of prima donna.”
The tiny grin reappeared. “Too late for that. I’m a spoiled, promiscuous bitch, didn’t you know?”
Beneath the flip words he heard pain. “Does it bother you? The constant scrutiny?”
Small white teeth worried her lower lip. “It shouldn’t by now. God knows I’ve had years to get used to it.”
“But it stings.”
Her gaze locked with his; her long-lashed eyes filled with tears. “Understatement, Doc.”
She visibly shook off her distress, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand.
He offered her a box of tissues. “Sit down, Miss Dane. Please.”
“Call me Ariel.” She sank into the chair once again, kicked off her flat silver sandals, and tucked her feet beneath her.
Jacob tried not to notice the way her skirt rode up her toned, shapely thighs. “It’s a pretty name. And not very common.”
She leaned forward, one elbow on the desk, head resting on her hand. “The Little Mermaid was my mom’s favorite movie when I was born.”
“But you’re blonde. The real Ariel was a redhead.” Even as he said it, he scoffed at himself. Hair color in Hollywood changed with the tide and the seasons.
“Didn’t matter. And yes,” she said, seeming to read his thoughts. “I am a natural blonde, not that anyone cares. I’ve never dyed my hair for a part. Though I have worn wigs.”
“Why draw the line there? I thought most actresses would do anything for a plum role.”
“I always heard that blondes have more fun. I guess I’m still waiting to see if that’s true.”
He heard the self-derisive note in her voice. The wry cynicism made her appear far older than her years.
“Don’t you enjoy what you do?”
“There’s no such thing as a perfect job, Dr. Wolff. I’m surprised you don’t know that.”
“You’ve got me there.” He inched back in his chair, her closeness making him re-evaluate his Hippocratic Oath. Becoming this woman’s medical provider was not a realistic option. Not when he was already wondering if those soft pink lips tasted as good as they looked. “Are you ready to tell me why you’ve come to Wolff Mountain?” he asked, growing impatient and itchy to be done with this awkward though tantalizing interview.
“Tell me about this place,” she demanded, clearly stalling. “I caught a glimpse of the main house through the trees. It looks like a castle.”
“We call it that on occasion,” he admitted. “But growing up, it was just home.”
“Pretty amazing home. Acres and acres of wilderness. Tucked away in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Private drive a million miles long. Not bad at all.”
“It was a prison growing up.” He stopped short, nearly biting his tongue with the force of his about-face. Patients were patients. Not confidantes. “I think we need to get back to you, Ms. Dane.” She shot him a warning glance, and he backpedaled. “Ariel. And you might as well call me Jacob.”
“What if I prefer Dr. Wolff?”
He scowled, confused and aroused and frustrated with himself. “I thought that movie industry professionals preferred informality.”
“I’d rather maintain a bit of distance with a man who might see me naked.”
Naked? He gulped. “I think you’ve made a trip for nothing, Ariel. I can’t help you.”
She sat up, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t told you what’s wrong with me yet.”
“Are you going to?” He sounded gruff, even to his own ears.
“Why are you angry?”
“I’m not angry,” he corrected with pedantic exactitude. “I’m busy. I was in the midst of a project when you arrived.”
“Most men make time for me.”
He didn’t doubt it for an instant. “I thought you wanted a doctor, not a man.”
“Maybe I want both.”
His jaw ached as he ground his teeth. “I think we’re talking at cross purposes, Ariel. Do you or do you not want to tell me why you’re here?”
Her pale skin flushed. It would be years before she needed plastic surgery to remain competitive in her line of work. She was the epitome of dewy youth, down to the faint smattering of freckles that lightly dusted the curves of her cheeks.
She hung her head, projecting defeat and resignation. Was it an act designed to make him rush to reassure her?
“Ariel?” He sighed inwardly. At eight years her senior, give or take a few months, he should be able to control the conversation better than this. And he damn sure should be able to withstand the effects of eyes designed by their creator to drive a man crazy. She was barely legal. “Talk to me,” he coaxed. “Whatever you say will remain in this room, even if you don’t become my patient. I swear.”
The tip of her tongue came out to wet her lips. Her head lifted, revealing an expression that was indecipherable. “I need to hire you for the next two months,” she said, tossing it out there without ceremony.
He frowned, struggling to understand. “As your doctor?”
She winced, wriggling in her seat, exposing another three inches of thigh. “As my boyfriend.”
Two
Ariel groaned inwardly. That could have gone better. She’d tipped her hand clumsily and far too soon. But there was something about Jacob Wolff that threw her off balance.
For one thing, he was nothing like she had imagined. She’d been expecting a fortysomething, lab-coat-clad father figure wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Someone she could pour her heart out to in comfort.
Jacob Wolff was young, seriously hot and made her nervous as hell. His gray-eyed gaze was X-ray-like, exposing her in ways that made auditioning for a part seem like a walk in the park.
His short-cropped black hair was styled in a no-nonsense fashion, as was the plain but expensive hand-tailored shirt he wore. Broad shoulders strained the seams of the garment. It was tucked into dark slacks that showcased his flat belly and hard thighs.
Ariel spent her days surrounded by handsome men. Men who made their living with the help of six-pack abs honed in a gym. But Jacob Wolff was real in a way unmatched by most males of her acquaintance. His calm confidence and unsmiling intensity were sexy and appealing.
At the moment, he could not have been less encouraging. His brows drew together in a fierce scowl, and his body language signaled his wish to end what was proving to be an embarrassing interlude.
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me if I don’t understand. Your boyfriend?”
His incredulity made heat rise from her throat to her cheeks. “I realize that boyfriend is a fairly juvenile term. You’re a mature man.”
A trace of pique flittered across his face. “As in old? Trust me, Ariel. I’m well aware that I’m facing down thirty while you are a mere child.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “I’m no innocent. They eat babies for lunch in Hollywood. I had to grow up fast.”
“You look about sixteen.”
“Well, I’m not. No one would second-guess us as a couple. My mother says I’m an old soul.”
“We’re wandering away from the point. Again. Why do you need a boyfriend? Aren’t you dating that rapper?”
“It was a publicity