STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) (13 page)

Shania preferred to have her leading man dance attendance, and Dan knew he was a stand-in. But Dexter had maintained a prudent distance from Shania since day one. Actually Dan rather admired the actor. Dexter had been married for six years and was clearly devoted to his wife. However, Shania tended to sulk in the absence of constant adulation, and Anthony feared the lack of rapport between Shania and Dexter would be evident on screen.

“What did you think of my barn scene today?” Shania leaned forward, dipping the lobster in his melted butter, her breast brushing his arm. “Did you see how Robert stared?”

“Probably hard not too,” Dan said, his gaze skimming the top of her dress. Very skimpy, very provocative. And her shirt this morning had been every bit as revealing.

“This isn’t my idea.” She dragged an elegant finger across her neckline. “The studio wants to jack up the sex appeal. They’re promoting to a wider audience now. We have another boring media session following dinner, and we’re supposed to appear in character.” She shot a dark look across the table. “Robert is just so…”

“Married?” Dan asked helpfully.

“Yes, but it’s not just that.” She waved a hand. “He won’t even sport flirt. The real Thomas Hamilton would have had me flat on my back before the horses were cooled out. He probably still would, even today, if his wife wasn’t always watching. Robert doesn’t play the role properly.”

Dan made a non-committal sound, his mind drifting as Shania complained about her co-star, his lack of research and then randomly, how Dexter didn’t use Twitter. Dan was grateful he dealt with horses. Far less drama, especially with the geldings. Of course, he avoided working with mares, unless one came along that was simply so special he had to have her. Sometimes that happened when least expected. Rather like Emily.

He slapped down that thought and turned his attention back to Shania, aware Anthony wanted her ego boosted. Daydreaming about another woman certainly wasn’t part of the plan.

“I still think it’s weird how that groom disappeared.” Shania delicately pressed a white napkin against her lipstick-red mouth. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he killed her and hid the body.”

“Who?” Dan blinked in surprise. He really had been daydreaming. Seemed they were now discussing a murder.

“Thomas Hamilton, naturally.” Shania frowned as though disappointed by Dan’s mental prowess. “My assistant gathered a lot of research. It was classified as a missing person case although there was never much of an investigation. The groom simply disappeared. But she didn’t collect her pay. No one ever leaves a paycheck.”

Dan took a sip of wine, leaning back so the waiter could clear his plate. Shania made a valid point. He’d never had anyone walk away from a check, and grooms were notorious for living from payday to payday.

Grooms… He’d have to make sure Emily received her money on Friday. Otherwise, she might wait months for a check from the production company. She’d earned it simply by pointing out the discrepancy in Bruno’s shoes. He’d already asked the farrier to make a switch.

Anthony rose, his chair scraping as he pushed back from the table. “We’re going to take a break before dessert,” he announced. “There’ll be a short photo shoot in the foyer. We need all principal cast.”

“Oh, I hate those things,” Shania said. But she flung down her soiled napkin, rising so quickly Dan didn’t have time to pull out her chair. “See you later?” She raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Tomorrow, bright and early,” Dan said.

She gave a little pout but clearly wasn’t at all heartbroken. She leaned down, brushed her mouth over his cheek then sashayed toward the door where she was immediately flanked by two burly bodyguards. Robert Dexter rose with much less enthusiasm and followed her into the media room.

Anthony slid into Shania’s vacated seat. “How did it go? Is she any happier?”

“She’s fine,” Dan said. “Pro enough to do her job. But she wants Robert to stroke her a bit.”

“I spoke to him. Reminded that she has top billing. And we need her happy.”

“She’s certainly researched her role. She said they never found that missing groom. You ever wonder what happened?”

Anthony shrugged. “Beats me. But I’m playing the sex angle. Luckily Shania has a nice rack. Old Hamilton can’t take his eyes off her. At least she’s getting attention from that direction.”

Anthony’s voice lowered. “I need another favor. My brother has a horse-crazy daughter. It’s her birthday this month, and I want you to squeeze her onto your approved riding list. Just a quick shot so she’s in the movie, my niece sitting on a horse. No problem?”

