Peabody dropped his arms and lifted his head. Zeni realized suddenly that she was doing something right. She wasn’t quite sure what, but decided to go with it.
“There is no freedom in my palace except that which I ordain,” she declared at her most quietly arrogant. “Go. Leave me immediately.”
“Damned if I will,” Trey said, an unholy silver light appearing in the gray of his eyes as he played up to her.
“I’ll have you arrested!”
“You and what army? I don’t see one behind you, Queenie baby.”
She narrowed her eyes at that deliberate provocation. Trey knew very well that she hated being called baby or any variation on the term.
“I have only to call, and they will appear.”
“Fine. Do it. But it’s my dream. Are you sure they’ll come?”
“As sure as I am that you’re a dead man,” she declared, drawing herself up in the way Trey had approved there at his old house.
The sharp crack of hands starting to clap stopped them.
“Excellent,” Peabody called out hard on the sound, moving toward them into the light. “That was excellent. I believe we have our Zenobia.”
Relief flooded through Zeni so fast and strong that her smile in his direction was warm and unguarded. “It was really okay?”
“Indeed it was. I hope you are as pleased as I am, darling Zeni.”
Her smile faded as he moved in close beside her. Was she pleased? It was hard to say. Success was better than failing, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of enduring all this critical attention again when it was for real.
She turned her gaze to Trey almost without thinking. He gave her a thumbs-up, but made no effort to join her in the limelight. A second later his attention was deflected as Granny Chauvin walked up beside him, circling his waist in a quick hug as she said something about being glad that he answered her call.
“Who is your friend?” Peabody asked, some of the warmth draining from his voice.
“My boss, Trey Benedict. You met him at the coffee shop, I believe.”
“So I did. I’ve also met the Benedict who is the sheriff and the one who owns Windwood Plantation where we’ll be shooting a couple of scenes.”
She gave a quick nod. “Benedict cousins, all three of them, Mr. Peabody. And if you should need a derelict plantation house, Trey has one of those. Oh, and the older lady is Miss Myrtle Chauvin, who knows everybody who is anybody in Chamelot, and is related to most of them.”
“Derek, please, since we’ll be working together.”
Her smile was brief. “Derek, then.”
“And now I believe I should get closer acquainted with your supporters here.”
The actor put his hand to the small of Zeni’s back as he moved forward at a languid pace. It made Zeni a little uncomfortable for some reason, but she walked the few steps at his side. Her thoughts were on how Trey might take this cozy approach.
She was given no time to explain. Derek gave Granny a slight bow. “Miss Chauvin, a very great pleasure.” Turning, he put out his hand in direct contrast to how he’d acted the first time he and Trey met. “Nice to see you again, Benedict. I believe your arrival just now was timely for Zeni’s test.”
“I doubt she needed me.” Trey’s gaze was level and more than a little assessing as he completed the handshake.
Granny Chauvin flicked his arm with the backs of her fingers. “Of course she did. Our Zeni having so much practice at putting you in your place, it was only natural for her to give you what for!”
“Natural indeed.” Derek’s smile was thin. “That being the case, Benedict, I wonder if I might interest you in the part of a palace guard in this scene. It won’t be a speaking role, understand. You merely enter at Queen Zenobia’s call, looking grim and protective, and then stand behind her for the duration.”
“Oh, I don’t think—” Zeni began as she saw the hardening of Trey’s jaw muscles, a sure sign of his annoyance.
“I love it,” Granny declared. “Trey’s good at that look.”
Derek slanted Zeni a glance shaded with intimacy. “If you don’t want him at your back, that’s the end of it, of course.”
“It isn’t that.”
“She would never even think such a thing, much less say it.” Granny snorted, looking at Derek with disfavor.
“The part suits me fine,” Trey said in abrupt, deep-voiced acceptance.
Zeni swung her head sharply to stare at him. “It does?”
“What? You thought you were the only actor in this town?” He actually grinned at her.
“No, but—”
“Hey, there’s me, too,” Granny chimed in.
“Besides,” Trey went on, “I did agree to help you with this thing any way I can.”
Zeni met his gray gaze, her own inquiring as she tried to decide why he’d accepted Derek’s offer. It wasn’t like him, not by a long shot. She’d have sworn he’d run a mile from a movie set, that he’d have no use for the smallest sliver of Hollywood glory.
He was up to something; she could feel it in her bones.
She just didn’t know what.
Chapter 6
Trey didn’t like anything about this movie deal. The way Peabody had latched onto Zeni set his teeth on edge, and he was especially unhappy with how the man kept putting his hand on her as they talked and the hint of lewd anticipation in his expensive capped-teeth smile. Movie people might call each other dear and darling, but it didn’t sound at all right applied to Zeni, not when she wouldn’t even let him call her baby.
So he was a dog in the manger, so what? He didn’t intend to stand back and do nothing while some smooth-talking son of a gun used Zeni for recreational sex while he was in Chamelot. He’d heard about these guys with their casting couches, their sense of entitlement and power that made any female who came into their orbit fair game.
