STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery)

by Bev Pettersen

  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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “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.

  But he just stood close, stroking the back of her neck, his fingers unhurried and gentle. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had caressed her without trying to grope beneath her shirt.

  She settled against his chest, not even worrying about her messy hair and the lack of a blow dryer. Maybe his eyesight was faulty but he didn’t seem to care about the usual things. He’d never once criticized her appearance. She breathed a sigh of contentment, her cheek pressed against his soft shirt. She might not smell good but he certainly did, a mixture of leather and spice, power and patience.

  “The trailer has my name on the door,” he said, his breath warm and intimate against her hair. “It’s the one closest to the trees. Key is underneath the bucket by the window. My meeting should be over by nine.” His voice turned teasing. “Maybe you should have another nap and rest up.”

  She glanced up, slightly chagrined. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

  “You’re coming off a fever. And you haven’t been eating. I’ll send someone over to do the stalls.”

  “No, I’ll do them,” she said. And she wanted to check Barney’s breathing and practice some tricks. She’d also like to watch Dan work with his horses and hoped to pick up some training tips. There’d still be plenty of time to visit Maggie in the wardrobe tent before it closed. Surely she could scrounge up some sexier undergarments.

  But Dan picked up her hand and lightly traced her blistered palms. “Those two horses aren’t your responsibility any longer. Neither is lugging hay. I’ll help you with them at suppertime. Your skin must be delicate.”

  She stiffened at his implied criticism. Maybe she wasn’t as tough as his wranglers, but there had been a lot of bales to carry and the wire-like twine stung. However, she gave a breezy smile and waved her fingers. “Even worse, I wrecked my nails. There goes that Dove commercial.”

  He stepped back, his eyes gentle, as if he saw past her flippancy. “Take it easy the rest of the time you’re here. There’s no need to break any more nails.” He paused. “And there’s no need to do anything you don’t want to do. You understand that, right?” His meaning was unmistakable.

  She rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. “See you tonight,” she said.

  *

  Emily bounced along the drive with half the food Dan had brought cradled in her hands. There was enough to share and Billy could use the nutrition. The caretaker would be disappointed there weren’t any doughnuts, but she could drop some off later, after she visited the wardrobe tent. Maybe he’d enjoy the soup if he wasn’t distracted by dessert.

  The chicken soup wasn’t the best she ever had, but she certainly appreciated Dan’s thoughtfulness. Dan. She gave a little skip, her entire body vibrating with joy. He was like no man she’d ever known. Smart, hot and sexy. Tough enough to keep her in line but kind at the important times. He could have his pick of women. Yet he’d chosen her.

  There was still a month of filming so they’d be able to enjoy each other’s company. Who knew where this new development might lead. He didn’t want her working at the stud barn but there
was always plenty to do. She might even learn some of his training methods and help turn Barney into a star. The horse might never jump into a pool, but he was plenty obliging.

  Her stride quickened as she rounded the corner. The spring sun was pleasantly warm, and robins chirped with renewed optimism. It didn’t matter now that freckles dotted her nose and she lacked even a speck of makeup. She must not look too hideous if someone as wonderful as Dan liked her.

  Everyone said he wasn’t the tomcat type so giving his trailer key was significant. Of course he hadn’t actually given her a key, but at least he’d told her where it was hidden. Almost the same thing.

  Movement flashed on the side of the drive. Billy. And he was walking past the gate. Strange he hadn’t opened it. Maybe he was feeling a little weak.

  “Hi, Billy,” she called. “Do you need help with the gate?”

  He turned, his forehead wrinkling. “I’m not sure,” he mumbled.

  “I can help you. That gate’s awkward.” She placed the container of soup and crackers on the ground and hurried to his side.

  “But should I open it now?” Billy asked, his voice so plaintive it tugged at her heart. “I can’t remember what Mr. Hamilton wants.”

  “He wants it open in the day and closed when it’s dark,” Emily said. “We can open it now if you like.”

