Jane Millionaire

She returned her attention to Rob, who did a double take. His throat worked. His gaze darkened as it slid over her bare shoulders and the generous amount of cleavage revealed by the gown Gregory had insisted she wear. Wicked slivers of desire sizzled through her at the way he dragged his gaze back to her face--as if he had to force himself to look away from her body.

When had a guy made her pulse race with just a glance? But race it did. Indy 500, look out. Rob didn’t see her as one of the guys. Not by a long shot.

Delicious heat pooled inside her. Moist, burning heat. She’d never felt more like a woman than at this moment wrapped in Rob’s masculine approval.

Gregory glanced up and grinned. He made a grand gesture and bowed. “May I present her royal highness Princess Isabella Jane Strovanik?”

She nodded at the other two men before facing Rob once again. Something in the way he stared reached inside and made her ache for the fulfillment his eyes promised. Instinctively she knew nothing he did would rank as mediocre. Could you fall head over heels for a man simply because he looked at you as if you were the most desirable woman he’d ever seen?

“You’re stunning,” the silver haired man in his late fifties or early sixties exclaimed when his bushy-browed gaze landed on her. “Much more so than in your photos and interview tape.”

She did feel beautiful, but for him to say she was lovelier than her sister--no one was lovelier than Jessie.

She tipped her head in the manner she’d practiced with Gregory and held her hand out to the distinguished older man who had to be JP Scott. “Thank you. You are too kind.”

He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and pressed his cool lips to her warm skin. “Just look at her, Rob. She’s absolutely perfect.”

Rob was looking. He hadn’t been able to quit looking from the moment he’d spotted her. Like something from a fairytale, she’d practically floated down the ornate staircase.

His body took notice of every minute detail. From the delicate curve of her exposed throat, to the creamy skin of her shoulders, to her toned arms. He skimmed her gown’s tight bodice and swallowed to wet his dry mouth. Full breasts narrowed into a tiny waist. Hips flared to legs his imagination worked overtime envisioning as long and shapely. He’d like to push the layers of her gauzy skirt aside to know for sure.

Red-hot lust threatened to knock his normally steady feet out from under him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an innate response to a woman. He wanted her. In a bad way.

But of all the women in the world, Jane was one he would deny himself. Which was a shame as he could see recognition of his longings in her shimmering green gaze. Recognition, curiosity and a desire of her own. Damn. A sexual attraction between them would screw up everything.

Jane was here to fall for one of the twelve bachelors chosen to compete for her affections. JP’s career teetered on whether or not Rob could make this show a success. A success that wouldn’t happen unless Jane fell for one of the men and convinced millions of viewers she had found her prince charming.

“Yes. Stunning. Very well, then—” Rob paused feeling like an awkward schoolboy. He squelched his rising libido. He was a grown man and could restrain his physical needs. He would control it. However, Jane’s sweet, flowery scent was quickly demolishing his resolve. He needed distance between them. Now. Without another word, he strode away, ignoring JP’s frown, Gregory’s wide eyes and Jane’s expression of total confusion.

Rob slammed into the room he’d use for the next month and carefully avoided glancing at a connecting door he didn’t want to acknowledge. Damn. He headed straight for the shower. A cold shower. An icy shower.

He wasn’t supposed to want to rip Jane’s clothes off and ravage her shapely body. The twelve clowns that would show up next week were for that. Still, Jane naked and beneath him was exactly what he craved. He groaned and hooked his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt to tug the material upwards.

A knock rapped at his door.

He froze. Excited anticipation filled him. “Who’s there?”

“JP.”

Rob let out the whoosh of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Did he really think she’d followed him to his suite? And if so, he’d only have to send her away. Frustrated, he opened the door and stepped aside, letting JP enter.

JP glanced around the room and let out a whistle. “Nice.”

“It ought to be for what we’re paying.” He sounded gruff. Too bad. He didn’t feel like socializing.

“Castles don’t come cheap.” JP sank into an eighteenth century high-backed chair with deep, blue velvet cushions. “So, what did you think of Jane?”

She’s sexy as hell, and I want to know if she’s as toned under those clothes as I think she is.

Aw hell. He had to quit thinking like that. Right now.

“She’s not what I expected,” he finally admitted, his mood easing some.

“How so?”

“I figured you’d go for some blond Pamela Anderson wanna-be to play Jane.” That much was true. He’d wanted to make the final decision, but had been tied up with a previous production.

“Casting narrowed it down to the top five choices. I picked her based on her interviews, looks, and her background. You’ve seen her portfolio. She plays every sport and excels. She rides, shoots, and can probably kick my sorry hind-end into the next country. A modern day Belle Starr. She’s amazing.”