Free STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) by Bev Pettersen

ready.”
    “No, we’ll save the rearing scene for the rain, depending on what special effects can do.”
    Dan nodded. Anthony often adjusted his shooting schedule but never on such short notice. However, Ice was primed for his cuddly sunrise scene, and the production office would advise riders of new call times. The only performer they couldn’t reach was Emily. He’d intended to take her phone number in case of a change but had been distracted by her throaty laugh, the hip-swinging walk, her tempting curves—she made the day more interesting and admittedly he’d been thinking of more pleasurable things.
    Naturally he wouldn’t pursue the attraction. He’d learned to keep his trailer door locked. Movie shoots had enough complications, and the hurt look in feminine eyes when it was time to ship out simply wasn’t worth the sexual gratification. It was difficult enough to pat the horses good-bye.
    Most women, despite pretty assurances to the contrary, wanted to prolong a relationship long after its due date. His business took him across North America while actresses were pulled in other directions. Long distance relationships always fizzled, no matter how much love and trust was proclaimed at the wrap party. He didn’t have the time or inclination to worry about a demanding actress who was chasing her own agenda. And he hated telephone affairs. They turned people jealous, petty and paranoid.
    Of course, Emily was a background performer, not an actress. She didn’t face the same temptations as someone like Shania.
    He snorted and gave his head a shake. Who was he kidding? Simply looking at Emily’s lush mouth made him think of sex. Any red-blooded guy would hit on her in an instant. When she’d flashed that provocative smile and offered to crawl between Bruno’s legs, he’d had a raunchy image of doing her against the rails. It was a good thing he didn’t have her phone number.
    Not so good for her though, considering she wouldn’t learn about the change in call time until tomorrow. Of course, she’d be compensated. Most background performers didn’t mind being paid to wait, especially if they lived in the area.
    He scooped up a copy of the revised schedule, nodded goodnight to the script supervisor and strode toward the door. These nightly meetings could drag past midnight and it was his habit to slip out early after gathering feedback on his horses’ performance. Anthony generally gave him free rein, one of the reasons Dan liked working with the talented director.
    Dan yawned, grateful his trailer was on site. He needed to check back on the lame horse then catch up on some much-needed sleep. Traveling to a hotel cut into valuable time, and he always preferred accommodations close to the animals.
    A narrow path edged from the back of the trailers to the more isolated stud barn, a short cut that reduced his walk by five minutes. The little barn was perfect for a lame horse or, God forbid, any animal requiring quarantine. It was conveniently close but removed enough from the action that the horse would have a better chance of settling, especially if given a quiet companion.
    A gelding’s blazed face stuck over the stall door, liquid eyes tracking Dan’s approach. The horse gave a low nicker, his expression bright. Despite being restricted to stall rest, the animal seemed in good spirits. It was unfortunate he was lame; this bay was a dead ringer for Reckless.
    Dan scratched the underside of the horse’s jaw and scanned his legs over the stall door. One of the wranglers—probably Lizzie—had done a competent job. The wraps appeared firm and even, forming a perfect stovepipe pattern. The blanket was probably overkill but the gelding looked cozy.
    He checked the tightness of the bandages then slipped a hand beneath the blanket, making sure the horse hadn’t overheated. The temperature was about sixty degrees, a lovely spring night, and certainly comfortable enough without a blanket.
    He gave the horse a