Roaring Hot! (Contemporary Romance): A Billionaire Biker Romance (2 page)

Amy dabbed her eyes and bolted out of the cabana. Unbelievable how arrogant that man was. Just because she was an aspiring actress didn’t give him the green light to molest her. She wiped her lips, still tingling from the kiss that made her knees weak and her insides throbbing to fall at his feet.

Granted he was a hunk, tanned, looking Latin or Mediterranean with slanted eyes suggesting Asian heritage, but what gave him the right to corral her into a lip lock after poking his body parts into hers? Cough. Okay, so it was only his fingertips into her eyes, and she was not turned on, not at all, despite the jumpy unsettled curl in her lower regions.

Her cheeks flushed with anger, definitely not desire, Amy raced to the pool area looking for Peter, her ride home. As far as she was concerned, the party was over. Without her contacts, everything took on a shade of blur. Her makeup was a mess, thanks to that caveman Teo. What kind of name was that?

Amy spotted said caveman swaggering from the cabana toward the sunroom past the pool. He’d pulled on a pair of sunglasses, and even though she couldn’t see his eyes, a tingle of excitement rushed through her veins at how close he’d been, cheek to cheek with his arm around her and his piquant male scent tempting her to lick and yes, fall at his feet.

Snap! Not going there. Hollywood was full of fine male specimens, hot and yummy on the outside, but rotten to the core. Everyone was searching, grasping for that next big chance, ready to step over and onto anyone. Add the sleaze who preyed on newbies, and the waters were positively too dangerous to swim in.

Amy draped a beach towel over her shoulders and wandered to the covered bar made to look like a tiki hut. Peter would be hanging around the models and their makeup consultants, trying to score tips.

She narrowed her eyes at the glistening tanned bodies on display. Racks and racks of breasts, legs, and pierced belly buttons. She didn’t dare parade herself in front of the rows of men idling in the lounge chairs in case another self-important jerk tried to molest her.

Too bad Teo was a waste of a handsome face. He’d been about to introduce her to someone important, but that had only been a pretext. It wasn’t as if she was against kissing a stranger. She’d done it plenty of times on screen, but she’d preferred to be asked, or wooed or at least not be ambushed. Sheesh.

Not finding Peter, Amy got herself a drink so as not to look out of place, and parked herself on a chaise lounge under an umbrella near a group of middle-aged women. From there, she could observe the pool and the patio as well as the sunroom attached to the main house.

A half hour later, Peter walked out of the sunroom and raised his hand for a high-five.

“You’re not going to believe this, but I might have scored a deal for you.”

Amy pulled off her sunglasses to stare at him. “Really? That’s awesome.”

Peter froze and peered at her face. “What happened to all the makeup I put on you? And your eyes are red. You look like a drunk or a preschooler with pinkeye. Yuck! What are you going to do about the audition? He wants to check you out right now at the party.”

“Can we take a rain check?” Amy blinked her irritated eyes. “I can’t even think right now, my eyes are burning. I had to remove my contacts because I got sunscreen in them.”

“Rain check? Are you kidding? This is Amanda Silver’s grandson we’re talking about. Can’t you dip your head in the pool and rinse your eyes out?”

“And his name? It’s not Teo is it?”

“No, who’s Teo? Ronaldo Silver’s going to be handling the casting. This is a big opportunity. He’s talking one hundred grand for three months.”

Amy’s jaw popped to the floor. “One hundred grand for three months. What’s the name of the show?”

“High concept. Documentary. You go on the road with a bunch of motorcycle racers.”

“And do what?” Amy’s bullshit detector clanged like a firehouse bell. “Drape myself over their bikes and look slutty? No thank you.”

She gathered her things and walked toward the gate.

Peter grabbed her arm. “You’re not walking away from a hundred grand. At least speak to the guy.”

“I’m not arm candy. Is this a meaningful documentary or reality trash?”

Peter whistled, throwing his arms up and down. “With your eyes redder than a poisoned apple, you’re not getting a part unless it’s for a zombie bride. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m footing your rent?”

“If you’re so eager to get rid of me, I’ll move out.” Not that she had anywhere to go but home. But after getting manhandled by the likes of Teo, Amy wasn’t about to get auditioned by any of the men at this party. What if they were just like Teo?

