Daniel glanced back toward the dressing room and released a long sigh. “Heather is going to be crushed. These women prepare for the show all year.”
He was beginning to figure that out, coming to respect the models in ways he hadn’t expected. He liked the way Valentine had shown up to help her friend. There had to be a lot of competition between them. They were, after all, still women.
He looked up, spotted Dirk walking toward him in that lanky, restless stride of his.
“We got a problem?” Dirk asked.
“Yeah, but not the kind we’re here for. One of the women took a fall, sprained her ankle. She’s probably out of the show. They’ll have to run the production one model short.”
“Which one was it?”
“Heather.”
“Platinum blonde. I remember her. Told me she’s from LA. Guess she’ll be making the trip back home.”
Ethan cocked an eyebrow, leaving the wordshands offunsaid.
“I know, I know. It wasn’t like that. She was just killing time between set changes.” He grinned, moving the short-cropped mustache that framed his mouth and trailed down to his jaw. “Besides, I prefer redheads. That one, Megan, with the big blue eyes, is just my style.”
Ethan chuckled. “Too bad about the no-touch rule. You could pretty much find anything here you wanted.”
Dirk grinned. “I’m looking forward to the dress rehearsal.”
“Or undress, as the case may be.”
“Yeah. Even better.”
“Just remember to keep it in your pants.”
Dirk grunted. “With you around, the Grinch Who Hates Women, how could I forget?”
Ethan couldn’t stop a smile. “I don’t hate women. Hell, I’ve got a daughter, remember? I just don’t need another pain in my ass right now.”
Dirk just chuckled, turned, and sauntered away. A glimpse of his tattoo flashed, just at the neck of his T-shirt. Ethan noticed two of the models staring after him, whispering and smiling. It seemed the ladies liked Dirk as much as he liked them.
It was a couple of hours later that Ethan spotted Heather again. She was resting quietly on a sofa backstage, her ankle propped up and wrapped with an Ace bandage, an ice pack situated on top.
He’d been quietly asking around, talking to the girls who’d received threatening notes, hoping one of them might have an idea who could have sent them. He’d talked to a few of the stagehands, just to get an overall impression of how things worked, see if any of them seemed overly interested in the women. So far, nothing had clicked.
He walked up to Heather. “I thought you’d be home by now, taking care of that ankle.”
She shrugged. “My home’s in LA. Those of us from out of town are staying at the Fairmont.”
“I heard that.”
“Daniel asked me to stay, help him get Carmen and the other girls ready to take over my segments in the show.” Her big brown eyes filled and she glanced away.
“I’m sorry about what happened, Heather. You got a really tough break.”
She sniffed, wiped away a tear. “Yeah, but stuff like this happens. I’ll get well and I’ll be back. Thanks, by the way, for helping me out there.”
“No problem. Maybe you could return the favor by answering a couple of questions about that note you got.”
“Sure. I’m happy to answer, but I really don’t know anything.”
“From what I was told, the notes were mailed to the company’s flagship store here in Seattle.”
“That’s right. Generally, fan mail is opened, read, then forwarded to our home address. In this case, all ten of us were already here in Seattle getting ready for the show when the notes arrived.”
