Chapter 10
CLINT LEFT THE house through the kitchen door and cursed under his breath when he saw Joe and Paxton.
It was Saturday evening, for Christ’s sake.
By now they should’ve been halfway to Kalispell looking to raise hell.
Yet there they were, hanging out with Murray, all three of them standing too close to Clint’s truck for it to be a coincidence.
As far as he knew, Paxton and Murray were still feuding over last week’s poker game. Evidently it hadn’t stopped them from planning an ambush.
The old-timer was the first to spot him. Murray turned and spit on the ground beside him before giving Clint a toothless grin. “Well, now, don’t you look purdy.”
Joe swung his gaze around. “Hey, boss, are those new boots?”
Clint ignored them.
Paxton let out a whistle. “New shirt and new jeans, too,” he said, sizing him up. “Hell, son, looks like you’re getting all Hollywood on us.”
“Might be he’s courting someone special.” Murray’s pale eyes took on a mischievous gleam. “Anything we should know about, Clinton?”
“You sound like a bunch of bored old ladies.” He pushed past them and opened the driver’s door, their laughter grating on his nerves.
Hell, he’d known all along word would spread that he was an extra. No one knew the circumstance that had prompted him to sign on. Though he supposed that didn’t matter. He wondered if they’d heard about the speaking part he’d managed to bungle. What a damn disaster.
Squinting through the smoke from his cigarette, Joe said, “You gonna tell us where you’re going, boss?”
If it weren’t for Murray, who’d been working at the Whispering Pines since before Clint was born, he would’ve let his middle finger do his talking. “Look, I’ve told you before not to smoke near my truck. It stinks up the cab.”
“See, I knew it.” Murray nodded smugly. “He’s aiming to impress a lady.”
Clint gave the old guy a slick smile. “Next time I see Mrs. Chesterfield, I’ll be sure to let her know how much you love her corn pudding.”
Mention of the doting widow wiped the amusement off Murray’s face. “That ain’t funny, Clint. That crazy old woman won’t never stop pestering me.”
“That’s right,” Clint said and slid into the truck. Paxton started to say something, but Clint cut him off. “The two of you are fired.”
Paxton and Joe laughed.
Jesus. First his mom had grilled him with the persistence of the county prosecutor. And then while he’d calculated next month’s feed order and closed payroll, his dad kept giving him curious looks. What did a guy have to do to get some peace and privacy around here?
The only thing Clint had told his folks was that Lila was part of the movie crew working as the hair and makeup person. Nobody had to know she was an actress. He couldn’t imagine what kind of uproar that would cause.
After all the bitter feelings and heartache following Anne’s death, he wasn’t so sure old wounds couldn’t be reopened.
His late sister-in-law had kept her obsession to be in the spotlight a secret from Nathan.
And whatever the rest of the family had known or suspected, including Clint, no one spoke of Anne’s audition trips out of town every time Nathan was away.
Until the car accident. A lot of angry words had been exchanged, accusations flung, rocking the Landers family’s foundation to the core.
No, he wasn’t about to kick up dust now. And for what, anyway? He liked Lila one hell of a lot. But nothing would come from whatever was happening between them. By the time they started shooting the sequel, finally giving her the role she wanted, he’d be only a passing memory for her.
Clint hoped he got off that easy. He’d never met a woman like her. And beauty didn’t have a damn thing to do with it.
On second thought, that wasn’t true. The fact that she was gorgeous did have something to do with what he liked about her.
The real pretty girls he’d known had almost always centered their life on their looks.
Lila wasn’t vain, and she wasn’t looking for a golden ticket to fame.
She must’ve had doors flinging open left and right.
..for a price. Instead, she worked hard for her shot.
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the motel parking lot. Baxter’s red convertible was conspicuously absent. Good. After yesterday’s fiasco, it had gotten so Clint couldn’t stand to look at the guy.
Clint knew from his earlier conversation with Lila some of the crew were still wrapping up at the set. Tomorrow everyone had the day off, including her. Clint had subtly warned his dad he might not make it home tonight and to not count on him for tomorrow.
After he’d parked the truck, he hit speed dial.
Lila answered on the first ring.
“I’m here,” he said. “Are you ready or do you want me to come up?”
“Oh, definitely come up.”
The excitement in her voice made his heart lurch. “I’ll be right there.”
He paused to check his teeth in the rearview mirror. Then took the elevator instead of the stairs and made sure his shirt was evenly tucked into his jeans.
