Free Hot Stuff by Flo Fitzpatrick Page B

having to get up there and wiggle. Although I must admit I enjoyed every bit of that performance. I’m hoping for a repeat sometime in private. With extras.”
    I glanced at him, started to comment on the brash assumption that I’d be doing any wild shimmies for the man anytime soon, but he interrupted me. “Tempe, are you listening to and understanding what I’m trying to say? Someone checked you out. Someone has your things. The very nice maid who told me this said she had a bad feeling, but she didn’t want to complain to anyone.”
    I stiffened. “The nice maid? Which one? That cute little girl from the outskirts of Pune or the blonde from Sweden working her way around the world?”
    Brig’s eyes opened wide. I looked for a hole to dive into. I was jealous. I did not need to be jealous. I did not want to be jealous. But darned if I wasn’t jealous. For an instant, I flashed on the photo I’d found in Brig’s drawer back at the hotel. Well, the man was gorgeous. He attracted women the way the vendors on Grant Road attract flies and beggars. I didn’t need to be one of them.
    I tilted my chin with a bit of defiance, just as Brig said, “Miss Walsh. My, my. Where’s that little diatribe coming from? Will you listen to me? The maid in question hit ninety years old a decade ago and must be the great-great-great grandma of fifty kids. But she’s an observant old bird.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œDo you understand that you can’t go back there? That these various goons have ties all over this city and that they’re after you? Which is why we’re here.”
    â€œBrig, you lost me. We’re about to go touring the lots at the capital of Indian cinema because murderous scumbags are hot on my trail?”
    He grinned. “That’s a decent take on the situation. But we’re at Film City because you, my darling talented Tempe, are about to join the ranks of the legion of stars working on Jake’s next picture. You’ve just been given a job in a new Masala extravaganza.”
    â€œSay what?”
    Brig nodded. “I told Jake about your expertise as both a dancer and a gymnast. I also told him you were quite beautiful and you had legs up to your lovely neck that would look quite nice in high-cut bottoms. He whipped out a contract on the spot. So, you’re dancing in Mela Manokamana . Loosely translated it means—”
    â€œCarnival of Desire? Lust? Yes?”
    He beamed at me. “That’s very good. Jake won’t even have to have a script translated for you since you know Hindi. He’ll love that. Saves costs.”
    â€œRight.”
    He hastened to add, “I’m also in the movie and will be more than happy to keep an eye on you. Or more.”
    â€œBrig. Keep the eyes to yourself, okay?”
    â€œFine. No discussion of eyes or other body parts. For now. Anyway, you’ll be hiding out in an apartment about an hour’s drive from Vivek Studios. With Asha Kumar, celebrity actress and ex-fiancée of Mr. Jake Roshan.”

Chapter 8
    Jake finished his phone call. He trotted over to where Brig and I still stood staring at each other.
    â€œGood news! I’ll have money coming in on the next film from a very legitimate group in New Zealand. I can rest easier now. I must admit, I’ve been concerned.”
    I must have looked puzzled because Brig interjected. “Masala films are all too often financed by what we might refer to as some of the more unsavory lads in Bombay. Boys of the Mahindra persuasion. They think nothing of making poor honest businessmen pay protection or shooting them if they, well, disagree. Our Jake here sweats buckets every time he starts a film until he can be certain his backers are legit.”
    I glared at Brig. “Ah. Super. I am now so thrilled. I can’t tell you how much that reassures me. You’ve got me hiding right back in the middle of the same