STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) (18 page)

*

“This is the spot,” Dan said, reaching into the back seat for the food and blankets. “Just drop me off by the barn door.”

“Want me come back?” the driver asked.

“No. I’ll walk. Just leaving some stuff for one of my crew.”

“I’ve been driving people around for three weeks now,” the driver said, glancing around curiously, “but this is the first time I’ve been here. Pretty spot. Is it part of the Hamilton estate?”

“Yes. The barn was originally built for Reckless but he didn’t like it, so they turned it into a stud barn.” Dan balanced the food on top of the mound of blankets and pushed open the van door.

“Spoiled horse.” The driver peered up at the fancy balcony and gave a low whistle.

Spoiled something, Dan thought, but probably not the horse. If rumors were true, Thomas Hamilton had built this place so he could keep his groom conveniently close. Right beneath his wife’s nose.

Anthony was pushing that angle in the movie too, leaning toward young and pretty grooms. Shania’s necklines were constantly being lowered. And every day, Thomas Hamilton surveyed the action, beaming like he was king of the stud pen again. Clearly he loved having women around, especially if they showed a little flesh.

Lizzie didn’t trust the man, preferring not to walk alone in the dark. Hamilton didn’t scare Emily though. She’d been totally content sleeping in a stall…and then with him. Dan scraped a hand over his jaw. Damn, it had been a frustrating night, trying to ignore those tempting curves, the sweet way she’d curled against his chest. Luckily she’d been exhausted.

But no way was he going near a hungry actress. He preferred a simple woman, one not seduced by movie moguls or the lure of fame. A woman who wouldn’t blow her kids a kiss and bolt for greener pastures. A woman he could trust.

And one who would trust him.

He shook his head, shoving aside old hurts. Most of the demanding horse scenes had been completed, but he still needed to focus. It only took a moment of inattention for someone to be hurt. Lizzie’s admission that Emily had nearly been kicked still had his gut churning.

He shouldn’t have put her in charge of the stud barn but had been swayed by her pluck and determination. And admittedly, he’d been attracted from the first moment they met. He couldn’t stop looking at her. But that was a piss poor reason to hire someone.

Besides, Emily’s end goal was to be an actress, not look after animals. And wranglers needed to have the horses’ care as top priority. He strode down the aisle and inspected the stalls, shaking his head at their messy appearance. Almost eleven and she hadn’t even mucked out yet. At least, she’d fed breakfast. Uneaten hay still littered the empty stalls.

Empty.
He groaned, his irritation changing to concern. He’d told her not to lead the chestnut without him, and the Reckless lookalike was on strict stall rest. Irreparable damage could be done if the bay further strained that injured tendon.

He yanked open the apartment door and climbed the stairs two at a time, his steps deliberately loud. It was time for her to get up anyway.

But she wasn’t napping on the sofa or holed up in the bathroom. He dropped the food and blankets on the table and went back downstairs, his steps not quite as aggressive.

Generally he liked his stalls cleaned immediately; a tidy barn looked much more professional. On the other hand, she wouldn’t be working here much longer. He could hardly expect her to whip through her chores when she’d just been let go. And obviously she was sick.

This morning her throat had been raspy, her forehead feverish and her mouth…her mouth had been entirely kissable.

He sighed and stepped out of the barn, hating to admit he’d kept her around for selfish reasons. Movie sets weren’t the place to pick up women, at least not the type of woman he wanted.

Luckily, Lizzie had noticed Emily was at risk. He’d been too busy noticing other things.

He rounded the corner of the barn and scanned the paddocks. If the bay had some grass to nibble he might not run and exacerbate his injury. Regardless, Dan resolved not to scold her for turning the horses out. He was late, and this was his fault for not checking her references. In fact, he’d completely disregarded his usual protocol. No wonder Lizzie had been huffy.

His shoulders jerked and he quit worrying about the horses. Could only stare in horror at the slender body crumpled on the ground. Emily was down. She must have been kicked. Lizzie’s warning had come too late.

He charged across the grass. Dropped to his knees and scanned her head for injury. “Emily,” he said.

