“Well?” The woman brushed past the little guy with the goatee, slapped her hands on her hips and glared at Zach from under the brim of her hat. “What’s going on here?”
Zach looked past her. He could see cameras now, and mike booms, and lots of other equipment he couldn’t identify. If nothing else, he thought with relief, he’d found the Triad set. His gaze returned to the shapeless female standing before him. Yes. He’d found the set, and Frances Cranshaw.
“There’s been a minor accident,” Zach said pleasantly, “nothing to get excited about, I assure you.”
“Are you all right, Pete?” the woman said, swinging toward the horseless rider.
“Yup, I’m fine.”
“Was the horse injured?”
“Nah. He jest took off, is all.”
“You see?” Zach said. “No harm’s been done.”
No harm’s been done, Eve thought, glaring at the intruder from under the brim of her borrowed hat. What a stupid thing to say! Francis had reshot this same scene four times now, wasting heaven only knew how much film, and each time it had ended the same way, with him stroking that ridiculous little goatee and shaking his head and saying that it still wasn’t quite what he wanted.
The only thing Eve wanted was to put the scene in the can, strip off the jeans and shirt and hat the props man had pieced together for her so the sun and the dust wouldn’t finish her off permanently, jump in her car and speed to town to deal with Zachary Landon, who must have arrived by now. She’d been trying and trying to contact the office by cellular phone, but this damned place was so far off the beaten track that the fool thing wouldn’t work.
And now, just when it had looked as if Pete and Horace the Wonder Horse were about to ride into posterity, this—this jerk had come along and ruined it all.
“Well,” Zach said, smiling politely, “if you don’t mind
“Do you have any idea what a mess you’ve caused?”
Zach’s smile tilted. “Madam, in case you hadn’t noticed, I almost broke my neck a few minutes ago. If I were you——”
“You came barreling smack into the middle of my set, scared off my horse, injured my rider——”
“He just told you himself, he’s not injured.”
“And you have the nerve to stand there and tell me that no harm’s been done?”
Zach’s smile faded completely. “Listen, lady——”
“Don’t ’listen, lady’ me!” Eve snatched the hat from her head and slapped it against her leg. Her hair tumbled to her shoulders in a golden cloud. “Why didn’t you slow down as you approached?”
“Approached what?” Zach said, trying not to stare at the wild mane of sunflower-bright curls, as incongruous on this ranting, shapeless creature as a garland of roses would be on a bull. Although, now that he considered, she really wasn’t shapeless. He could see the high thrust of her breasts even under that boxy shirt, and there was the suggestion of a narrow waist, gently rounded hips, and long legs hidden under those jeans…
“Approached my set, that’s what!”
“Look, I didn’t see a thing except dirt and cactus until your horse damned near killed me.”
“Horace couldn’t kill anybody! He can’t even find his way out of a stall without help!”
“Horace? The horse is named Horace?”
“Yes,” Eve snapped, “Horace the Wonder Horse.” Her face colored as Zach’s brows rose. “It’s not funny! That horse is worth a fortune. Why, without him——”
“Let me get this straight,” Zach said slowly. “You’re making a movie about a horse named Horace?”
Eve felt her face, already hot from an hour on this hillside, turn hotter. She knew how it sounded. Dammit, she felt the same way herself. It was incredible to think that Triad was wasting time on a film like this, but it hadn’t been her idea. Howard Tolland had signed the contracts, made the commitments and stuck her with it.
“A movie,” the man said, and laughed, “a movie about a horse named Horace.”
Eve’s gaze shot to his. “Okay,” she said coldly, “you’ve had your laugh. Now turn that car around and get out of here.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Zach said, his eyes narrowing.
“It’s you that’s simple, mister. This is a closed set on private property, and you have no right to be here. I’m telling you again. Turn around and get out of here.”
“Trust me, lady.” Zach looked past Frances Cranshaw, trying to identify Eve Palmer in the sea of interested faces watching them. “You don’t want to toss me off this set.”
