The Director Gets a Grip: Moonchuckle Bay Romantic Comedy #3

by Heather Horrocks

  He nodded worriedly. “I wondered the same thing.”

  “Send them out to be tested and buy new ones.” Very expensive makeups. Her budget kept rising, and now they were behind for a day or two — or even three. “How many of the cast were affected?”

  “Five.”

  She shook herself out of the funk she was falling into. Straightening her shoulders, she turned to face the remaining cast and crew. “We’ll switch to extra shots in Town Square. There are three we can do. Get ready to move out.”

  As bad as the rashes were, worst of all, now she was heading toward that dratted man with his infernal lifemate buzz.

  No. She couldn’t deal with that. “Dunstan, please take charge. I’ll get the doctor here to check our stars.”

  “All right. You know how much I enjoy ultimate power.” He gave an evil chuckle.

  “Whatever.”

  He laughed.

  Blake followed three grips on his team and three cameramen. They all carried equipment to load into the van.

  This was the third day Bianca wanted his team to do snow shots in Town Square. He thought it was overkill, but he wasn’t the director. He just followed orders.

  She was staying in the studio to direct the cast who had, fortunately, recovered from the rashes they’d had two days ago.

  Blake glanced through the windows in the lobby to see that it actually had just begun to snow. He’d help the cameramen set up and get some well-lighted shots. Maybe even some award-winning shots. Romantic, just like this movie was supposed to be.

  Romantic, like the icy Ms. Rossi was not in real life.

  Too bad, because Blake couldn’t get her off his mind. She dominated his thoughts and he had to struggle to concentrate. When he wasn’t close to her, he was able to focus better, though he kept thinking of her.

  Why? She was pretty, but he’d seen plenty of beautiful women. The lead actress, Rachel Poole, for one. The redheaded assistant, Janine, who made no attempt to hide her interest, for another. But neither of them could match Bianca’s exotic Italian looks.

  A man in a wheelchair rolled toward the entrance. Blake held the door open and greeted the man, who waved back.

  The guy looked familiar. Why?

  Wait. Was this the guy who he’d seen that first day in town? The one Bianca had given money to?

  The man nodded and said, “Thanks.” He’d obviously cleaned up for today. His jeans, jacket, and shoes were new and he’d washed his hair and face.

  Blake changed direction and stepped back inside as the man wheeled his way to the desk. “I’m here to work. Bianca Rossi hired me and told me to come here today.”

  “Yes, sir. Name?” the receptionist asked politely.

  “Richard Adams.”

  “Oh, yes, you’re on the list. I’ll have someone take you back.”

  The receptionist called someone and, in just a few minutes, one of the assistants came forward and introduced himself to the man. “I’ll show you where you’ll be working, Mr. Adams.”

  As the man followed the assistant onto the set and Blake was alone with the receptionist, he walked slowly to the front desk.

  Cindy narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. “What?”

  He lowered his voice. “First Bianca paid twenty thousand dollars for a kid in need. Now she gives a job to a disabled veteran?”

  “You have a problem with hiring veterans?”

  “Not at all.” He quirked a lip. “Does Ms. Rossi ever date anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Do I stand a chance?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Are you suicidal?”

  His smile broadened and he waited for a serious answer.

  She paused and studied him, then smiled back, slowly. “It will be interesting to find out, won’t it?”

  “Yes.” He smiled back. “Yes, it will.”

  “For what it’s worth, the cast will probably help you romance her.”

  “Why? Do they think I’d do such a bad job at it that I’ll need help?”

  “No. Because most of the people on the set like you, Mr. Cowboy.”

  “Is that so?” He grinned. “Thanks for your candor, Cindy. Now I’ve got to get to work before she has an excuse to fire me.”

  He left the building whistling. He walked to the equipment van and was glad for his coat as the first snowflakes drifted down. The other guys were staring at him curiously. He grinned as he climbed into the driver’s seat and said, “I needed to verify some important facts.”

  “What did you learn?” Buddy asked from the back.

  Blake was glad Janine wasn’t in the van. He thought she’d be disappointed, and he had no desire to hurt her feelings. “That I’m going to romance Ms. Rossi.”

  “Woohoo! You guys owe me twenty bucks!” Ernie called out.

  “Dang it!” Phillip moaned.

  Blake was surprised. “You guys have been betting on whether or not I’d romance her?”

  “You make her very uncomfortable, dude.” Buddy said.

  “What do you think would make her even more uncomfortable?”

  “Getting flowers from you.” Phillip punched him in the arm. “You owe me. You cost me twenty bucks, dude.”

  Driving carefully toward town, Blake nodded.

  He was going to openly pursue Bianca Rossi.

  The first thing he’d need to do was order flowers. “Anyone know her favorite kind of flowers?”

  “Night-blooming jasmine.” Buddy glanced over at him. “You’re serious about this?”

  He nodded. “Is there a flower shop in town?”

  “Sure. Wildflowers.”

  “We’re going to make a brief stop there before filming. Is that all right with you guys?”

  There was cheering from the back. Blake laughed. He was going to pay extra to have the flowers delivered directly to Bianca in the studio while he was in town.

