gave him an impudent grin. ‘Oh, surely not goodbye, Mr Payne. After all, I have to wait until tomorrow before I can leave.’
‘I doubt we will meet again, Miss Adams,’ he said in a stilted voice.
Stacy left the caravan with a defiant flick of her head, an amused curve to her full mouth. Mr Payne was right, most of the staff had already left, but there were still some of the cast left. Matthew Day was one of them, and he had been a good friend of hers for the past three years. She linked arms with him as they walked over to his car to drive back to the hotel.
Matthew was tall, dark and rugged, very handsome, and making quite a name for himself in films and television. Stacy had no doubt that within a couple of years Matthew would be landing leading roles in major films, but for the moment he only had a supporting role like herself—like she had had.
‘You're looking pleased with yourself,’ he remarked on the way back to the hotel.
‘I've been sacked!’
His foot momentarily jerked on the accelerator. ‘You've been what?’
‘Sacked,’ she repeated happily.
‘But why? And why do you look so happy about it? I thought this job meant a lot to you. The part of Kate may not be a large one, but it is a crucial one.’
‘I've been sacked because of Paul Forbes. He's decided that I attract him now.’
‘God, that man's incredible!’ Matthew exclaimed. ‘Last week it was Jan in Make-up, the week before that Cindy Davies, and now you. I take it you refused to play his little game?’
‘Yes, so he went straight to Payne and used all his egotistical power to try and get me to change my mind.’
‘Which you didn't,’ he stated knowingly.
‘Did you expect me to?’
‘No,’ he grinned ruefully. ‘I have first-hand experience of your moral principles.’
‘I thought you'd got over that long ago.’ The two of them had dated for a few months a couple of years ago, but they had finally decided to end things when it became apparent that they wanted different things from the relationship. Luckily they had managed to remain friends.
Matthew squeezed one of her hands as it lay in her lap. ‘I have, Stacy,’ he assured her. ‘I was only teasing you. But if Forbes got you the sack why are you looking so pleased?’
‘Because Paul Forbes wanted to take me to the party tonight being given for Jake Weston's arrival, and I'm going to enjoy turning up there with you.’
‘You mean you're still going, even after being sacked?’
‘Certainly. I may not have been too enthusiastic about going in the first place, people fawning all over the author of this film isn't exactly my idea of a fun evening, but I'm definitely going now.’ She smiled her glee. ‘I wouldn't miss it for the world.’
Matthew accepted her determination with a smile, knowing that once Stacy made her mind up about something she very rarely changed it. ‘I'm quite looking forward to meeting the famous Jake Weston,’ he commented.
‘You don't think the lowly workers like us will get an introduction, do you,’ she scoffed. ‘Goodness, you're expecting a lot!’
‘Why shouldn't we?’ He drove the car into the huge hotel car park, most of the hotel full even though it was almost out of season. The film crew had more or less taken over the large hotel, any other guests finding it strange to be invaded with actors and all the technical staff that went with the making of a film. ‘We have as much right to meet him as anyone else.’
‘A man constantly on top of the best-seller list, every book he writes turned into a major film?’ Stacy shook her head. ‘He won't be interested in the lowlies like us. Besides, I've heard he isn't all that sociable.’
‘If he can attend a party of this size he has to be.’
‘Mm.’ Stacy got out of the car. ‘Well, I'm not at all interested in meeting him. He's probably one of those brash Americans who wears loud clothes and calls everyone “buddy”.’
Matthew laughed, as he locked the doors to his blue sports car. ‘You shouldn't generalise. He could turn out to be tall, dark and handsome.’
‘Like you?’ she teased. ‘No, I picture him as being short and fat, probably balding, and in his mid-forties,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Now I know you're wrong about his age, he's thirty-eight.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, that's almost forty.’
They had entered the hotel now, the receptionist giving them both a glowing smile as they walked over to the lift. It was all very exciting having all these actors staying here, meeting people she had only ever seen on the television or at the cinema.
Matthew chuckled. ‘I don't think people of thirty-eight would agree with you.’
‘Maybe not,’ Stacy agreed, lowering her voice slightly as someone came to stand behind them. ‘But he's still twice my age, that makes him old.’
‘Poor devil,’ Matthew murmured. ‘Do you fancy a drink before dinner?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks, it's a bit early for me. Besides,’ she looked down ruefully at the costume she was still wearing, ‘I think I should get out of this before I get accused of stealing it.’
He laughed. ‘Okay, I'll see you later at dinner. And try not to be rude to our fat, balding, ageing author tonight. I don't want you upsetting anyone else to do with the film, I still have to work here.’
‘Don't worry—like I told you, Jake Weston won't be interested in us.’ She stepped into the lift, moving aside to allow the man standing behind them to enter too. ‘And I promise to be on my best behaviour.’
Matthew grimaced. ‘You wouldn't know how!’
She gave him a cheeky grin as the lift doors swished shut, giving the man at her side, the only other occupant of the lift, a casual look-over. She instantly did a retake. Wow! Now here was a good example of someone tall, dark and handsome,—and she felt sure this individual wasn't Jake Weston.
Stacy had never seen him before, but with those looks she felt he should have been starring in the film instead of Paul Forbes. He was gorgeous, although the dark scowl on his face gave him a slightly satanic look. He had jet-black hair, worn long over his collar but styled, piercing deep blue eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a strong firm mouth that hinted at a steely determination, gave an impression that this man always got what he went after. He was very tall, well over six foot, his wide powerful shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist and firm muscular thighs, all shown to advantage in the black polo-necked jumper he wore and the fitted black trousers. Stacy guessed his age to be somewhere between thirty-five and forty.
She cleared her throat before attempting to talk. ‘Which floor?’ she squeaked, her usually bubbly nature completely overwhelmed by his blatant magnetism.
He looked at her for the first time, those deep blue eyes running coolly
