by Anne Fraser
‘What about your folks?’
His expression darkened.
‘My father was in the army too. A colonel. He’s retired. He works his ranch full time now.’
‘Is that how you learned to ride?’
‘Yes. I grew up with horses. My folks have always had the ranch.’
There was more to all of this than he was telling her. She was sure of it.
‘And you? What about your family?’ He turned the conversation back to her.
Elizabeth winced inwardly. Once she’d had a family—a husband and child. Now all she had left was her father.
‘My mother died when I was sixteen. My father’s pretty frail now. He lives in Canada, although he’s American. From the East Coast. That’s how come I can work here.’
‘Do you see him?’
The last time she had seen her father had been at Charlie’s funeral.
‘Apart from one brief visit he made to the UK a few months ago, I haven’t really seen him for a couple of years.’ She hadn’t been able to. Taking Charlie out of the country and away from her medical team had always been out of the question. ‘But I’m hoping to see him when I finish here.’
‘And then? Will you stay in the US or go back to England?’
Elizabeth sucked in a breath. ‘I haven’t thought that far.’
He was looking at her as if he wanted to know more. She jumped to her feet to avoid further questions.
‘Shall we go?’
He said nothing as he packed away the water again. Not wanting to feel his hands on her again, Elizabeth slipped her foot into the stirrup and tried to mount. But the stirrup was too high for her to gain the necessary momentum to swing her leg across Buster’s back. When she hit the ground, landing on her backside, she knew she should have waited for help. But she was used to relying on herself. Whatever Kendrick thought, she was no little lady needing some big strong man to protect her.
Kendrick helped her to her feet with a broad grin on his face.
‘That didn’t go too well, did it?’ he teased. ‘You should have waited for me to give you a leg up.’
Elizabeth dusted herself off and glared at him. Then she saw the funny side of it and laughed. She’d forgotten how good it felt.
This time, with Kendrick’s help, she mounted without further mishap.
They cantered for a while before slowing to a walk again.
‘The canyon is over there.’ Kendrick pointed with a finger.
Just then Buster reared. It was so unexpected Elizabeth shrieked and dropped the reins. When Buster took off at a gallop, all Elizabeth could do was dig her hands into his mane and hold on for dear life.
‘Whoa,’ she shouted in the horse’s ear, but it had no effect. Buster was making straight for the canyon.
Terrified, Elizabeth was only dimly aware of Kendrick shouting something at her. Probably telling her to pull on the reins. But there was no way she could let go of Buster’s mane long enough to try and pick them up. If she did, there was no doubt in her mind that she would crash to the ground.
Suddenly Kendrick was cantering beside her. He pulled his horse close to Buster, reached over and with one arm pulled her off the bolting horse. It wasn’t an elegant manoeuvre—Elizabeth was slung over his saddle like a sack of potatoes—but at least she was no longer being taken towards what she thought would be certain death.
Kendrick pulled his horse to a stop and let Elizabeth drop to the ground.
‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘I need to get your horse.’
Buster, without her hanging on his neck and screaming in his ear, slowed to a canter and Kendrick took off after him. The horse was still heading for the edge of the canyon. Elizabeth didn’t know how steep the drop was but it looked as if the horse was heading for certain death. Had she been on his back still, he’d be taking her with him. Did Kendrick know what he was doing? What if the panicked horse pulled him off his mount?
Her heart in her mouth, she watched as Kendrick got alongside Buster again and, leaning forward, almost completely out of the saddle, grasped the reins and pulled both horses away from the cliff edge. Another moment or two and they would have gone over.
When Kendrick trotted back with Buster, who was still rolling his eyes, Elizabeth’s legs gave way and she sank to her knees.
‘I thought you said he was well behaved,’ she cried. ‘Like a lamb, you said!’
‘Didn’t you see the snake?’ Kendrick asked. ‘The only thing this horse hates worse than tumbleweed is snakes.’
‘Now you tell me.’
