Chapter Ten
The voluminous, high-ceilinged chamber backstage at the Paramount hummed with activity. Most of the original thirty, now twenty-nine, models were inside the giant dressing room in some stage of preparation for the show.
Besides the women, there were costume people, makeup artists, hairstylists, and general gofers. The room was thick with the odor of hair spray, powder, and perfume.
Face made up and hairstyle complete, Val was just getting out of her folding chair in front of the lighted mirror when Meg walked up, also show ready except for her costume. Her long red hair had been trimmed into a saucy, flyaway cut that enhanced the beauty of her heart-shaped face.
She was wearing black silk Capri pants with a silver belt, black high heels, and a black-and-turquoise halter top.
By unspoken agreement, they walked to a quiet corner out of the way. “Are you okay?” Meg asked. “Because I’m really not.”
Val glanced at the activity around them. “I’m okay—sort of. I called my parents this morning. I knew they’d be worried when they heard about the murder. I told them everything was under control, that we each had our own personal bodyguard, and they seemed relieved.”
Meg nodded. “I talked to my folks, too. And a detective named Hoover. He asked me a bunch of questions. I don’t think my answers helped any. I didn’t know Delilah that well.”
“He talked to me, too, but I didn’t know her much either.” Val sighed. “I still can’t believe it. The murder just doesn’t seem real.”
“The whole thing shook me up pretty good. I mean, ten of us got those notes, you know? Could have been you or me instead of her.”
Val felt a chill, though the room was warm. Meg was right. It could have been any one of them. “That big bodyguard, Ethan? He’s related to Samantha’s husband, Nick. I guess that got me special treatment. He came to pick me up after the murder. He wanted to make sure I was okay.”
“Lucky girl.”
“Under different circumstances, maybe. He’s definitely a hunk. But I’ve got to keep my mind on the show, and you know the rules about mixing with staff. I need this job, and even if Ethan was interested, which I’m not sure he is, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would break the rules.”
“Too bad. Maybe after we get back home.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.” But she would be busy getting ready for school and he would be working another job.
Megan grinned. “I got the other hot one. And I’m not even related to one of his friends.”
“Dirk. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“I really like him, but a guy who looks like Dirk? He’s probably a dog. I’ve had enough of those in my life already.”
“Isn’t that the truth?”
“Plus I’ve got a son to think of. If I ever fall for another man—God forbid—I’d want someone who’d make a good father. A guy like Dirk Reynolds . . .” She shook her head. “Getting involved with a woman who’s got a child is the last thing he’d want.”
“I suppose.” Val thought of Ethan and his daughter, the way his eyes sparkled when he mentioned his little girl. “On the other hand, Charlie’s so cute he’s almost irresistible.”
Megan laughed. “He’s still in the terrible twos. You wouldn’t say that if you were with him twenty-four seven.”
Val grinned. “I love kids, but I think I’ll stick with animals for a while.”
Meg grinned back. “Good call.”
They eased a little farther into the corner.
Once they walked out of the room, they’d be fair game.
By now, the media had arrived full force backstage.
A few cameras were rolling in the makeup room.
The rest would be waiting like a horde of hungry lions as the models left the prep room.
The murder of the show’s top model only made them more rabid.
“Dirk says they’re trying to keep those notes we got out of the press,” Megan said. “Officially, the murder is still under investigation. The cops are saying it was probably a burglary gone wrong. They’re afraid if those notes get published, it might stir up a bunch of psychos.”
The thought made Val’s stomach churn. They’d been warned not to say anything after the first notes arrived. Matt Carlyle had reminded her again as soon as she’d arrived at the theater.
“I’m not saying anything,” Val said. “The police have enough to worry about just trying to keep us safe.”
“Dirk says Carlyle stepped up security on all the models who live in Seattle. The out-of-towners are staying at the Fairmont. Dirk says they’ve got hotel security beefed up, too.”
“What’s going to happen when the tour goes on the road?” Val asked.
“Maybe they’ll catch the killer before we leave.”
Val glanced at the chaos around them. “Whatever happens, at least we’ll all be together, all of us staying in the same place. That should make security a little easier.”
“Yeah, and Dirk and Ethan are coming with us. Just knowing that makes me feel better.”
Relief and something more trickled through her. She hadn’t known the men were coming along. “They definitely seem capable.”
“Yeah, hot and capable. Nothing like a man who looks like Dirk Reynolds, has a body that makes you drool, and knows how to protect you. Makes him a tough temptation to resist.”
She was thinking the same thing about Ethan. “We need to let them do their jobs and we need to do our own.”
“I know. Plus I don’t want another broken heart.”
“Right. And I don’t need the hassle. I have too much on my plate as it is. Add to that, I have a hunch Ethan has more than enough trouble of his own.”
“Then we don’t have to worry, right?”
Val sighed. “Not about men. Just about not getting murdered.”
By the time the pre-show started, the murder of Delilah Larsen, La Belle’s most famous model, was all over the television and in every newspaper. Media trucks, camera crews, and reporters all jammed together outside the back entrance and lined the walkway up to the front door.
The press backstage had interviewed the nine remaining top models, and photos had been shot from every angle. They’d been fawned over and leered at. Ethan figured the pre-show was the red carpet of lingerie modeling.
As the start of the show drew near, he checked in with his crew, all of whom had been brought up to speed on the murder and cautioned to be alert so it wouldn’t happen again.
“I saw the cops talking to some of the models before the pre-show,” Ted Sandowski said. He was round-faced, a little soft, but not overweight, a nice guy the girls had dubbed Sandy, either for his name or the color of his hair. As long as they smiled at him, Sandowski didn’t seem to care.