Before he could knock she opened the door, wearing tight black jeans, a snug sweater and the best smile.
Then he noticed her hair. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your hair...” Most of it was pinned up in back and on the left side. The rest fell to the right of her face. It looked as though the tips had been dipped in black paint.
“Oh.” Lila laughed and motioned him inside. “I forgot.” She closed the door. “I’ve been experimenting.”
“With paint?”
“No.” She stared at him as if he was crazy. “Extensions.”
“Okay. I think.”
Smiling, Lila took his arm and led him to the table and chairs in the corner. He sat without her asking.
She stepped back and freed the silky cloud of blond hair. Then she reached underneath and pulled out what looked like a miniature, black-tipped donkey’s tail.
“See? It isn’t really my hair. It’s called an extension.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “It’s as good a name as any, I suppose.”
“Not what I meant. Why would anyone want to put that thing in their hair?”
“You’d be surprised,” she said, laughing, and continued to pull out the weird-looking tails.
“You do that often?” he asked, realizing he might’ve sounded critical. “You know...wear that kind of stuff?”
“Not me. But I do use them in my job.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “Your hair is way too pretty to mess with.”
“Thank you.” She moved closer. Close enough that he could smell the warm sweetness of her skin. She stepped between his spread legs and put her hands on his shoulders.
Every muscle in Clint’s body tensed.
“It occurred to me that we hadn’t discussed what we’re doing tonight.”
“No.” Clint cleared his throat. He’d had someplace in mind, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember. “No, we haven’t.”
“So, I took matters into my own hands,” she said, and with a single smile reduced him to a tongue-tied teenager. “Oh, wait. I’ll probably forget, so I should tell you before we get started.”
Get started?
His brain seemed to stop working. Lila was talking, but he hadn’t caught any of it. Somehow he equated the words to sex, and he couldn’t make himself see it any other way.
“Okay,” she said, looking disappointed. “I’ll probably go. Obviously you don’t have to.”
He took a deep breath. “Go where?”
“Shadow Creek.” She paused, frowning. “Spencer’s ranch.”
Clint waited expectantly.
“You didn’t hear any of it, did you?”
“Guilty.”
Lila grinned. “Erin and Spencer are having a barbecue tomorrow, and the whole crew is invited.”
“A barbecue in December?”
“That’s what I said.” She shrugged. “Erin’s a bigger wuss about the cold than I am, so I figure it can’t be too bad.”
Clint put his hands on her waist and watched the tip of her tongue sneak out and wet her lips. “Does that include Baxter?”
“He’s away until Monday.”
“If you’re going, count me in,” he said, feeling the slight sway of her body.
Her hair was tousled from shaking it out, and he sure hoped she’d let him mess it up some more.
“To be honest, it’ll probably turn into a bitchfest about him. But we wouldn’t have to stay long.”
“Let’s talk about tonight.”
“Talk?” The corners of her moist lips tilted up. She leaned closer. “I had something else in mind.”
“Show me.”
Lila smiled, and the way she shifted made him think she was going to sit in his lap, but she reached across the table for a paper sack he hadn’t even noticed. The movement caused his hands to slide over her round bottom. She didn’t seem to care. He wondered how she’d feel about a light squeeze.
She leaned back before he could find out.
“I picked up dinner,” she said. “I thought we could eat in and just... I don’t know—” She lifted a shoulder. “Kick back.”
“Ah, that’s Marge’s cooking. I can’t believe I didn’t smell it before now.”
“You were too worried about my hair.”
“Yeah, I had a couple other things on my mind.” He didn’t like that she’d moved back to open the bag, and he caught her hand.
“Such as?”
“Trying to figure out just how determined you are to wreak havoc with my willpower.”
“I’m not doing it on purpose.”
He tugged her closer, and she voluntarily planted her nice, firm bottom on his lap. Too late he realized he should’ve made a minor fly adjustment.
She squirmed a bit, trying to get settled. “Oh, you really are happy to see me,” she said, her eyes widening.
Damned if he could tell whether she was teasing or not. For some reason he thought she might be genuinely surprised. The woman was a mass of contradictions. Maybe he was the problem. He’d never realized it before, but he had a lot of ideas about Hollywood and actors. None of them very good.
“Want to know what I would really, really like?” she whispered, her voice a soft purr.
Clint knew one thing for sure. Those big blue eyes of hers could get a man in all kinds of serious trouble. “What’s that?”