Hollywood Husband, Contract Wife

“Yes. I know I can,” she said forcibly, and strangely enough, she meant it. She was the girl who’d roped calves and ridden broncs and jumped off the barn roof just because her brothers said she couldn’t. She was the girl who didn’t take no for an answer. If she could ride a bull, she could date a wolf.

Alexandra’s lips curved at her own feeble joke, but her smile faded as Wolf’s black eyes met hers.

“Think you can handle me?” he murmured.

Her heart stuttered. She knew what he was asking. Like everyone else who read the tabloids, she knew he’d been arrested more than once for fighting and heard it didn’t take much to bring out the street fighter in him.

She also knew that women found him irresistible, and having once been one of those giddy girls who threw themselves at him, knew she’d never behave so recklessly again.

“Yes,” she answered equally firmly, ignoring the cold lash of adrenaline. “You won’t be a problem. You might be a famous actor, but you’re also just a man. Now give me the contract and let’s get this over with.”

He handed her the contract and a pen, and Alex spread the document on the table to read while she tapped the pen against her teeth. The form read correctly, all the terms were there, everything she asked for given.

With a confident flourish, Alexandra scrawled her name at the space indicated. “There,” she said, lifting her pen and handing the paper back to him. “Signed, sealed, delivered.”

“My little lovebird,” he mocked, taking the paper and folding it up.

Her cheeks heated. Her blue eyes locked with his. Her heart was pounding wildly, but she held his gaze, kept her chin up, refusing to show further weakness. “I won’t be broken, Mr. Kerrick.”

“Is that a challenge, Miss Shanahan?”

“No. I’m just stating a fact. I had some time to think about your offer, to look at the pros and cons, and I’ve agreed to do this not because it helps you but because it helps me. I know now what I want and I know what I need to do to get there. And you won’t keep me from succeeding. There’s too much at stake.” And then she swallowed hard. “For both of us.”

He studied her from across the table, his forearms resting against his knees, his eyebrows black slashes above bold dark eyes. “There will be pressure.”

She rose to her feet. “I anticipate it.”

“The attention will feel intrusive at times.”

“I’ve considered that possibility, as well.”

“You’re truly prepared to take this all the way? Ready for the makeover, the new hair, the wardrobe and revamped image?”

“Yes.”

He stood. “Tomorrow you’ll pay a visit to the Juan Carlos Salon in Beverly Hills. The salon is expecting you. It’ll be a long day. The car will be here at seven.”

“I don’t want a limo, Mr. Kerrick.”

“It’s part of the role, Miss Shanahan. And now that we’ve agreed to this little play, it’s time we dropped the formalities. We’re lovers now.” He slowly moved toward her. “You’re Alexandra and I’m Wolf and we’re a very happy new couple.”

He was standing so close to her now she could hardly breathe. “Right.”

“Just follow my lead,” he said.

“Your lead,” she whispered, feeling the warmth of his body, his strength tangible and real. She tipped her head back, looked up into his face, with the strong cheekbones and high forehead, the piercing dark eyes.

“I’ll make it easy for you.”

“You’re that good an actor?”

“I’m that good a lover.”

She took an involuntary step backward. “You said there’d be no sex—”

“In public, it’s my job to seduce you. To make the photographers sit up, take notice.”

She inhaled hard, thinking he was the devil in the flesh. “In public, yes.”

He leaned down and brushed the briefest kiss across her flushed cheek. “But in private, we’re just friends, remember?”

She felt her stomach fall and her breath catch as his lips touched her cheek. The whisper of his warm breath sent fingers of fire racing through her veins.

Wolf headed for the door. “Don’t forget to set your alarm clock. The limo will be here early.”

Alexandra leaned against the door after Wolf closed it.

Her heart was still pounding and her tummy felt coiled in a new and aching tension.

This was not going to be easy. Pretending to be Wolf’s girlfriend would be the hardest thing she’d ever done.

And then she pulled herself together. No more negative thoughts, she told herself. No more running scared. She’d signed the contract. She had to go for it now.

And she would go for it.

She’d been in Los Angeles four years and she was hungry. Really hungry. Hungry like one living on the streets, digging out of trash cans, looking for something to fill you up, get you by.

Because, God knew, she wanted to go somewhere. She was determined to go all the way, too, all the way up, to the top. Fame, fortune, power. She wanted the whole bit.

It was time to do what she’d left Bozeman, Montana, to do. Time to make Hollywood hers.

CHAPTER THREE

THEY WERE CUTTING HER hair off.

The next morning, covered in plastic drapes, Alexandra stared aghast as Juan Carlos lifted chunks of her waist-length hair and began to chop it off to shoulder length.

She’d had long hair—really long, down to her butt—since she was a little girl. Being the only daughter, her father had wanted her to be a princess and insisted she leave her hair long. Soon he’d learned her hair was the only thing he could control, as his princess preferred jeans, boots and playing with LEGO, blocks and army trucks.

Alexandra had kept her hair long for her dad and now she found herself fighting tears as it was whacked off.

“It’ll be beautiful. You’ll be beautiful,” Juan Carlos reassured, catching sight of her tear-filmed eyes in his station’s mirror. “Be patient. You’ll see.”

Alexandra wanted to believe him. And it was just hair, nothing more important than that. And if she couldn’t handle getting her hair cut, how would she handle the other changes coming in the next few weeks?

With her long hair in pieces all over the floor, Juan Carlos patted her shoulders. “Now we change the color.”

Thirty minutes later, Alexandra was still trying to get used to the smell of bleach and chemicals from the cream applied to her hair. They were doing a two-color process—overall color and highlights—and the smelly foils on her head made her want to gag. Did some women willingly do this?