Her Leading Man (50 page)

He sneered at
her.

Par for the course, Christina thought caustically.
Anyone who didn’t
succumb to his charms he considered
not merely beneath him, but intolerably
foolish
as
well. How nice it must be to have such a
supremely exalted opinion of oneself.
Nice for the
person with the opinion, that
was
.

After several seconds of standing there glowering
at Christina, Orozco
lifted his good arm and pointed
a finger at her. “You will regret what you
did to
me.”

Good heavens, the man was nutty. “Not on your
life, Pablo.”
Christina didn’t bother looking at him
any longer, but interested herself in
the advance of
Pharaoh’s army across the desert in front of
her.

“
You will,” Orozco declared, raising his
voice
.
“You’ll see.”

“
Shut
up, you.” Gran snarled at him.

Bother. Now Gran was getting involved again. Before
her grandmother
could get up and whale away
at the
actor
with her cane,
Christina snapped,
“Go away, Pablo. You’ll see how sorry you’ll be if
you ever lay a
finger on me again.” Much less a
tongue
.
Every time Christina remembered the incident,
her insides rebelled.

“
You’ll see,” Orozco repeated in a voice the
Oracle
at Delphi might have been proud of.

He marched off, looking very much like a knight
of old might have
looked
after
having been given a
commendation by his king. Christina gazed after him
only long enough to
see him go into the resort.
Thank God. She hoped he’d stay there for the
rest
of the
day.

Her hope wasn’t fulfilled, but Orozco didn’t bother
her again that day.
Shortly after he’d declared that
Christina would be sorry—for defending
herself
against him, for Pete’s sake—Christina saw him ride
away in a motorcar.
It was the car belonging to the
Palm Desert Resort,
and
the
person driving was, once
more, one of the bellboys.

Glad to see the last of her costar for a while, she
turned her attention
back to the army scene, serenely
sipping lemonade and eating the occasional
date. Except
for the heat, the day was delightful.

Martin saw the motorcar drive away, saw Pablo
Orozco in the back
seat, and wondered where he was
going and what he was going to do there.
This was
the
second time in a few days the actor had commandeered
a car to drive
him
somewhere. Martin
didn’t trust Orozco not to try to make trouble
for
Christina. Pablo Orozco didn’t take kindly to women
who
rebuffed his advances.

Shaking his head, Martin told himself not to worry
about
the star of
Egyptian Idyll
.
They had to get this
,
the last army scene,
finished today if they expected
to stay on
schedule. When the army scene was
in
the can,
the only thing left to do for the
picture was
film one final scene.

Martin had intended for the very last scene in the
picture to be a
close-up of Pablo and Christina, madly
in love, and secure once and for all
from the perils
of Pharaoh’s brother’s wrath. Given what had
happened
a
few days ago, he’d changed his mind. They’d
do a long shot of Christina and
Martin, hand in hand,
walking off into the
sunset together.

Or something
.
Martin didn’t really care at
this
point.
He only knew he wasn’t going to put Pablo
Orozco and Christina Mayhew within
pummeling distance
of each other. Casting a quick peek at the oasis
where Christina and
her grandmother sat, Martin expanded
his list of people to keep from one
another
to
include Mrs. Mayhew—from pretty much everyone.
Martin cringed at the very
thought of Grandmother
Mayhew and Pablo Orozco encountering each
other.

What an ordeal this picture had turned out to
be
.
Except for Christina. If he hadn’t agreed to
direct
Egyptian Idyll
, he’d never have met her, and his life
would still be
empty.
As it
was, he had no idea what was going to become
of them as a couple.

Blast
it, he didn’t want to think about that now.

“
Good work, Paul!” he shouted to Paul
Gabriel.
“You look splendid in that chariot!”
He was also driving it well,
thank
the good Lord
. Paul
Gabriel, unlike Pablo Orozco,
didn’t
resent
direction
or
educational opportunities given by experts. The
chariot-driving
instructor had only
had to spend a half
hour with Paul before he caught on
beautifully
.
Too
b
ad
Orozco hadn’t been so obliging.

There he went again: thinking about Orozco. Martin
scolded himself and
called out, “Perfect! Now
swing the chariot around and exhort your army
onward!”

“
Right-ho, Martin!”

Martin smiled with pleasure when Paul did exactly
as Martin had
directed him

“
Perfect!” he yelled.
“Great!”

The filming went smoothly—much more smoothly
than yesterday’s,
mainly because yesterday Orozco
had been in several of the scenes. He’d
made a fuss
every time he’d had to remove his bandage and then
behaved like a
spoiled brat until the scene was over
and the bandage was reapplied. By the time
the day’s
filming was over, Martin had, been obliged to take
some of Christina’s
headache
powders and
lie
down
for an hour before
dinner
.
He’d sworn to himself and
to Christina that
he’d never work with Pablo Orozco
again if he could help it. She’d
given her
wholehearted
approval to his avowal.

