was obvious whose mailbox she was taking mail from. Any dunce could figure out she was in costume. She looked up, then sighed with relief.

“Hello, Mrs. Ridley.”

“Is that you, Jillian, dear? What’s happened to your lovely hair?”        

“Under the cap. I’m incognito at the moment. Too many unwelcome visitors lurking about.”

Mrs. Ridley nodded. “Oh, I see. You are so right, dearie. A beautiful girl like you can’t be too careful.”

Jillian held the door open for the elderly woman and accompanied her up the first flight of stairs.

The mail, which Jillian hadn’t had time to glance at, almost burned a hole in her hand as she wished Mrs. Ridley a pleasant day.

“The same to you, my dear. Oh, can you tell me one thing? I never received an invite to the wedding. You haven’t forgotten me, have you?”

The old women looked hurt. Jillian’s heart sank. Was there no escape from the repercussions of appearing on
Girl of My Dreams
? Now, even her kindly neighbor was suffering.

Jillian debated about what to say. Could she trust Mrs. Ridley with the truth? She had to. It was better than hurting her feelings. “If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell a soul?”

Eyes round, Mrs. Ridley agreed.

“There won’t be a wedding. Troy’s out of town, so I haven’t been able to tell him yet.”

The woman put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear. That’s so sad. You make such a lovely couple.”

Jillian patted the old lady on the arm. “Well, you know, looks aren’t everything. There has to be something else there. The whole thing just didn’t feel right.”

“Then you’re right to break it off. Me and my Edward, we had the most wonderful marriage. We always knew what the other one thought. My, I do miss him.”

“My parents had that also. I won’t settle for less.”

“I’m glad to see there are still fine, upstanding women who value love over money. I applaud you for giving up what a rich man could offer.”

“Money’s not everything, is it, Mrs. Ridley? Listen, I need to go upstairs. We’ll talk again soon, okay?”

“Right, my dear. You run along.”

Jillian did almost run up the remaining flights of stairs. What she’d said to Mrs. Ridley was achingly true. Though it wasn’t Troy, she’d found the man of her dreams. Would she still have a chance to get him?

Out of breath, without removing her cap, she dashed into the apartment and rifled through the stack of mail. Had Blake sent her an invitation?

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

A LIMO HIRED by Blake picked up Jillian. Denise was already inside. Troy had called to say his plane would land an hour later and he’d come separately. That was fine with Jillian. He would not be happy when he got to the party and noticed she wasn’t wearing his engagement ring. Tonight she’d tell him once and for all they were through.

At least Nurse Denise would be on hand to soothe Troy’s fractured ego and lavish him with tender loving care.

Once again Jillian went over the scenario with her friend. “Now remember, Denise, if you see Troy looking sad, just go over to him and be your usual sympathetic self,” Jillian said.

Her friend nodded. “No problem.”

“Good. He’s bound to fall for you.”

“Oh, and what about Blake? Did you come up with a plan to snag him?”

Jillian frowned. “No. I’ll have to play it by ear and hope for the best.”

They pulled up to Fabrici’s. As she exited the limo, her form fitting Versace gown stuck to the seat and rode up.  She wriggled out, smoothed it down and stepped onto the curb. She’d paid a bundle for the sparkling emerald piece with the halter neck and plunging back. She could afford it now, but still felt guilty.

Denise looked elegant in a black velvet number, with her shining raven hair falling to her shoulders.

As they stepped up to the door, Jillian turned to her friend and said, “Let’s hope at least one of us comes out of this party a winner.”

“I’m betting on you,” Denise answered.

“All bets are off,” Jillian said, crossing the threshold into the semi-darkened room.

Excited voices mingled with the lead singer’s lyrics. Neon lights pulsed in mad rhythm to the drums. Balloons and streamers cascaded down. The decorations were designed to promote a feeling of festivity, but with her stomach doing flip-flops at the thought of seeing Blake, Jillian could hardly appreciate them.

“Can I get you a drink?” a roving bartender asked.

While Denise opted for a white wine, Jillian asked for a ginger ale. The calming effect of alcohol sounded tempting, but she needed her wits about her.

She spotted Maxine in a clinging sunflower-yellow number.

Carrying a cocktail glass with an olive poking up from its top, a handsome, dark-haired man in a black tuxedo approached Maxine. Jillian’s breath caught in her throat. Her temples, along with other portions of her anatomy, immediately throbbed.

It had been three weeks since she’d seen Blake on her landing, yet it seemed a lifetime ago. Her eyes drank in the sight.

Denise nudged her. “Go ahead. Make your move.”

“He’s with Maxine.”

“So what? See the glazed look in his eyes. He’s probably dying to escape.”

Jillian laughed nervously. “You’re making that up. He looks fine to me.”

Denise’s eyebrows arched.

“You’re right. Enough excuses. Well, here goes nothing. Wish me luck.” Holding her head up and sticking out her chin, she headed in the couple’s direction.

Halfway there, she felt an arm encircle her waist and heard someone whisper in her ear, “Hello, Veronica. I missed you.”

Her heart sank. She turned slowly. Troy already. Her free time was over. Now she’d have to work harder to get Blake to notice her.

“Oh, hi, Troy. I didn’t see you come in. How was your trip?”

“Boring. All I did was make money. I’d rather have been home with you.”

My goodness. Without fibbing, what could she answer?

Denise saved her by holding out a drink. “I got a white wine for you,” she said to Jillian.

She had to applaud her friend for ingenuity. “That was nice of you, Denise, but I just got my own drink. Why don’t you keep it for yourself? You remember Troy, don’t you?”

“From
Girl of My Dreams
? Definitely. It was a great show, but no offense, it was mis-titled.”

“How so?” Troy asked, looking down at her.

“It should have been called
Guy of My Dreams
. Every woman watching was hot for you.”

“You know, Veronica, I kind of like your friend,” Troy said.

“The feeling’s mutual. Too bad you’re taken.”

Score another point to Denise for placing herself firmly in the backup position. All Jillian had to do was find a way to break up with Troy so Denise could gather up the pieces.

“Not to change the subject, but we should say hello to our host, don’t you think? After all, Blake did invite us here,” Jillian said.

“Must we?” Troy said.

Jillian poked him in the ribs. “You don’t mean that.”

He sighed. “Okay, let’s get it over with. There’s something about him that still rubs me the wrong way, but I’m not sure what.”

“I think I know,” Denise said.

“What’s that?”

“You’re an independent, successful man, not used to taking orders, but you were forced to do so on the program. Naturally it bothered you.”

Troy rubbed his chin. “You may be right. You are a clever one. But then, you need to be. You’re a nurse, right?”

“Guilty.”

“No, not at all. There should be more women like you. See Maxine over there hanging onto the producer? Could you imagine her dealing with blood, chaos and gore?”

“I don’t know her that well to pass judgment.”

“Take another look. You’re way too kind,” Troy said.

“I do know, Denise, and it takes a special person to do what you do, day in and day out. I’m proud to be your friend,” Jillian said.

She meant it. Denise deserved the best. If it were up to Jillian, Denise would get just that, in the form of Troy Langley.

They were now beside Blake and Maxine.

“Blake, it was so nice of you to invite us to this wonderful party,” Jillian said. She flashed him a huge grin.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, his gaze lingering on her.