Her eyes flickered open and she gave him such a beautiful smile, his breath stalled. “What happened?” he asked, his voice rough.

She blinked and tried to struggle to a sitting position.

“Don’t move.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, forcing her to sit still. “Did he kick?”

She rubbed at her eyes, still silent.

“Where did he get you?” He pushed her hair back, inspecting the skin around her temples. No mark, thank God. When his cousin had been dropped by a horse, the imprint of the hoof had been visible.

She tilted her head, her eyes confused. “Barney didn’t kick me,” she said. “Or Ted.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s good.” He tucked her against his pounding heart, his hand still splayed over the back of her head. “I thought you were hurt. Lying in the grass like that.”

She didn’t say anything else but she didn’t pull away either, just lay in his arms as she had this morning. Her hair was silky, her skin soft and warm and he tugged her even tighter, his relief overpowering his usual control. She wasn’t shivering, not like last night, and even though they’d slept side by side, somehow this felt more intimate. He could almost pretend they weren’t on a movie set, but back on the verandah of his ranch, surrounded by grazing horses and the sweeping Montana sky.

His jacket was rolled up a few feet away, the indent of a head still visible and he smiled into her hair. “What exactly were you doing out here?” he asked, trying to sound firm but unable to stop chuckling. Part of it was relief and the other part was simply that her free spirit left him light.

She lifted her head, her mouth curving into that irrepressible smile. “Okay, busted. I was napping on the job. But it’s impossible to be fired twice. And I did move some poles.”

She went on talking about why she couldn’t wait for leading help because of Barney’s breathing, but his mind quit processing. He’d been strung too tight and that rosebud-shaped mouth was too appealing. And so close their breaths blended.

She silenced, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts.

He caressed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, his eyes holding hers. Right now, it didn’t matter that she was an actress and leaving tomorrow. He wanted her with a surprising ferocity. He slid his hand around the back of her neck and slanted his mouth over hers.

Her lips were sweet and inviting, her breasts warm and full against his chest. He coaxed her mouth open. Her breath shuddered out, and then she kissed him back, their tongues meeting in a slow erotic dance that left him hungry for more.

A truck roared beyond the trees and he reluctantly lifted his head. His pulse beat wildly and he drew in a ragged breath, wishing they really were back on his ranch. Alone.

“Obviously I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, pressing his mouth against her neck, savoring the scent of her skin.

“Earlier this morning you did.” He couldn’t see her face but the hurt in her words was unmistakable.

“The last thing I want is for you to be hurt,” he said. “This job isn’t what you signed up for. You’re an actress, not a wrangler.” He couldn’t keep the accusation out of his voice.

She pulled back, studying him with confused eyes. Not surprising. His ambivalence about this woman left him confused too.

“Let’s go inside.” His voice gentled. “I brought some food. Looks to me like you haven’t been eating much.”

“The dining room keeps closing before I get there,” she admitted.

A painful band tightened around his chest. She didn’t have a car or groceries, and the dining tent had limited hours. Food was always available at the hotel where most of the cast and crew stayed, and the wranglers had access to a trailer kitchen. But she was a background performer. An add-on. She certainly hadn’t been eating steak and lobster.

“I assumed you had breakfast,” he said, fighting his guilt, “but I brought soup and crackers. Stuff like that.” It didn’t sound like much now. He’d simply been thinking it made sense to have some food in the apartment. “Did you eat this morning?”

She scooped up his jacket from the grass, not meeting his eyes. “I often don’t eat breakfast.”

“But you like coffee. Did you even have coffee?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Not busy cleaning stalls,” he said, slightly defensive. It wasn’t
his
fault she hadn’t eaten. It didn’t take long to toss two horses some hay and grain. And the stalls were still dirty.

“I’m going to clean the stalls now.” Her mouth tightened in a rebellious line. “I just wanted to have a little nap first.”

He sighed and pulled her to her feet, careful to avoid touching the abrasions on her palms. “Eat something first. Then do the stalls. Don’t take everything as a criticism.”

But he had mentioned the stalls as a criticism. He didn’t know what it was about this woman that left him unbalanced or why he couldn’t keep his distance. But even as he mentally listed all the things he should be doing, he draped his hand over her hip and guided her toward the apartment, knowing full well he didn’t intend to leave right away.

