Girl of My Dreams (3 page)

The announcer’s voice boomed, “There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Our ten lovely orchid recipients will now advance to the next round. Who will be the girl of billionaire Troy Langley’s dreams? Which contestant is your favorite? You don’t want to miss next Saturday, when our ten eye-popping beauties will cavort about Waikiki Beach, vying for the billionaire’s attention.”

Jillian gulped in dismay. The nightmare was escalating. A trip to Hawaii would be thrilling, except for one catch. Once she got there, she, who’d only worn modest one-piece bathing suits, would need to strip down to a baring bikini, and not only that, play volleyball in front of cameras, which would zoom in on every jiggling movement. She felt like gagging.

She wanted out, but was trapped. She’d signed the contract, was all too familiar with its contents and could recite the relevant portions by heart.

The one pertaining to her situation read something like,
“It is understood between the parties that any contestant chosen by the billionaire to proceed to the following round must do so or suffer $5,000.00 in penalties.”

That amount would throw her straight into the poorhouse. She couldn’t back out now. She hadn’t recovered emotionally or financially from her mother’s illness and death. Going forward and ignoring her cringing sensitivities would be the smartest move.

 The lights dimmed. Excited, chattering contestants exited the stage. Jillian blindly made her way past them, twice almost tripping over the cables.

This had gone far enough. She had to get eliminated in the next round and make the charade end. Then she’d go about the business of finding a new job and forgetting Blake Caldwell had ever existed.

Is that what you really want?
Her inner voice asked. Though nothing had ever come of it, she’d lived for the day he’d see her as more than his assistant.

She may as well face it. Having Blake for herself was not an option. She’d be lucky if he even spoke to her again. Anyway, she’d better find her glasses so she could at least see.

As Jillian headed for the makeup area, Blake was nowhere in her limited sight. That was both good and bad. She’d like to get the storm over with for her own peace of mind, but the confrontation would have to wait. Right now she figured Blake was huddled in the production booth with the editor racing against time to get the tape ready for broadcast.

CHAPTER FOUR

“ROLL IT,” BLAKE said.

As the editor unwound the tape, a frisson of excitement raced up and down Blake’s spine. The show he’d nurtured for more than a year was almost an actuality. Ignoring his speeding heart, he clamped his teeth together. His work was far from done.

He stared at the screen where the billionaire, Troy Langley, strutted about, playing his part to the hilt. With glittering, appreciative eyes, Troy surveyed the offerings. From twenty-one to thirty-six years, short to tall, thin to stacked, tresses across the spectrum, the contestants were ripe for Troy’s picking, the lucky stiff.

Blake smiled at his play on words. Hell, even the jaded Troy Langley had to be turned on by the presence of such hot babes. After all, he was a man.

Beauty, sex, money. That’s what the public craved and Blake delivered. Through videotapes and live interviews, he’d weeded out the contestants. He’d had a tough time designating the originals and backups since they’d all had been lookers.

The new addition was no exception, though it galled Blake to admit it. Jillian’s presence did constitute a betrayal, though. It was unlike her to defy him and pull a stunt like this—or was it? Maybe he didn’t know her after all.

That wasn’t the only thing. He couldn’t get used to her new look. Damn, in the six months she’d worked for him he’d never suspected she’d hidden that great body under those wire- rimmed glasses and baggy duds.

The contestants sauntered across the stage, then slipped onto the stools.

A panoramic view of plunging necklines and slit skirts presented an eyeful. Blake nodded in approval.

The camera panned closer. The pathetic beauties batted false eyelashes and simpered before Troy. Desperation shone in their nervous, trembling lips. They’d do anything to snag the billionaire.

“Number twenty-five’s a looker. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that myself,” the editor said.

“Can the small talk,” Blake said, frowning. He snuck another glance and couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The camera practically caressed the brunette’s full breasts and long, shapely legs. Artfully untamed ringlets surrounded the beauty’s face. From behind charcoal color eyelashes, unfocused jade eyes gleamed like those of a tigress awakened from sleep. The mouth, glossy peach and pouting, promised unspoken pleasures.

Detecting the start of a giant boner, he shifted in his seat. This was not a good time for distractions.

The kicker of it all was the new Jillian had a good chance to win. Then she’d get Troy. He felt a tic jump in his cheek.

The show’s question-and-answer period began. As instructed, Troy randomly posed ultra-revealing questions. Blake leaned forward to listen.

He almost snorted when the blonde with the Dolly Parton boobs declared, with a straight face, she’d saved herself for marriage. Sure, and Blake was an astronaut.

Though he’d heard it before, Blake held his breath when Troy fired the volley to Jillian. He nodded approvingly at her answer.

“She’s playing hard to get,” the editor muttered.

“Forget the contestants. Do your job,” Blake almost shouted.

“What’s bugging you?”

“Who’s the boss around here?” Blake said, clenching and unclenching his hands.

“You are. Sorry.”

One insubordinate was more than enough. Damn it all, his assistant was gone. She’d been damn good…in fact, the best. Now he’d have to break in a new one.

The cameramen made half-hearted attempts to follow the other girls, but mainly honed in on Jillian.

“Use some other shots. Don’t just focus on number twenty-five,” Blake told the editor.

“If you say so, but Troy’s got the hots for her, and so do the cameramen. Chemistry’s going on out there.”

“Right. Forget what I said,” Blake said.

The cardinal rule of television was to give the people what they wanted. The audience would eat up Troy’s attraction to Jillian, so why interfere? After all, a hit show would mean money for him.