“No problem if she can gallop a racehorse,” Dan said. “There’s very little sitting.”

“I’ll embellish the scene.” Anthony whipped out his phone and made an entry. “Show some horses walking before they go to the gate. Besides, if we use non-union, we can keep costs down.”

Dan frowned, folding his napkin. “I’m not asking background to gallop through a rail.”

“Of course not. We’ll still use a stunt rider for Reckless. But the others can be special skills. Doesn’t everyone in Kentucky know how to ride?”

“There are all types of riding,” Dan said. “And race riding is the most dangerous. It has to be authentic. And safe.”

“Agreed.” But Anthony’s voice rang with impatience. “So we’ll work with what we got. Essentially I found you another rider. Besides, I’ve learned that if a woman’s shirt is low enough, the audience doesn’t notice how she sits a horse. This movie is total crap anyway.”

Dan raised an eyebrow, reached for a bottle of wine and refilled his friend’s glass. Anthony’s anxiety always skyrocketed midway through a movie when he was convinced each picture would be the worst he ever directed.

Anthony grimaced. “Guess I’m a little stressed. But we’re ten percent over budget.”

“Was the dinner worth it?” Dan surveyed the room. Steak and lobster were extravagant and there must have been over eighty cast and crew invited.

“Definitely,” Anthony said. “The producer wanted some team building. And Robert is going to play nicer with Shania. She looked much happier tonight by the way. She needs a man around.” He paused, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “I don’t suppose—?”

“No,” Dan said.

“Not even for the good of the movie? Most men would salivate at the chance of tapping that.”

Dan shook his head. Anthony had been married and divorced four times with numerous high-profile affairs. The man’s personal life was in shambles. “I’m going back to check on the horses,” Dan said. “Limo out front?”

“Yeah.” Anthony pushed back his chair, shooting a regretful look at the media room. “But one of these days you’re going to answer a booty call.”

“Probably.” Dan gave a wry smile. “But not tonight.”

Emily woke, chilled and shivering. She wrapped her arms around her knees but it was impossible to ignore the cold. She groped for her phone and checked the time. Four thirty.

Her call time wasn’t until eight but she’d need at least an hour for barn chores and somehow she’d have to coax more clothes from the wardrobe department. She remained curled on the sofa for another ten minutes, but she was truly freezing now and the thought of a hot shower in the wash stall was irresistible.

She pulled on her boots, still damp from yesterday, and headed down the stairs. Both horses blinked sleepily when the aisle lights flicked on. She tossed them each a flake of hay, pleasing them with their early breakfast, then prudently pulled the barn door shut and hurried to the wash stall.

She uncoiled the hose, waited for the water to heat before stripping, then stepped under the hot spray. She closed her eyes in appreciation, letting the water sluice over her body. Finally she felt warm. She didn’t want to stop, but water pooled on the opposite side of the drain and spilled into the aisle. Much more and it would flood Barney’s stall.

She reluctantly turned off the tap, then dried herself with a grooming towel and dressed. Her cold wet socks made her wince but at least she was clean.

She tied Barney in the corner of his stall and rewrapped his legs. It took her a couple tries but eventually the bandages were perfect. She doubted even Lizzie could find fault; the top of the wrap reached the exact point below the knee that Dan had specified.

She mucked out both stalls, grained and watered, then checked the time. Almost six. She planted a quick kiss on Barney’s velvety muzzle. “I’m going to be in the movies today,” she said. “Wish me luck.”

She hurried from the barn, hopeful Maggie was working solo again this morning. She really needed clean clothes.

The sun hadn’t yet edged over the horizon so she followed the paved drive, grateful for her borrowed boots. Despite her squishy socks, the boots were comfortable, similar to the leather pair Wally had forced her to wear as a guide. At the time, she’d thought he was simply being bossy, but now it was obvious boots were far more practical than shoes.

The door to the cottage rattled. Billy shuffled out, his scowl outlined by the bright porch light. “It’s not time,” he said. “I don’t open the gate until six. You’ll have to wait.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll just walk around the post.”

“You can’t do that.” His voice quivered in agitation. “No one goes through until six. Mr. Hamilton said so.”

