Jane Porter - Hollywood Husband, Contract Wife

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With love for my sister, Kathy Porter.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE WEDDING WAS NOT supposed to happen.

This was a charade, a job she’d been hired to do. But the charade was supposed to have ended long before they ever went to the altar.

Long, Alexandra Shanahan silently repeated, clenching her bouquet of lilies, blue hydrangeas, white orchids and violet freesias tighter between stiff clammy hands.

This was all such a horrible mistake she couldn’t even concentrate on the minister’s words.

My God, she didn’t even like Wolf Kerrick. Even four weeks of being squired around Hollywood as his newest love interest hadn’t endeared the man to her.

In fact, four weeks of playing his girlfriend had only made her dislike him more. He was horrible in every sense of the word.

He was too rich, too successful, too powerful. He was too much of everything, and that alone made her uncomfortable, but the fact that he didn’t respect women infuriated her. He treated women like playthings, taking what he wanted, when he wanted, and discarding without remorse when inexplicably bored.

And now she was his wife.

Alexandra swallowed, stunned, silenced, undone.

She, who could handle anything, she who never wavered in the face of danger, she who took risks and loved challenge, welcoming adversity with open arms, was now married to the world’s most famous film star.

Spots danced before Alexandra’s eyes and she gulped in air, trying to clear the fog from her head. If she didn’t know herself better, she’d think she was going to faint.

She couldn’t faint.

It was too much of a photo opportunity.

She must have inhaled too sharply, because suddenly Wolf’s hand was at her elbow.

“You better not faint,” he growled in his rough accented English, a sexy combination of Irish and Spanish vowels that left women weak at the knees. But that was Wolf’s magic.

He was the quintessential bad boy, times a thousand, and everybody’s celluloid dream.

Six feet three and impossibly broad through the shoulder while lean in the hip. He looked as good naked in love scenes as he did in a tuxedo shooting the latest James Bond thriller.

Alex’s jaw jutted and she tugged her arm from Wolf’s touch. “I won’t,” she whispered defiantly, even though she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t faint. Truth be known, she was scared, scared in a way she hadn’t been since first moving to Los Angeles four years ago.

It’d been a long four years, too.

Four years of struggle, attempting to crawl up the ladder of Hollywood fame. And now she was here. Sort of.

Wolf’s grip on her arm tightened. “Then smile. You look as though you’re dying.”

“If only I were so lucky.” Then she forced another tight smile just in case any of the guests could see her face. This was her wedding, after all.

“I’m your dream man. Remember?”

Those had been her words, too, her exact words, but they’d been uttered in a moment of panic, at the height of a crisis. She would have never claimed him otherwise.

Alex’s stomach rose, threatening to embarrass her right then and there. Oh, God. What had she done?

Biting her lower lip, Alexandra battled the second wave of nausea even as the Santa Barbara breeze lifted her veil, sending the lace and her long, artfully styled curls blowing around her face. Married to Wolf Kerrick. Mrs. Wolf Kerrick.

Alexandra Kerrick.

Her eyes squeezed closed, her hand shook where it rested on Wolf’s arm.

Why had she thought she could play his girlfriend?

How could she have ever thought she’d be able to manage him?

And why had she come to Hollywood in the first place?

Beverly Hills, California

Five weeks earlier…

ALEXANDRA SHANAHAN had thought being invited to lunch with Hollywood’s most powerful actor was too good to be true.

She was right.

“You want me to what?” Alexandra Shanahan asked incredulously, staring at Wolf Kerrick as though he’d lost his mind.

“Play my new love interest,” he repeated, his deep voice nearly flat.

Wolf Kerrick’s love interest. How ludicrous. Beyond ludicrous.

Wolf Kerrick…and her? Alexandra would have laughed if her stomach wasn’t doing wild cartwheels.

Everything, she thought woozily, about the lunch was wrong. The impossible-to-secure reservations at the famous Beverly Hills Hotel’s terrace restaurant. The bright blue sky overhead. The dizzying fragrance of the terrace garden’s roses and gardenias.

When she’d first sat down at the table, she’d introduced herself—silly, but since they’d never officially met, it’d seemed like the right thing to do.

Wolf had repeated her name thoughtfully. “Shanahan. Sounds familiar.”

“There’s a famous football coach by the same name,” she’d answered nervously, trying to ignore the excited whispers of the other restaurant patrons. Everyone had been watching them. Or at least watching Wolf. But then, he was a megastar and sinfully good-looking, so she couldn’t really blame them.

“Maybe that’s it,” he’d answered, leaning back in his chair. “Or maybe it’s familiar because it’s Irish.”

She’d managed a tight smile before dropping her gaze, already overwhelmed by his formidable size and presence.

Wolf Kerrick was bigger, broader, stronger, more male than nearly any other actor in the business. There was no mistaking him for any other actor, either, not with his Spanish-Irish black hair, dark eyes and sinful, sensual mouth.

“Daniel said you had a job offer for me,” she’d said nervously, jumping straight to the point. There was no reason to stall. She’d never be able to eat in his company, so ordering lunch was out of the question. Best just get the whole interview over and done with.

“I do.”

She’d nodded to fill the silence. She’d hoped he’d maybe elaborate, but he hadn’t. Her cheeks had scalded. Her face had felt so hot even her ears had burned. “Daniel said he thought I’d be perfect for the job.”

Wolf’s dark head had tipped, his black lashes dropping as he’d considered her. After an endless silence he’d nodded once. “You are.”

She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or terrified. He seemed so much friendlier on the big screen, more approachable in film than he was here in flesh. Right now he was anything but mortal, human. Instead he was like a dark warrior, an avenger with a secret—and dangerous—agenda.

“I’m looking to fill a position,” he said flatly.

“Yes,” she echoed, hands knotting together in her lap.

“The role of my new love interest.”

She nearly tumbled from her chair. “What?”