Jarett’s jeans became uncomfortably tight. He knew he should keep things strictly business between them, but he couldn’t. He wanted her—more than he’d ever wanted anything. He wanted her hair falling down around him and her glasses steamed up. He wanted to give them both a night to remember before they returned to the real world.

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, and curving his hand around the nape of her neck, he pulled her up to meet his hard, hungry kiss. He slid his hands up her back and into her hair, causing the silky tresses to slip out of their confines and fall down her back.

His body leapt in anticipation and raw desire. Taking a step back, he looked into her bright green eyes. “But Meg, this could be just the beginning….”

MILLS & BOON

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Two Sexy!

Stephanie Bond

This book is dedicated to the folks behind the scenes

at Harlequin, who work to bring us romantic

entertainment month after month:

the editorial department, the art department, the production

department, the sales department,

the marketing department, the public relations department and eHarlequin.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR…

Welcome to Blaze! I’m thrilled to be a part of this exciting new line and even more excited by the possibilities now open to us—as authors and readers.

If you missed Midnight Fantasies, the July 2001 Blaze collection, you missed meeting Rebecca Valentine, owner of Anytime Costumes. But you’re about to meet her sister, Meg, who agrees to run the shop while Rebecca is on her honeymoon. Meg Valentine is a teacher who’s yearning for a little excitement before accepting a proposal from her longtime boyfriend. Taking the job as a body double for a celebrity sex kitten certainly fits the bill! And while wearing provocative clothing and evading the paparazzi are eye-opening experiences, Meg soon discovers the most risqué part of her employment is working closely, very closely, with seriously sexy Jarett Miller. Get ready for the sparks to fly!

If you’ve been waiting for a longer, more sensual read, the wait is over…. Blaze has arrived! Don’t forget to share the good news with a friend—she’ll thank you.

For a complete list of my titles, visit my Web site at www.stephaniebond.com.

Stephanie Bond

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

“AMAZING. LISTEN TO THIS.”

Meg Valentine looked over the top of her BLT sandwich at her best friend, Kathie, sprawled in a chair in the teachers’ lounge.

“The wedding of actors Elyssa Adams and John Bingham cost a reported one million dollars. The gown alone set the couple back fifty thousand, and the cake, twenty thousand.” Kathie lowered the magazine. “Twenty thousand bucks for a lousy cake, and it probably wasn’t even chocolate. Do you realize that’s how much money I’ll net this year?”

Meg grinned, chewing. Besides being a chronic complainer, Kathie was a Hollywood aficionado—the woman spent every disposable dollar on celebrity memorabilia—props from movie sets, scripts, even a lock or two of hair from famous people. And she lived for every outrageous headline the tabloids could deliver.

“Those people live in a different world,” Sharon, another teacher, offered, pointing her fork at Kathie. “And I’ll bet it’s not nearly as rosy as you think.”

“Right,” piped in Joanna from the corner, who spent her lunch hours knitting scarves for Christmas gifts. “Those people have problems, just like the rest of us.”

“But they lead such exciting lives.” A faraway expression came over Kathie’s face. “Wearing gorgeous clothes, having men fall at your feet. Wouldn’t it be grand to live in a celebrity’s shoes for just a few days?”

Meg shook her head. “Kathie, you’re such a dreamer.”

“Yeah,” Sharon said. “Face it—we’re elementary school teachers in Peoria, Illinois. We gave up ‘exciting’ when we made our career choice.” The women laughed.

Except for Meg, who bit into a pickle, digesting the bittersweet truth of Sharon’s words. She truly loved teaching and working with children, but sometime during the last few years, her life had fallen into a serious rut when she wasn’t looking. Cabin fever, hormones, early-life crisis—she couldn’t explain her sudden restlessness. All she knew was that lately she was easily distracted from her evening routine of grading math papers, and ready to come out of her very proper skin. Perhaps she’d sensed Trey’s impending proposal, something she still wasn’t sure she knew how to handle.

Kathie scooted to the edge of her seat, her hazel eyes dancing. “This weekend I’m going to Indy for a fan festival. They’re supposed to auction off some wardrobe items from the set of Many Moons.”

