STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) (32 page)

“That means he must have known the missing groom,” Anthony said. “Were they friends? Tracey and Billy?”

“Not that I recall,” Hamilton said. “Billy was always a bit gruff. Rather intimidating, especially to the girls. They tended to avoid him.”

But not Emily, Dan thought. She’d been brave enough to bring him doughnuts, big-hearted enough to return and clean his cottage. She’d probably been the last person to show Billy any kindness.

But the girls finding the groom’s bag had revitalized interest. Whether Billy had anything to do with Tracey’s disappearance might always remain a mystery, but it was clear Anthony intended to cover all angles.

No one seemed too upset that Billy’s body would probably be discovered in the charred cottage. No one but Emily. In fact, the conversation had already shifted to the best way to include Billy’s character in a hastily added scene.

“I’m going to the stud barn,” Dan said. Anthony merely grunted, his attention locked on Hamilton.

Dan walked away, relieved to escape the cloud of smoke and dust and suspicion. His throat and nose stung, and he wanted cleaner air. Cleaner emotions. He wanted Emily.

His stride quickened. It only took a few minutes to reach the blessedly fresh air surrounding the stud barn.

He stepped inside and scanned the stalls. They were both empty but clean. The aisle was freshly swept, and a huge shiny padlock now hung on the apartment door. Clearly that place was out of bounds.

He walked outside and rounded the barn. The chestnut grazed in the large paddock, his shiny tail swishing away flies. Emily was in the makeshift paddock with the Reckless lookalike, the bay with the tendon injury. His front legs were neatly wrapped but otherwise he looked happy and healthy. His ears were pricked, his attention locked on Emily. Neither horse looked upset, but they were movie horses, accustomed to commotion and the random explosion.

The bay’s head abruptly snaked and he grabbed something from Emily’s hand. Her words were too low to hear, but she gave the horse an approving pat. It looked like she was teaching him some sort of trick. And getting results.

Dan’s tension faded, simply watching her. Obviously she liked working with horses—despite Lizzie’s report to the contrary—and he didn’t want to interfere. But the bay lifted his head, his nostrils flaring as he caught Dan’s scent. Emily turned, following the horse’s gaze.

She slipped between the rails and rushed toward him. “What’s happening? Did you find him?”

“Nothing yet.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. She vibrated with anxiety, and he slid a hand beneath her hair, automatically rubbing the back of her neck.

“It might be awhile before they sift through the rubble,” he said, after a long moment. “But it seems like Billy was in there. I’m sorry, Em.”

His own heart was beating faster than normal, and his hands tightened around her shoulders, taut with guilty gratitude. Because try as he might, he couldn’t stop agonizing about one inescapable truth. If she hadn’t waited for him this morning, quite likely she’d be tangled with Billy at the bottom of those sad and deadly ruins.

“Guess what! I have a line.” Judith’s voice bubbled with so much excitement, it was barely recognizable. “That means I’ll be back on site. The casting director just called.”

“You have a speaking role?” Emily leaned over Dan’s kitchen table and checked her phone battery. She didn’t want to leave it on too long. She’d already talked to Judith twice today, updating her about the explosion, but this was wonderful news. No wonder Judith was ecstatic.

“Yes.” Judith paused to take a breath. “They’re sending a car to pick me up—no more crowded buses. And I’m even doing an interview.”

“Oh wow, that’s great.” Emily fought an itch of envy. “I’m really happy for you.”

And she was happy. No one had researched this movie more than Judith. Besides, Emily had stumbled onto something much more important. She smiled across the table at Dan, who watched with an inscrutable expression.

“I’m glad they were able to recover Billy’s body,” Judith went on. “Is there a chance Tracey’s duffle bag wasn’t destroyed? Maybe we could go over tomorrow and poke around.”

“The area is still restricted. There’s yellow tape everywhere,” Emily said. “They found his body but not much else. Certainly not a bag.”

