'Thanks.' Brooke pressed the cold bottle against her forehead before she twisted off the top. 'What was with her today?' she demanded. 'She can be a problem, but I've never had to drag one line out of her like that before.'
'Broke up with her man last week,' E.J. informed Brooke before he took a greedy swallow of grape soda.
Grinning, Brooke sat on the tailgate. 'Anything you don't know, E.J.?'
'Not a thing.' He propped himself beside her, one of the few on the Thorton staff who wasn't leery of the Tiger-lady, as Brooke had been dubbed. 'You're going to that fancy de Marco party tonight.'
'Yeah.' Brooke gave a slow, narrow-eyed smile that had nothing to do with the brilliance of the sun. The party would be her chance to cut Parks Jones down a few pegs. She could still remember how she had stood shaking on her porch in the moonlight after the echo of his engine had died away.
'It's going to be a kick working with Parks Jones.'
E.J. downed the rest of his soda in one swallow. 'The man's got the best glove in the league and a bat that won't quit smoking. Knocked in two more RBIs last night.'
Brooke leaned against the door frame and scowled.
'Good for him.'
'Don't you like baseball?' E.J. grinned, tossing his empty bottle into the back of the wagon.
'No.'
'Ought to have some team spirit,' he mused and gave her knee a friendly squeeze. 'The better he does, the more punch the campaign'll have. And if he gets' into the series-'
'If he gets into the series,' Brooke interrupted, 'we have to wait until the end of October before we can start shooting.'
'Well.' E.J. stroked his chin. 'That's show biz.' Brooke tried to glare, then chuckled. 'Let's get back. I've got a shoot in the studio this afternoon. Want me to drive?''
'Naw.' EJ. slammed the tailgate then headed for the driver's seat. 'I like living.'
'You're such a wimp, E.J.'
'I know,' he agreed cheerfully. 'I've got this thing about traveling at the speed of light.' After adjusting mirror-lensed sunglasses on his face he coaxed the station wagon's engine into life. It sputtered and groaned temperamentally while he crooned to it. 'Why don't you buy a new car?' Brooke demanded. 'You get paid enough.'
He patted the wagon's dash when the engine caught. 'Loyalty. I've been cruising in this little darling for seven years. She'll be around when that flashy machine of yours is nuts and bolts.'
Brooke shrugged, then tilted back her head to drain the bottle. E.J. was the only one who worked under her who dared any intimacy, which was probably the reason she not only allowed it but liked him for it.
She also considered him one of the best men with a camera on the West Coast. He came from San Francisco where his father was a high school principal and his mother owned and operated a popular beauty salon. She had met them once and wondered how two such meticulous people could have produced a freewheeling, loose-living man with a penchant for voluptuous women and B movies.
But then, Brooke mused, she'd never been able to understand families. Always she viewed them with perplexity and longing, as only one on the outside could fully understand. Settling back on the carefully patched seat, she began to plot out her strategy for her afternoon session.
'Heard you took in a Kings game the other night.'
E.J. caught her swift, piercing look and began to whistle tunelessly.
'So?'
'I saw Brighton Boyd at a party a couple of nights ago. Worked with him on a TV special last year. Nice guy' Brooke remembered seeing the actor in the box next to hers and Claire's. She dropped her empty bottie on the already littered floor. 'So?' she repeated coolly.
'Big Kings fan,' E.J. went on, turning the radio up loud so that he had to shout over the top 40 rock. 'Raved about Jones's homer-on a two-out, two strike pitch. The man's a hell of a clutch hitter.'
While Brooke remained silent, E.J. tapped out the beat from the radio on the steering wheel. There was the glint of gold from a ring on his long dark fingers. ' Brighton said Jones stared at you like a man who'd been hit with a blunt instrument. That Brighton, he sure does turn a phrase.'
'Hmm.' Brooke began to find the passing scenery fascinating.
'Said he came right over to your box chasing a foul. Had a few words to say.'
Brooke turned her head and stared into E.J.'s mirrored glasses. 'Are you pumping me, E.J.?'
'Hot damn! Can't pull anything over on you, Brooke; you're one sharp lady.'
Despite herself she laughed. She knew a 'no comment' would only cause speculation she'd like to avoid. Instead she stretched her legs out on the seat and treated it lightly. 'He just wanted my name.'
'And?'
'And nothing.'
'Where'd you go with him?'
The faintest frown creased her brow. 'I didn't say I went anywhere with him.'
'He didn't ask your name because he was taking a census.'
Brooke gave him a cool, haughty look that would have discouraged anyone else. 'You're a gossipy old woman, E.J.'
'Yep. You go to dinner with him?'
'Yes,' she said on a sigh of surrender. 'And that's all.'
'Not as bright as he looks, then.' He patted her sneakered foot. ' 'Or maybe he felt funny about starting something up with the lady who'll be directing him.'
'He didn't know,' Brooke heard herself say before she could stop herself.
'Oh?'
'I didn't tell him.'
'Oh.' This time the syllable was drawn out and knowing.
'I didn't think it was necessary,' Brooke said heatedly. ' 'It was strictly a social meeting, and it gave me the opportunity to plan how best to film him.'
'Mm-hmm.'
She turned back in her seat and folded her arms. 'Shut up and drive, E.J.'
'Sure thing, boss.'
'As far as I'm concerned he can take his golden glove and smoking bat and sit on them.'
E.J. nodded wisely, enjoying himself. 'You know best.'
'He's conceited and cold and inconsiderate.'
'Must have been some evening,' E.J. observed.
'I don't want to talk about it.' Brooke kicked at the empty bottle on the floor.
'Okay,' he said affably.
'He's the kind of man,' she went on, 'who thinks a woman's just waiting to fall all over him just because he's moderately attractive and successful and has an average mind.'
'For a Rhodes scholar,' E.J. mused as he slowed down for his exit.
'A what?'
'He's a Rhodes scholar.'
Brooke's mouth fell open, then shut with a bang. 'He is not.'
E.J. shrugged agreeably. 'Well, that's what it said in Sports View. That was supposed to be the main reason he didn't start playing professional ball until he was twenty-two.'
'Probably just a publicity hype,' she muttered, but she knew better. She rode the rest of the way to the studio in frowning silence.
The de Marco California villa was an eyeful.
Brooke decided that it had the dubious ability of making Claire's mansion look simple and discreet. It was huge, E-shaped and dazzling white with two inner courtyards. One held a grotto like pool complete with miniature waterfall, the other a sheltered garden rich with exotic scents.
When Brooke arrived, she could hear the high liquid sounds of harps and mixed conversation. People were
