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“What’s not to like?” He wished he knew. He’d focus all his energies on that flaw in hopes of dashing his ever-increasing fascination with her. However, so far he could only come up with the presumption that she would likely turn out to be just another casting couch starlit wanting to use him to advance her career.
And even that didn’t fit his gut instincts about her.
“Yeah, she’s nothing like Mandy, is she?”
“Thank God.” JP had never liked Rob’s ex-wife. If only he’d asked for JP’s advice before he’d given the fame hungry witch his name. Maybe his view of the fairer species wouldn’t be quite so jaded had he not married Mandy and their marriage ending so publicly. “One Mandy in the world is more than enough.”
But he’d run across many more with hunger for fame and fortune in their eyes. Mandy had only provided the initial inoculation for him to develop immunity to that greedy breed. Or so he’d thought until meeting Jill.
“Have you seen her lately?”
“A couple of months before we started filming Jane. I ran into her at an opening. She was with husband number five and contemplating divorce once again.”
JP’s eyes widened, obviously impressed. “One more and she’ll be caught up. Guess I’d better start the search for lucky number seven.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “I thought you swore you were finished with marriage after number six took you to the cleaners?”
“But the down and dirty sure was fun while the getting was good.” JP waggled his bushy silver brows, no doubt thinking of the barely legal blonde who’d reportedly been so much fun, albeit expensive, for the eighteen months JP and she had been married. JP’s expression sobered. “Man wasn’t meant to be alone.”
“I like being alone.” Rob adjusted the computer mouse to keep from meeting his friend’s eyes. Alone was much better than his marriage to Mandy or the revolving door bride and groom swap most of his Hollywood counterparts, including JP, participated in.
“If you say so.”
“I say so.” And being alone truly had never bothered him. At least, not before meeting Jill. But the thought of facing that unlocked door tonight, knowing it was his last chance, made him seriously doubt the conviction he heard in his voice.
Only one more night to be haunted by thoughts of what lay behind an unlocked door, to be haunted by thoughts of an empty house half-a-world away.
Alone. Yeah, he liked being alone alright.
# # #
Long into the night, Rob lay in his king-sized bed, still trying to convince himself he wanted to be alone. Not an easy thing to accomplish while lying in a bed that had seemed much too large for just one person ever since he’d shared it with Jill for those few brief blissful hours.
He blew out a frustrated breath.
The sun wouldn’t be up for a few more hours, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t go back to sleep and it was too early for a jog. He’d dozed off and on all night. The few times he had slept, he’d dreamed he was a knight come to rescue a beautiful princess, Jill, from her castle prison. He’d dreamed of knocking down the door between them, of making love to her, of her sweet moans as he thrust inside her, dreamed of her fiery, demanding kisses.
God, it was hot in here. Rob kicked his covers off his bare body and flicked on a lamp that looked like a fancy lantern of some sort, although, like everything else in the castle, it ran solely on electricity.
His gaze landed on the connecting door. Just as it had a thousand times previously during the long hours he’d lain awake fighting his body’s need for a certain woman.
Need. He needed Jill. The realization terrified him, yet on some inexplicable level the admission freed him at the same time. What would she do if he opened that door and made love to her? Branded her with his kisses? Told her he didn’t want her to choose Kensington or any of the bachelors?
Now where the heck had that come from?
He wasn’t going to open the door. Nor was he going to make love to her. Branding her was simply out of the question, although he wouldn’t mind stamping a big R across her forehead. Of course, she’d take that to mean rejected rather than “claimed by Rob”.
Not that he was claiming her.
He couldn’t. Not for at least three months, probably more, if he didn’t want media backlash. The press could kill a career faster than ten bad films in a roll.
Or make a career as he suspected would happen with Jill. Offers would pour in and she’d move on to bigger and better things just as the other women in his life had.
&n
bsp; Rob groaned. The sad truth of this whole reality nightmare was that he might never make love to Jill again if he didn’t go to her tonight.
But opening that door, well, he was pretty sure she’d take it to signify more than what he was willing to give. More than what he had to give.