“But the explosion might have thrown it into the trees. I saw on the Internet where a gas stove exploded and a baby’s crib was found fifty feet away, completely intact. And maybe there’s something else.” Judith’s voice turned fervent. “It’s up to us. You have to help me. Help Billy—”

“I will,” Emily said. Judith had been rather subdued when she’d first learned about the explosion. Now she sounded almost desperate. Emily had been fortunate enough to spend the day with Dan whose caring presence acted like an anchor. But Judith was single, with no family, and this movie seemed to be her only interest.

“Tell me about your role,” Emily said, trying to distract her. “Do you have the script yet? What do you wear?”

They spoke for another ten minutes about Judith’s part and by the time Emily hung up, Judith sounded more like her normal self.

“Sorry,” Emily said, putting aside her phone and turning back to Dan. “Judith just found out she has a new role. Acting, not silent. This is the first time she’s been pulled from background. It’s really quite cool. And she needed to tell someone.”

Emily picked up her wine glass, but as usual Dan’s unwavering attention kept her talking. “Jenna was keen to hear about the movie at first but didn’t say much when she realized my role was only background. She still thinks I’m going to be a big star.” Emily gave a little laugh, to prove it didn’t hurt. Not one bit.

Dan said nothing, but his warm blue eyes filled with understanding.

“I’ve always wanted to make her proud,” Emily said after a moment. “To do something important. She was…is the best sister. But now that she’s married to Burke, she has everything.

“I planned to take her to the Stillwater Fair and Steeplechase. When we were little, we always dreamed of staying overnight. It seemed like the perfect gift. Who would have dreamed Burke would think of horse racing too? But he did.” Emily shrugged but despite her best efforts, her voice turned wistful. “So now she’s off to the races in England, one box down from the Queen. How can I ever compete with that?”

“It’s not a competition,” Dan said. “Just be there for her. Money, success—none of that is as important as being there.”

Emily grimaced and reached for the wine bottle. ‘Being there’ might be important to Dan, but Jenna and Burke didn’t want her around. They’d added a guesthouse so she wouldn’t be underfoot.

“I just mean,” she said, “that it would be nice to do something for a change. To prove I’m not a complete failure. Anything I’ve accomplished is because Jenna helped me.”

“I doubt that very much,” Dan said.

Emily shrugged. “Well, it feels that way.”

Dan dragged a hand over his jaw and for the first time that evening seemed to be thinking of something else. He picked up his phone, tapped a message then turned his attention back to her.

“What about you?” Emily asked, trying to change the subject. “You’ve already accomplished so much. What do you want?”

“Dependable horses…dependable people. My dad was devastated every time my mother left.” He paused. “Guess I was too.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “We went through a similar thing in our house. I know how much it hurts. Mom should have left him. But Jenna said the song
Stand By Your Man
was written for our mother.”

Dan chuckled, then picked up her hands and gently kissed her reddened palms. “There’s a new cream in the bathroom,” he said. “It worked well on one of the horses. Thought you might give it a try.”

She nodded. Clearly he didn’t want to talk anymore about family foibles but this was good progress. He actually looked relaxed when he mentioned his mother. His face hadn’t turned to granite like it did before.

“That makes six creams and ointments you’ve brought. I’m sure—” Her phone rang. The screen flashed an unfamiliar number. The name was clear though: ‘Reckless Productions.’

“Excuse me for a sec,” she said, grabbing the phone.

She listened while the casting director spoke. But joy leaked out the sides of her mouth and she couldn’t stop grinning at Dan. An offer! Five lines, enough to join the union. She wasn’t background anymore. She’d have a screen credit.

She kept her composure long enough to politely thank the man. Then she leaped from the chair, shooting her fist into the air. “I have lines! The scene is being shot Thursday morning, only two days away.”

She twirled around the kitchen, unable to stand still. Seconds later, she plunked herself back into the chair. “I’m an awful person,” she groaned. “It’s wrong to be this happy on the day Billy died.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re probably the only person who gave that man the time of day.” Dan’s voice flattened. “Besides, you should be celebrating. Those lines will get you in the union. Acting jobs will come much easier now.”

“But I already told you, I don’t want to be an actress. I only want this one movie part.”

