STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) (3 page)

She strolled through the open door and up to a table laden with serving trays. Folks here had been eating well. The distinctive smell of bacon and eggs lingered in the air. Stainless steel coffee machines stood in a row—not just one, but six—offering every type of tea and coffee imaginable, both pod and drip. There was even Herbalife tea and that stuff was awesome. She felt herself recharging, merely from seeing the logo.

However, there were no paper cups, only china, and it was going to be awkward walking out with a dainty cup and saucer. She picked one up, handling it dubiously, but her hesitation was costly.

“Excuse me,” an authoritative voice said. “This tent is restricted. Background isn’t allowed.”

Emily turned toward the woman, her fingers tightening around the saucer. She didn’t want to get in trouble her very first hour. But she also didn’t want to leave without two cups of this delicious-smelling coffee.

“Of course, I’m aware it’s restricted,” Emily said. “But I’ve been asked to pick up beverages.”

“You’re not cast or crew. Who sent you?”

Emily adjusted the cup in the middle of the saucer, stalling for time. But her mind blanked beneath the woman’s gimlet gaze. Judith’s name wouldn’t carry much weight, and she couldn’t remember any of the directors Judith had mentioned. She gave an airy wave of her hand. “You know…the assistant director. That guy who does the horses.”

The attendant’s gaze shifted to someone behind Emily. Her stony expression cracked into a surprisingly pretty smile.

“You’ll need paper cups around the barn,” a man said, his voice low and velvety but with an unmistakable hint of authority.

Emily turned, her breezy words stalling in her throat. He was so ruggedly handsome, he had to be a movie star. Striking cheekbones accentuated a chiseled jaw and perfectly cut mouth. Amusement edged his eyes as he reached below the table and pulled out a stack of paper cups. “How many cups do you need?” He winked. “You know, for that guy who does the horses.”

“Two, please.” She checked over her shoulder. The attendant had rushed away to challenge an unfortunate teenager by the doughnut table. “Thanks,” Emily whispered. “I thought she was going to pry the cup from my hand.”

“She’s been known to do that. She’s irritatingly vigilant.” The man chuckled, such a warm and easy-going sound Emily stopped worrying about the Gestapo attendant.

Now that she had a chance to study his clothes, it was clear he was no actor. There was nothing fake about his faded jeans, his workmanlike tan or the layer of dust that covered his boots. His brown hair was slightly long, curling over the back of his collar and lightened from the sun. He was a head taller than she was, and had a big headset stuck in his leather cowboy belt.

Emily’s tension eased. It would have been awesome to bump shoulders with a famous actor like Robert Dexter but she’d grown up among simple working folk. She was comfortable around this type of man. There was no need to pretend.

“This is my first time on a movie set,” she confided. “They certainly have a great selection of coffee.”

“It goes a long way in keeping people happy.” His gaze drifted over her brand new silk dress down to her stiletto heels, his intelligent blue eyes seeming to absorb every detail. “You don’t look like you’re heading to the barn.”

“No, I’m an actress.” She laughed, but his gaze remained on her face. “Well, trying to be,” she added. “I’m background, here for the party scene. Hoping to be moved to special skills.”

“What are your special skills?”

Her smile froze. His simple question highlighted her unfortunate dilemma. She had no skills. Despite Jenna’s support, her life had been a depressing string of failures. So far, her most notable achievement was holding her breath longer than any of the boys at the Three Brooks swimming hole.

Naturally she had an elevator pitch that, speaking fast, could be delivered in less than thirty seconds. And she was accustomed to fighting for attention. However, this man just waited, as though her answer was important and he wasn’t going to be distracted by silly prattle.

Someone hollered. Cutlery rattled. But neither of them spoke.

“I’m guessing you’re a very fine dancer,” he finally said, his voice gentle. “Wardrobe gave you nice heels too. Perfect for the party shoot today.”

She laughed then, a real laugh, despite her surge of despair. “I haven’t been to wardrobe yet.” She stuck out her foot and wiggled her toes. “These are my own shoes. But I was hoping my horse experience might qualify for special skills.”

“You’re experienced? With Thoroughbreds?”

“I worked for almost two years at the Three Books Equine Center.”

