STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) (8 page)

Of course, Emily was a background performer, not an actress. She didn’t face the same temptations as someone like Shania.

He snorted and gave his head a shake. Who was he kidding? Simply looking at Emily’s lush mouth made him think of sex. Any red-blooded guy would hit on her in an instant. When she’d flashed that provocative smile and offered to crawl between Bruno’s legs, he’d had a raunchy image of doing her against the rails. It was a good thing he didn’t have her phone number.

Not so good for her though, considering she wouldn’t learn about the change in call time until tomorrow. Of course, she’d be compensated. Most background performers didn’t mind being paid to wait, especially if they lived in the area.

He scooped up a copy of the revised schedule, nodded goodnight to the script supervisor and strode toward the door. These nightly meetings could drag past midnight and it was his habit to slip out early after gathering feedback on his horses’ performance. Anthony generally gave him free rein, one of the reasons Dan liked working with the talented director.

Dan yawned, grateful his trailer was on site. He needed to check back on the lame horse then catch up on some much-needed sleep. Traveling to a hotel cut into valuable time, and he always preferred accommodations close to the animals.

A narrow path edged from the back of the trailers to the more isolated stud barn, a short cut that reduced his walk by five minutes. The little barn was perfect for a lame horse or, God forbid, any animal requiring quarantine. It was conveniently close but removed enough from the action that the horse would have a better chance of settling, especially if given a quiet companion.

A gelding’s blazed face stuck over the stall door, liquid eyes tracking Dan’s approach. The horse gave a low nicker, his expression bright. Despite being restricted to stall rest, the animal seemed in good spirits. It was unfortunate he was lame; this bay was a dead ringer for Reckless.

Dan scratched the underside of the horse’s jaw and scanned his legs over the stall door. One of the wranglers—probably Lizzie—had done a competent job. The wraps appeared firm and even, forming a perfect stovepipe pattern. The blanket was probably overkill but the gelding looked cozy.

He checked the tightness of the bandages then slipped a hand beneath the blanket, making sure the horse hadn’t overheated. The temperature was about sixty degrees, a lovely spring night, and certainly comfortable enough without a blanket.

He gave the horse a final pat and moved on to check the chestnut in the next stall. This Thoroughbred had also been supplied by the stock contractor and, as promised, the gelding was very quiet. Life was easier when they possessed a good mind. Movie horses needed to be adaptable. This fellow was a perfect companion, not seeming to care about the barn change, as long as he was provided with plenty of hay. And right now, both horses clearly wanted more to eat.

It was hard to resist a hungry horse and neither of these guys were fat. It wouldn’t hurt to toss them an extra flake, especially since they’d been shuffled away from the action. Unlike humans, they didn’t care if they missed their shot at fame.

He turned to the hay stall, slid open the door and stepped in. A scruffy gray cat darted between his legs. His smile froze in surprise.

Someone slept in the corner, curled in the hay with an open newspaper spread over his chest. The retired caretaker perhaps? Dan hadn’t met him yet but apparently a longtime employee still lived in the caretaker’s cottage. The man had lived and worked on the estate for over sixty years. Poor fellow. Maybe he felt responsible for these horses and didn’t realize they’d been shipped in for a movie.

But when Dan edged sideways, light from the aisle filtered past revealing the sleeping face. His eyes widened. This definitely wasn’t the caretaker but instead his most recent hire, the woman who’d been coloring his thoughts.

Emily’s eyes were shut, her dark lashes flattened against creamy cheeks. Stripped of makeup and that veneer of toughness, she looked younger, more vulnerable. But even asleep, her mouth looked…lively. He backed up, fighting the unwanted pull of sexual attraction.
Time for me to go.

But he hesitated, his protective instincts surging. She must be uncomfortable, and cold. The urge to scoop her up and carry her back to his warm trailer was almost unbearable.

And why was she sleeping in a barn? There was a decent hotel only three miles away with a shuttle service for cast and crew.

He shook his head in pained realization. She was background. Extras found their own transportation unless numbers justified bussing. He’d asked her to watch Bruno in the round pen, assuming she lived close by. They both knew it hadn’t been a request.

