Page 35 of Jane Millionaire


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His gaze fell on the soft green grass of the grounds just a few feet away. He could lower her there and--no, he couldn’t. They had to stop.

“Well, it isn’t.” Even to his own ears he sounded lame. “You don’t need to be out here alone before the sun’s up.”

Her chin jutted forward. “I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t be out here alone. I won’t chance something happening to you and not being able to finish shooting Jane Millionaire.” He tried to step back, but she prevented him by tightening her hold.

She averted her gaze for a moment to stare off in the distance before returning her attention to him. “Why are you pretending you don’t feel anything for me?”

She had every right to ask after the way he’d just kissed her. He had to stop this, now, before things got any more out of control. Before he didn’t care that he would be ruining his friend’s career, risking his own, and losing out on his dream for GAMBLER. No woman was worth those risks, he reminded himself. The sexy one in front of him included.

He didn’t want to hurt her, but it was the only way. If she hated him, maybe she’d focus on one of the bachelors. She had to, and he had to make it happen.

His harshness in the exercise room hadn’t been enough.

He mentally cringed at what he was going to do. His heart begged him to forget taking that next step with his career and to explore his emotions for this woman.

And maybe if that’s all that was at stake, he’d risk it.

Instead, he met her gaze without wavering and said words he knew would kill any feelings she had for him.

“Pick one of the twelve to scratch your itch. Fall head over heels for him, and forget I exist, because once this shoot is over that’s exactly what I’ll do. Women mean nothing to me, but a good time. If we slept together, it wouldn’t mean a thing except sexual satisfaction. I doubt I’d even remember your name six months from now--or that I’d even care to remember.”

# # #

Rob watched from the studio as Jane punched Bachelor #10, Jeff Kensington, much harder than she should have.

Thank God, Dr. Doolittle wore protective gear.

The cameraman zoomed in on his face. Confusion shone in the man’s eyes.

“Come on, hit me,” Jane goaded, her gloved fists held high, protecting her face.

“My mom taught me not to hit girls,” Kensington said, keeping his tone light.

She jabbed, making solid contact again. “Did she tell you to let a girl kick your butt?”

Should he tell the cameramen to cut? Probably, but he waited to see what Kensington would do. Would the guy give in to Jane’s taunts?

He punched, pitifully, without any real effort.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” She rolled her eyes. “Knock me off my feet, and I’ll invite you to my suite tonight for a private dinner.”

He punched.

“Better,” she jeered, parrying his shot. “But not good enough.” She nailed him again, bouncing around a little. She held her gloves up. “Come on. I’ll give you a clear shot to make it even.”

He jabbed again, and she sidestepped.

Rob winced for the guy.

Yeah, he was going to have to stop this. They couldn’t use it for the show anyway.

“Nice try.” Jane tilted her chin in challenge and although her headgear hid most of her face, he knew she wore a stubborn expression of challenge.

“She’s making an absolute mockery of him,” JP commented as he stepped behind Rob to watch the live footage. “What’s got that girl so ticked?”

Rob didn’t look up although he could tell JP no longer watched Jane and stared at him instead. “Beats me.”

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