Girl of My Dreams Read online

  “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.

  “Come on, Jillian, this time I won’t let you off. What’re you going to do?”

  “I’m going to Disneyland.”

  After they laughed, Jillian said, “One thing for sure. I have to get ready for Hawaii.”

  “Okay, that’ll work. My next shift’s not until Wednesday, so on Monday we’ll hit the stores. I could use a break from the pathos of the emergency room.”

  Denise McNeal had been the nurse on duty at Valleyview Hospital the night Jillian’s parents were in the accident. Her skill and compassion had impressed Jillian so much the two had become instant friends. Without Denise, Jillian could never have made it through the ordeal.

  Jillian blocked out painful thoughts of that night and agreed to meet her friend for lunch at Saucy’s Snacks in Wentworth before shopping.

  “I’ll bring the DVD. You may not believe it, but wait till you see how sexy you look. When you do, you’ll change your mind and go after what you want,” Denise said.

  Jillian had all day Sunday to mull over her friend’s advice. She concluded Denise was right about one thing. Jillian had chosen the cowardly way out. If she wanted Blake, she had to stand up for herself and show him what she had. The endeavor seemed scary, but necessary.

  She had a feeling her mother would approve. Veronica Baker, for whom Jillian had been named, had often chided Jillian about spending so much time caretaking instead of paying attention to her own needs.

  After Mom had passed away, Jillian had shed her first name because it was a painful reminder of her mother’s helplessness and pain. To fill the void, her caretaking shifted to Blake. She’d obsessed over anticipating his needs and fulfilling them.

  It was her turn now.

  That decided, early Monday morning she made a telephone call. “Can you squeeze me in today?”

  “I’m sorry. We’re booked solid.”

  “Please, I’m leaving on an important trip Friday. I need contacts.”

  “Hold on a second.”

  Jillian bit her lip as she waited for the receptionist to confer with the manager. Wearing contacts would boost her self-confidence. If she charged them, she could pay the bill after she received her check from Saturday’s performance. There should even be enough left over for a few outfits.

  Luck shone down on her. Somehow she got an appointment. Amazingly, her prescription was in stock. An hour later, wearing the contact lenses and equipped with instructions about gradually increasing her wearing time, Jillian stepped out of the optometrist’s office. Her eyes smarted a little, but all in all they didn’t feel too bad. She could handle it.

  Jillian recognized Denise’s shoulder-length black hair at the back booth at Saucy’s, before she saw her smiling face.

  Denise’s filmy mauve top highlighted her creamy complexion. Her smoky eye shadow drew just the right amount of attention to her intelligent, gray eyes.

  “You look great, as usual, Denise. I don’t know how you do it,” Jillian said, seating herself.

  “Thanks, but you looked even better on the show. All you need are a few items to carry you over for off the set. It’ll be fun modernizing you.”

  After mushroom soup, Caesar salad, Italian bread and lots of encouragement from Denise, Jillian was ready to hit the stores.

  At Tula’s, Jillian gravitated toward a subdued selection of gray outfits and picked up a blouse to examine it.

  “Don’t you dare.” Denise said, grabbing the top and placing it back on the rack. AThat will not get Blake to notice you. Here, let me show you how.”

  Before Jillian could blink, through Denise’s efforts, the cart contained a maize halter top, a leather mini skirt, an aquamarine sheath, a silk jungle print blouse and a jade pants suit. Hip-hugging jeans, white shorts and a rope belt followed.

  Dangle earrings and a charm bracelet came next. To complete her jewelry ensemble, Jillian would wear the ring from her father.

  They next headed to the cosmetic and perfume counters, where nail polish, glossy lipstick, blush, mascara and eye shadow found their way into the cart. The last stop was the custom shoe store, where Jillian found a darling pair of AA heels.

  With no room left in either of their carts, Jillian and Denise headed back outside and loaded the packages into Jillian’s trunk.

  “Stay right here. I’ve got something else for you,” Denise said.

  She ran to her car a few rows down and returned with a small plastic bag. “Here’s the DVD. Look it over and you’ll see what I mean. You are a star.”

  “Please, don’t say that,” Jillian said with a groan.

  “I mean it. You’ve arrived, girl. Now go get ’em.”

  “Thanks. You were great, Denise. I’d never have found all of this without you,” Jillian said.

  “Practice makes perfect. The more you do it, the better you get. You’ll kill ’em, girl.”

  “I’m not as confident as you. I wish you were coming with. I could use a cheering section.”

  Denise patted Jillian on the arm. “My patients need me, but you don’t. With your looks and smarts, I wouldn’t be surprised if you snagged both Blake Caldwell and Troy Langley. Something good’s bound to happen in Hawaii.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  AT THE Girl of My Dreams Honolulu set, the hula dancers swayed in cadence with the balmy eastern breeze. Islanders sang Aloha and tossed leis around the necks of the contestants. Eager fans, restrained by security guards, chanted the names of their favorites.