“Calm down, will you?” Peter put his arm around her shoulder. “It can’t hurt to talk to Ronaldo. Besides, there are probably other actresses vying for the spot.”

Peter was right. She had to at least consider the one hundred grand. Since she graduated from USC without a job, her parents had cut off funding her apartment. They wanted her to move back home and work in her father’s medical office as a receptionist.

“Fine, but do you think I’ll be okay with these bloodshot eyes?” Amy fumbled through her purse for her compact. “You brought my headshots, right?”

Peter took a folder from his messenger bag. “Everything’s here, including your résumé. Let’s find him before all the other ladies corner him.”

Amy hurriedly applied lip gloss to replace the shine taken off by the caveman kissing lesson. “I suppose you’ll get your agent’s cut? I have to pay you back for the rent.”

Peter wasn’t officially her agent, but Amy wasn’t a freeloader. She definitely didn’t want to stiff her best friend, especially since he also had student loans to pay.

“Just think.” He squeezed her shoulder. “This could be the start of a lucrative relationship. Hollywood agent Peter Stafford and starlet Amy Suzuki.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go find this guy.” She put on her sunglasses while her insides churned and her throat went dry. Getting a real acting job could put her career back on track and show her parents her dream was valid, that she could earn a living as an actress.

Peter tapped a text message on his cell phone. A reply jingled a few minutes later.

“He says to meet him in the game room inside.” Peter guided Amy to a pair of French doors.

They stepped into a den full of pinball machines, gaming consoles, and a pool table surrounded by shelves stacked with Star Trek memorabilia.

A man draped with a towel around his shoulders waved them to the bar. He was surrounded by plastic looking models, their false eyelashes fluttering like moth wings.

Okay, if that was Ronaldo, he was a serious hunk. He wasn’t very tall, but he was deeply tanned with perfectly straight white teeth and a firm build cut with sleek muscles.

“What did you say Ronaldo did? Is he talent acquisition for his grandmother?”

“He’s a racer on the MotoGP pro circuit, but yes, his recommendations carry a lot of weight with his grandmother. This project’s one she’ll let him have full rein on, and if he does well, his father will produce it for network TV.”

“But look at those women surrounding him. He’s obviously got a lot to choose from.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Peter rubbed his hands. “Watch this.”

He sauntered toward the bar and reached out to shake Ronaldo’s hand. “My client’s ready for her audition.”

Groan. Peter had already perfected the smarmy agent look with his gelled back hair and cheesy grin. Amy would have been mortified had she actually known anyone at the party.

Ronaldo shook Peter’s hand, then turned to his playmates. “Set up the pool table for a bit of strip pool. I have a business meeting.”

Amy flipped off her sunglasses, blinking to let her irritated eyes adjust to the dim light.

Ronaldo touched the small of her back. “Let’s talk on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. You’d make a great Uhuru. I should have you suit up.”

“I’d think she’d be Mrs. Sulu, if he had a wife,” Peter chimed in, being the dork he was.

Ronaldo guided them into a circular elevator that resembled the transporter room, including the circles to stand on. The elevator took them up to the red doors which opened to a replica of the starship bridge, complete with red rails, mock instrument panels, and a row of captain’s chairs. Plush leather sofas, not found on the real Enterprise, and a wide flat-panel TV completed the home theatre layout.

A life-sized wax model of Spock stood across from his scanner display. When Ronaldo flicked on the flat screen display to a star field filled with Klingon attack squadrons, Amy half expected Sulu to set the coordinates and go into warp speed.

“Wow, I love this setup.” Peter adjusted his glasses and gawked at the instrument panel.

“Please, make yourselves at home on the couch.” Ronaldo nudged Amy to the sectional sofa and pointed at a small refrigerator. “Help yourself to any drinks. Water, soda, iced coffee.”

She was thankful Peter was present to serve as a deterrent to any aggressive auditioning tactics. Ronaldo was too touchy-feely for her taste, although too metro to be truly threatening. The fact he had no hair on his legs made him look plastic and over civilized.

Peter fetched Amy a bottle of mineral water and sat next to her on the couch.

Ronaldo swiveled the commander’s chair and glanced at his watch. “Let’s make this quick. Give me the headshots and résumé.”