  He was not only going to romance her — he was going to let the entire crew know it.

  Bianca consulted with her First and Second A.D.s — Dunstan and Gabrielle — about the next shot.

  When the people around her grew quiet, she turned.

  “Flowers? On the set?” Why on earth had Cindy let this lady onto the set?

  The delivery girl looked all of sixteen years old, hesitant and nervous. “I was told to come right in. If I wasn’t supposed to, I apologize.”

  She didn’t want to take it out on the girl. “No, that’s fine. Please ask the receptionist to pay you a tip for delivering. Tell her twenty percent.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Rossi.” The girl smiled. “The man who ordered them is really handsome. He came in and paid extra to have it delivered to the set as soon as possible, and directly to you on the set.”

  “Really?” Who could it be from? She hadn’t gotten flowers since ... Emmett Pierce, her obnoxious Hollywood admirer. Surely he hadn’t come to town. Of course not. No one would ever consider him handsome, but she was still nervous.

  As the girl left to get her tip, cast and crew members gathered around. “Who are they from?” several of them murmured.

  She set the large vase of night-blooming jasmine — her favorite! — on a nearby table, and searched for a card. She found it, plucking it off the holder and reading it to herself:

  For the most beautiful woman I have ever met.

  I hope you change your mind.

  Blake Gladwell.

  Her heart pounded. Blake sent them?

  She looked up to see everyone watching her. If she hadn’t been a vampire, she would have blushed right then. As it was, her face warmed and she schooled her features to stay neutral.

  “Don’t keep us in suspense,” the cinematographer said. “Who sent them?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Bianca said, nonchalantly slipping the card back into the envelope. “They’ve been sent to the wrong person.”

  Someone on the other side of the flowers pointed at the back of the vase. Bianca walked around, admiring the large bouquet. And
then she reached the back, where a little banner that said, “Bianca Rossi,” was woven into the flowers. Right above another handwritten banner with the name, “Blake Gladwell.”

  The nerve of the man! First he came onto the set with his infernal lifemate buzz and now this!

  “They’re beautiful,” whispered Cindy, who’d left her post at the front desk. “I think he really likes you, Ms. Rossi.”

  “I think he’s delusional,” Bianca snapped.

  Someone laughed behind her and she whirled around to see one of the electricians hiding a laugh behind a cough. She turned back around.

  Everyone was smiling at her.

  Oh, no. She couldn’t let this happen. She had to nip this whole romantic flower gesture in the bud. As it were.

  She’d have to tell Blake Gladwell that she had absolutely no interest in romance, other than the movie she was making. And the new line of movies she wanted to make. And the romance novels she read. And him.

  No, wait. Not him. Definitely not him.

  How did he manage to throw her so thoroughly off balance?

  She shook her head, clearing it, and frowned. “Get back to work,” she said as she waved in the direction of the set. Then she turned to Cindy. “Please set these behind the front desk. I’ll carry them up to my office later.” Out of sight and hopefully out of everyone’s mind.

  Surely this day couldn’t get any worse.

  People Started Eating Without You

  SURELY THE DAY COULD GET WORSE.

  Bianca had nearly reached Moonchuckle Bay when her car lurched to the right. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and applied steady pressure to the brakes. The rear end of the car swerved in the snow, but her anti-lock brakes saved her and she regained control.

  Her heart was hammering as she pulled off the road and turned off the ignition.

  She climbed out and walked around her car. Sure enough, one of her tires was flat.

  She crossed her arms and sighed. She wasn’t dressed for changing tires. She ought to call her brothers, and yet something stopped her. She’d relied on them for far too long.

  She was going to pull herself into the twenty-first century. I am woman, hear me roar, and all that. Surely she could change a tire.

  But, again, she wasn’t dressed for it. She didn’t want dirt and grease on her clothes.

  She’d have to call someone. If not her brothers, then maybe Dunstan. He’d help her out.

  A truck came toward her, passed her, and pulled in front of her car, stopping.

  She knew, even before he climbed out, that it was Blake. Her heart recognized the familiar buzz, the one she knew was somehow being faked. She just didn’t know how he was doing it.

  Resigned, she watched him walk toward her, looking every inch the sexy cowboy, minus the hat. But he had the boots and the snug jeans and the jacket stretching over well-defined muscles.

  Sheesh! Stop thinking about the sexy cowboy, already!

  “Problem, ma’am?” he drawled with that lovely Texas accent.

  She motioned to the tire. “I was just going to call my brothers.”

  “No need to. This ain’t my first rodeo. I’ve been changing tires since I was a teenager out driving my daddy’s car.”

  “You don’t need to. Really.”

  “Now I wouldn’t be any kind of a man to leave a stranded woman without aid, would I? Please pop the trunk and we’ll see if your car came with a spare tire.”

  “Isn’t that a necessity for all cars?” She asked as she pushed the button on the fob. The trunk clicked and lifted.

  “Used to be,” he said as he rummaged around in her trunk. “Nowadays, manufacturers are jettisoning every ounce they can to meet gas mileage requirements.”

  “My brothers said they made sure I had one when I bought it.”