  Wasn’t success great? Yeah, and a pain, too. Now Blake had crowd control to deal with, along with everything else.

  During the past week, his office had been so inundated with fan mail the new temp he’d hired couldn’t keep up with the flow. After Hawaii, all the letters and postcards would be distributed. The girls who’d lost in the first round would appreciate them.

  He frowned. The majority of notes had been addressed to Jillian, which meant he’d have to pass them along to her. Her so-called good deed still stuck in his craw. How could he maintain discipline when his own assistant had disobeyed orders?

  He turned to the cameramen. “Okay, boys, zoom in on the hot stuff.”

  They immediately latched onto the gathering throngs and preening contestants, then strayed to the left. Blake swiveled to find the attraction.

  Heat bolted through him at the sight. The halter top, ski
mpy skirt and sky-high heels screamed man bait. His ex-assistant looked scorching, and it was clear he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Besides the cameramen, the billionaire couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

  Blake clenched his teeth. He’d seen that adoring look on his father’s face. It was still hard to reconcile the new Jillian, or Veronica as she now called herself, with her prior image. In a little over a week, his staid assistant had morphed into a hot dish. She’d seemed so safe, old-fashioned and predictable, but now he wondered if he’d ever really known her.

  For the past six months, every night after she arrived home from work, had she thrown off her old lady clothes, discarded her wire-rimmed glasses and dressed to kill? The image repelled and excited him.

  Troy feigned interest in the other contestants, but it was obvious he couldn’t take his eyes off Jillian, or his groping hand either, which slithered to her waist.

  That was it. Blake barked to the nearest cameraman, “Change your focus. Give me atmosphere. Show me flora, fauna, location stuff. The viewers need to know where we are.”

  He dashed to Jillian and Troy, wrenched the billionaire’s hand off her waist, and whispered, “Enough of that. Remember, it’s only the beginning. Keep them guessing, remember? Troy, if you’ve got the hots for number twenty-five, fine, but don’t tip your hand in front of the cameras. We’ve got a whole series to shoot. Pretend you like other contestants a little, okay?”

  The fans booed as the two separated. Blake ignored them. Without suspense, the show would fizzle and he’d lose the television audience.

  Troy grinned and flashed Jillian a knowing look. “Back later, babe. I must appease management.”

  Jillian’s face turned red. Heat pulsed from her jade green eyes, galvanizing Blake’s primal instinct. Let her be mad. Now she’d learn what it felt like. She’d pulled one over on him, but it wouldn’t happen again. Not on his watch.

  “I need a word with you,” he said, drawing Jillian aside from the gathering throng.

  She flashed him a guilty look. He glared back, straight into her eyes. That was a mistake. Gold and ebony flecks warred with jade irises. He glanced away. To the right, where her hair gathered, a glinting earring swayed back and forth, almost hypnotizing him. Damn, what was it he was going to say? Oh, yeah.

  “You seem to have forgotten who’s the boss around here. Let me remind you. Don’t—I repeat— don’t, go around making up what you want to do. Follow my orders, and we’ll get along fine. Is that clear?”

  She stuck her chin up. “Perfectly. You’re the producer, the director, everything. Jeopardizing the show is not my intention.”

  “Good. At least we see eye-to-eye on something. Another thing, wise up about Troy. He’s using you. Sure you’re cute, but anyone with brains knows looks don’t last. When Wrinkle City pitches a tent on your smooth, pretty cheeks, then where will your billionaire be?”

  Her glossy lips quivered. The mascara did a slow drip around the corner of her eyes. She deserved what he’d said, but for some reason he still felt bad.

  He reached to pat her shoulder, then jerked his hand away. Suddenly, he was afraid to touch her. The way she looked at him made him want to gather her in his arms, hold her tight and console her.

  Was she acting? If so, she was a better actress than his famous mother. Damn, this babe occupied too many of his thoughts. He had a show to run.

  “For now, keep your distance from Troy. Let the other girls get a chance.”

  “No problem. But what should I do if he hangs around me anyway?”

  “I’ll fix that.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll see. It’s easy.”

  He turned to the contestants and billionaire. “Okay, everybody. We’re headed to this great bar up the beach for PR and refreshments.”

  They all filed out, with Blake sticking close to Jillian. The fans followed in their wake.

  A cluster of teak tables was already reserved for the party. Blake pulled out a chair at one of them and beckoned to Maxine of the big bust to sit there. He pulled out another one two seats over for Jillian.

  Troy came up to them, but Blake shooed him to the next table. “Spend some time with the other contestants. You might like one of them.”

  Eyebrows furrowed, Troy complied.

  After everyone got seated in assorted bunches, Blake came back to sit between the two women. Jillian shot him a wary look which he ignored. He was onto her tricks. Two could play the game. “I promise to be nice,” he said lowly.

  “Are you sure we should be so close together? Won’t that cause questions?” she whispered.

  “No problem. I’ll take turns with the others.”