Had she missed the bus? He’d given her an early call time, for a scene that was now postponed. She didn’t need to be here for at least another day. He jammed his hands in his pockets, battling with his conscience.

People did crazy things to get in the movies but this was background—merely holding a horse for thirty seconds. She must desperately want the job. And she didn’t look
that
uncomfortable, more like someone accustomed to making the most out of a tough situation.

He stooped and adjusted the newspaper, pulling it higher over her chest. Her breathing remained slow and even. His knuckle brushed her cheek and he jerked his hand back. But she didn’t move, and the peaceful look on her face remained unchanged.

He glanced at the open doorway. She was a sound sleeper. Anyone could walk in and clearly she’d be oblivious. The barn was probably safe enough—that lecher Hamilton was tucked away in the mansion with his highbrow wife—but it didn’t feel right to leave a woman in isolation, sleeping under newspaper like a homeless waif.

He hesitated for another moment, then scooped up some hay for the hungry horses…and proceeded to look for a chair.

A familiar ring tone chimed. Emily groaned, too cozy and warm to move but the sound was irritatingly insistent. She fumbled for her phone and shut off the alarm. A horse nickered, jolting her awake. She jackknifed up.

This was the day she’d lead Reckless! Not a speaking role, but still a good start. She scrambled to her feet, dislodging a blue horse blanket, still warm from her body. She picked up the blanket and walked into the aisle, studying it in confusion.

The friendly bay nickered and pressed his chest against the door…his bare chest. She rubbed her eyes. Somehow his blanket had ended up on her.

“Sorry, fellow,” she murmured. She wasn’t a sleepwalker and certainly didn’t remember borrowing his blanket. An empty chair sat against the wall of the hay stall. She couldn’t recall seeing the chair last night either, but it seemed she couldn’t remember a few things.

The bay nosed at her shoulder. It was tempting to slip him a flake of hay, a thank you for his hospitability, but it was early and whoever fed the animals might not be pleased. She considered putting his blanket back on, but entering a strange horse’s stall, uninvited, was an even bigger taboo.

“I’ll try to come back and visit later,” she said. “Thanks for sharing your barn.”

She left the blanket folded on the chair and stepped outside.

The sun poked over the ridge, the air crisp and invigorating. This area of the estate was especially beautiful with a secluded lane shaded by stately elm trees. Maybe this cozy barn was used by the Hamiltons and the two horses inside weren’t involved in the movie. But someone must have covered her with that blanket. As a result, she’d had a wonderful sleep, and she was appreciative.

Voices and vehicles rumbled beyond the trees and she edged to the left, following a curving driveway toward the noise. Several portable toilets were on site. With a little luck, she might find running water. And breakfast. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food.

She quickened her steps and rounded a bend, eager to spot a washroom of some sort. The movie site still wasn’t visible though, only a small cottage that bordered the drive. A man with a wooden cane struggled to swing back a barred gate.

“Good morning,” she said. She was about to slip around the bar and continue up the drive, but he looked feeble. She hesitated, then detoured to his side and helped push the steel bar back.

“Thanks.” He grunted with satisfaction. “Mr. Hamilton wants me to open the gate every morning. They’re going to make a movie of Reckless.”

“Yes, it’s started,” Emily said. “They’re shooting up by the main barn.”

“They’re going to make a movie,” the man repeated. “And I have to open the gate.”

“Yes.” She slowed her voice. “It’s good you’re here to do that. Do you live in the cottage?”

“Yup. Not many people visit anymore but someone has to open the gate. Today my groceries are delivered.” He gave an irritable tap of his cane. “Hope they bring everything. Sometimes they forget my doughnuts.”

“I hope they bring everything too,” Emily said cheerfully. “Thanks for opening the gate.”

“Remember. I close it at dark.” His caterpillar eyebrows drew together in a warning line. “You can’t come through here all hours of the night.”

“I certainly won’t.” She nodded, her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton rising. The old caretaker took his job seriously, and it was kind of them to let him remain in the cottage and provide him with a job.

