Turning It on (Red Hot Russians) (19 page)

That was exactly what she intended to do.

At seven o’clock, Hannah went down to the luau, her face made up correctly, her hair tamed into soft waves and pulled back with a tropical flower. She wore the black, gold and green batik dress she’d bought that afternoon. Her new pedicure peeked out from beneath the kitten-heeled sandals studded with seashells Alison had helped pick out. As she stepped onto the terrace, heads turned.

She strutted across the patio, feeling eyes and cameras follow. Will stared; Daphne flashed a thumbs-up. As she walked to the bar, she spotted Jack with Gina, Kirstin, and, of course, Robynne. The hygienist looped her arm though Jack’s and let loose an overly loud squeaky laugh, but Hannah sensed the tension. She enjoyed a pleasant moment of satisfaction as she gave her order to the bartender.

As she waited for her Pinot Grigio, there was a light touch at the small of her back, and she caught the alluring scents of D&G Masculine and cocoa butter. A hand reached forward to cup the lav mike pinned to her dress, a low sexy voice with an Eastern European accent whispered in her ear. “You look very nice. Did you do all of your assignment?”

He made the question sound extremely risqué and Hannah experienced a frisson of desire. “What do you think?”

“I think you deserve an A. What color are you wearing?”

Hannah smiled, loving how it felt to have a gorgeous man curious about her underwear.

Chapter Seventeen

Vlad’s heart raced as Hannah turned and her full, firm breasts brushed against him.

“Maybe you can show me later,” he said, his hand cupped over her mike and his.

“Shark.” Her tone implied she was calling him a name, but her smile conveyed her true meaning...an invitation to meet later in their secret hideaway. Vlad couldn’t wait for tonight’s filming to be over so they could be alone. It wasn’t simply the change in Hannah’s appearance, though he couldn’t deny she looked damn hot. Rather, it was seeing her embrace what he had known the moment they met. Hannah was so much more than a big-chested wannabe TV starlet. She was smart, she was real, and despite what she seemed to believe, she was beautiful. The kind of woman any man would consider himself lucky to be with. The kind of woman Vlad would love to be with, if only things were different. He wanted to tell her that, but it was impossible, because the cameras were suddenly upon them.

With the cameras came a stampede of
Last Fling
castmates. Cristal approached, on Heathcliff’s arm. “Oh my God, look at you! You’re gorgeous. What do you think, Heath?”

“Uhh. You look good. Like, really good.”

Byron Lord air-kissed Hannah on both cheeks. “Fabulous. Love the hair.”

Jack and his ever-present harem strolled over, too, but for once, his attention was not on Robynne. “Wow, Hannah. Your hair, your clothes. You look great.”

“For once,” Kirstin said.

It was obvious how much Jack’s praise meant, because Hannah ignored the model’s rude comment and flashed a dazzling smile. However, Robynne pushed herself between Hannah and Jack, and reclaimed his arm. “Jack and I were talking about how much fun we had in San Juan, and how you slipped off alone to do a little shopping. It’s sweet the way you’re trying so hard to fit in, but I think it’s always better just to be yourself. Don’t you agree, Jack?”

“Well... I... I—” Jack pulled his arm from Robynne’s grasp and took a step closer to Hannah. “I think she looks beautiful.”

Vlad felt an overwhelming urge to punch the guy.

Which made no sense. He had encouraged Hannah to be confident and sexy, and now she was. So what right did he have to be pissed off when another man found her attractive?

The question lingered through dinner. Vlad sat among Team Red, but his attention was on the Team Blue side of the room, where the funeral director and Jack were both vying for Hannah’s attention. At the table with Vlad, pop star Patrice and Miss October talked about Hannah’s transformation. For the first time since premiere night, no one seemed to question whether she and Jack belonged together.

No one except Vlad, who couldn’t shake the feeling that Jack Gordon was a selfish jerk who did not deserve a woman like Hannah.

After dinner, Cody, wearing a pink tuxedo jacket and sparkly bow tie, took the stage. From behind a DJs console, he spun “Celebration,” by Kool and the Gang and shouted to the crowd over the music. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s party time! Everybody ready for tonight’s challenge?” A cheer went up, and two production assistants brought out enormous boxes. One was tied with a red ribbon, the other with blue. “Jack and Hannah, Chris and Tammy. Have we got a surprise for you!” DeWylde wagged a finger, beckoning them to the stage. Their surprised expressions showed they were as in the dark as everyone else.

Cody came to center stage, and stood between Jack, Hannah and the blue box, Chris, Tammy and the red one. “We at
Last Fling
haven’t forgotten that in a few short months, both of these couples will tie the knot. They hope.” Laughter rippled through the room, but the best Vlad could do was a tight smile that on TV, probably looked more like a smirk.