Today the actors were obliging their director.
Martin
was
exceptionally grateful for it, since he didn’t
think he’d survive another day
like yesterday The
weather alone was enough to kill a man.

Because the filming progressed so well, Martin
called a halt early
so that the cast and crew could
go to lunch indoors. He aimed to give them
all an
extra
half hour to recover from their heat prostration
before resuming the
last of the day’s shoot
.

He walked over to Christina’s oasis. Her grandmother
was dozing in her
chair, and Christina held
a finger to her lips to keep him from speaking
loudly
and
waking her up. Martin understood. Life was a
lot easier when Mrs. Mayhew
wasn’t aware of it.

“
I’ll wake her up when we go in for
lunch,”
Christina
whispered.

“
That’s why I came over,” Martin whispered
back.
“I’m breaking early so everyone can have a good
rest before the
afternoon’s filming.”

“
You’re such a nice man, Martin.” Her smile
was
both beautiful and intimate, and it made Martin
lightheaded.

“
Don’t
make me blush.”

Christina laughed softly. “Are you ready? Shall I
wake her
up?”

She looked doubtful—for good reason, in Martin’s
opinion. He
considered the snoozing woman before
replying. “I guess you’d better. If we
leave her here,
she’ll probably lay into all of us with that cane of
hers.”

“
You’re right, unfortunately.” Gently,
Christina
shook her grandmother’s shoulder. “Gran. It’s time
to go in to
lunch.”

The old woman jerked her head up and sat at
attention.
“What?” Lifting her
cane and brandishing
it, she said, “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Martin wondered what it must be like to face every
awakening as one
might face a fierce challenge.
He
hoped he’d never find out.

Christina patted her shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong.
Gran. It’s time for
lunch is all.”

Her grandmother blinked and rubbed her
eyes.
“Must have dozed off.” She shot a
defiant glance
at
Martin. “Unusual, that. I don’t generally sleep
during
the day.”

Martin saw Christina roll her eyes and barely
restrained
a grin. “I’m sure of
it, Mrs. Mayhew. Would
you like to go in to lunch with us?”

“
Heh. I’m full of dates.” The old lady
scowled.
“How can you even think about eating lunch
after
all those dates,
Christina?”

“
Easily,” Christina said with a
patient
smile. “
In
fact, I’m rather hungry.”

Her grandmother raked her with her bird-of-prey
gaze. “You aren’t
pregnant, are you, girl?”

“
Gran!”
Christina blushed crimson.

Martin only shook his head again. “You’re a
plainspoken
woman, Mrs. Mayhew.”

“
Darned
right, I am.” Gran looked proud of it.

“
You’re a pain in the neck is what you
are,
” grumbled
Christina. “And no, I’m not
pregnant.”

Her cheeks still glowed when Martin offered an
arm to each lady. He
figured he might as well get
used to dealing with Mrs. Mayhew, since they
were
going to
be family one of these days. The notion
didn’t pain him nearly as much as the
notion of being
married to Christina thrilled him
.
He
took
that
as a
good sign.

A sensation of serenity and happiness had invaded
Christina’s body and
mind
somewhere between the
day of the rock and today’s delicious dates. As
she,
Martin,
and Gran sat down at a table with Paul
Gabriel—who still sported his
Pharaonic makeup—to
eat lunch together, she marveled at how nice it
was to
have one’s problems
solved.

Not that she was absolutely satisfied with the
solutions
she
and Martin had reached, but being his
mistress was still better than giving up
medical
school or Martin. At least they’d still be together.
That
was the
important part. That, and attending medical
school, of course. Paul smiled up at
the waiter, who
looked as if he were in awe of the actor. Most of
the employees of the
Desert Palm Resort suffered
from the same reaction. Christina had noticed
a
certain
dazzled respect
directed at her, too. It seemed a
silly reaction to her since actors were only people
like everyone else,
but there was no accounting for
the effect perceived fame had on some
folks.

“
I’ll
have the cheese soufflé and a Caesar salad.”

“
Very
good, sir.” The waiter bowed stiffly.

“
That’s an interesting combination, Paul,”
Christina
commented. She’d chosen to partake of a cold
cucumber
soup
and bread and butter. She guessed she
had rather indulged herself with the dates
that morning.

“
I like salads,” Paul said. “I’m sure they’ll
discover
lettuce is good for us one of these days.”

Martin laughed. “You’re probably right, but I’ll
have the Hamburg
steak and potatoes. I’m hungry.”