  Did Jillian think he was making a play for her? For the sake of argument, if he did, whom would she choose? If she went for money, it could be a hard sell. Right now his resources were tied up in projects and dreams, while Troy’s appeared to be plentiful.

  He stole another glance at her. Damn, she looked good.

  A niggle of guilt rose within him, but he brushed it aside. He’d do Jillian a favor if he kept her from the billionaire letch.

  That part rationalized, he was ready to act. He’d sweet-talked enough women to know how to go about it.

  “Okay, ladies, let’s keep the audience guessing. For publicity, do you mind if I put my arm around you for show, kind of like Troy would?”

  Jillian flashed him a startled look, then nodded. He started with Maxine. Onto the game, she smiled widely and inched closer to him. He then slipped his arm around Jillian’s waist and almost jumped as a bolt of lightning zoomed through him. Damn, what was she packing?

  He beckoned to the cameraman to take the shot. That done, he let the two women go.

  A Polynesian beauty approached the table to take their orders.

  “What would you ladies like to drink?” Blake asked.

  Jillian smiled shyly. “Something with fruit in it would be nice. I don’t know any of the names.”

  Was she serious?

  He’d play her game. “Okay, we’ll get you a Mai Tai. What about you, Maxine?”

  “A Manhattan.”

  Blake’s thoughts were so centered on his ex-assistant, he barely glanced as the exotic bar attendant swayed away. Damn, that midday sun was getting hot. Maybe he should loosen his collar. Being uncomfortable had nothing to do with the ringlet-haired beauty next to him who could melt chocolate with a look.

  The magnificent backdrop of sunshine, sky and ocean seemed to enhance Jillian’s features. Her skin glowed a burnished gold. A fine sheen of perspiration clung to her upper brow and darkened the curly tendrils along the sides of her face. Is that how she looked making love?

  Whoa, don’t go down that road, buddy.

  To shake off the golden image, he turned to the other side of him. From his vantage point, Miss 44D’s melons looked exceptionally huge, almost vulgar, while Jillian’s looked just right. He’d seen Jillian almost every day, yet knew little about her; one reason being he’d devoted his energy to the series, even going so far as to date every well-known star in the vicinity for publicity. He’d rather enjoyed that end of the deal, before the reinvented Jillian.

  Troy took that moment to pull back his chair at the adjoining table and approach them. “No fair, producer. Share the wealth.”

  “What’s wrong with your table partners? They look good to me,” Blake said, glancing at Troy’s table.

  “You go over there and listen to them. They won’t shut up.”

  Maxine jumped up. “I’ll sit with you, Troy.”

  Blake nodded. “It’s your choice.”

  After the top-heavy one had scampered off, Blake sat alone with his quarry. “It occurs to me, Jillian, that we’ve been so busy we’ve never gotten acquainted,” he said. “First of all, what should I call you, Jillian or Veronica?”

  “Jillian is fine.”

  “Veronica’s a lovely name. Why not use it?”

  “For personal reasons,” Jillian said, fi
ngering the condensation on her glass.

  For some reason she seemed uncomfortable speaking about her private life. Come to think of it, he couldn’t recall many conversations about anything outside the studio. Strange.

  “I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women in this business and I must say you rank right up there. If you hadn’t disguised yourself at work, I’d have been too distracted to get the show together.”

  She avoided his eyes and looked down at her drink. “I dressed for the job. My goal was to look professional, not to come on like a sexpot.”

  That made sense. “You played it smart. Still, it occurs to me we were always so busy we never got to know each other on a personal level.”

  She looked away fast. “There’s not much to tell.”

  There was something. He’d ferret it out.

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “In Hollywood.”

  “Your application said you went to college for a few years. Why did you stop?”

  “I had personal commitments.”

  Pain flashed through her eyes. She groped for her drink, took a huge swallow and blinked. Her eyes reddened.

  The topic of her abandoned schooling appeared to be off limits. That made him all the more curious. What kind of commitments? Did she have a kid stashed away?

  A dart of jealousy shot through him, but he ignored it. Her sex life wasn’t his business. He wasn’t exactly virginal.

  The silence lengthened. Eyes narrowing, he watched as she fingered the jade ring on her left hand, as if to reassure herself it was there. She’d worn that ring as long as he’d known her. What was its significance? Had someone given it to her?

  She caught his gaze and stopped.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you pick the theme song for the show? I’ve always wanted to know.”

  “It was crazy how it happened. Mecca was in dire straits and desperate to latch onto something new. I’d been mulling over ideas about how to get the studio into shape. One afternoon I fell asleep on the couch and out of nowhere had a dream about the ideal woman. When I woke up, a sappy love story was playing on TV. Maybe the story had something to do with my dream, I have no idea. Be that as it may, in my semi-awake state, the show’s concept hit me. I grabbed a pen and paper, and wrote what I remembered from the dream. Then I went over to the piano, played around with melodies and found one I liked.”