Kendrick leaped off his horse and came to kneel next to her.
‘Are you okay? Sorry I had to kind of dump you back there, but I couldn’t risk Buster going over the cliff.’
‘I’ll live. I guess.’
‘C’mon, then. We should get back. It’ll be dark soon. Are you okay riding Buster or would you prefer to ride with me?’
If he thought for one second that she was going to get back on Buster he had another think coming. What if there was another snake or, God forbid, a ball of tumbleweed? On the other hand, she didn’t want to be so close to Kendrick either.
‘Maybe I should walk.’
‘Walk? It’ll take hours.’
Elizabeth rubbed her backside. Boy, she was going to be stiff tomorrow. ‘I think I’d rather walk than get on that horse again. What if there is another snake? There’s no way I’m going to go through that again.’ She eyed Kendrick suspiciously. ‘Are you sure you didn’t make him go off? Just to see me make an idiot of myself?’
‘Hey, would I do something like that?’ Kendrick feigned a hurt look then his face grew serious. ‘I wouldn’t do that. If you’d fallen you could have really hurt yourself. We need you in one piece. Philip would never have forgiven me if I didn’t bring you back safe.’
Elizabeth looked into the distance. The plains stretched as far as the eye could see. Kendrick was right. It would take hours to walk back to the set.
‘Okay, Buster, seems you and I are going to have to make this work,’ she said into the horse’s ear. ‘Just promise me that if you spot any more snakes you’ll stay calm.’
Grabbing the pommel of the saddle, she heaved herself up, relieved to find that this time she managed to make it without landing on her backside.
After giving Buster a pat, as much to reassure herself as him, she picked up the reins.
‘Okay,’ she said, pleased that her voice betrayed no hint of her nervousness, ‘what are we waiting for?’
They made their way back to the camp at a more sedate pace and with Kendrick taking up the rear this time. As he watched Elizabeth adopt the British way of trotting, he smiled to himself. Had she any idea how cute her bottom was in her tight-fitting jeans? And that wasn’t all that he liked about her. He was impressed by the gutsy way she’d insisted on getting back on Buster and riding back to the camp. Most women he knew would have refused point blank.
He was beginning to realise that there was more to Dr Elizabeth Morgan than he’d originally thought, and he was looking forward to finding out more.
CHAPTER FOUR
AS SHE’D anticipated, Elizabeth was so stiff the next morning she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. If only there had been a bath somewhere on set she could have soaked her aching muscles last night and perhaps she wouldn’t be feeling like this.
She hobbled over to the mess tent, trying her best to pretend that she wasn’t in agony.
But she obviously failed miserably. Kendrick spotted her over the heads of the others and grinned. She scowled at him.
She helped herself to scrambled eggs and toast and found an empty seat close to where the breakfast buffet was laid out for everyone to help themselves.
She winced as her bottom hit the chair. Would she ever be able to sit down again without grimacing? Right now it didn’t seem possible.
‘Feeling a little stiff?’ A familiar deep voice came from her left.
Elizabeth looked up
to find Kendrick smiling down at her, his eyes glinting with suppressed laughter.
‘I could give you a rubdown later, if you like. It always works for the horses.’
‘Very funny and, no, thanks, I’ll pass on the rubdown.’ Before she could help herself an image of Kendrick’s hands kneading her aching muscles flashed into her head and heat rose to her cheeks.
‘Don’t you have some stunt to do?’ She waved her fork in the general direction of outside. If only he’d leave her alone, she might be able to relax a little. Whenever he was around, she felt on edge, as if her body didn’t belong to her.
‘I do, as it happens. Doing a fight scene with Josh. And then I need to set up Imogen’s scene. She has to pretend to fall down the stairs.’
‘In that case,’ Elizabeth said, ‘I’ll see you on set.’
The man clearly didn’t recognise dismissal when he heard it as he sat down next to her and stretched his long legs in front of him.
‘No rush. We have an hour or two to go. Plenty of time.’