“I’ve heard of the place.” He gave an approving nod. “So you’ve handled some rough stock?”

She nodded. Not really a lie. When Peanut wanted to keep grazing, he was plenty tough to catch. And she’d often moved horses around for the technicians, collecting them from their stalls and leading them to the therapy rooms. Some of them were quite rambunctious, although it was probably prudent not to ask this man’s definition of ‘rough.’

“Drop by the main barn after the party shoot,” he said. “If you can handle a horse, we might be able to use you. But dress appropriately.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “And the assistant director has his own coffee girl and doesn’t look after the horses. And we usually just refer to him as the AD. What’s your first name?”

“Emily,” she managed, her cheeks flushing with heat. She should have paid more attention when Judith was prattling about ADs and movies and Internet gossip. At least this man hadn’t called her bluff in front of the coffee guard.

And ‘dress appropriately?’ She hadn’t worn jeans since she left West Virginia, determined to leave her hick life behind. But this was a big opportunity…if only she could find suitable clothes.

“I’m Dan Barrett,” he went on. “Here’s my card. It will give you entry to the test site.”

“Test?” The mere word turned her mouth dry. She tended to flunk tests.

“Just basic horse handling,” he said. “We need background that can handle horses, not actors trying to pretend they know what they’re doing. Can you ride?”

“Sure. I’ve been riding since I was two.” She squared her shoulders in a show of confidence but inside, her heart was pounding. This was the Barrett guy Judith had talked about, the production manager for the horse unit. She hadn’t mentioned he was drop-dead gorgeous with a voice so soft and silky it was almost hypnotic. Or that his cobalt blue eyes would leave her slightly unbalanced, as if they could see much more than she liked to reveal.

Judith had only said he was an industry expert. And certainly not the type to be fooled.

She knew she should grab the opportunity and leave, before she said anything more and screwed it up. But she lingered, palming the card around her warm cup. “I’m not really a fancy rider,” she said. “I haven’t had any formal instruction, not unless you count a big sister who always preached about not yanking on a horse’s mouth.”

“Sounds like a smart sister.”

“Yes.” Emily nodded. “Super smart. And the best horse masseuse around.” She gave herself a mental kick, wishing she’d said Jenna was studying to be a vet. That was much more impressive. But there was something about Dan’s eyes, so knowing and patient, not at all judgmental. He just waited, as though what she had to say was of the utmost importance. And she should be selling herself here, not drawing attention to her limited background.

“Jenna taught me a whole lot,” she added lamely. “But you know, basic stuff.”

He nodded, poured a cup of coffee and snapped on a plastic lid. She checked for a ring but his fingers were bare. And lean and tanned and rugged. Like he was capable of doing many things. A flush of awareness swept her.

She jerked her head up, realizing she’d been staring. And all he was doing was putting a lid on a cup. “Well, thanks very much.” She backed up a step. “I appreciate the opportunity. Guess I’ll see you later.”

“Yes.” He smiled. “This afternoon.”

She nodded and walked toward the exit, unable to resist a last peek over her shoulder. Already he was surrounded by three men with headsets. For a brief instant though, his head turned and his piercing gaze caught hers.

His eyes seemed to skim over her legs in a classic male once-over. However, the moment was too brief and she brushed it aside as merely wishful thinking.

“This has to be the most boring job in the world,” Emily said, peering over Judith’s shoulder into the makeup tent. “Has this line even moved since I left?”

“This is normal.” Judith sipped her coffee, barely looking up from her e-reader. “We’re getting paid now, so relax. But thanks for the great coffee.”

Emily drained her cup and glanced around, searching for a sympathetic face. About thirty people lined up behind them, but each one seemed stoically resigned, either reading, texting or moving like the walking dead. Not a single person appeared ruffled.

At least this wait provided time to brush up on her horse knowledge. Nothing to it. A simple call to Jenna would do the trick. She tossed her cup into a nearby garbage can and pulled out her phone. Scrolled down to her sister’s name then paused. Her finger wavered over the keys. Jenna still hadn’t answered her earlier text and was obviously busy cramming.

It might be quicker to check the Internet for the proper way to lead a horse. Not that Emily was a total newbie. She’d participated in many 4-H activities and Wally, the Center’s manager, had constantly lectured her on safe handling.