And if Jillian got Troy, it would mean money for her. Well, let her have him. It wouldn’t last. She may look good now, but as soon as she put on a few wrinkles, she’d be out the door. Guys like Troy didn’t believe in happily ever after. Neither did Blake. One sucker in the family was enough.

Damn, he had to concentrate. Every minute counted. He didn’t have time to drool over his sexy ex-temp or think about his disjointed family.

The audience ate up the shenanigans. Cheers, hoots and howls rang out with each outrageous innuendo. With a flash of legs, the contestants slipped off the stools and sashayed past the billionaire. Troy strolled along, taking his time, drawing out the decision-making process. At the last moment he approached contestant twenty-five and placed the orchid between her breasts. Blake caught his breath at the close-up.

Jillian glanced away, making Troy’s eyes narrow. Whether intentional or not, her strategy paid off. She seemed unaware of the billionaire, who almost begged to be noticed. She was one smart cookie.

The announcer said his spiel. The camera panned across the beauties one last time. The theme played.

“That’s it,” Blake told the editor.

AN HOUR later, Blake and his crew gathered in the darkened screening room and watched as the program aired across America.

When the lights flickered on, someone yelled, “We’ve got a hit!”

Pandemonium broke loose as the crew whooped, shook hands and clapped each other on the back. He’d done it. Why did he feel so flat?

Was it because something was missing? Or more accurately, someone? Jillian had helped him every step of the way. Strange not to have her here sharing the glory.

Instead, she was a contestant on the other side of the wall. She’d built that wall of her own choosing. He had his hit, but had lost something that mattered in the process.

Maybe it was better this way. She’d snuck behind his back, and he wouldn’t abide that. He was the one in charge. If she hadn’t already quit the assignment, he would have sent her back to the agency.

He’d thought she was different, but she’d proven she was just as unpredictable as the rest of her sex. Not one of them could be trusted.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE PHONE WAS already ringing when Jillian opened the door to her apartment.

“What the hell did you do?” Blake roared into the receiver.

A barrage of sound followed, forcing her to move the receiver from her ear. To put it mildly, her ex-boss was not happy.

When Blake had finished his assault on her eardrums, Jillian said, in as calm a tone as she could muster, “Can I say something?”

“Go ahead.”

“I did it for you, Blake. My office groundwork was over. You needed me more on stage.”

“Don’t lie to me. Why not admit you’re after the money? Anyone could’ve filled in, but no, you had to do it yourself. The result is now I’m out an assistant and have to train another right in the midst of running a series.”

Jillian’s heart went out to him, but only for a second. She had enough problems. Had she done the right thing? What scared her the most was the debacle was not over. She was stuck for another round. What a mess. Still, it wouldn’t hurt if Blake acted the tiniest bit grateful.

“Think what you want of me. What I say won’t convince you,” she said, with a sigh of resignation.

“You’re right. Oh, and one more thing, Jillian, or should I say, Veronica? You signed a contestant’s contract. I hope you read the small print. From now on, you follow my instructions. No more hare-brained schemes, understand?”

She almost said, Yes, Master, but settled for a meek, “I promise, Blake. I’ll do what I’m told.”

“Good. I’ve got enough to deal with. See you Wednesday.”

He hung up without saying goodbye. After placing the receiver on its cradle, she retreated to the couch, as far from the phone as she could.

Before she could recover from the tirade, the phone rang again. She eyed the instrument malevolently from across the room, as if it were the culprit. She was tempted let it ring, but curiosity got the better of her. She may as well get the penance over with and hear what else he’d say. Without checking Caller I.D., she grabbed the receiver.

“You didn’t say you were going on TV,” Denise said, her voice rising into a squeal.

At least someone was happy.

“I’ll tell you all about it. Wait a minute. Let me sit down. I’m kind of tired.”

Jillian situated herself on the baby blue couch, flung off her shoes and wriggled her toes. “That’s better.”

“Okay, now what happened?”

“It was a last-minute thing. I didn’t know myself until right before.” Jillian explained about the food poisoning.

“You don’t subscribe to cable, do you? Of course not. Don’t worry, I put the program on DVD. Just wait till you see yourself. The camera loved you. So did Troy Langley.”

“Please, don’t say that. I don’t want him.”

“You’re so rich you don’t want the hot billionaire? Oh, I get it. It’s the movie star’s son you’re after.”

“Blake wouldn’t thank you for referring to him that way. He’s out to make it on his own.”

“Hmm, a man’s man. Sounds promising.”

“Well, unfortunately, he’s not for me. Right now, I’m way at the top of his must-hate list. I slipped one over on him by being a contestant, and he’s furious. He almost burst my eardrums a few minutes ago.”

“You had good reasons. Besides, you made the show. He’ll get over it. You’ll see.”

“It won’t matter, anyway. After the series is through, I won’t see him. He won’t want me back as a temp or otherwise. I’d hoped to get a permanent position, but even if he did want me around, which is a far stretch, the show contract states he can’t hire me permanently for at least five years.”

“Oh, my God. And you loved working there. If I were Blake Caldwell, I’d get down on my hands and knees and thank you, not yell,” Denise said.

“It’s not his gratitude I want, not that it matters. I never stood a chance with him in the first place.”

“Don’t say that. You’re just as good as any of those other girls he’s seen. No, I take it back…you’re better.”

“Thanks, Denise, but he’s got his choice of movie stars. He doesn’t need me.”

“Check the mirror. You are star material. You’ve got the looks and the brains. Go after him. You’re not afraid, are you?”

Denise knew her a bit too well. It was far safer to admire Blake from a distance than to draw attention to herself and risk losing a fairytale dream.