hands. “Duly noted. Please continue.”
“My mother loves to travel. So when I became successful, I started working on her bucket list during breaks in my schedule. We’ve been to Paris and Rome and Johannesburg and—well, lots of places.”
“Was the trip to the Amazon a success? Did her strength hold out?”
“My mother was a rock. I’m the one who got sick.”
His gaze sharpened. “What happened?”
“We’d been there almost five weeks. It was time to go home. I came down with malaria.”
“You didn’t take medication before you left?”
“I did, but apparently the particular strain I contracted was resistant. I honestly don’t remember much of those three or four days. It was terrible. My mother was so scared. We had hired a guide through a travel service, and he was great. But we were in the middle of the jungle and I was too sick to move. Makimba found a tribal medicine man who treated me.”
“Good Lord.” Jacob sat up, expression aghast. “You could have died.”
“Believe me, I know. But whatever combination of herbal remedies and witch doctor mumbo jumbo he used finally worked. I was weak as a kitten when it was over, but I turned the corner.”
“What happened then?”
She shrugged. “We came home. I was slated to do voiceovers for a character in an animated film. Fortunately, that was studio work in L.A., so I could be in my own bed every night. And the schedule was not as arduous as if I had been in the midst of shooting a regular movie.”
“You need blood tests,” he said urgently. “To identify the exact parasite and to determine what schedule of medication is appropriate. Have you had any of that?”
She winced. “No.”
“Why in the hell not? Jesus Christ, Ariel. This isn’t something to fool around with.” He was almost shouting.
“That’s why I’m here,” she said evenly, projecting as much dignity as she could muster in the face of his disapproval. “I had another flare-up three weeks ago. Not as bad as the first, but still pretty awful. I can’t go to a regular doctor and risk any of this information getting out.”
“Why? It’s not as if you need rehab. You’re ill. What’s the big deal?” His genuine puzzlement was evident.
“In ten days I will start shooting a movie that could change my career forever. Everyone who has read the script agrees that it’s the kind of picture that will generate Oscar buzz. I beat out five other A-list actresses to get the part. If word leaks out that I might become incapacitated in the midst of filming, they could take it away from me.”
“And your career is more important than your health?” Now he blasted her with both criticism and sarcasm. Silvery gray eyes glittered, spearing her with his disgust.
“Back off,” she said heatedly. She leaned toward him, furious with his imperious dismissal of her motives. “You don’t know the slightest thing about my life or my circumstances. It’s a good thing you don’t see patients often, ‘cause I gotta tell you, Doc. You’re an arrogant pig.”
They hovered there like that for half a minute, their faces almost touching, fury arcing between them like a renegade lightning bolt. She could see the rapid heartbeat in his tanned neck, could smell his expensive aftershave.
Amazingly, he was the first one to back down. “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “I promised I would listen without judgment and without interrupting, and I managed neither. Please go on.”
Ariel, primed for battle, was unwillingly disarmed. How rare was it to find a man who knew how to apologize? And yet somehow, he still managed to project an air of absolute superiority that set her teeth on edge. Forced to accept his regret at face value, she settled back into her seat.
“I love what I do,” she said. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about the possibilities. I’ve played so many blonde bimbo parts, I wonder sometimes if the character is taking over. But beyond the professional perks of this new role, I have to be honest. The money this movie will make is no small consideration. My mother has no health insurance. I’m paying for all her bills.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly. But even more than that, I want this for my mother. She’s had to read all the bad press about me. The stuff they invent, the disparaging remarks. For once, I want to make her proud. She cried when I told her I landed this part.”
Jacob Wolff sat in silence, his sharp-featured masculine face giving away no hint of his thought process. Finally, he sighed. “I can’t argue with your motives, but I have a hunch that your mother is already proud of you. It sounds like the two of you are very close.”
“We are.” The words whispered from a throat squeezed by the inescapable knowledge that sometime very soon, Ariel Dane was going to be all alone in the world. She shoved the melancholy thought aside. “So to continue … I have to make this movie. But another bout of malaria is the sword of Damocles hanging over my head. I’d like to hire you as my ‘on location’ physician for the duration of filming.”
“Won’t that make you look like a diva?”
“Focus, Dr. Wolff. This is where the boyfriend part comes in. No one can know I’m sick. As far as the director, cast and crew are concerned, you and I will be an item. If I have a flare-up, you’ll cover for me, treat me and make sure the downtime is minimal. They’ll know who you are, of course. No way to hide that you’re a Wolff. And your profession doesn’t have to be a secret. But they can’t know I’m sick.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re delusional?”
“My whole world is an illusion, Doc. I do my best work on the other side of reality.”
He shook his head. “You make it sound so easy. I deal in facts, Ariel. Black and white. I doubt that I have a drop of dramatic talent anywhere in my body.”
“Perhaps not,” she drawled, feeling the urge to needle him, “but you do have a very fine body. That and your medical skills are all I need.”
If she had hoped to embarrass him, she failed.
Jacob Wolff stared at her, almost visibly picking apart her artless words. “What makes you think I’d even consider such a proposition? I have my work, Ariel, my research. Why would I walk away from that?”
Ariel had learned at the tender age of sixteen that she could use her looks and sexuality to get what she wanted in life, particularly from men. Though her repertoire of ploys had been back-burnered as she matured, this might have been a good time to pull one out. But something about Jacob’s invisible but palpable integrity made her loath to cheapen a budding relationship.
She shrugged, gambling wildly. “For the same reason that you became a doctor. You like being needed. And I need you, Jacob Wolff. You and no one else. Will you help me?”
Three
Jacob’s poker skills were stretched to the limit. Keeping a professional