  “Yes, it’s important that I do my job right. Whatever he says.” Billy’s watery eyes gleamed. “But sometimes I get a little mixed up. I’m glad you came, Tracey.”

  “My name’s Emily.”

  He jerked back, eyeing her oddly. “I know that,” he said. “Tracey’s gone.”

  Emily shrugged, deciding it was best to humor him. And if he wanted to call her Tracey, that was quite all right. She swung the gate back then gestured at the container. “I brought some chicken soup.”

  “Did you bring any doughnuts? That’s all I want.”

  She sighed and picked up the soup. There was no way he was eating properly. Not unless someone dropped by and organized his meals. But she’d seen no sign of any domestic help.

  She was in a hurry to reach the wardrobe tent, but it was impossible to walk away from someone in such need. He probably wouldn’t eat the soup without encouragement.

  “Let’s go inside and you can eat,” she said brightly. “Later this afternoon, I’ll bring you a doughnut.”

  “I want a doughnut now,” he grumbled. But he tugged up the waistband of his baggy pants, turned and shuffled toward the cottage.

  A gray cat darted from the trees and across the walkway.

  “Hey, buddy,” she called, recognizing the feline friend who’d kept her company that first cold night. But Billy pushed past her, swinging his cane with surprising agility. The cat dodged to the left, avoiding his lethal blow, and Billy’s cane smashed harmlessly into the dirt.

  “Billy!” Emily stared in dismay as the cat streaked into the trees. “That’s cruel. Don’t you like cats?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I like.” Billy scowled and pushed open the cottage door. “There were too many so Mr. Hamilton asked me to get rid of them. Nasty job, but I have to follow orders.”

  Emily pulled in a deep breath, trying to control her annoyance. Billy was rather nasty himself. Probably there was a good reason why he didn’t have any visitors.

  She checked over her shoulder for the poor cat, then followed him inside, warily watching his cane. The stench wasn’t any better today and she left the door open, breathing through her mouth and praying for a breeze.

  There was one main room, serving as a kitchen and living room with two more doors down the hall. But all she could see was a dump. Piles of muddy boots and clothing littered the floor, and dirty dishes crammed the sink and counter. An ancient television sat in the corner, the gray screen thick with dust. Columns of faded magazines teetered in mildewed stacks. It required supreme effort not to plug her nose.

  Billy plunked down in the only available chair. “I don’t get many visitors. I suppose you’ll want tea.”

  “No, that’s okay,” she said hastily. “I’ll just heat up this soup. You sit and relax.”

  Shuddering, she rolled up her sleeves. It was going to take a bit of cleaning before she could even find a useable pot and bowl. There was no microwave or any clean dishes in the cupboards. Even if he had food, there was no space to prepare it.

  She peeked into his fridge, then quickly slammed it shut, repulsed by the mold-encrusted food. Someone needed to clean this place, and urgently.

  “Do you have any family, Billy?” she asked, restacking the dishes so she could fill the sink with hot water.

  “The Hamiltons. They’re my family.”

  “Do you have any children?” She peered beneath the sink, relieved to find a selection of cleaning products. Thick dust around the sides confirmed they hadn’t been used in years.

  His irritable grunt was accompanied by a headshake so she silenced, relieved that at least he’d agreed to eat the soup. She cleaned a pot and some dishes, then struggled with the gas stove until the soup was safely heating. She dried the dishes with paper towel, the only thing that looked clean, then glanced dubiously around the room. It needed a thorough scrubbing, although the lemon smell of dish soap had somewhat improved the air.

  She wanted to spend time with Dan, not this grumpy old man who had tried to kill a cat, but it was impossible to leave him in such a mess. Her family hadn’t had much money, but she and Jenna always kept their trailer sparkling clean.

  Billy’s cottage would have to be decluttered before it was washed—it looked like he hadn’t thrown anything away in decades. Broken bottles and yellowed newspapers covered every inch of space. One headline proclaimed a showdown between Sunday Silence and Easy Goer. When were those horses running anyway? Late eighties?