Elizabeth stabbed at the food on her plate with her fork. She hated the way he made her feel hot and bothered. In that moment she realised that at least she felt something, apart from grief and a numbness. These last months she had gone through the days on a kind of autopilot.
She didn’t know if she wanted the numbness to go away. She didn’t want to feel. Feeling was too hard. Charlie’s death was like a wound. A wound she needed to leave alone. She had wrapped her heart in ice and she wanted it to stay that way. Thinking about Charlie, her appetite disappeared and she pushed her plate away.
‘I have to open the clinic in fifteen minutes,’ she said. ‘So don’t feel you have to keep me company.’
He was looking at her through slitted eyes, as if trying to work her out. Good luck to him. She could hardly work herself out.
‘Are you always this grouchy in the morning?’ he said eventually. ‘I’ll have to remember that.’
He grinned again and before she had a chance to think of a retort he jumped up and, catching sight of Imogen, excused himself with a brief word of apology.
Elizabeth found herself following his progress as he walked across the room. Despite his size he reminded her of a cat the way he moved. A panther stalking its prey, creeping up when least expected. He was as dangerous as a wild cat too. Men like Kendrick used women. He would pursue them until they gave in then he would leave them. She knew it with absolute certainty.
She stood too, and dumping her tray on the counter walked as briskly as her tortured muscles would let her towards her medical trailer. Work. That was what she needed. Something to keep her busy and stop her from thinking.
‘Okay, everyone,’ Philip called from his position high above one of the mobile cameras, ‘take your positions, please. Let’s roll.’
Elizabeth settled in one of the camp chairs close by. She had finished her clinic. As usual there had been little for her to do except dole out some antibiotics and painkillers. This job was fine for the time being but once she was finished here she’d have to think seriously about which direction she wanted her career to go in. If she was honest, she missed the rush of emergency medicine. She also knew that she had been in no state to go back to that speciality straight after Charlie’s death. At least now she was beginning to think about the future.
She turned her attention to what was happening on set.
Kendrick was made up to look like Jack while Josh was dressed to look like one of the baddies, and some of the other crew members had been drafted in as extras. Imogen was wearing a red wig to make her look like Tara.
The fight was taking place inside the mock-up of one of the buildings and everyone moved inside. The set had been made to look like a restaurant. Elizabeth had been given the script by one of the assistants and she found the scene. Apparently the hero—or Kendrick, in this instance—was to be set on by ten or so villains. He would fight his way out of trouble with his fists and in the middle there was a bit where he would leap from the balcony onto the shoulders of one of the baddies—in this case Josh—before ending up victorious.
Or so it was scripted.
A pile of cardboard boxes was being piled up at the foot of the balcony by Kendrick’s team. He would have to fall just right so he didn’t hurt himself.
The fight was so realistic that Elizabeth found herself sucking in a breath every time Kendrick took a blow.
At one point Kendrick jumped over the balcony and onto Josh’s back. The next moment he and Josh were rolling around on the floor as if they were genuinely involved in a fight to the death. When Josh’s fist actually connected with Kendrick’s jaw, Elizabeth winced. That had to have hurt.
‘Cut. Okay, folks, that’s a wrap,’ Philip called. ‘Good job, everyone.’
Kendrick helped Josh to his feet. Elizabeth noticed a cut on Kendrick’s forehead that was bleeding badly. She was on her feet in an instant, stopping only to reach for her medical bag.
‘You’re hurt. Let me take a look,’ she said.
Kendrick reached a hand towards his head and seemed surprised when it came away sticky with blood. ‘Hey, Josh, did you do this?’ he said. ‘I thought I’d trained you better.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Josh retorted. ‘If I’d connected with you, you would have known all about it. You must have hit your head on something.’
‘It doesn’t matter how you got it,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I need to clean you up.’
She slipped on a pair of sterile gloves. ‘Come and sit down under the light so I can see it better.’