“This is good ham soup,” Emily said, although her heart was drumming so fast she could barely taste it.

“It’s chicken.” Dan smiled and idly traced his lean finger over the inside of her wrist. Although maybe it wasn’t idle. He had the look of a man who intended to take her to bed. For the last twenty minutes, ever since he’d splayed his big hand around her waist and walked her into the apartment, the air had been crackling. A touch here, the brush of his hand there, he certainly knew how to prime a woman. She was a bundle of anticipation, every one of her senses on high alert awaiting his next move. It was torture not to wiggle in the chair.

“Feeling better after the soup?” His hand shifted to her forehead and then curved lower, skimming the sensitive skin over her collarbone.

She shivered with pleasure, almost dropping the spoon. She’d never admit she was sick and risk him leaving. But it was rather disconcerting that he could skim a finger over certain spots and she was ready to hop into bed. He seemed very single minded once he made a decision. Of course, she was too.

She tried to match his boldness by hiding behind a flippancy she didn’t feel. “I’ve been offered liquor and chocolate before, but this is the first time a man’s tried to seduce me with soup.”

His smile was quick and amused, as though he appreciated her bluntness. “And how’s it working?” he asked.

“Very well.”

He didn’t say anything else, just leaned over and tenderly kissed her cheek. “Good,” he murmured, his warm breath making her nerve endings tingle. “Eat up. I’ll make the bed.”

He scooped up the bedding he’d delivered and strode toward the bedroom.

She swallowed and set down the spoon. It was clear they both wanted to make love, but she’d never been with a man so certain. No alcohol, no games, no pretense. It was different, and wonderfully liberating.

Still, it wouldn’t be wise to jump up and race him to the bed. Men liked a little challenge. She should at least nibble another cracker.

But she ignored the food, unable to hide her feelings. “Wait,” she said. “I’ve been sleeping on the sofa. It’s much more comfortable. The bedroom feels…occupied.”

She expected him to argue, or at least roll his eyes, but he gave an understanding nod and veered back toward the sofa. It wasn’t that she believed in ghosts, not too much anyway, but everyone whispered about Reckless’s first groom.

Keeping a lover on the property had been the height of crassness. And Thomas Hamilton was definitely crass. The groom probably had good reason to vanish. Hamilton certainly wasn’t Dan Barrett.

She felt an anticipatory squeeze as he flicked a sheet, then tucked it smoothly behind the cushions. He was competent, making up a bed as expertly as he’d kissed her. Clearly, once he decided to have a woman, he moved quickly.

Like all men.

She gave her head a little shake, still rather shocked this was going to happen. He was surrounded by movie stars, real ones. He rubbed shoulders with the most beautiful women in the world while she didn’t even have her regular makeup. Or her nice clothes. Hadn’t had a bath in… Oh my God.

She shot to her feet, sick with dismay. She hadn’t shaved her legs in days. Her disposable underwear looked like it had been designed for the fifties. She’d stacked hay and shoveled manure and lacked even basic hot water. This was horrible.

He glanced up, raising an eyebrow as she skittered behind the table, her arms tucked over her chest. “Second thoughts?” he asked softly.

“Yes. No! I just remembered there’s something I have to do.”

“Something I can help you with?”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s personal.”

He stilled, watching her with his usual intensity. If he crossed the room and kissed her, she’d never be able to hold out.

“Do you feel okay?” His brow furrowed in concern.

She choked back a hysterical laugh. Clearly women didn’t refuse Dan Barrett. And it wasn’t even a refusal, only a postponement. “I have to see someone,” she said, her voice rising in panic. “I just need a couple hours. And I’ll finish making the bed.”

The floor creaked as he walked toward her.

“I’m thinking you should stay at my trailer tonight.” He touched her lightly on the shoulder. “This place feels cold.”

“It is warmer in the stalls below,” she said, relaxing with the knowledge he didn’t intend to rush her. And he could, so easily. She felt his restraint, the tautness in his body, the sexual undertone in his voice.