Kathie’s favorite show. She’d even managed to get the three of them hooked on the weekly melodrama. Every Wednesday night they congregated at Kathie’s apartment and munched popcorn while watching the beautiful people make multi-million dollar deals, stab each other in the back, and steal each other’s lovers. Most of the scenes took place near or on the beach, which meant the costumes were one of two types—scanty or nonexistent.

Sharon scoffed. “What will you do with clothes from Many Moons? Wear them to the PTA potluck?”

They all laughed again, but Kathie shook her finger. “You just wait, my collection is going to be worth something someday.”

She turned to another page in the magazine that featured The Sexiest Outfits of the Season. Kathie pointed to a picture of Taylor Gee, the actress who played the curvaceous blonde vixen on Many Moons, wearing a transparent yellow gown. “This dress is my next conquest.”

“Is she wearing underwear?” Joanna asked, the knitting forgotten as she craned her head in for a look.

Meg pushed up her glasses and squinted at the telltale dark areas beneath the dress, stretched to the limit of its seams by the actress’s remarkable curves. “I don’t think so.”

“Ewww,” Sharon said. “You want to buy a dress she wore with no underwear?”

Kathie made a face. “I’ll have it drycleaned, idget. The point is, it’s going to be a collector’s item.”

“What makes you think so?” Meg asked.

“Taylor Gee is the closest thing to Marilyn Monroe this generation has ever known. And similarly, from the glazed look on her face, she’s going to burn up before she burns out.”

They all leaned in for a better look, but Meg saw only an impossibly beautiful woman in an impossibly scanty gown. Her head was turned and she was smiling at someone—the man who was cropped out of the photo? Only the sleeve of his black jacket remained, emblazoned with some kind of crest. Probably someone famous. The woman had been linked with every international bad boy there was, from rock star to rebel prince.

“I can’t believe she would go out in public wearing something like that,” Sharon said, shaking her head. “She’s already gorgeous. Why does she need to be so over the top?”

“So she’ll make the Sexiest Outfits of the Season list,” Meg pointed out.

“And so pathetic people like us will spend our lunch hour talking about her,” Joanna chimed in.

“Deep down, we all wish we could wear a dress like that,” Kathie insisted, tapping the page. “And turn every person’s head when we walk into a room.”

At times Kathie sounded more like a psychology teacher than a science teacher. She had a knack for zeroing in on people’s deepest, darkest urges. Meg had picked up the phone a couple times this week to talk to her friend about her general state of unrest, but she’d changed her mind at the last second. She couldn’t seem to zero in on what was wrong with her. Spring fever? Cold feet?

“Even if that was true,” Joanna said, flipping her head of carrot-orange curls, “we don’t all look like Taylor Gee.”

“Meg is beautiful enough to pull it off,” Sharon insisted, and to Meg’s chagrin, all eyes turned to her. Her neck and cheeks warmed, and she pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Take off your glasses,” Kathie urged.

“What? No.”

“Come on, humor me.”

Meg slipped off her glasses and sighed.

“I can’t believe I never noticed.”

“What, the hump on my nose?”

“No—you’re a dead ringer for Taylor Gee.”

Meg squinted in Kathie’s direction. “Maybe you should borrow my glasses.”

“Am I right, girls?”

Sharon hummed. “Well, if your hair was blond—”

“—and if your eyes were blue,” Joanna chimed in.

“—and if you painted a mole near the corner of your mouth,” Sharon continued.

“—and if you were coming out of your clothes,” Joanna offered, “then yeah, you’d be a dead ringer for her.”

“See?” Kathie asked.

Meg laughed and jammed the black rimmed glasses back on her face. “You three watch too much TV.”

Kathie grinned. “You have the face, but those baggy dresses would not get you on the Sexiest Outfits of the Season list.”

Meg frowned and looked down at her gray crinkle cotton dress. “I like my baggy dresses. They’re comfortable. And washable.” An important feature when working with seven-year-olds.

“Meg probably wears something more sexy for Trey,” Joanna teased.

