Fortunately, several of the other cast members circled around to offer their congratulations. Despite their otherwise superb acting talent, few of them sounded particularly sincere. In fact, she suspected that without Jason’s presence and Terry’s very visible welcome earlier, her first day of taping the show would have gone unnoted by most of them. She’d sensed a lot of resentment seething just under the surface since she’d arrived on the set what seemed like a lifetime ago. There was no question that a lot of people would be happier if she failed. She was determined that wouldn’t happen. She intended to be the best prepared actress on the set, if not the most experienced or talented.
“Where’s that champagne I ordered to toast Ms. Smith’s first day?” Jason demanded.
“Coming right up,” someone called out from behind the sets.
“And the hors d’oeuvres,” Terry shouted. “I paid a fortune for little wieners wrapped in blankets because I know how much Penelope loves them and there won’t be any at her farewell party tomorrow night.”
“Walker, you have so much pizzazz,” observed the actor who played the villainous Victor. Jonathan Baines smiled benevolently at Callie. The smile transformed him.
“Darling, that bit with the gun scared the daylights out of me,” he said. “It always makes me nervous when I see a woman with a weapon.”
“Perhaps that should tell you something about the way you live your life,” Paul Locklear chimed, then added for Callie’s benefit, “Jonathan has what might best be referred to as a love-’em-and-leave-’em philosophy. Some of his conquests don’t take too kindly to being abandoned, which is why he has to work so hard to make all those generous alimony payments.”
Even after spending a whirlwind two weeks on the set, working with the writers and rehearsing informally with her costars, Callie was still a little bemused by the cavalier barbs they exchanged. Often, there was an underlying affection to the remarks, but just as frequently they were made with acidic sincerity.
She supposed it wasn’t all that surprising, then, that one of them had gone a step further and started leaving nasty little notes in Terry’s dressing room. So far, though, she didn’t have a clue who might be behind the handful of subtly threatening notes or whether they were linked in any way to the recent spurt of minor accidents that had disrupted scenes.
No new notes had arrived since she’d started to work, perhaps because she’d been in the way, spending most of her time in Terry’s dressing room, running lines with him. Until her arrival, Terry had apparently been a gadabout. He’d left his dressing room unlocked and accessible to anyone who wanted to slip a warning in amid the stacks of fan mail.
The small celebration was barely under way when Jason pulled Callie aside and complained, “Except for driving you to and from the studio, I’ve hardly seen you since you started work.”
She grinned at his disgruntled tone. “This was your idea,” she pointed out.
“I guess I figured I could pull rank and get a few minutes alone with you every now and then. Then the producers explained a few hard facts of life about the taping schedule and the script changes needed to work in your story line.”
“So I fell victim to the bottom line. You are such a sentimental soul, Mr. Kane.”
“A pragmatic soul,” he corrected. “What would be the point of hiring you to save the show, then sabotaging it for my own prurient interests?”
“Prurient interests, huh? Sounds fascinating.”
His expression suddenly turned serious. “Want to sneak away with me?”
“To?”
“Someplace private, where I can explain my prurient thoughts in more detail.”
“Why do I suspect it would be more show than tell?” she inquired lightly. She checked her watch, then patted his cheek. “Sorry, no can do. I have an interview in ten minutes.”
“How long can that take? I’ll wait.”
“Then I have to go shopping with the woman from wardrobe, so we can make some decisions about what Cop Kelly would wear once she sheds that depressing uniform.”
“Now there’s where I come in,” Jason said eagerly. “I have very clear ideas about that. I’ll come, too.”
“We’re supposed to have a magazine photographer along to do a layout. I don’t think it would be so good for your image to be seen hanging out in women’s boutiques, instead of running the network.”
“Of course it will. It’s after-hours. It’ll show what a dedicated, hands-on president I am.”
“Hands-on, huh? Maybe we can work this out. It’ll be very convenient to have the man with the checkbook along, in case my tastes run to excess.”
“I’ve seen your taste,” he countered. “I’m not worried.”
“You’ve only seen my I’m-depressed-and-sulking wardrobe,” she corrected. “One reason I came to New York was because I refused to buy one more cheap outfit in a discount warehouse. I really love expensive little dress shops. Remember Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman once Richard Gere gave her the run of Rodeo Drive? That’s me.”
He grinned. “You’re not going to scare me off. Besides, your wardrobe budget is set. You’re a financial whiz. You can imagine the consequences of going overbudget. I’d probably have to insist on another actor being written out. Do you want the responsibility for that on your head?”
Unfortunately, Callie guessed that his threats weren’t entirely idle. There was an undercurrent of hard practicality required for a man to achieve what Jason had accomplished by the age of thirty-five. She had certainly been subjected to his relentless determination. She would hate to be the one to trigger any decision to start making cast cuts. Whatever resentments were already seething on the set would only deepen.
“Actually, I was thinking you could pick