“Our brides were each promised a designer gown, created especially for them.” He chuckled. “Tonight, we’re going to unveil those gorgeous creations and give everyone a sneak peek at those special nights...whether they happen or not! Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to...the Rockin’ Wedding Reception Challenge!”

Everyone cheered, but even as he applauded, Vlad had a dull ache in the pit of his stomach.

“We’ll give our couples a few moments to dress, then welcome them back for a romantic first dance.”

The couples and their boxes were escorted offstage while deWylde explained the rules for tonight’s challenge. The team who won the most dance contests and drank the most champagne would win a gourmet, beachside dinner prepared by one of Puerto Rico’s top chefs. Back behind the turntable, Cody spun the first disc, “Love Shack” by the B-52s. The cast surged onto the dance floor. As he often did at The Male Room, Vlad tried to get lost in the music and not think about the present.

Midway through Justin Timberlake’s “SexyBack,” deWylde stopped the music. The couples had arrived. “Preeesenting... Mr. and Mrs. Tucker...and Mr. and Mrs. Gordon!”

The cast applauded Chris and Tammy, then Jack and Hannah. The grooms were handsome in black tuxedos, Tammy glamorous in a white strapless sheath. But Hannah was breathtaking. She looked like a wedding-cake bride, in a lacy white gown with a wide skirt. The dress had a wide neckline and tiny sleeves that showed off her creamy shoulders and the rounded swells of her breasts. A pale green sash defined her slender waist, and matched the ribbons threaded through the soft waves of her dark hair.

The sight of her waltzing with Jack to Etta James’s “At Last,” with her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face, felt like a knife in Vlad’s chest.

After Chris and Tammy danced to Elvis’s “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You,” the cast returned to the dance floor. DJ WyldeOne, as he had taken to calling himself, spun one cheese-fest after another. There were dance-offs to “Y.M.C.A.”, “The Chicken Dance” and “Macarena,” line dances to “The Electric Slide” and “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.” During “Wind Beneath My Wings,” everyone paid a dollar to dance with brides and grooms.

Vlad danced with Tammy, the other women of Team Red and even with the women of Team Blue. Everyone except Hannah. Not that he didn’t want to. On the contrary. Every other guy was, so it was not as though he couldn’t yet he feared that if he held this beautiful bride, his face would reveal the truth. He had fallen in love with her. She wasn’t merely the type of woman he longed to be with, as Katie the grad student had been, Hannah
was
that woman. Her beauty, her goodness and the fact that she’d looked past what he was, and seen the man he wanted to be. She shared his love of books, she hadn’t laughed at his dream. Vlad wanted Hannah for more than a night, more than the run of this show. He wanted her in his life from this day forward, and though she would never be his bride, he’d be damned if he gave the cretins down in the editing room ammunition to turn his friendship with Hannah into something ugly.

Friendship. The word seemed so inadequate, yet that was all it could ever be. Hannah loved Jack, and even if he wasn’t good enough for her, he was a damn sight better than an exotic dancer with little education and a dicey past. As hard as this was, it was also for the best.

Vlad’s only hope was that he hid his feelings more successfully than Robynne.

From the first soulful notes of “At Last,” Robynne stood at the edge of the dance floor, her arms crossed over her body, glaring. Though she danced with Jack often, each time, he returned to Hannah.

The little schemer was finding that stealing Jack away wasn’t going to be so easy.

Halfway through the evening, deWylde summoned the women to the floor for the bouquet toss. Tammy went first, and her red roses landed in Daphne’s hands. When it was Hannah’s turn, she stood with her back to the women, and flung her bouquet of tropical flowers over her head. The women scrambled for position. Robynne shoved Cristal aside as she dove for the flowers, but six-foot Kirstin stretched out her arm and seized them easily. The thwarted hygienist stormed off to parts unknown.

Then all the single men were called to the floor. Tammy sat in a straight back chair and burlesque music, which Vlad had never heard any real stripper use, played as she lifted her skirt to reveal a blue lace garter on her bare leg. To howls and whistles from the guys, Chris knelt, slid the garter from her leg and tossed it away. The men scrambled like fish after a tasty morsel, and Jeff Scott Fitzgerald came up with the prize.

Vlad’s mouth went dry as deWylde escorted Hannah to the chair, with Jack following, an idiotic grin plastered on his face.

He couldn’t stand to see the rest.

Out on the deserted terrace, he could still hear the noise and music, but at least he no longer had to watch Hannah and Jack’s dress rehearsal as bride and groom. He ought to forget her. He needed to put her out of his mind. If only he could.

“Why, Vlad. I’m flattered.” Robynne Lovejoy stepped out of the shadows, smiling.