She squirmed. In truth, Trey Carnegie liked the fact that she didn’t flaunt her body. You dress like a lady—you always make me proud to stand next to you. Too bad Meg wasn’t sure she wanted Trey to always treat her like a “lady.” She cleared her throat. “Speaking of Trey, I have an announcement.”

The room fell silent.

“Last night after the benefit dinner…Trey proposed.”

Sharon and Joanna squealed their congratulations, and even Kathie managed a little smile.

“Well, Mr. Three Piece Suit finally got around to it, eh?”

There was no love lost between Kathie and Trey, but Meg had stopped trying to figure out why her closest friend didn’t gel with her longtime boyfriend. Trey said Kathie was jealous because she didn’t have a boyfriend. But Meg couldn’t disagree with her friend on one point—Trey had taken his sweet time asking for her hand—five years. And Meg still wasn’t sure why she waited.

“What did you tell him?” Kathie asked.

“What do you think she told him?” Sharon asked a little sarcastically.

“I don’t see a ring.”

Sharon glanced at Meg’s bare left hand, then gasped. “What did you tell him?”

Meg looked at the three curious faces, and the familiar weight of expectation settled in her stomach. Meg the good girl. Meg the straight-A student. Meg the model employee. Meg the proper girlfriend. God, she wanted to break free from it all. She inhaled. “I said I needed some time to think about it.”

Kathie slapped her knee. “Good for you.”

“She’s just paying him back for making her wait so long,” Joanna said. “Aren’t you, Meg?”

She wished. Her mother was practically frantic about her sister Rebecca’s broken engagement, then her rebound romance with Michael Pierce that seemed to be moving way too quickly. Once again, the pressure was on Meg to do the right thing. So to be honest, she had no idea why she hadn’t told Trey “yes” on the spot, except for the underlying feeling that there was something missing. Like romance. Passion. Excitement. Still, Joanna’s explanation seemed good enough for now. “Right. I’m going to let him cool his heels for a while.”

“And who knows?” Kathie said with a sly grin. “In the meantime, maybe you’ll meet some one who’ll make you forget all about Trey Carnegie.”

“Kathie,” Joanna chided, “Trey is a catch, especially around here.”

That was odd. Did Joanna mean that if they weren’t in Peoria, Trey wouldn’t be as good a catch? But she knew what her friend meant—young, successful men from prominent wealthy families did not grow on trees in their quaint city.

“Did he offer you a ring?” Sharon asked, a wistful look in her eyes.

“He wants me to pick it out when I’m ready.”

“Did you tell him when you’d give him an answer?” Joanna asked, equally starry-eyed.

Guilt twinged low in Meg’s stomach—both Joanna and Sharon would change places with her in a split-second, and here she was stalling. “I told him we’d talk about it when I get back from vacation. I’m taking off all next week.”

Kathie whooped. “You’re finally taking the five-day bonus they gave you for being Teacher of the Year?”

That was a source of pride and embarrassment.

In fact, maybe some of the disquiet she’d been experiencing could be posttraumatic stress over the wave of statewide publicity she’d received the past couple of months. More expectations. Meg nodded sheepishly.

“Well, it’s about time.”

“Where are you going?” Sharon asked.

“Somewhere exciting?” Joanna asked.

“A cruise?”

“The beach?”

“Vegas?”

Meg folded her napkin and patted her mouth.

“I’m going to Chicago to run my sister’s costume shop.”

In the ensuing silence, she got the feeling her friends were a little underwhelmed.

“Oh.”

“That’s nice.”

“Er, yes, very nice.”

Meg sipped on her straw. The end of her fountain soda greeted her with a great sucking noise.

“That doesn’t sound like much of a vacation,”

Kathie said finally.

“No, it doesn’t,” Sharon agreed.

“Not at all,” Joanna said.

“No, but I’m glad to do it,” Meg said. In fact, she’d been counting the days. She needed a change of scenery, time to think. “It’ll be fun.

And Rebecca needs me.”

“Really, Meg,” Kathie said dryly. “One of these days you’re going to have to live a more sedate life.”

Meg stuck out her tongue and the girls laughed. Then the bell rang. They groaned and gathered the remnants of their lunch.

