despite all that you stayed here?”
He merely shrugged, then changed the subject by saying he had to call his next-door neighbor to let her know what was going on. He quickly dialed Hilda’s number, thinking that the last thing he wanted was to get into a discussion with Carly about why he’d stayed
Normally, he was a pretty honest man, and at the moment his conscience was telling him to straighten her out about his newly unemployed status. But she’d think he was an idiot for quitting his job so rashly. And since he’d be out of her life again in only a few weeks, there was no real reason she had to know.
Besides, telling her at this late date would be a little tricky. She’d been sitting right there when he’d phoned and supposedly arranged for time off.
When Hilda answered, he explained that he was going to be away for longer than he’d expected and that Ben would be looking after moving his things.
“Well, don’t you worry about your mail,” she said. “I’ll keep taking it in. But what if there’s anything important looking? Or letters? If there are, I should forward them, shouldn’t I?”
“That would be great,” he told her, although he doubted there’d be anything except junk mail and bills.
He gave her the address just in case. Then he hung up, tossed the salad and carried it over to the table. Carly dropped a handful of spaghetti into the boiling water, then came and sat down across the table from him.
“I want to say something,” she told him after a moment
“Say away.”
“I want to tell you how much I appreciate your helping out. Aside from anything else, I know this has to be vacation time you’ve given up to stay here. And the fact that you’re willing to inconvenience your friends to help me…”
He smiled uneasily. There was gratitude written all over her face, and his conscience started in on him again. He really should tell her he wasn’t quite as terrific as she figured, that he was motivated by a lot more than a desire to help her.
But before he could make himself say anything, she went on.
“And I can imagine how nervous you must be about working with Attila.”
“I’m sure that’ll fade.” Unless, of course, the bear did something to make him even more nervous. Or to make him dead.
“I’m sure it will, too.” Carly gave him one of her terrific smiles. “At any rate, I just wanted you to know I really appreciate what you’re doing—especially when keeping Wild Action afloat can’t mean anywhere near as much to you as it does to me.”
He managed another smile of his own, but keeping the agency afloat meant a whole lot more to him than she realized. It would keep him out of the poorhouse.
W HEN HE’D PHONED YESTERDAY , Jay Wall had told Carly he’d be arriving with the cast and crew well before noon. By eleven-thirty, sitting on the porch and still waiting for them to appear, she was a nervous wreck.
She glanced over at Nick, who was reading her copy of the Two for Trouble script, and reminded herself that his morning session with Attila had gone fairly well. But that was no guarantee things would go smoothly during the shooting. And if they didn’t, Jay would want her head on a platter.
She’d never met the man, but Gus had. He’d spent a week in L.A., working out the details of the contract with Jay and the producer. And he’d come home referring to the wunderkind director as “that obnoxious young snot.”
According to Gus, Jay was charming one minute, explosive and demanding the next, and drove everyone he worked with crazy.
He was also, she knew from the phone conversations she’d had with him, extremely annoyed that Gus had had the audacity to die before Two for Trouble was in the can. And he was not pleased that he’d be stuck working with the “understudy,” as he’d called her yesterday.
Sight unseen, he’d decided she was second rate. “You’re certain,” he’d demanded, “the bear’s performance will be up to scratch
He merely shrugged, then changed the subject by saying he had to call his next-door neighbor to let her know what was going on. He quickly dialed Hilda’s number, thinking that the last thing he wanted was to get into a discussion with Carly about why he’d stayed
Normally, he was a pretty honest man, and at the moment his conscience was telling him to straighten her out about his newly unemployed status. But she’d think he was an idiot for quitting his job so rashly. And since he’d be out of her life again in only a few weeks, there was no real reason she had to know.
Besides, telling her at this late date would be a little tricky. She’d been sitting right there when he’d phoned and supposedly arranged for time off.
When Hilda answered, he explained that he was going to be away for longer than he’d expected and that Ben would be looking after moving his things.
“Well, don’t you worry about your mail,” she said. “I’ll keep taking it in. But what if there’s anything important looking? Or letters? If there are, I should forward them, shouldn’t I?”
“That would be great,” he told her, although he doubted there’d be anything except junk mail and bills.
He gave her the address just in case. Then he hung up, tossed the salad and carried it over to the table. Carly dropped a handful of spaghetti into the boiling water, then came and sat down across the table from him.
“I want to say something,” she told him after a moment
“Say away.”
“I want to tell you how much I appreciate your helping out. Aside from anything else, I know this has to be vacation time you’ve given up to stay here. And the fact that you’re willing to inconvenience your friends to help me…”
He smiled uneasily. There was gratitude written all over her face, and his conscience started in on him again. He really should tell her he wasn’t quite as terrific as she figured, that he was motivated by a lot more than a desire to help her.
But before he could make himself say anything, she went on.
“And I can imagine how nervous you must be about working with Attila.”
“I’m sure that’ll fade.” Unless, of course, the bear did something to make him even more nervous. Or to make him dead.
“I’m sure it will, too.” Carly gave him one of her terrific smiles. “At any rate, I just wanted you to know I really appreciate what you’re doing—especially when keeping Wild Action afloat can’t mean anywhere near as much to you as it does to me.”
He managed another smile of his own, but keeping the agency afloat meant a whole lot more to him than she realized. It would keep him out of the poorhouse.
W HEN HE’D PHONED YESTERDAY , Jay Wall had told Carly he’d be arriving with the cast and crew well before noon. By eleven-thirty, sitting on the porch and still waiting for them to appear, she was a nervous wreck.
She glanced over at Nick, who was reading her copy of the Two for Trouble script, and reminded herself that his morning session with Attila had gone fairly well. But that was no guarantee things would go smoothly during the shooting. And if they didn’t, Jay would want her head on a platter.
She’d never met the man, but Gus had. He’d spent a week in L.A., working out the details of the contract with Jay and the producer. And he’d come home referring to the wunderkind director as “that obnoxious young snot.”
According to Gus, Jay was charming one minute, explosive and demanding the next, and drove everyone he worked with crazy.
He was also, she knew from the phone conversations she’d had with him, extremely annoyed that Gus had had the audacity to die before Two for Trouble was in the can. And he was not pleased that he’d be stuck working with the “understudy,” as he’d called her yesterday.
Sight unseen, he’d decided she was second rate. “You’re certain,” he’d demanded, “the bear’s performance will be up to scratch
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