Confused, he shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“I saw you watching me earlier. You came looking for me.” She moved in close and enveloped him in the cloying fragrance of too many flowers. She smelled like a funeral parlor. Too bad Jeff Scott wasn’t here to appreciate it. “Don’t deny it. You were hoping that since Jack is busy with what’s-her-name, tonight would be your big chance. Guess what?” She leaned in, and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re right.”

Robynne Lovejoy was about as appealing as a tarantula, and Vlad felt like he’d just been snared in a web. He recoiled and his body stiffened. “Am I?”

Her arms tightened, holding him fast. “You and I can work together. I’ll bring down Chris for you—you’ll bring down Hannah for me. It won’t be hard, and if you’re successful, I’ll give you whatever you want. How’s that for incentive?”

The woman was dangerous, delusional...and almost certainly miked. Just because there weren’t any obvious cameras didn’t mean they weren’t being watched. He glanced to the right and left, his guard up. He needed to say as little as possible, and get the hell away from her...quickly. He reached behind and unclasped her hands from the small of his back then took a step backward. “No thank you. I’m definitely not interested.”

“Not interested?” She laughed coldly. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”

“Yes, I’d say I have a very good idea.”

“Well hear this, Vlad the Bad. I’m the star of this show, and a very good person to have on your side. I’m also a bad person to have as an enemy.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She stormed from the terrace back into the hotel, providing another excellent reason not to return to the party. Out on the beach, The Smiling Shark was lit and waiting. He didn’t expect Hannah to show. If she was back with Jack, she would not risk being seen with him. But the sound of waves always brought comfort, and he could think of nowhere else to go.

He stayed there a long time, listening to the surf and was about to leave when he saw a lone figure crossing the beach. Their eyes met as she approached and she ran forward, greeting him with an exuberant hug that made his heart, and groin, throb.

“I’m so happy you’re still here,” Hannah said. “I had to wait until the cameras were gone so I wouldn’t be followed.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He brushed a soft curl back from her face. Once again, she was down-to-earth and beautiful as dark water under moonlight. Though she no longer wore the bridal gown or the ribbons, he couldn’t forget how she had looked as another man’s bride. He wanted her in every sense of the word, and as he gazed into the depths of her dark eyes, he knew the longer they stayed here, the more likely something would happen that they would both regret. Yet leaving was unthinkable. Miguel the bartender brought Vlad a fresh beer and a glass of Pinot Grigio for Hannah. They sat together on the love seat and gazed out at the ocean.

He rested his arm along the back of the seat, and brushed his fingers against her bare shoulder. The subtle scent of expensive perfume wafted from her warm skin. “So,” he said. “Time to prove you did your homework.”

She stretched the neckline of her T-shirt to show a leopard-print bra strap.

“Very nice. But that was only half the assignment.”

“I’m not taking off my skirt!”

Too bad. He hadn’t expected it, though he wouldn’t have minded. Not one bit. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Just show me a little.”

“So demanding.” She pushed down the waistband of her skirt, and offered a little peek of matching leopard print.

“I knew you were an excellent student.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked away. “That song you danced to with Jack. Is that one you chose for your wedding?”

“We didn’t choose it. The show did. They told us backstage what we would be dancing to. Though I suppose in some ways, it fits.” There was a sense of melancholy under her words.

“And I have you to thank, for showing me how to be sexy for Jack.”

Vlad leaned forward, put his hand on hers and gazed into her eyes with an intensity that he feared might frighten her. Yet she stayed, not moving a muscle. “He’s not the reason. I did it because you are a beautiful, desirable woman, and a long time ago, someone made you think you weren’t. I’m not saying a few lessons from me can undo everything, but I want you to see a little bit of what I see when I look at you.”

Hannah nodded. “You’ve helped me see that.” She dropped her gaze. “You know, you’re a lot more than what you seem, too.”

He laughed, hoping to lighten the situation. “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound so good.”

“You’re a stripper who writes books. You’re a gentle and kind man, on a show that requires you to seduce an engaged woman. The most significant person in your life is your uncle you no longer see, yet I can hear it in your voice whenever you talk about him, that he’s still very important to you.”

“He is. He taught me things I still think about every day,” Vlad said quietly. “I’m not so mysterious. I have just had a strange life.”

She moved closer. “You can tell me about it. What did Uncle Ivan teach you? Was he a stripper, too?”

Her earnest question made Vlad smile, and he felt grateful for the levity. “No, definitely not a stripper. Years ago, he was a figure skater, a pair skating medalist in Russia, back in the seventies. He would have gone on to win the gold but he was injured. He became a coach instead—a very successful one. You know of the American skater who competes with her Russian husband?”