Tame An Older Man

'Madelaine, you know I can't work from eleven to three.'

'Except in special circumstances. This is special.'

'I need twenty-four hours' warning. That's our deal.' Anyway, Phoebe had her organic chemistry test at two. No way was she giving any manicures this afternoon. She gathered up her makeup and arranged it in a big silver case.

Madelaine narrowed her eyes. 'Who are you working for? You did sign a non-compete agreement.'

'It's not a spa. It's for a TV show.'

Madelaine tried to look nonchalant, but Phoebe could tell she was angry. She stepped toward the lighted wall mirror, picked up one of Phoebe's brushes and fussed with her bangs.

'Well, between this TV gig and your other mysterious comings and goings, sounds like you don't really need the Sunrise Spa. So don't bother coming back.'

Phoebe was incredulous. 'Oh, Madelaine, don't go all melodramatic on me.' But she was talking to thin air. Before she had even finished voicing her objection, Madelaine had gone.

'Great,' Phoebe grumbled, hoisting her case and her purse and heading for the nearest exit. Something else to feel irritated with Wyatt for. He'd gotten her fired. Indirectly, of course, but still…

She stopped that line of thinking. She'd gotten herself fired. She'd long ago shed the victim mentality learned from her mother. She was responsible for taking Wyatt's call, for ignoring Mrs. Cooper and for being 'snippy.' She could always go back to work for Weldon's Department Store, passing out perfume samples until she found something better-though the pay was dreadful. But maybe she could at least negotiate regular hours. Being at Madelaine's beck and call had wreaked havoc on her studying.

All that rationalization didn't stop her from feeling annoyed.

* * *

It was fifteen minutes to airtime when Phoebe finally walked through the studio door. Wyatt had alerted security of her imminent arrival and instructed them to give her a visitor's badge and escort her posthaste to the set. The moment he saw her, he felt a tremendous rush of relief coupled with a bothersome surge of lust. But what healthy male wouldn't lust after her? he reasoned. Dressed in a snug knit top and even snugger black pants, walking with that graceful, loose-limbed gait of hers, she was an erotic dream waiting to happen.

She looked around, finally catching his gaze and waving an acknowledgment. She started toward him, and he met her halfway. About damn time, he wanted to say. But he knew that was his own anxiety talking. She'd no doubt gotten here as quickly as she could, and since she was his last hope of preventing this show from self-destructing, he sure as hell couldn't afford to tick her off.

'I'm sorry it took me so long,' she said breathlessly. 'Traffic was terrible.'

'That's okay.' He took her heavy case, grabbed her elbow and steered her toward a hallway that started at the back of the studio and extended past dressing rooms and offices. He tried not to think about the fact that even Phoebe's elbow was sexy.

When they reached one of the dressing rooms, he tapped, and a female voice told them to come in.

Wyatt opened the door and led Phoebe inside. 'Phoebe, this is Muriel Topper. She wrote-'

'That diet book!' Phoebe said, sounding surprised and pleased. 'We sell it at the spa where I work, and we can't keep enough copies in stock. I'm Phoebe Lane.'

Muriel, gracefully thin and quite beautiful for a seventy-year-old, smiled and extended a hand. 'Nice to meet you. Hope you've got something in that case of yours for these bags under my eyes.'

'In fact, I do. But I don't notice any bags,' she quickly added.

'You only have about fifteen minutes to get Muriel ready,' Wyatt cautioned. 'Then I need you to step next door and start on our other guest. He won't be on 'til nine-thirty.'

'No problem,' Phoebe said breezily, already opening her case and selecting sponges, brushes and various colors of foundation and eye pencil. 'Who's the other guest?'

'An actor,' Wyatt answered.

Phoebe frowned. 'That narrows it down.'

'Taylor Shad.'

She froze. 'You're joking. This is a joke, right?'

''Fraid not. You know him?'

'Well, yeah. He played my little brother on 'Skin Deep.''

'Then you all should have a lot to catch up on. Yell if you need anything.'

Wyatt got out of there. The expression on Phoebe's face was trouble. He could tell she didn't like Shad-who did?-and he was half afraid she might refuse to do the kid's makeup. Better to not even give her the chance to slither out of her commitment.

* * *

'That Shad kid is a real piece of work, isn't he?' Muriel commented, as Phoebe touched up her hair.

Phoebe had immediately liked Muriel. She'd written an easy-to-understand nutrition book for senior women, and it was selling like snow cones on a hot Phoenix street corner.

'You've met him?' Phoebe asked.

'When I first got here. He said, 'Hey, mama, you don't look bad for an old broad.''

Phoebe gasped. 'Sounds like he's even worse than when I knew him three years ago. Back then he used to pinch bottoms, snap bra straps and tell dirty jokes.'

'Well, I don't want to alarm you,' Muriel said, 'but I think Taylor Shad is the reason the makeup artist quit in a huff.'

'Oh, really?' And Wyatt hadn't even warned her about him. Well, the little snot sure wouldn't bully her into quitting, she thought. She'd been harassed by worse than him.

An intern came to get Muriel. Phoebe, pleased with how the older woman's makeup and hair had turned out, wished her good luck, then packed up her supplies to move to Taylor's dressing room. How old would he be now? About sixteen, Phoebe calculated. She hadn't kept up with his career, or anyone else's for that matter. She hardly ever watched TV or went to the movies.

She knocked on Taylor's door.

'Enter' came the imperious response.

She cautiously opened the door. Taylor Shad looked more man than boy, now.

His eyes lit up with surprise. 'Well, I'll be damned, if it isn't Vanessa Vance.'

'Phoebe Lane,' she corrected him, irritated he didn't remember her real name. As she stepped into the room, she purposely left the door open.

'I didn't know you were gonna be on 'Heads Up,' too.' Then he spied her makeup case. 'Oh, don't tell me. You do makeup now?'

'Yup.' She set her case on the vanity and mechanically went through the motions of selecting colors and applicators.

He hooted with laughter. 'Kind of a comedown, huh, sister dearest?'

She didn't respond.

'Man, oh, man. I knew nobody picked you up after Vanessa got killed off, but I can't believe you sank this low. Tell me it's a joke.'

Phoebe gritted her teeth. 'I got out of acting because I didn't like it. I enjoy doing makeup.'

'Yeah, right,' Taylor said. 'How much do you get paid for this grunt work?'

'Today, five hundred dollars an hour,' Phoebe said, just to shut him up.

It didn't work. 'On my new show, I get fifty thousand dollars an episode.'

'How nice for you.' Even if he was telling the truth, which she doubted, she was unimpressed. 'Close your eyes, please.' She turned toward him with a sponge full of foundation makeup.

Taylor complied, and for a few moments Phoebe thought he might be quiet and cooperate. No such luck.

'You smell great,' he said.

'Thanks,' she replied, no emotion in her voice.