STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) (23 page)

“Precisely.” Anthony gave a complacent smile. “But I want the movie popcorn friendly. Besides, she can’t complain. She’s not union.”

Dan crossed his arms, unable to hide his disapproval. His tolerance level was razor thin today, a result of the botched rail stunt. His bad mood certainly wasn’t related to Emily.

A handful of onlookers stood beyond the background at the rail, and he scanned their heads, searching for her face. He didn’t want to see her. Not really. He just wanted to make sure she’d call about the Louisville job. She’d made this shoot very pleasurable and the least he could do was crack open a couple doors.

The university movie would be perfect for her, a fluff story about a student with sexuality issues. The director was screening a variety of pretty girls. Seeing Emily last night, all painted up, had provided him with a much-needed reality check. She was an actress who craved the lights, and actresses were out of bounds. He should have kept his belt buckled.

The cart bounced over a rut, knocking his knee against the frame of the front seat. “Dammit,” he swore.

“What’s wrong?” Anthony’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been surly all day. You need to get laid.”

Dan snagged a bottle of water from the cooler and yanked off the top, trying to hide his despair. “That’s the last thing I need,” he said.

*

Sweat trickled and Emily’s T-shirt was soaked. She wiped her forehead then brushed at a bloodthirsty fly, wincing as the duct tape cut deeper into her skin. The technician had warned her not to touch the makeup, but the brown stuff on her chest was itchy and drew insects like a magnet.

She glanced wistfully at the tractor seat. Up there, she’d have shade and a chance to catch the breeze. But she was being paid to stand so delays were good. Another day of this, and she and Jenna would be off to the races.

Clearly there was a glitch on the far side of the track. The slowdown wasn’t good for Dan or the budget, but it was excellent news for background performers. As Judith had emphasized, they were paid to wait. For the sake of the horses though, Emily hoped the stunts went smoothly.

“Okay, gang,” someone hollered. “They’re on their way.”

The announcement was accompanied by a flurry of activity. Even Robert Dexter rose from his umbrella chair. Seconds later, a dolly truck rolled up and positioned a camera. To Emily’s right, a tech bent over a steady cam and refocused the equipment. She glanced down, checking that her feet were back on the mark.

Her heartbeat revved. Dan would show up soon. If there were horses in the scene, he’d definitely be with the director. It didn’t matter really—they’d already said their good-byes—but it would be comforting to see a familiar face. Being left isolated for so long was rather depressing.

However, it looked like this upcoming scene might be very short. There were certainly fewer animals around. Only two horses circled near the starting gate, one without a rider. She strained to distinguish horses and faces. Possibly the lady in pink was Lizzie. The riderless horse might be Bruno. But the distance was too great to be certain.

Twenty feet away, a golf cart rolled to a stop. Dan unfolded from the back.

Every one of her senses kicked into overdrive. Her breath caught so sharply it hurt. She could see the pulse beating at the base of his throat, smell the spicy scent of his skin, almost taste the cool water dangling from his hand. She smiled, unable to hide her sheer joy at seeing him.

The hubbub around them faded to gray. His eyes locked on her like a laser, sharp, hard and angry.

She jerked back as if slapped.

He turned to the man beside him. “
That’s
the girl?”

The director gave a dismissive shrug. “Oh, damn, it’s the sneezer. She’ll have to do. At least, there’s no dialogue.”

“Get someone else,” Dan said flatly.

“No, she has the physical appearance. I like it.” The director turned to a hovering attendant. “Put more dirt on her chest, a mark on her cheek. We’ll take a medium shot.”

Something withered deep in Emily’s chest, but she forced a brittle smile. They spoke as if she weren’t there, and at that moment she resented the director, resented the movie but most of all, she resented Dan.

“We have to move the tractor out another five feet,” Dan said, turning from Emily and striding after the director.

“Look at me please.” The makeup artist yanked at Emily’s chin and brandished a black brush.

Emily raised her head, uncaring now how hot and grubby she was, or what they rubbed on her skin. It didn’t matter anyway. Dan had barely looked at her. And when he had, it was with open hostility. Even horror.

Had he expected her to lay low until the bus pulled out tonight? Maybe he was embarrassed. After all, she wasn’t a sought-after movie star, only a lowly extra. It was painfully obvious he hadn’t expected to see her again.

