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“Not on your life.” He tried not to look down the neckline of her t-shirt at the tantalizing glimpse of her sport’s bra- covered breasts. Tried, and failed.
She wasn’t the only one trying to catch her breath. He was almost woozy from lack of air.
“Now who’s chicken?” She looked up and grinned impudently when she caught his stare. Had she purposely provided him with the view?
“Nice try. Just see to it you keep your end of the deal.”
Her lashes swept her cheeks. “You’re sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
“About?” he asked. Damn, but she was flirting with fire with her pouty lips and bedroom eyes.
“Your prize.”
Oh crap. He’d just won the game and lost her kiss to one of the bachelors. What had he done?
The right thing.
So why did it feel like the wrong move?
Still, he said what needed saying, “Make sure you wear kiss proof lipstick on your outings with the bachelors tomorrow. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter Seven
The next morning, a frustrated Rob jogged around the corner of a tall hedge in one of the castle’s many gardens. Until they’d rented the estate, it had been used as a private playground for the mega wealthy. The setting was perfect for JANE MILLIONAIRE.
The sun was barely in the sky. Streaks of red and gold light broke through the early morning haze. A bird chirped in the distance, singing its early morning song.
No matter that Rob should still be in bed. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep and he’d needed to work off some steam. Out of the castle. Away from Jane.
Barely less than two weeks since he’d met the bewitching woman, and she occupied his every waking thought.
And a great many of his sleeping ones based upon the dreams he’d had during the night. Dreams starring Jane. Hot dreams of them battling it out on the basketball court and his winning her kiss. Dreams of his stripping those tight shorts and t-shirt off her and making love to her right there on the basketball court. No cameras allowed.
Sweat trickled down his neck and he picked up his pace, hoping to exhaust his body to the point of forgetting her. If only for a few hours.
Jane. Had he ever wanted a woman more? Not even Mandy had wound him into such a blundering mass of hormones--and he’d been seventeen, hormonally over-endowed and cocky with his film success when he’d first met his ex-wife.
Which explained a lot of things, but not his fascination with his current star.
JP had done an excellent job in choosing Jane. The bachelors were sure to be eating out of her hands before the end of the month. Only four days and they were already making fools of themselves left and right--not that he blamed them or could claim to be any better. He was doing a pretty bang up job of foolhardy behavior himself.
When had staying away from a woman been so hard? Actually, staying away wasn’t what was hard. He was. The mere thought of Jane had his body tightening into a contracted bundle of muscles.
The woman was driving him insane. The need to kiss her, taste her, plunge inside her. He groaned at the image of Jane arched beneath him. She would meet him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, thrust for thrust. She wouldn’t lie there mentally rehearsing her film debut, planning her acceptance speech at the Oscars and her wardrobe for the Golden Globe--not like the last woman he’d accidentally let close a few years ago.
“Oh!” A surprised feminine grunt sounded as a firm body slammed into his.
He stumbled back but managed to stay on his feet, which was more than he could say for his early morning attacker. “Are you okay?”
Jane stared up at him dazed. She wore baggy jogging pants and a t-shirt that left little to his imagination--which had already been working overtime for hours on end.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here this early,” she said, not moving from her fallen position.
Yeah, he hadn’t expected to run into anyone either--especially not her. And not literally.
When she continued to sit on the hard ground, he reached to help her to her feet. Big mistake. He knew better than to touch her. Lightning flashed any time their skin made contact. He’d promised himself after their game last night that he wouldn’t touch her. Not ever again. Yet, here he stood waiting for her to put her hand into his.
Her dazed eyes shifted to his outstretched hand, stared at it a moment, then she looked away. Without a word, she licked her lower lip, and held her palms out to inspect them. A tiny drop of blood pooled on her scraped skin.