“Do you ever have the feeling that your life revolves around bells?” Meg asked.

Kathie frowned. “I hear that darn thing in my sleep.”

Meg sighed as they walked out into the clattering hall, once again gripped by a quiet fear she couldn’t put her finger on. Miles of battered lockers, acres of scuffed floors, the din of hundreds of little voices, the lingering odor of paper and paste. Was this really where she belonged?

“Depressing, isn’t it?” Kathie asked, taking in the same scene.

“No,” Meg said too quickly. “I love my job.”

“I love my job, too,” Kathie said with a wry smile. “But I can’t say that I love the fact that all the men in my life are Cub Scouts.”

“You could date if you wanted to,” Meg said. “What about your neighbor, the doctor?”

“Oh, right—I’ve seen the man twice. The first time he said hello, I closed my hand in the car door. The second time, I walked into the mailbox. I think I’ve burned my bridges where he’s concerned—even a doctor doesn’t have that much insurance.” She sighed dramatically. “No, I’ve resigned myself to spinsterhood.”

“We’re only twenty-seven, Kathie. We won’t be spinsters for at least another three years.” Three short years…

She smirked. “So what’s the real reason you didn’t say yes to Trey? Having second thoughts?”

“No, I told you—”

“You’re making him pay.” Kathie shook her head. “I don’t buy it, Meg. You don’t have a vindictive bone in your body.”

Meg sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, surprised at Kathie’s sudden gravity.

Then her friend sighed. “Whatever the reason, make sure you take as long as you need to decide whether or not Trey is the man for you.”

At a loss for words, Meg simply nodded.

Then her friend grinned again, and elbowed her in the ribs. “I still can’t believe you’ve got an entire week away from this place, and you’re going to spend it working.”

“I won’t be working the entire time,” Meg protested. “I’ll have my evenings free, and two Sundays.”

Her friend wagged her eyebrows. “Oooh, maybe I should come with you to keep you out of trouble.”

Even Meg had to laugh—she’d never been in trouble in her life. “Have fun at the fan festival—I hope you find that naughty dress you’re looking for.”

“Shhhh!” Kathie looked around, then moved in close. “If Principal O’Banion even hears the word ‘naughty,’ she’ll start digging into my personal life.”

Meg scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Tell that to Amanda Rollins.”

“The art teacher? What about her?”

“Well, no one is supposed to know this yet, but she was fired yesterday.”

“What? Why?”

“Apparently someone saw her renting an X-rated movie at a local video store.”

Meg’s jaw dropped. “Can they fire her for that?”

“They did. She was ‘supposedly’ violating the ‘moral behavior’ code of our employment contract.”

“That’s a pretty loose interpretation.”

Kathie shrugged. “But it’s the school board’s interpretation to make. Me, I get my X-rated movies through the mail.”

Meg blinked.

“I’m kidding,” Kathie said.

Meg shook her head. “Poor Amanda. The kids love her.”

“That kind of scrutiny comes with the territory. Not that you have anything to worry about, Miss Teacher of the Year.” She gave Meg a nudge.

Meg managed a smile despite the tightness in her chest. It was supposed to be a compliment—the honor, the title—but honestly, some days she felt like an Osmond.

Her friend patted her arm. “Hey, if I don’t talk to you before you leave, have a great time in Chicago. And if you see anyone famous, get their autograph for me?”

Kathie covered every angle. “Okay, but the only celebrity I’ve ever met was a distant Kennedy relation at one of Trey’s father’s fundraisers.”

“Keep your eyes open. And try to cut loose a little, okay? Enjoy what may be your last week as an unfettered woman.”

Meg wet her lips, but the bell rang again, so she simply manufactured a little smile that matched her expression in those Teacher of the Year posters plastered everywhere. “I’m just looking forward to not hearing a bell ring for an entire week.”

And to a few days where nobody knew how perfect she was.

“SHE WON’T OPEN THE DOOR,” the hairdresser said, his hands jammed on his slim hips. “Do something.”