Not Zeni, not if he could help it. He was blocking that, one way or another. Yeah, and whether she liked it or not.
Trey held her gaze for a long second, seeing the doubt about his decision there, also the suspicion. It didn’t matter. She might figure out what he was doing—and probably would, as she was smarter than average—but there wasn’t much she could do about it. At least, he hoped there wasn’t.
“You about done here?” he asked. “I can give you a lift back to the coffee shop.”
It was Peabody who answered for her. “It will be a while before she’s ready. There’s paperwork to be filled out.”
“For all of us, I expect.”
That comment came from Granny, trying to help him out, bless her sweet old heart.
“Afterward, then,” he said with finality, and sent a look Peabody’s way that he’d have to be a fool not to interpret.
Of course, there was no saying the guy wouldn’t turn out to be the king of fools.
“Yes, well, you and our new palace guard will need to see the receptionist in the main building, Miss Chauvin. I’ll take care of Zeni.”
He’d just bet he would, Trey thought. Something hot and hard settled in his chest as he saw Peabody wrap his fingers around her upper arm. “No hurry to make this gig official for me,” he drawled. “I’ll just tag along wherever she’s going.”
“I thought I made it clear your paperwork will be elsewhere.”
“I’m in no hurry. Waiting on that until everything’s settled for Zeni isn’t a problem.” The actor’s grip on Zeni’s arm must have tightened. Trey watched with secret amusement as she freed it with a sudden twist, giving Peabody one of her looks so freezing that it should have come with an overcoat.
“I’m not sure I understand the concern. It’s just a matter of a few forms to be filled out.”
The irritation and condescension in Peabody’s voice set Trey’s stubbornness in concrete. “Then you shouldn’t mind me tagging along.”
“Or me,” Granny said, a frown adding to the network of fine lines in her face. “I’m in no hurry, either.”
“It’s not her that I don’t trust,” Trey said evenly.
“That’s an unwarranted insult. And I fail to see why you would make it when none of this is your business.”
Trey wanted to punch him. He did the next best thing. “And I fail to see why you’re so set on taking my bride-to-be somewhere without me.”
The actor reared back. “Bride?”
“Bride.” Granny breathed that pertinent word as if awestruck.
“That’s right.”
Trey refused to look at Zeni for fear of what he might see. Still he reached to take her hand, drawing her to his side. She came without resistance, though he wasn’t sure it was because she appreciated the rescue or that she was shocked out of her wits.
“I didn’t realize.” The words had a petulant sound, as if Peabody felt he’d been wronged in some way.
“Obviously not.” Trey tucked Zeni’s hand over his arm and covered it with his own. “If you want to rethink the casting for the dream sequence—”
“No, that won’t be necessary.” Peabody gave a dismissive wave of one hand so his manicured and polished nails flashed in the dim light. “Zeni will be the perfect Zenobia, and I can see you will be a definite asset as her protector.”
Trey wondered briefly if he’d misjudged the man. He’d taken him for the kind who would retaliate for the interference with his plans and, especially, the slight to his ego. The most obvious revenge would have been to rob Zeni of her role in hope she’d take her disappointment out on her supposed husband-to-be. Did the fact that Peabody was keeping them both on mean he was a good guy?
No. No way in hell; the hard look in Peabody’s eyes told him that much. What did it mean, then, that he was holding his fire?
It meant he hadn’t given up, of course. He not only had designs on Zeni, still, but enticing her away from a fiancé would be even greater sport for him.
The man would be content with seeing that she paid later for any damage to his ego.
Yet Peabody was overlooking an important aspect of this arrangement, as Trey saw with no difficulty whatever. It could be a major impediment to whatever plan he might hatch, one he’d meet head-on if he wasn’t careful.
That problem was Zeni, herself. She was clear-eyed, hard to fool, and had no patience with idiots.
Trey could almost feel for the guy. He saved his compassion for himself, however, since he knew he’d have to face her over this business sooner or later.
As it happened, he didn’t have long to wait. She jumped him as soon as their paperwork was finished and they’d waved Granny Chauvin out of the fairgrounds parking lot.
“What was that bride-to-be business about back there?” she demanded as they stood on either side of his bike. “Have you lost it?”
“Now, don’t get all excited—”
“I’m not excited yet, believe me. I just want to know what you thought you were doing.”
She looked so different, softer and more accessible, as she stood there in her white, gray and black outfit, her hair drifting around her shoulders while the slanting autumn sun picked out rich auburn highlights among the warm brown strands. It was an illusion, and he’d best not forget it.
Reaching for his helmet, he tucked it under his arm before handing her the extra he always carried. It made a fine excuse for not meeting her hot gaze. “Protecting you.”
“Protecting me.”
“That joker seemed determined to take you away somewhere for who knows what—I thought you might not go for it.”
Zeni was staring at him as if she’d never seen him before. Trey knew he’d put his foot in it, but saw no reason to back-track now. “I know you’re a big girl, and all that, but I wouldn’t trust Peabody as far as I could throw him. He’s the kind who takes it for granted every woman is willing to give it up to him.”