With a wink at Josh, Kendrick let himself be led over to a chair. Elizabeth angled the light so she could see better. Thankfully the wound wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. There was also a bruise coming up on Kendrick’s cheekbone.
‘I’ll clean the cut and apply some Steri-strips. I’ve got some arnica in my bag that I can put on the bruise. That should help.’
Kendrick leaned back in his chair and as Elizabeth bent to clean his head wound she was uncomfortably aware of his breath on her neck. She hoped to hell he wouldn’t notice it was giving her goose-bumps.
‘Take your time, Doc,’ Kendrick drawled.
Kendrick leaned back, enjoying the feel of her cool fingers on his head. Normally he’d have cleaned it up himself and just stuck a sticky plaster on but he was enjoying this way too much to want to stop Elizabeth from doing whatever she was doing. The touch of her fingers made his gut clench.
Her perfume drifted across, intoxicating him, and when she bent over he could see the swell of her breasts just above the open button of her shirt.
What he wouldn’t do to feel that soft, pale skin under his fingertips. To thread his hands through her thick hair, to take away that guarded expression from her eyes.
And he would. It was only a matter of time.
She had finished applying the makeshift stitches to his forehead and was pressing lightly on his bruised cheek.
He swallowed a groan.
Before he could stop himself he took her hand and held it away from his face.
‘If you carry on doing that, I won’t be responsible for my actions,’ he growled. ‘I’m only human.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she replied, but not before he saw the answering spark in her eyes. Perhaps the ice maiden was starting to thaw. Maybe on the next stunt he could really hurt himself. He was damned if he didn’t want to see the look of concern in her eyes again.
CHAPTER FIVE
IN THE end the decision whether to go to Los Angeles was taken out of Elizabeth’s hands when Philip announced late on Thursday evening that he’d decided to film a scene in the city.
The cast and crew drove down in convoy, leaving when it was still dark the next morning. Kendrick had offered to take Elizabeth on his motorbike, but she had refused politely. The thought of spending a couple of hours with her arms wrapped around his waist was unnerving. He hadn’t said anything but his mocking eyes had suggested he knew ex
actly why she’d opted to travel with the crew.
They drove into LA and along Sunset Boulevard, with its giant boards advertising the latest movies, just as it was getting light.
The next part of the filming would take place in a studio on the outskirts of the city.
The stunt for the interior scene didn’t involve Kendrick. The female stuntwoman, Imogen, who was doubling for Tara, had to fall down a flight of steps. Elizabeth thought they would use all sorts of equipment to mimic the fall and was surprised when Imogen stood at the top of the stairs dressed as Tara’s character without any pulleys, wires or padding. Imogen was wearing the red wig again and from where Elizabeth was standing looked pretty much like the star. Kendrick had explained that while they tried to get doubles for the stunt that were close in appearance to the stars, make-up and wigs usually had to be added.
‘It’s not as if the camera gets a close-up of the doubles,’ he’d said. ‘We learn to keep our faces away from the camera. The success of the stunt depends on the audience believing that it really is the actor.’
Kendrick and Imogen had spent the last half an hour with Philip, discussing what the stuntwoman would do and where the cameras should be positioned in order to get the best shot.
‘Okay, we’re hot.’
‘Everyone get clear.’
On command, Imogen pretended to fall down the stairs. She tumbled down, making no attempt to shield herself as her body bounced from wall to wall.
Elizabeth was shocked. She could break her neck. And as Imogen lay at the bottom of the steps, not moving, she thought her worst fears had been realised and started to move towards her. Forget Philip and his insistence she stay out of the shot until he gave the all-clear. She was here to make sure her charges stayed alive and no director, no matter how much of a Hollywood big shot he might be, was going to make her do otherwise.
But even as she was running towards Imogen, Philip was calling ‘Cut’ and the stuntwoman was getting into a sitting position, rubbing her wrist.
Before Elizabeth could reach her, Kendrick had got there first and was talking to his colleague.