Jarett Miller closed his eyes and counted to ten. If only he could open them and be somewhere other than Los Angeles, in the ostentatious home of the most spoiled woman in the world. He opened his eyes, but the irate hairdresser still stood there, his toe tapping.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Jarett tossed aside the tabloid that featured the latest exploits of his charge, then dragged himself up from the overstuffed, overpriced sofa. His chest filled with dread with each step he took across the great room, through the hall, and up the sweeping stairs—red-carpeted, of course. Nothing less for Taylor Gee, the toast of Tinseltown, sex kitten of the hour.

As his hand slid over the garish gold-tone banister, he marveled at the differences between the lavish home she’d bought for herself and the modest home Taylor Jean Gumm had grown up in in rural West Virginia. “Bought” was a generous term, since she’d mortgaged herself into old age for the monstrosity, against his advice. But then, Taylor didn’t take advice well when it meant she couldn’t have everything she wanted.

Rosie, Taylor’s personal assistant, stood in front of the door to Taylor’s suite, hopping from foot to foot. “Please, Miss Gee, unlock the door!”

Rosie was a little round-faced woman who had plenty of nervous energy to do Taylor’s bidding. She reminded Jarett of a small dog that had gotten its tail stepped on so many times, it remained in perpetual motion. She moved aside as Jarett approached, visibly shaking. “Oh, good. She’s been asking for you.”

“Is she high?” he asked.

Rosie sighed. “I don’t think so, just depressed.”

Jarett bit down on the inside of his cheek. Taylor was beautiful, famous, and rich—from where he was standing, she had little to be depressed about. But what did he know? He was just a country boy, trapped in a town he hated as a result of a promise he’d made.

He rapped on the door sharply. “Taylor, it’s Jarett. Open the door.”

A few sniffles sounded on the other side. “No.”

He swallowed a string of curses. “You’re expected at the cast party in an hour.”

More sniffles. “I don’t want to go.”

It was a game she played that Jarett called Beg Me. He opened his mouth to play out the situation, then changed his mind. “Okay, I’ll call Peterson and ask him to make your excuses.”

He counted to three.

“No, wait,” she said, her voice plaintive, but amazingly stronger.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“Are you alone?”

He nodded to Rosie. “Take a break. I’ll find you if she needs you.”

The woman scampered away, and Jarett pulled his hand down his face, making a mental note to have the door keyed, and to keep a key on his ring. “I’m alone, Taylor.” And nearly at the end of his patience.

After a few seconds, he heard the deadbolt turn. When the door didn’t open, he turned the knob and entered her suite.

Taylor stood in the pink-and-gold living room near a window, facing him and smoking a long cigarette. Her mane of blond hair was mussed and her mascara smudged. She was wearing high-heeled mules and a short transparent robe. And nothing else. Her limbs were long and lean, her breasts voluptuous and taut. The hair at the juncture of her thighs had been reduced to a tiny triangle to accommodate the scanty swimwear she wore on the set. A cultivated tan covered every square inch of her body. Taylor smiled lazily.

Jarett set his jaw and turned his back. “Put something on.”

“Why?” she purred. “Does seeing me like this do things to you, Jarett?”

He’d seen her naked a hundred times—Taylor was an exhibitionist who delighted in shocking people. “It only makes me wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.”

He heard her muted footsteps on the thick carpet, then she was in front of him, lifting her arms around his neck, pushing her body into his. “You know what’s in my head, Jarett. I want you.”

Taylor used to be an incredible beauty, but a year of hard partying had taken its toll, and the daylight wasn’t kind to her unmade face. Her eyes were slightly glazed, and her lips pouty. She reeked of stale smoke and perspiration. He itched to yank the cigarette out of her hand but considering her other vices, this one was relatively harmless. Sadness welled in his chest at the cliché she had become.

Jarett clasped her wrists gently, and turned her around. “Taylor, stop this childish routine.” He shrugged out of his standard black jacket and put it around her slender shoulders. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about you, but not in that way.”

“You’re just afraid David will be mad at you if you sleep with me,” she said as she walked away. “But David knows his little sister is all grown up.”