The movie people might even want Wally’s reference. Heck, she’d better warn him.
On movie site of Reckless,
she texted.
May need reference. OK?

Wally answered within a minute.
Yes. Will confirm A1 tour guide. Have fun
.

Not a tour guide,
she clicked.
Horse handler
. She crossed her fingers and waited.

His next text was very short:
lol
.

She grimaced. Not much help there. Wally considered her a lowly tour guide; it would be impossible to change his mind. Jenna, however, could do it with one phone call. Wally would walk over hot coals for Jenna.

She scrolled back to her sister’s name but again hesitated. Asking Jenna to speak to Wally would definitely disrupt her studying. It would also drag Emily back full circle to begging for help.

It might be better to call Wally’s receptionist and have her handle any calls. Frances was rather ornery. However, she’d padded Emily’s job description before in exchange for crossword puzzle help. Besides, the movie people might not check references, especially if she aced the skills test. And really, how hard was it to lead a horse?

Reassured, she scrolled the Internet and pulled up a horse site. ‘Lead from the left,’ it said. ‘Hand six inches below the halter ring. Turn the animal away from you.’

Okay, she already knew that. And she always got along well with horses…normal ones, anyway.

She tapped Judith on the arm. “Can you tell me if Reckless was a normal horse? Besides being able to run freakishly fast?”

Judith impatiently lifted her gaze from the e-reader. “You’re too young to remember his races, but I can’t believe you didn’t do any research. I’m not sure what you mean by normal, but Reckless was a terror in the starting gate. He didn’t even run in the Derby. His groom disappeared and for a while he was unmanageable.”

“Unmanageable.” Emily gulped. “What exactly does that mean?”

“He reared. Charged. Bolted. I believe he was pining for his groom. He never made it to any of the three-year-old classics. All his races were won as a four-year-old. That’s why this movie is so intriguing. People will finally hear the entire story.”

“They should have paid the groom more money,” Emily said. “I don’t blame him for quitting.” A rearing horse was scary. She’d been clipped once on the shoulder and had a healthy respect for flailing hooves.

Judith’s mouth tightened. “The groom was female, not male. And she left two weeks before the Derby. Just disappeared.”

Emily shrugged and returned to the search function of her phone. ‘How to handle a rearing horse,’ she typed.

The screen changed, offering a wealth of equine information, tips and opinions. There were plenty of pictures, video and instruction—some of it conflicting. But all the Internet experts agreed on one thing: a rearing horse was very dangerous.

“Size?”

The clipped question pulled Emily from her research. She glanced up. A lady with an iPad impatiently tapped a finger.

“Size seven,” Emily said, disappointed now that the line was moving. Some of these horse videos had been extremely entertaining.

“Height and weight?”

“Five foot six inches, one hundred and nineteen pounds.” She automatically shaved two pounds. One hundred and nineteen sounded much better than one twenty-one.

“Move along to the wardrobe counter,” the lady said, barely lifting her head as she punched in the data.

Emily joined Judith who’d already been issued a beige dress with a rather ugly lace neckline.

“Try to get a neutral color,” Judith whispered as she headed for a change room.

Emily grimaced. She preferred bright colors, not boring brown. But if she was prominent in the party scene, she might blow her chance at special skills. On the flip side, she might not even pass the horse test, and the chance to appear on screen with a famous actor—someone who even Jenna would recognize—hung tantalizingly within reach.

A harried wardrobe lady dropped a gold sheath on the counter. Emily brightened. She could live with that. The dress was beautiful yet wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. “Do you have matching heels?” Emily asked, scooping up the dress. “Something strappy? And I think a gold necklace would add some flair.”

“This isn’t a fashion show,” the lady said with an amused smile. “Move along now. The wardrobe supervisor is on the far side of the tent. She’ll check you out.”

Emily stepped into the next empty change room and tugged on the dress. It was beautiful with a timeless cut that fit the nineties yet wouldn’t look out of place at a cocktail party today. And the shoes were okay, not as sexy as she’d like and a half size too large, but otherwise acceptable. She did a satisfied pirouette in front of the mirror then hurried out to join Judith.