I’ll laugh about this later with Jenna when we’re watching the races from our fifth-row seats close to the finish line.
But she didn’t feel like laughing now. In fact, she gulped twice, desperate to control the weird spasms in her throat.

“Would it be possible to have a drink of water?” she croaked.

“You don’t have any lines.” The woman deftly flicked some powder off her brush. “And I have to hurry. The director’s in a mood.”

“Isn’t he always,” Emily said, struggling to regain her usual flippancy.

“Still, no one dares cross Anthony today, except maybe
him
.” The lady rolled her eyes meaningfully over her shoulder.

Dan still followed Anthony who flung a clipboard in his director’s chair and wheeled, arms waving. It looked like a heated exchange. Emily couldn’t see Dan’s face but his muscles were bunched so tightly, his shirt strained from the tension.

Finally Anthony nodded and gave a curt jab of his thumb. A gray-haired man with a ponytail and white sandals ran over and clambered onto the tractor. It rumbled to a start, spitting exhaust and dust as it inched toward them. “Stand back, ladies,” he called, positioning the trailer further from the rail.

“Maybe they won’t need me out here,” Emily said hopefully. It would be much more pleasant to stand with Judith and the other background people. They hadn’t been dirtied up. Emily no longer cared about makeup and stylish clothes; she’d settle for a clean face and some shade.

“Quiet. Here he comes.” The makeup attendant stepped back, nodding deferentially at Anthony, his assistant and Dan.

“Cue her when to wave her arms,” Anthony said, his gaze raking Emily’s dirty shirt. “Then she needs to step back before the horse hits her.” He walked away without ever addressing her directly.

“Stand here,” the assistant said, then glanced at Dan. “She’s all yours now.”

Emily’s grip tightened around the lead line. She raised her head before turning toward Dan, determined to hide how much his antipathy hurt.

His gaze traveled over her chest then back to her face. He’d been animated with Anthony only minutes earlier, but now he stood silent, unmoving, other than one lean finger that idly tapped his water bottle.

“Was this scene explained to you?” he asked.

She shook her head, hoping he wouldn’t insist she be replaced with another performer.

“Reckless,” he said, “played by Bruno, rips through the rail and dumps his rider. A stunt rider. He bolts around the track. Someone tries to stop him—another stunt person. Bruno then gallops between the tractor and the rail, almost trampling a groom. You are
not
a stunt person.” His voice turned accusatory.

She blinked. Perhaps she’d exaggerated a bit about her horse experience, but she was quite certain, almost positive, that she hadn’t marked the stunt box on her application. “I never pretended to be one,” she said cautiously, guessing he was searching for a reason why she wasn’t suitable.

“That’s not the point,” he snapped. “Drink.” He pressed the bottle into her hand, shocking her as much by the action as the abrupt cold against her skin.

She took a quick swig, then reluctantly passed it back, unable to keep her wistful gaze from following the water.

“Finish it,” he said, his voice gruff.

She drained the bottle. At least they weren’t arguing over this.

“Want more?” he asked.

She shook her head and carefully wiped her mouth, conscious of the makeup artist’s annoyance.

Dan’s gaze drifted over her chest and his scowl returned. “You have to follow directions. No thinking out of the box. Jump out of the way the second you’re cued. Got it?”

“Of course. I always listen. I’ll do whatever the scene requires.”

“I think you have a skewed definition of ‘listening’ but you are definitely plucky.” A corner of his mouth twitched. “And you do look like one of Hamilton’s grooms.”

She gave a cautious smile, relieved to see the return of his natural good humor. He, of all people, must know her shirt-popping cleavage required some assistance. But he was looking at her face and perhaps didn’t notice. It didn’t seem as if he’d insist on a replacement performer though. His anger had disappeared, replaced with a wry resignation.

“The assistant director will rehearse the scene with you,” Dan said. “I’m tied up with Bruno and the stuntman.” His voice lowered. “Did you take the number for the Louisville movie?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Good. It’s an excellent opportunity. No stunts required. Nice wardrobe too.”

Clearly he was poking fun at her dirty face. She raised a self-conscious hand to her cheek, then slowly lowered it. What did it matter? She’d primped for hours last night and it hadn’t made a bit of difference. “We extras do love a nice wardrobe,” she said, hiding her hurt.