Jarett pursed his mouth. “Let’s hope that David doesn’t get the tabloids at his missionary camp in Haiti. And it’s a good thing that your folks don’t own a television.”

She flounced down on one of the twin pink sofas. “Isn’t that a gas? I’m one of the biggest stars on TV, and my own parents have never seen my show.” She took a drag from the cigarette. “Really, sometimes I can’t believe I came from such a hick family.”

Anger sparked low in his stomach. “Don’t talk about your family that way. They’re good people.”

Her laugh was dry as she looked up at him from the couch. “I know—salt of the earth, God-fearing people. And I’m glad they took you in, Jarett, really I am. I just wish you’d stop thinking of me as your little sister. There are thousands, maybe millions of men who’d love to sleep with me, you know.”

He refrained from mentioning that a good number of them already had. She opened her knees slightly to give him another glance at what she was offering, but Jarett had developed a rather clinical attitude toward Taylor’s nudity. “Put your legs together, and act like a lady.”

She scoffed, but complied. “A lady? Is that what you’re holding out for, Jarett—a lady? You’re in the wrong town, old friend.”

Don’t I know it. And his lack of female companionship the last year or so had proved it. “I’m only here to look out for you,” he said finally, crossing his arms. “Although I don’t believe I’m doing such a good job.”

She grinned, took another drag, then smashed the cigarette butt into a lead crystal ashtray the size of a dinner plate. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jarett. You follow me like a goddamned bloodhound, and you keep the freaks at bay.”

He walked over to the wet bar and picked up an empty bottle of vodka. “Those freaks don’t pose nearly as much of a threat as the things you do to yourself.”

“Booze loosens me up,” she said with a sigh. “You ought to try it sometime.”

He opened a drawer that held drinking glasses and reached in the back to pull out a handful of prescription bottles. “And what do the pills do?”

She blanched, then recovered with a glib smile. “The pills give me a boost of energy when I need it, that’s all.”

“You’ve been needing a boost a lot lately.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You have been keeping an eye on me.”

He set the pills aside, then walked over and eased down on the couch opposite her, hoping that some part of the small-town girl he remembered remained to reason with. “Taylor, I think after the trip to Chicago, you should check yourself into a rehab clinic.”

She frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like I’m an addict or anything.”

“Good. Then it should be easy for you to give up the pills and the booze. You’re on hiatus from the show, so it’ll be a good time to get some rest and to get clean.”

“No way—the tabloids will have a field day.”

“You haven’t seen today’s headlines—they’re already having a field day. That stunt you pulled at Zago’s restaurant the other night has everyone speculating about what you’re hooked on.”

She scoffed again. “Can’t a girl dance on a table without everyone thinking she’s on drugs?”

“But you were on drugs.”

“Jarett, for heaven’s sake, you make it sound like I’m a coke head or something.”

“Or something,” he said, nodding.

“The doctor gave me those pills,” she said, her eyes bright.

“Some of the doctors you’ve been dealing with are little more than drug dealers,” he said quietly.

“Peterson called this morning, and he said the network is getting concerned about your behavior.

He said one more stunt, and your career could be on the line.”

“Peterson isn’t the only agent in town,” she said lightly.

“Taylor, listen to yourself. You jumped through hoops to sign with Peterson’s agency—he’s one of the best and you know it. He’s the reason you got the part on Many Moons.”

She sat up, scowling. “I got myself that part.

No one could play Tess Canton the way I do.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. But you’re letting the character take over your life.

And it’s not pretty.”

Her face screwed up in anger and she bounced up from the couch, his jacket swinging around her. “Oh, so now you don’t even think I’m pretty?” She started crying.

Jarett sighed and held up his hands. “I didn’t say that. Of course you’re pretty. You’re beautiful, Taylor.”

She managed a smile through her tears. “You think so?”

“Yes,” he said levelly. “Now, are you going to the cast party, or are you going to disappoint your fans?”

She inhaled, then sighed prettily. “I’m going to the cast party.”

“Good.” He stood up.

“Do you have to go, Jarett?” Her face crumpled, and his chest squeezed at her desperate tone.

He wished he could help Taylor, but his sympathy d

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