Peter handed him the folder, and they talked about Amy’s experience as if she weren’t present.

It took all of her self-control to continue sipping the water and acting like she didn’t mind being a nonentity.

After Ronaldo was satisfied with her credentials and degree, he got up from the commander’s chair and perched himself on the arm of the couch, facing her. “Peter will go over the job requirements. You’ll be paid per race you appear at. The races are two weeks apart and held at racetracks around the world. The next one starts in a week in the Netherlands. A private jet will pick you up here in Los Angeles and fly you to location. All your travel and lodging expenses are covered, as well as meals and spending cash. Any questions?”

Amy deferred to Peter, her supposed agent, but he motioned her direction. Of course she had questions. Lots of them. Wasn’t Peter supposed to clear all of this up if he was going to take his agent’s cut?

Amy wet her throat with another sip of mineral water. “For starters, what’s my role?”

Ronaldo threw his head back and laughed, his abdominals shaking. “Your agent didn’t tell you? It’s a reality show. You’re supposed to romance a racer. Change his bad boy ways from partying, strip clubs, and playmates to devoted boyfriend.”

“Are you the racer?”

“Do you want me to be?” Ronaldo scratched the tip of his nose. “Let’s say it’s me. Your role is to be my girlfriend.”

“That’s it? I don’t see the concept. What’s the hook?”

“You have to set up a romantic mood for me at every city I’m racing in and allow my film crews to record our dates.”

“Dates? That’s it?”

“You have to win me over. Remember, I’m distracted by girls and parties. You’re supposed to win a commitment from me. That means playing the part. During the race, you’ll stay in the pit with all of the other wives and girlfriends. Remember to look interested because the cameras will be trained on you. After I race and greet you, take off my helmet and give me your sloppiest and wettest kiss.”

Amy held up her hand. “Whoa, wait. I have to get physical?”

Ronaldo’s left eyebrow hooked up. “You’re an actress, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ve kissed on stage before.”

“All the world’s a stage,” Peter buzzed like a fly at a cocktail party.

“Sure, yes. Kissing I’ll do.” Amy darted a glare at her supposed agent. “But nothing more.”

“There should be passion, which means tongue action, groping of body parts, and rubbing against me in public.” Ronaldo smirked as if she needed everything spelled out. “How are you going to convince the audience you’re winning me from my playmates if you stand there all ice maiden style?”

“Sure, sure. I get it. What’s the name of this show?” Amy wet her lips. Kissing Ronaldo wouldn’t be so bad. He was easy on the eyes, combining a boyish grin with a man’s chiseled body. Best of all, no instant chemistry. It would be all in a day’s work.

“
Romancing the Racer
. I think it’s going to be a hit.”

“Sure, but why me? How many other candidates are you interviewing?”

“A few. But you’ll be great. We need one of those girl next door types. Audiences love rooting for the underdog. So, here you are, a quiet, unassuming bookish kind of girl, and you get a makeover. Now you’re hot, but you don’t know it. You’re still operating under the good girl rules, and the question is, can you get the player to fall in love with you and bring you home to his family?”

Oh, great. Now she’d been type casted as a goody-two-shoes. Maybe that was why she hadn’t been getting any parts.

“Sure, but if you’re acting, wouldn’t you just play along? What’s the catch?”

Ronaldo leaned forward until he was eye level with her. “The catch? You’ve got to get me smitten. So smitten, that I’ll propose for real, or at least real enough to fool my grandmother. It won’t be binding, of course, but if my grandmother thinks it’s fake, you’ll lose the prize money.”

“Prize money?” Amy glanced at Peter. This show was sounding stranger by the minute.

“Yes, every season we find a new girl to romance the racer. It’s the hottest concept in reality TV. You’ve seen the
Bachelorette
, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes, but she dates different guys.”

“You want different guys?” Ronaldo chuckled. “We can alter the concept.”

“Actually, no. It’ll be simpler to stick to one man.”

“I thought so. Our concept is more about romance, and the question is whether you can capture a guy who doesn’t want to be captured. A wild bull who doesn’t want to be hemmed in. And to do that will take all your skills.”

“So, you’re saying you won’t be acting,” Amy clarified. “Is it okay if I don’t fall in love, since I’m acting?”

“Of course,” Ronaldo said. “That’s why we need a good actress.”