  “Sure enough.” He reached in and rustled around for a minute, then pulled out a jack and tire iron and laid them on the ground. He reached back in and pulled out the spare tire. “It looks like they had the space custom worked for you.”

  He rolled the tire toward the front of the car, then knelt down beside it, studying it. He ran his fingers along the treads.

  When he looked up, she knew there was a problem. “What?”

  “Do you have any enemies, Ms. Rossi?”

  “I have competitors.” She had too-ardent admirers, but no enemies that she knew of, though in the movie business, one was never quite sure. “Why do you ask that?”

  “It’s just powerful suspicious that both your tire and your spare are flat. What do you suppose the odds are of that?”

  “Couldn’t it be a coincidence?”

  He nodded as he stood. “It could be. I mean, some people do get hit by lightning and win the lottery, right? But someone would have had to coincidentally cut into both tires with a knife. Least that’s what it looks like to me.”

  “It’s deliberate?” Disbelief hit her.

  “It looks like these have been tampered with. So I repeat, do you have any enemies?”

  “I don’t think so.” She began to shake, remembering how the car had skidded on the ice. She could have been killed. Again.

  He stepped to her and pulled her into his strong arms, comforting her as the shaking devolved into tears. She clutched handfuls of his jacket while he murmured that it would be all right and lightly rubbed her back.

  As she regained control of herself, she realized just how good his arms felt around her. She never wanted to leave his embrace. It felt so right to be there. She nearly purred like a cat, and that just wouldn’t do.

  She forced herself to pull back.

  He looked down at her tear-stained face. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded as she wiped a finger under each eye in an attempt to repair her makeup. She was sure she had black streaks running clear down her face.

  “I’m going to put the tire and jack back in your trunk. Then I’m going to drive you home, and come back and take both tires to a repair shop. Then I’ll put the tires back on your car and return it to you.”

  “That’s far too much trouble, Mr. Gladwell.”

  “Ms. Rossi,” he said, his voice gentle, “I will expect payment.”

  “Oh.” She chuckled. She should have known. “Of course.”

  He crossed his arms. “I don’t know if you can pay for my help, though.”

  She chuckled confidently. “I’m sure I can.”

  He fixed her with those brown eyes. “I want a kiss.”

  A zing shot through her and her mouth went dry. “A kiss.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a bit presumptuous, is it not?”

  “It’s a negotiation,” he replied reasonably.

  Fumbling in her pocket for her phone, she said, “I think I’ll call my brothers, thanks.”

  He shrugged. “Your loss.”

  This was just going to be more proof to her brothers that she couldn’t take care of herself. She pulled her hand from her pocket and told him, “All right, then. One kiss.”

  He grinned. “May I borrow your keys?”

  She handed them to him. “I need to get my purse from the car.”

  “I’ll get it for you.”

  He opened the passenger door and retrieved her purse — and she groaned when the paperback underneath tumbled out onto the ground.

  Her romance novel. Crap.

  He picked it up and dusted it off — and then raised an eyebrow as he studied the cover. “Why, Ms. Rossi, this is a romance novel.”

  She figured being snarky was the only thing that would save her. “Are all of you Texans so perceptive?”

  He gave her a lazy smile. “I think, in order to keep your secret quiet, I’m going to need two kisses when I return your car.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Two kisses.” It couldn’t possibly be worse than having her entire crew find out that she was a closet romance reader.

  He laughed, and the sound rumbled through her, sending her lifemate buzz off the char
ts.

  How was he faking this feeling?

  Was he faking it?

  And then she had an even more amazing thought. What if he wasn’t faking it?

  He held open the passenger door of his truck. She climbed in, coming too close to him for comfort. A jolt of electricity shot through her coat and up her arm as he touched her elbow to help her up into the lifted truck.

  The lifemate buzz in the enclosed space thrummed through her, especially when he climbed in beside her.

  “You’ll need to direct me to your home,” he told her as he turned the key in the ignition.

  “All right.” She sighed. This was going to be a long ride home. The hardest part was going to be resisting the urge to pull him to her and kiss him. There was no way she’d ever tell him that his price suddenly didn’t seem so high.

  Darned buzz.

  It had taken Blake two hours to get the tires fixed and put them back on Bianca’s car. It was dark when he put the newly repaired spare back in the trunk, ready for the next time there was a flat tire. He wondered for the umpteenth time how anyone had gotten into her trunk. They’d need her keys — or at least another key that would open the trunk. Would anything show up on the security cameras? He’d have to ask the security guys to check.

  He didn’t like what had happened, and he felt exceedingly protective of Bianca.

  Someone had used her key to get into her trunk and then slashed the spare tire. They’d also made sure that the tire on the car would blow out. Someone had tried to strand her, or worse, and he was determined to find out who it was.

  Leaving his vehicle parked, he climbed into her car to return it to her. Maybe he could talk her into driving him back so he wouldn’t have to walk.

  The engine of the Jaguar purred. He shifted and pulled out slowly, gauging how the car reacted. When he pushed the gas pedal, it reacted by jumping forward. Lots of power, then, for his girl.

  His girl?

  He laughed. She might not be his girl yet, but if he had his way she would be soon.