The alarm in his voice made her pause. She glanced longingly at the path that circled the gate, wishing now that she’d taken the rougher trail through the woods. Time was critical.

“The gate is for cars, Billy,” she said soothingly. “It’s okay if people are walking. And you don’t have to open the gate for me. See.” She pointed at the gap between the steel post and the trees. “I can easily walk around.”

Billy’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “But that’s not the way it’s done. Mr. Hamilton wants his privacy. You have to wait.”

Emily tapped her foot. She didn’t want to upset Billy, but she certainly didn’t want to be late for her scene. “I’m on my way for doughnuts,” she said. “Sure hope they don’t run out.”

“Maybe I’ll open the gate a little early. Just for today.” He creaked toward the gate, almost tripping in his haste, but righting himself with his cane.

Emily helped him push the bar back, wondering if this old guy really should be living alone. “How often do you have visitors?” she asked. “Do you have family close by?”

“No, it’s just me. This area is my responsibility.”

“But who brings your groceries?”

“Some regular people.”

Her gaze swept his baggy pants, his stained shirt. Dirt rimmed the collar and threads dangled from his tattered cuffs. It was hard to determine the original color of his clothes. “Well,” she said, “I’ll bring some food later. Maybe a sandwich.”

He scowled. “You promised doughnuts.”

“Yes. One doughnut,” she said. “But maybe some other food, to eat before the doughnut.”

“I like doughnuts best,” he said sulkily.

“Okay.” She nodded, hiding her concern, and continued down the driveway. Once out of sight of the cottage, she turned on her phone and checked the time. Already past six. She’d wasted precious minutes but it certainly seemed that Billy needed more care. Back home, Jenna checked on their old neighbor regularly. Burke had even installed a downstairs bathroom so Mrs. Parker didn’t have to climb stairs.

Billy had trouble staying upright on a paved driveway but at least his cottage was one level. And surely Mr. Hamilton was aware of his living conditions.

Shaking her head, she broke into a jog, trying to make up for lost time. Crew hammered nails by the racetrack and she cut along the trail behind them, returning their greetings with a breathless ‘good morning.’ A path edged between a row of trailers and led to an area filled with generators and the smell of bacon. She spotted the dining tent and slowed to a more dignified walk.

An officious-looking man with headsets draped around his neck strode in the same direction. She swerved to join him.

“Smells like another nice breakfast,” she said.

“Sure does. But I ate too much last night.” He groaned and rubbed his belly, then detailed last night’s feast of steak and lobster.

Emily salivated, almost sick with longing. The door monitor eyed her suspiciously when they walked into the crowded tent but the friendly man was still talking, and his presence obviously lent her credibility. She didn’t want to hear anymore about food though, and the smell of frying bacon sent her taste buds into a frenzy. However, she didn’t have time to stand in any long lineup and she was used to skipping meals. It was much more important to be on time for her rearing scene.

She veered to the empty beverage table, made two cups of coffee and headed to the wardrobe tent.

Luckily Maggie was working. Her kind face creased in a smile when she spotted the coffee. She immediately dropped her bundle of clothes. “You’re awesome,” she said. “It’s impossible to grab coffee when I work the red-eye shift.”

Emily glanced around. Except for a lady washing makeup brushes, the tent seemed deserted. “Are you working alone again?”

“Yes, but tomorrow there’ll be five of us. We have a busload of extras coming in. What are you here for?”

“More groom’s clothes,” Emily said. “My scene was postponed.”

“But I gave you clothes yesterday. You don’t need more.”

“Yes,” Emily said, automatically talking faster. “But this is a different scene—” She paused in the middle of her spiel. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to embellish. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong. She wasn’t trying to steal clothes, only borrow them. Besides, they were all working for the good of the movie.

“Actually,” she squared her shoulders, “I didn’t make it home the last two nights. I only brought a day bag from my apartment so the clothes I checked out yesterday are already dirty. Basically I have nothing of my own—except an entirely useless cocktail dress and a very pretty pair of shoes.”

Maggie stared for a second then giggled. “You look darn good for not having been home in awhile. But I hope you know what you’re doing.” She shook her head, her face sobering. “Trust me. These movie people will break your heart.”