  She tripped over a cardboard box bulging with cassette tapes and VCR recordings and pushed it further beneath the table, clearing another few inches of floor space. It was amazing that Billy hadn’t fallen and cracked open his head.

  “Would you like me to come back tomorrow and clean your house a bit?” she asked, half-expecting him to refuse.

  But he just waved his spoon in an authoritative gesture, seemingly unaware of the soup splattering his shirt. “Bring doughnuts when you come,” he said.

  *

  Emily stepped over a maze of wires and into the wardrobe tent, relieved it was still open. She hadn’t intended to stay at Billy’s for three hours, but she’d already made considerable progress cleaning his kitchen.

  He hadn’t objected to discarding the old newspapers as long as there wasn’t a horse pictured on the front. But he’d whacked her arm with his cane when she tried to move the empty beer bottles. It was probably best to sneak them out when he wasn’t watching. Tomorrow, she’d find some way to distract him.

  There were several people in the tent, but luckily the ever-helpful Maggie was working. Emily waited behind two men who were returning shirts and sports jackets, then stepped forward.

  “Are you turning in any clothes today?” Maggie asked. “I don’t remember seeing you this morning. How’s it going?”

  Emily thought of Dan and couldn’t contain her happy smile. “Everything is super,” she said. “But I need some personal stuff. Like a razor, soap and nicer undergarments.”

  Maggie shook her head. “Can’t help you. And I already said we only have the hospital issue stuff.”

  Emily’s smile faded. She leaned forward, gripping the counter. “Please. You must have something. I met someone…very special.”

  “Sorry.” Maggie chuckled, but not unkindly. “Besides, do you really think a guy is going to care?”

  “But this one is used to the best. Please.” Emily’s voice rose. “There must be something. I’m desperate.”

  Steps sounded behind them and Maggie’s eyes flickered. Emily’s shoulders slumped with resignation. “Okay. But do you at least have a jacket so I can stay warm?”

  “The weather’s supposed t
o turn nice tomorrow,” Maggie whispered, “so take these shirts too.” She pushed over a coral jacket and two T-shirts. Her voice turned loud and officious. “Be sure to turn them in after your scene.”

  Emily checked over her shoulder. Mrs. Hamilton and a frowning lady with headphones stood less than four feet away.

  “Yes, thanks,” Emily said, picking up the clothes. She nodded a greeting to Mrs. Hamilton and trudged toward the door. The shirts were pretty, with lovely scooped necks, although they didn’t help with the more immediate problem of cleaning up for tonight.

  “Excuse me.”

  Emily swung around. Mrs. Hamilton gestured to a side door. “Follow me. My car’s in the back.” She smiled over her shoulder. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

  They stepped outside and into the bright sunshine. Her gleaming silver Lincoln was parked by the side of the tent. Mrs. Hamilton clicked a remote and the trunk silently opened.

  “We fly so much,” Mrs. Hamilton said, “that I always keep a travel bag ready. It sounds like that’s exactly what you need.”

  She pulled out a soft leather bag from the cavernous trunk and pressed it into Emily’s hands. “Take it. It’s loaded with feminine necessities.”

  Emily stared, stunned and so grateful she could barely speak. “Thank you so much. I’ll return it—”

  “Keep it.” Mrs. Hamilton gave an airy wave of her hand. “I have three other bags like this, packed and ready to go. My husband says I plan too much, but a lady always has to look her best. Especially when it takes longer each year to look presentable.”

  A warm glow filled Emily’s chest. This lady was not only beautiful, but gracious and kind. Obviously she was unaware of Billy’s living conditions. There must be a tactful way to mention the caretaker. However, Mrs. Hamilton had already slipped into her spotless car and pressed the ignition.

  Emily stepped back, clasping the bag to her chest. She’d find another chance to broach the subject. It was clear Mrs. Hamilton was generous and would want to help. In fact, almost everyone involved with this movie was incredibly kind, almost like an extended family. It made her never want to leave.