“Right.” He rose and scooped his beer off the table. “But you don’t have to decide that tonight. Let’s go to bed.”

Clearly he didn’t believe her, but it didn’t matter. There’d be plenty of time to prove she was happy to work behind the scenes. Not
in
them. Time to prove she was dependable. And it didn’t matter where the next film location was, as long as she was with Dan. In fact, the idea of moving around the country—seeing different places and people—was rather exhilarating.

Maybe after more experience, she could even move from a wrangler’s job and help with the training. Barney was an apt pupil. By next week she hoped to demonstrate he was worth keeping. That is, if Dan had any room on his ranch.

“How big is your place in Montana?” she asked, picking up her glass and following him down the hall.

“Ten sections.”

“You mean ten paddocks?”

He took her left hand and led her into the bedroom. “A section is six hundred and forty acres.”

“That means—” She stopped, unable to fathom that much land. She’d thought Hamilton Stud was huge. And she’d assumed Dan’s family had been financially challenged, like hers. Not land barons. “So you have room for a lot of horses,” she said weakly. “I mean, there’s no reason not to keep an extra one, if you suddenly decided.”

“Yes. But I never take the extras home. Only horses like Bruno and Splash.” He tugged her shirt from the waistband of her jeans, and his hand slid along her bare back. “Shipping is expensive,” he added. “It’s best not to get attached unless you’re certain they’re worth keeping. Everything ends with the movie.”

She suspected he was talking about more than horses, but now he’d unclasped her bra. His knowing hand drifted along the underside of her breast, making her shiver in delight. “Is that why you don’t bother with names?” she managed. “You just call Barney the Reckless lookalike?”

He cupped her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple, and clearly he had other things on his mind. “Maybe,” he said, rescuing the tilting glass of wine from her hand and setting it on the dresser. “Never thought much about it. Seems if I’m not going to keep them, descriptions are best.”

Despite his expert ministrations, a coldness settled in her chest and she couldn’t let it go. “But what about people? Do you even know my last name?”

“That’s different,” he said, but there was a trace of defensiveness in his voice.

“You really don’t know it, do you? Is that because you’re not certain I’m worth keeping?” She tried to keep her voice light, but he must have sensed her hurt.

He cupped her face, his voice thickening. “You’re worth keeping. Nothing I want more. But people want different things. Often they collide. The very worst thing is to see someone you love walking around unhappy.”

She had no idea what he was talking about—she was always happy around Dan. But his eyes had darkened so they looked almost black. His finger stroked her cheek, her mouth, her jaw, as though absorbing every curve of her face. And he stared down at her with such a hungry expression, it made her tremble.

Then he pressed his mouth against her hair, so tightly she could feel the rasp of his stubble. “Don’t ever doubt how I feel, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Seconds later, his hands moved over her with raw urgency, stripping her clothes and carrying her to the bed.

His lovemaking was expert and thorough and as usual left them both convulsing with pleasure. But her final thought before the orgasm rocked her was that he still didn’t care enough to ask her last name.

“Can we read through the lines one more time?” Emily asked, adjusting her sunglasses and scanning the script. “I need to try it with a more serious expression.”

Dan obligingly checked his sheet. Her unbridled enthusiasm was contagious. She’d been bouncing around the set all morning, ever since the script had been delivered. Any regret he had about texting Anthony last night had vanished.

He couldn’t resist using his influence, not after she’d confided about her sister. She’d shrugged off the steeplechase fiasco with her typical casualness, but her disappointment had ripped at him. He understood now why she’d been so desperate for a paying job. Maybe acting really wasn’t that important and this truly was about doing something for Jenna.

He could only hope.

But better she walked away now, rather than later. And the script was a simple one: a replacement groom looking for Tracey and questioning the actor playing Billy. Dan didn’t like that Anthony was exploiting the girls for media purposes, but it was selfish to deprive Emily of this opportunity.

He’d been a little irritated when he discovered she’d be bathing a horse. But naturally Anthony would want Emily displayed in a wet T-shirt. At least he’d be present to make sure she wasn’t shivering too long.