Turning It on (Red Hot Russians) (10 page)

As he took the package, his eyes reflected gratitude that went beyond thanks for a few pads of paper. This was as surprising as his glum reaction to being Tammy’s double date choice.

“Thank you, Hannah. You are very kind, and I am happy to accept.”

He tucked the bundle under his arm and she watched him walk away, with that surprising dancer’s grace. Her gift had truly meant something to him, though she couldn’t imagine what.

Nevertheless, she was very glad to have given it.

Chapter Ten

Saturday morning the vanities came early to dress and prepare Hannah for her double date getaway. She watched them pack clothes into her suitcase, hoping it might offer a clue to their destination, but when she went down to the lobby, she was still in the dark.

Jack and Robynne waited with their suitcases. They seemed like a genuine couple, heading off on a romantic weekend together. It was in their intimate looks, and the way his arm brushed her bare shoulders. Hannah could almost picture them in a shared room, luggage open on the rumpled bed, laughing and flirting as they packed.

No!

She banished the disturbing image. Jack was still her fiancé, and though she had seen little of him outside of shoots lately, he couldn’t have drifted away so quickly. One week on a reality show couldn’t erase a three-year relationship, not to mention family ties that went back to childhood.

Robynne’s bright smile brimmed with confidence. “The production team said your date’s running late. You can wait with us if you like.”

The presumptuous invitation set Hannah’s teeth on edge. She would be spending the rest of the day and evening with Jack and his new best friend. Why prolong the agony? “Think I’ll step outside, thanks.”

Beneath the portico, she took a seat on an empty bench. In the driveway, a parked limousine sat with its doors open as Team Red prepared to depart. Alison Michaels handed her rolling suitcase off to a PA. Behind her was Vlad with a single duffel bag. He wore a tight black shirt, unbuttoned to show his buff chest. He looked Hannah’s way and offered a discreet smile. She returned it and held his gaze until he turned away and climbed into the back of the limo. Moments later, the car drove off.

Team Blue was taken to a nearby airport, where they boarded a small plane that flew them out over open water. Ten minutes later, they touched down on Culebra, one of Puerto Rico’s small sister islands. A small fleet of SUVs drove them and the production crew into Dewey, the tiny town that served as the island’s capital.

Their first stop was a dockside restaurant, where fish swam up to catch leftovers the diners tossed over the side. After, they browsed through the shops and galleries that lined the narrow, winding streets. Hannah and Crusher stuck to one side, Jack and Robynne the other. The camera crew had to dart back and forth in the hot, humid afternoon. Hannah wasn’t a bit sorry for their misery. Crusher was excellent company, articulate and cultured, with an eye for art.

The rest of the afternoon was spent sunbathing at Playa Flamenco, a spectacular white sand beach curved around a crystal clear bay. Then they drove on a winding beach road to a rambling one-story Spanish-style villa. The curving, lushly landscaped drive brought them to a massive front door embellished with white wrought iron.

“Eric told me we’d love it,” Jack said.

Robynne clutched Jack’s arm and squealed. “Oooh, I do already. Everything so far has been a dream come true. I feel just like Cinderella.”

In the elegant, tiled foyer, flickering with orange-scented candles, they were welcomed by black-uniformed staff members and escorted to their rooms. Hannah’s was a luxurious suite, with a spacious spa bathroom and ample room to dress. As a maid unpacked her clothes, she soaked in a jasmine-scented bath, and then massaged her sunburned skin with silky lotion. She went out onto the private terrace to dry her hair in the warm island breeze. Culebra was one of the most beautiful places she had ever been, despite the circumstances.

Gazing out at the beach, she wondered where Team Red was at this moment. Were Vlad and Tammy strolling hand in hand at water’s edge, as the tide rolled in across their feet? Was he now happy to have been chosen?

Strange, how her mind kept returning to their brief encounters this past week. He was an enigma, here for troubling reasons, yet didn’t seem to be that sort of man at all. She supposed the same could be said for her flings. Jeff Scott was more like a happy puppy than a seducer for hire. Heathcliff and Darcy were merely rising actors looking to pad their resumes, while Byron Lord was a harmless aging pop star trying to stay in the public eye. Though none of the others, or their motives, lingered in her thoughts the way the Russian stripper did. It was almost as if she was infatuated with him.

Could that be what Jack was feeling for Robynne? A short-lived crush that would fade once they returned to their real lives? She certainly hoped so.