Terrific, Eve thought, just what she needed. Another out-of-work actor invading the set. They did it all the time. The UPS guy was an actor, and the kid from Western Union, and even the pizza delivery girl, all of them determined to make an impression.
Well, this man had certainly done that, but who could blame him for trying? She sighed and slapped her hat against her leg.
“Look,” she said, not unkindly, “why don’t you leave your press book with——”
“My what?”
“Your photos. Your resume, whatever. If a part comes up, we’ll get in touch.”
“A part? You think I’m after a part in your two-bit horse opera? You actually think that I…” Zach clamped his lips together. Why was he letting this woman, this Frances Cranshaw, irritate him so? His eyes narrowed. And where was Eve Palmer? Was she such a bitch that she was going to let her director take the rap for what was a CEO’s responsibility? He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not going to waste my time with you, lady. Where’s your boss?”
Eve’s brows rose. “My what?”
“Come on, don’t play dumb. Where is she?”
“Okay,” she said, “that’s it. You have two minutes to get out of here.”
“Really,” he said, his voice a smooth purr of amusement.
“Look, don’t push your luck. You interrupted my shoot, ran off my horse——”
“Your star, you mean.” He smirked. “Horace, the Wonder Horse.”
“Laugh if you like. But if we can’t find Horace…”
Eve’s words came to an abrupt halt. What if they couldn’t? What if the damned horse was gone for good? A chill settled in the pit of her stomach. Could Francis finish the film anyway? She already knew the answer, knew what would happen to Triad.
“Frankly,” the man said, his smirk deepening, “I think old Horace is probably in Mexico by now.”
Eve felt her mouth begin to tremble. “I bet you think this is pretty damned funny.”
“What I think, madam, is that I’ve stumbled into the middle of a fiasco.”
She stepped forward, her face turned up to his. “You’re the fiasco,” she said, her voice trembling along with her lips. “If we don’t find that damned horse—if we don’t find him…”
All her bravado seemed to vanish. Zach frowned. Tears were rising in those blue eyes, turning them the color of sapphires.
“Oh, hell,” he said. “Dammit, don’t cry!”
“I’m not crying,” Eve said fiercely. “I never——”
But she was. Zach muttered a short, sharp word under his breath and did the only thing he could.
He reached out, drew her into his arms and kissed her
CHAPTER THREE
LATER, when he tried to make sense out of his own behavior, Zach would tell himself his brain must have gone on a holiday. Otherwise, why would he have taken this ill-tempered, sharp-tongued, dust-begrimed vixen in his arms?
Not that his brain had shut down altogether. If anything, it was working overtime, delivering enough sensory messages to put him on overload.
He heard the crowd’s shocked gasp, heard the smothered exclamation of the woman just as his mouth found hers, then felt her stunned resistance, followed quickly by her indignant struggles. He was even aware of the amused tut-tut of a little voice inside his head as it asked him just what, exactly, he thought he was doing.
The problem was that
the voice asked the question a fraction of a second too late. By then, Zach’s mouth had closed over Frances Cranshaw’s mouth. And the little voice faded to a whisper.
She tasted sweet, like the nectar of a flower. And cool, like a swift-running mountain stream. But mostly—mostly, she tasted like a meal for a starving man, and he had the sudden crazy thought he’d been hungry all his life.
Until now
Heat coiled in his belly, then shot through his blood. His arms tightened around her.
Stop it, the voice insisted. Let her go. She doesn’t want this—see how she’s fighting you? And you don’t want it either. You don’t know this dame, you don’t like her, and you’re sure as hell not the kind of man who goes around forcing women.
But he didn’t let her go. He drew her closer, bent her over his arm, one hand slipping up to cup the back of her head, his fingers twining in the silken spill of her golden hair while his mouth moved against hers, offering, asking…
A soft, keening sound rose in her throat. It was a sound Zach had heard before. He knew what it meant, understood it, and it made the blood roar in his ears.
“Yes,” he whispered against her lips, and all at once her hands were curled into his shirt and she went from fighting him to hot, sweet acquiescence.
He felt her body soften, her head droop against his arm. He heard her breath catch as she made that whisper of surrender again.