for Clay and trying not to let thoughts of the man distract her from the job.
Something about him put her on edge as nobody had in a very long time. She’d called Charlie, Gracie’s agent, to find out more about Clay West. What he’d told her had surprised her.
Wild West Protective Services, the family business Clay worked for, was a million-dollar industry owned by Red West, Clay’s father. When Clay had said he could afford to pay for his own clothing, according to Charlie, he wasn’t lying.
Not that she cared about how much money he might have in his bank account. She just wanted him to handle the issue of Gracie’s safety. That’s all she wanted from the tall, handsome cowboy.
She frowned as she thought about having to pretend that he was her current love interest. It certainly wasn’t her ideal scenario, but it would have to do. If anyone knew about the threat against Gracie, it could screw up the negotiations for her next film, among other things.
In this case, any publicity wasn’t better than bad publicity. Any director would say that children were difficult enough to work with without extenuating circumstances.
Gracie met her in the hallway, a bright smile decorating her pretty little face. While Libby had worked in her office, Gracie had been busy, as well. She’d not only had her voice lesson, but that had been followed by a half hour of schoolwork with her tutor.
“I’m starving,” Gracie proclaimed. Clay appeared just behind her. “And Mr. Clay is starving, too.”
“Then I guess we’d better get downstairs and see what’s for dinner,” Libby said. As she walked with Gracie down the stairs, she was acutely conscious of Clay just behind them.
“Mr. Clay said he hoped we weren’t vegetarians,” Gracie continued. “I didn’t know what that meant and he explained it to me. I told him you make me eat vegetables, but we have meat, too.”
They left the stairs and walked into the large dining room where three places were set at one end of the long table. Libby sat where she always did, at the head of the table. Gracie sat on her left and she motioned Clay into the chair at her right.
They had just seated themselves when the cook, Helen Richmond, served the first course. A bowl of soup.
“Helen, this is Clay West. He’s going to be my guest for a while,” Libby said.
Clay nodded at the plump, white-haired woman. “Nice to meet you, Helen.”
She gave him a curt nod, then disappeared into the kitchen. Helen was an ill-tempered beast most of the time, but she had a reputation as one of the best cooks in Hollywood. It had been a real coup when Libby had managed to hire her.
“Mr. Clay has a cook. His name is Smokey,” Gracie said as they began to eat. “Mr. Clay says he’s grouchy.” She smiled at Libby. “Kind of like Ms. Helen, right, Mom?”
“That’s not nice, Gracie,” Libby chided.
Gracie shrugged. “But it’s true.”
Libby couldn’t help biting back a smile. If there was one thing she’d learned about her daughter, it was that Gracie was surprisingly opinionated for her age.
“You have any brothers or sisters, Clay?” she asked. She’d prefer meaningless small talk to silence.
“Four brothers, one sister.”
“I wish I had a sister or a brother,” Gracie said. “Definitely a sister, I’d have to think about a brother. Jennifer’s little brother is a big pain.” She looked at Clay. “Are your brothers big pains?”
He looked at Gracie and a smile curved his lips, the first smile Libby had seen on his face. The attractiveness of it hit her in the pit of the stomach like a small kick.
“Brothers can definitely be big pains, but they can also be the best friends you’ll ever have in your life,” he said.
“My best friend’s name is Kathryn. She’s a girl,” Gracie said. “She’s an actress, too, and I get to see her every day on the set.”
“Is she your age?” Clay asked.
“No, she’s a year older than me. She has a birthday coming up and she’s going to be nine. She thinks she’s much smarter than me because she’ll be nine before I will be.” Gracie released a long-suffering sigh. “She’s kind of a know-it-all, but she’s my best friend anyway.”
At that moment Helen returned to take away the soup dishes and to serve the main course of Swiss steak, baked potato and fresh, steamed asparagus.
Thankfully, Clay offered nothing more personal about himself throughout the course of the meal. Libby didn’t want to know anything personal about him. It was enough that he had a killer smile. It was enough that he bothered her on a level she didn’t quite understand.
Gracie kept up a running monologue throughout the meal, telling Clay all about the movie they were in the middle of shooting, about the other child actors who were in the film and how much fun they had on the set.
Although Clay wasn’t big on conversation, he listened with interest to everything Gracie said and it was apparent that in the few brief hours of the early evening the handsome cowboy and her daughter had begun to form a relationship.
Gracie liked him. It was obvious in her easy chatter, in the way she smiled at him so frequently. Libby wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On the one hand she hated to see her daughter forming any kind of attachment to a man who wouldn’t be long in her life. On the other hand she knew it was important that Gracie trust Clay. Her very life might depend on that trust.
The meal passed without too many awkward silences, thanks to Gracie. After dinner, Libby told Clay he was officially off duty while she attended to Gracie’s bath and bedtime. He disappeared into his bedroom while she and Gracie went into her room so Gracie could take a bath in her mother’s tub, as was her habit.
Half an hour later Gracie swam around in the oversize tub. Libby sat in a chair nearby. “I like Mr. Clay,” Gracie said. She scooped up a handful of bubbles and put them on top of her head, then posed as if doing a commercial shoot for bubble bath.
“I know. I could tell.”
Gracie slid down in the water. “He has nice eyes. They’re real green, like grass.”
Libby had noticed. His eyes were a beautiful shade of green, but she didn’t find them particularly nice. Whenever he gazed at her they were cool and distant and held just the slightest whisper of censure that let her know he didn’t think very much of her.
Not that it bothered her. He didn’t have to like her. That wasn’t his job. And she didn’t have to like him. She could find him pleasant to look at without having to like him. Okay, so pleasant seemed too mild a description for the edgy tension that swept through her whenever she looked at him.
“Tell me your lines for tomorrow’s shoot,” Libby said, hoping to distract her daughter from any more observations about Clay West.
It was eight-thirty when she finally got Gracie tucked into bed and went down to her office for the list and schedule Clay had requested. She’d not only written down the names of the