At six thirty, they were brought to a softly lit, thatched roof pavilion at the end of a long dock behind the villa. Garlands of white flowers festooned the sides. A trio of musicians performed “Over the Rainbow”
on guitars, African flutes and hand-drums.

Robynne emitted a pretty gasp. “That’s my favorite song. Oh Jack, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hannah held back a bitter laugh. This was the work of the production crew, not some personal gift for Robynne. The assistant director who had accompanied the camera crew gestured to the open floor in front of the musicians. “We want to get some shots of you dancing. Jack? Will you start it off?”

“Love to.” Grinning, he offered his arm to Robynne.

Crusher followed suit and swung Hannah into a gentle waltz, though the camera hovered near Jack and Robynne the entire time. Following the dance, they were seated at a white-draped table at the center of the room, set for four. A waiter approached with a bottle of wine. Hannah recognized the label. “Look, Jack. It’s the sauvignon blanc we had in Napa last year.” She turned to Robynne, unable to resist a dig. “Napa is so romantic. We might go back for our honeymoon. Or even our first anniversary.”

The waiter splashed a taste into Hannah’s glass and she took a sip. The show had asked for details, such as Jack’s favorite foods, favorite wines and favorite songs. Their favorite memories. Surely this wine would remind Jack of a wonderful time they’d shared. She smiled radiantly as the taste lingered in her mouth. “It’s perfect.”

He filled her glass, then Crusher’s. Robynne pushed her glass away. “None for me. I never touch alcohol. It’s poison to your skin and ages you terribly. Not to mention all those empty calories.” She shot Hannah a catty little smirk. “Sparkling water please, with a twist of lemon.”

“Of course, senorita.” The waiter stopped at Jack’s place. “Wine for you, senor?”

“Uhh...” He glanced across at Hannah, then at Robynne. “No thanks. I’ll have sparkling water, too.”

“But, Jack,” Hannah said, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing. “You loved this wine, don’t you remember?”

Robynne sighed. “Oh Jack, you don’t have to do that for me.”

He shifted in his seat. “I want to. You shouldn’t feel singled out for making healthy choices. I think it’s an example more of us should follow, don’t you, Hannah?”

Hannah took a generous sip. “Oh yes, she’s quite the little example.”

“Shall I leave the bottle, senorita?” the waiter asked.

She laughed coldly. Screw them. Screw
him
. “Why not?”

The meal was a fusion of Caribbean, Puerto Rican and French cuisines; small plates of prawns sautéed in garlic, goat cheese, camembert and bread, a delectable salad of corn, tomatoes and lentils, seasoned with fresh cilantro, an entrée of grilled grouper with mustard cream and yucca mofongo. Robynne took birdlike bites. Jack followed suit. Hannah enjoyed every fabulous taste. This was a beautiful night on a beautiful island, with an amazing meal and their favorite wine. If Jack wanted to deprive himself to please his teetotaling sparrow, let him.

Again, Crusher proved to be excellent company. She’d known from his memoir that he was a college graduate, but was surprised to learn his late father had been a renowned archeologist. When he talked about his upcoming book project, Hannah was happy to share a little of her professional expertise. Across the table, Jack sighed and looked bored. Damn, she’d done it again. Though along with the usual regret came a measure of annoyance. Just because Jack was miserable in his career didn’t mean she had to be. If the situation was reversed, she would want him to be happy in his work, not resent him because of it.

When dinner was over, Crusher leaned back in his chair. “You know, Jack, you’re a natural on camera. I’ve been in the sports entertainment business a long time, and I know talent when I see it. Do you ever think about leaving law behind, and trying to make it in television?”

“It’s funny you should say that. Years ago, that was what I wanted to do...but people talked me out of it.” He laughed coldly and looked straight at Hannah.

Following his gaze, Robynne looked personally affronted. “Why, that’s terrible, to crush someone’s dream.”

The hostility coming Hannah’s way was completely unjustified. She’d had nothing to do with talking Jack into law school, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt compelled to defend the decision. “Jack has the intelligence and skill to succeed at whatever he chooses, including law. He’s only been working for a year. Like anything worth doing, it’s hard at first but it gets better.”

Jack folded his hand in front of him and pressed his lips together. “It’s not that simple, Hannah.”