“Look, Emily. I’m working flat out today.” He glanced over his shoulder at the makeup artist. His voice lowered. “But I do apologize for this morning, for leaving the trailer so quickly…afterwards.”

“No problem. It was a good chance to check for souvenirs. You’d be amazed how well movie stuff sells on eBay.” She waved a dismissive hand, deciding she was a damn good actress after all.

Something flickered in his eyes. “You’ll be okay. But I will miss you. Now get your head in the scene.”

She blinked, absorbing his strange words, but he said nothing more. Merely turned and walked down the track.

“Move a step to the right and wave your arms,” the man they called the AD said. She obediently followed his directions but wished Dan was working with her, especially when the director complained that her actions were too mechanical.

“She has to wave her arms so a horse would see them,” Anthony said to his assistant, shaking his head as though she was an idiot.

Seconds later, she heard Anthony’s strident voice again. “Switch the lead line to her left hand. And add a halter.”

Then, “Focus the second camera on her chest.”

Finally, after numerous comments and adjustments, she had the director’s approval. “You know the horse isn’t going to stop,” Anthony said, walking past the assistant director and talking to her for the first time. “This horse is trained to run through a wall.”

She nodded, rather shocked by his direct attention. He was even making eye contact.

“But if you stand still and wave your arms until the last second,” Anthony added, “it would be way more realistic. Remember, you’re a desperate groom, trying to stop a valuable animal from injuring himself. And Reckless’s owner, your employer, is watching from the rail. So it’s important you don’t jump aside until the AD’s signal. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” she said, remembering how Bruno responded to Dan’s direction. Dan might not want her around, but he would never let anyone be trampled.

“Right,” Anthony said, turning to the crew. “Let’s go for a take.”

“Rolling,” someone said. “Marker.” A clap stick sounded.

“Background,” the AD called. She swallowed, tightening her grip around the halter, surprised by the stickiness of her palms.

“Action,” Anthony said.

A loose horse abruptly appeared around the turn, dark mane and long reins flailing. She glimpsed Dan’s raised arm. Halfway down the track, a man rushed from the rail. It looked like he would catch the horse. But no, he was knocked over, his body flying in the air like a bowling pin.

She gulped, staring at the huge horse bearing down on her. Bruno had never looked so big, so powerful…so unstoppable.

“Wave arms,” someone cued.

She frantically waved her arms, hoping Bruno would stop but knowing he wasn’t supposed to. Damn, he was huge. And fast. He was tearing along the rail now, nostrils flared, ears back, clods of dirt flying in his wake. She wanted to leap behind the tractor but the stuntman had waited. So could she. The ground shook as Bruno towered over her—

“Move!”

She scrambled aside, tripping to the ground in her urgency, almost knocking down the wind fan.

She peered up in time to see Bruno’s long streaming tail as he galloped in front of the spectators. Only background people. But they appeared genuine, watching the bolting horse with varying degrees of horror. Just past the finish line, a rider appeared alongside Bruno and both horses slowed to a controlled canter.

“Cut,” Anthony called, his voice much lighter now. “The middle couldn’t get any better,” he said, peering over the cameraman’s shoulder. “Circle that.”

Anthony walked up to Emily, still smiling. “I like your guts, girl. Come back tomorrow. We’ll find more work for you. Dress the same as today.”

She nodded, too exhilarated to speak and still punchy with adrenaline. She glanced up the track, glad to see Bruno had already slowed to a trot beside the pickup rider. What an awesome horse. For a minute, he’d looked like a panicky runaway and she’d feared he truly was bolting.

She brushed the dirt off her jeans and glanced around for Dan. He must be so proud of his horse. And maybe, just maybe, he was a little proud of her.

“What the hell were you thinking? Are you a total imbecile?”

She spun around. Dan’s face was ashen and he was breathing hard, as though he’d sprinted up the track.

Her smile faded. “I did what they said.”

“Fifteen feet! You were supposed to jump aside at fifteen feet. Dammit. I’m sick of people craving attention. Always wanting the limelight.” He jammed his fists in his pockets then yanked them out again. “You’ll never work for me again.”