“Carlyle didn’t like the models being interrogated,” Sandy said. “He was ranting at one of the detectives, said he didn’t want the girls upset so close to the start of the performance.”
“The cops are just doing their job,” Ethan said. “They’ve been at it since early this morning, trying to find out if one of the models or someone on the crew knows anything that could be relevant to the case. The longer it takes to find the killer, the higher the odds he’ll get away with it.”
“I wish it hadn’t happened on my watch,” Sandy said darkly.
Ethan just nodded. It wasn’t Sandowski’s fault. No one was to blame but the sick SOB who had murdered Delilah. But Ethan had been on enough cases to know it always felt like there should have been something he could have done to prevent it.
“Stay sharp,” he said. “Don’t get sidetracked by everything that’s gone on.”
Sandy nodded and Ethan continued his rounds, pausing to talk to some of La Belle’s own security people, even sparing a moment to speak to Beau Desmond, who was his usual dickhead self.
“I thought you were a detective, Brodie. If you’d been doing your job, you’d have found the guy who wrote the notes before he murdered Delilah.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. He disliked Beau a little more every day. “Unfortunately, it isn’t always that easy. If it were, even you might be able to handle it.”
Ethan knew he shouldn’t bait the guy, but Desmond made it hard to resist.
Beau snarled a smart-ass remark to his blond, surfer-dude friend, Bick Gallagher, as Ethan walked away.
By eight thirty, the show was in full swing, the Paramount a glittering backdrop for the beautiful, sparkling jewels of femininity who were the La Belle fashion models.
Though the theater was filled to capacity and backstage was organized mayhem, Ethan was constantly aware of Valentine’s movements.
At the moment, she was in the dressing room, just minutes away from doing her bit in the Nashville Country segment.
He didn’t have to see her walk down the runway to know exactly how she looked in her tiny red-lace hip-hugger panties and red high-heeled cowboy boots. The image was burned into his brain.
Still, he paused for a moment when she appeared, allowed himself to watch the way she strutted her stuff onstage, caught the wink she cast one of the photographers as she made the turn and started striding back down the runway, tried not to wish she’d been looking at him.
He told himself to remember how hot he’d been for Allison and what a disaster that had turned out to be, but it didn’t keep him from getting hard as she passed him again on her second round and flashed a dimpled grin clearly meant for him as she headed back down the runway.
She was a different person up there, he thought, a beautiful sex kitten the men in the audience would be fantasizing about for weeks. A vision in sheer lingerie who made all the women want to buy the garments she wore in the hope their husbands would look at them the same way.
As the music swelled, along with the applause, he glanced around to see if he could spot anyone in her family in the audience. He caught sight of Samantha sitting next to Nick, who, at Sam’s prodding, put his fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.
Ethan chuckled. As Val disappeared behind the curtain, he headed in that direction. It occurred to him that the confident, haughty female, Valentine, who caught and held the men’s attention so easily, was nothing like the Valerie he had seen in Samantha’s pet-grooming parlor.
A frown began to form between his eyes. Maybe he’d been wrong about her. Maybe this was the real Valerie, not the one he’d glimpsed earlier that day.
Then he spotted her just outside the door of the dressing room, head down, bent over, hands propped on her knees. As he approached, he saw she was trembling.
He glanced around, quickly scanning the area for any kind of trouble. “What happened? Are you okay?”
She looked up at him, seemed to relax a little when she realized who it was.
“I’m fine. I just . . . getting up there and doing my routine .
. . it’s really hard for me. I have to psyche myself up, you know?
Turn myself into Valentine. When I come off the runway, the adrenaline stops pumping and it hits me. I’ll be okay in a minute.”
The tension seeped from between his shoulder blades. She was Valerie Hartman, pet lover and friend of Samantha. Not Valentine Hart, hot-bodied sex kitten. It shouldn’t matter, but it did.
Val ducked into the changing room and the show continued.
Ethan worked behind the scenes until he saw Megan head for the stage.
A glance around and he spotted Dirk, who’d moved into a spot where he could watch her.
Megan was on the walkway in the Winter Wonderland segment.
She looked like a fairy princess in nothing but a white sequined bra and white ruffled hipster panties.
What looked like a tiara made of snow perched above her saucy red flyaway hair.
Even from a distance, he could see Dirk practically drooling.
Damn. He’d known this job was going to be a bear when he’d taken it. He didn’t know it was going to be a grizzly.
Worse yet, tonight he’d be sleeping in the place where Valerie lived.
He hadn’t told her yet and she hadn’t figured it out. Until the tour left for Dallas, there were a dozen men assigned to the women at the Fairmont and one man assigned to each of the models who lived in Seattle.
He’d spoken to Carlyle, reminded him Val was a family friend, and said he’d be the one providing her protection. He didn’t ask permission and Carlyle took his meaning. He was on the job. She was family. He’d quit and protect her on his own if he had to.
Carlyle needed him, so he didn’t argue. “Someone’s got to do it,” Matt had said. “I guess it might as well be you. Just keep it professional and we won’t have a problem.”
“Goes without saying.”
Carlyle signed off and Ethan hung up the phone.
Until this was over, he was in charge of Val’s security, though he would also be looking out for the rest of the women.
Dirk would be doing the same, keeping a special eye on Megan.
How his best friend had managed the assignment, Ethan didn’t want to know.
The noisy cheers of the audience as Megan waved one last time and strode back toward the rear of the stage muffled Ethan’s sigh.
One thing was certain. Neither he nor Dirk would be getting much sleep tonight.