She waved and continued walking, following the driveway until it looped around the corner of the track. A starting gate gleamed whitely and a group of workers splashed fresh paint on a section of rail. A large barn, the first in a row of buildings was clearly the hub of activity. People and cameras rimmed the area. However, there was no sign of Dan or the casting director.

She blew out a relieved sigh. Her hair was a mess and she didn’t wear a speck of makeup. She needed to find a bathroom. And quickly. If they saw her looking this ugly, they might fire her on the spot.

She strode into the empty dining room, head high and pretending she had a right to be there. It was easier now that she knew the layout. She ignored the squinty-eyed attendant, reached under the table and pulled out the paper cups and a tray. She made two cups of pod coffee while she scanned the walls for signs. Toilet and sink but no shower.

Disappointed, she trudged from the tent, balancing the coffee tray. She’d expected much better facilities at a movie site.
Not even a shower?

She entered the wardrobe tent, blinking as her eyes grew accustomed to the different light. Luckily Maggie, the helpful lady who’d outfitted her in the groom’s clothes, was already sorting shirts.

Maggie laid down a plastic hanger and gave Emily a cautious nod that blossomed into a big smile when Emily passed her the coffee.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Maggie said, selecting a packet of sugar from the condiments on the tray. “I’m alone for the first hour and it’s impossible to grab a coffee. Are you working as a groom again?” She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Why didn’t you return those clothes yesterday?”

“I was in a rush last night,” Emily said. “This morning too. Even had to skip my shower. I’m surprised there’s no running water on the grounds.”

Maggie shrugged. “Anyone who’s important has a trailer. Or a hotel room.”

“I see.” Emily swallowed. It would be impossible to primp in a portable toilet. Judith had warned about background’s lowly status but the reality stung. “Do you have a bathroom here where I can clean up?” she asked, her voice small.

Maggie jabbed with her thumb. “Toilet and sink, second door. But you look fine. They want the grooms with basic hair and clothes. Let me check the wardrobe sheet and I’ll fix you up.”

“Okay.” Emily paused, hating how she always felt like a bum. “But I’d hoped to keep these clothes from yesterday…in case of a later scene. It gets so busy.”

Maggie took a thoughtful sip of coffee and nodded permission.

“Thanks,” Emily said, vastly relieved to have a second set of clothes. “I’ll be right back.”

She left her coffee on the table and hurried into the bathroom. It was tiny, not much bigger than the bathroom on the bus, but she managed to squeeze out enough soap and water for a rudimentary wash.

When she returned, Maggie had already pulled out a faded pair of Gucci jeans and a clean shirt.

“I thought you’d appreciate the high end jeans,” Maggie said wryly. “And I already had your sizes recorded. If you hurry over to hair and makeup, they’ll check you out.”

Emily nodded gratefully, then paused. She’d deliberately glossed over her clothes predicament, but without Maggie’s support she never would have landed the groom’s job. “Thanks for your help yesterday,” she said. “Those boots and jeans were perfect.”

Maggie gave a knowing smile. “Just make sure you return everything. I’ve never had so many people worrying about the fit of their jeans. My supervisor calls it the Dan Barrett effect.”

“It’s not him,” Emily said. “I just like clothes.”

“Good thing. Because he avoids actresses like the plague.”

“But I’m not an actress,” Emily said quickly. “I’m only background.”

Maggie laughed, so teasingly Emily even smiled. But she honestly wasn’t worrying about Dan Barrett. Not like that. And it wasn’t his good looks she found attractive. It was his attentiveness and that super-calm vibe. Besides, she wanted someone who wore a suit, not faded jeans that molded long legs and emphasized the way a man moved when he was comfortable in his body.

Her skin tingled and she grimaced. Okay, admittedly he was droolworthy, but men like that always cracked hearts, and she couldn’t afford to be sidetracked. This was a big day. She intended to stay focused. It might even be possible to take a picture of the horses so she had something to send Jenna. Perhaps people photography was forbidden, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to snap a few photos of Bruno. After all, he wasn’t a human actor.

And Dan might not mind. He was so kind, so accommodating…although obviously not when in full work mode. When he’d folded those ripped arms yesterday and quietly suggested she stay, she hadn’t thought about anything but agreeing.