“And you know this how?”
“I recognize the type. And I’m a guy.”
He straddled his Harley, which put them practically nose to nose. Big mistake. His brain went a little haywire at being that close. She still wore her exaggerated screen makeup that made her look amazing. He’d checked out her mouth about a hundred times since he’d walked into the building where she’d been doing that double-damned screen test. It made his mouth water with the need to see if it tasted as delicious as it looked.
“You’re a guy,” she repeated, her eyes black-coffee hot. “Does that mean you make a habit of enticing women out to your old mansion? Oh, wait, maybe it does. I was there, after all.”
“Nothing happened, which should prove something.” He could feel the burn at the back of his neck at the thought of what could have taken place out there in that sad old house with no one around for miles.
“It doesn’t, not at all, since we’ve never been anything more than employer and employee. Until now.”
“And friends,” he said at his most mulish.
She blinked a little at that, but didn’t back down. “You do realize, don’t you, that news of this backhanded proposal of yours will be all over town before lunch time?”
“It wasn’t a proposal, backhanded or otherwise.”
“Whatever.” She waved her dismissal of that lame comment. “I love Granny Chauvin, really I do, but you know how she likes being in the middle of things. I’ll bet you anything she’ll be on her phone to Lance and Beau before we get back to the coffee shop.”
“No more bets,” he said in firm tones as he took out his own cell. “I’ll just explain how it was.”
Exasperation thinned those delectable lips. “She knows how it was, since she was there. But you Benedict men are her favorite people. She loves calling you her Louisiana Knights and telling how you got the name. She won’t be able to resist turning this into your downfall.”
“Downfall? What downfall? I’ve never claimed to be against marriage.”
“Some kind of secret engagement that she saw exposed, then. You know what I mean.”
He did, and she was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Granny was a little hung up on the Knights idea. An old-fashioned romantic at heart, she was sentimental about the story of three girls who, some thirty odd years before, had all been friends, all experienced participants in the annual medieval fair, all pregnant at the same time. They’d made a pact to name their babies for ancient knights if they turned out to be boys, and so they had. Sheriff Lance Benedict was legally Lancelot, Beau carried a double whammy of names, Galahad Beauregard, and he, himself, had become Tristan, which his older sister’s childhood lisp had turned into Trey. Granny liked to say the fighting they had to do to survive the monikers had made them the men they’d become. Some days, he thought she was right.
“Granny will understand,” he insisted. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Lovely. That will help so much in dealing with Derek,” she returned without missing a beat.
“Derek?” The word sounded pained, but he couldn’t help it.
“Yes, Derek. He suggested a first name basis since we’ll be working closely together.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“And so will you. Be working with him, I mean,” she went on in exasperation. “I don’t know which surprised me more, that he offered the part or that you accepted it.”
He looked down his nose at her. “I had to keep an eye on you, didn’t I?”
“Oh, please.” She didn’t quite give him an eye-roll, but it was a close thing.
“Besides, half the town has been tapped for the movie. Why should I miss out on the fun?”
“It’s not your thing.” She began to count the reasons on her fingers. “You don’t like being put on the spot. You have businesses to run. You’d far rather be riding in a dirt bike race in your spa
re time than standing around in makeup and a toga. Do I need to go on?”
Only one word registered. “Toga? You mean one of those short dresses?”
“It’s not a dress. I don’t know exactly what you’ll wear, but it will have to be a costume of some kind.”
He hated the sound of that, but it was too late to turn back now. “Whatever, as long as I get to stand around as a guard wherever you are.”
“I don’t need a guard, just as I don’t need a fiancé,” she insisted, her voice rising.
“Wait a minute,” he said with a mock frown. “You don’t think I’ll have to wax the hair on my legs, do you?”
The look she gave him hovered between annoyance and outrage. “This isn’t funny! We can’t simply ignore what you’ve done.”
“I don’t intend to ignore it,” he said at once. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re engaged until this movie business is over and done, and darling Derek is gone. Then you can announce to the world that you don’t want to be my wife, and that will be the end of it.”
“Really? And I’m to go on working at the Watering Hole afterward as if nothing happened? Nobody will think that’s at all strange?”
He made a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “When did you start caring what people think? Anyway, it’s our business, not theirs.”
Her gaze was direct, yet shadowed with something that might have been pain. “People have a way of making things their business. They’ll be asking if we’ve set a date, can they come to the wedding, maybe where it will be held and where we’ll live afterward.”
“So we’ll just say we haven’t decided.” He clapped his helmet on his head and snapped the chin strap.
“You have it all figured out, don’t you?”
“No,” he said with a deliberate grin, “but I think the two of us can handle it.”
She stared at him for long seconds, her face softening. But then her eyes narrowed. “You’re assuming that I’ll go along with this crazy scheme. Also, that I have no interest in going anywhere with Derek or seeing the inside of his motor home.”
“Will you? Do you? Or am I wasting my time?”
Tristan on a Harley (Louisiana Knights Book 3) Page 7