“Sure it is,” she said for the benefit of the others, as much as Jack’s. “It’s our five-year plan. Jack stays with his firm five years, pays off his law school loans, and then he can leave and go anywhere. By then, I should in a position to support us while he gets his business off the ground.”

Robynne looked crestfallen. “But what about children? There’s no room in your plan for a family.”

“We’re in no hurry,” Hannah said.

“
You’re
in no hurry,” Jack replied.

Hannah’s hand stilled on her glass and she turned to Jack. Where had this come from? “Yes, that’s right. I’m in no hurry. And the last time we talked about it, neither were you.”

Jack frowned. “Well...maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Okay. Well, this is certainly something we’ll have to discuss. Privately,” she added, with a glance at the camera recording every word. Across the table, Jack stared down at his plate, clutching his napkin in his fist. She searched his face. “Jack, are you all right?”

He blew out a breath, and then pursed his lips. “I quit.”

Everyone turned to Hannah, as if she could explain the odd comment. Except she had no clue. “Quit what?”

Jack mumbled, and then looked up, his features taut. “My job.”

It took a moment for everything to register. Hannah’s heart fluttered and she set down her glass before she dropped it. “When?”

“Before we left New York. They wouldn’t give me time off for the show and we’d already committed to Eric. I had no choice.”

“No choice? You could have told Eric! You could have told me! Damn it, Jack. You should have told me.”

Robynne took Jack’s hand and leaned closer. “You don’t have to explain anything, Jack. I understand completely. When Dr. Martinez wouldn’t give me time off, I quit, too. No job is more important than being with you.” She gazed up, a wistful expression on her heart-shaped face. “Whatever your dreams are, we’ll find a way to make them come true.”

“Robynne... I don’t know what to say. I’m touched.”

Hannah slammed her hand down on the table. “I think you’re
both
touched! What about our dreams, Jack? The five-year plan
we
agreed on?”

“
Your
five-year plan.”

She clenched her jaw as she ground out the words layered with a generous dose of sarcasm. “Yeah, that’s right.
My
five-year plan. Which I mercilessly pushed you into, with no regard whatsoever for your feelings. Just like I’m depriving you of the children you so desperately want but never thought to mention...until our dental hygienist brought it up!”

Robynne’s eyes widened and she shrank back in her chair like a frightened child. Jack put a protective arm around her shoulders. “Don’t blame our problems on Robynne.”

“That would be much easier if I’d actually known we had problems!”

“How could you not know? I’ve told you a thousand times how much I hate working at Windsor and St. Clair. I should be using my talents as an actor, pursuing the career I’ve wanted my whole damn life, but no one—not my parents, not you—ever encouraged me.”

“Until Robynne, of course. Tell me, Jack, how’s that going to work? You as a struggling actor, her popping out kids? Sounds like a real dream come true.”

Jack’s features tightened. “I don’t give a damn how it sounds. Nothing I have ever done has been good enough for anyone, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of trying to be my brother. It’s time for me to be me, and have what I want!” He grabbed Robynne’s hand. “Come on, sweetheart, we don’t need to listen to any more of this.”

“Oh Jack...” Robynne’s little voice hitched, as if she was on the verge of tears.

They hurried out of the pavilion as the camera crew murmured with uncertainty, torn over which couple to film. Crusher solved their dilemma by rising from the table and glaring down at them. “Get out and leave Hannah alone.”

An angry six-foot-four pro wrestler was enough to send the crew scurrying down the dock. Numb, Hannah watched them go and was hit by a sudden and terrifying realization: she was losing Jack. Fed up with his family, he was rebelling against what they wanted for him, including her. Just like that, one big argument could doom her future with the only man she had ever loved. “Oh God, Crusher. What have I done?”

“Done?” The wrestler snorted. “You’ve made yourself a success and expected your fiancé to behave like an adult.”

“What if I lose him over this?”

Crusher glanced out over the sand to where the camera crew had caught up to Jack and Robynne. They stood in a small pool of light, arms wrapped around one another. He turned back and shook his head. “Ever consider that maybe he’s not worth having?”

As a competitive ice dancer, Vlad often wore stage makeup to make his features stand out against the white background of the ice, and formfitting costumes that subtly accentuated his fit build. As a performer with the International Review, he had worn little beyond a leather thong and the occasional studded collar. At The Male Room, a tan and full body waxing were practically job requirements. He had spent his life on display, but never had he been fussed over the way the
Last Fling
style team fussed over him now.