Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(103)

Over the last few days, she had found herself playing with the intoxicating notion that Bobby Tom might be falling in love with her, and her cheeks flushed as she made her way back to the car. Even though she tried to tell herself that sort of thinking was dangerous, she couldn’t quite shake it off. How could he gaze at her so tenderly if he didn’t care? He was so open in his affection, so passionate in his lovemaking. Surely he couldn’t have been like this with all the women in his past? Surely he felt something special for her?

Sometimes she’d look up from what she was doing and find him watching her as if she were important to him. That was when she’d start thinking about the future and envisioning roly-poly babies and a house filled with the sound of his laughter. Was it impossible? Could he be beginning to feel the same way about her that she felt about him? Her skin felt hot and prickly just thinking about it. Was it possible that the future might hold more for her than memories?

For the rest of the day, she threw herself into her work to avoid daydreaming. She’d no sooner gotten the welcome packets ready for the hostesses to pass out at the Cattleman’s Hotel than a crisis over the seating plans broke out at the country club. As she raced over there, she passed beneath one of the welcoming banners that hung over Main Street. Like everything else in town from bumper stickers to T-shirts, it read HEAVEN, TEXAS! A PLACE IN THE HEART.

She spent most of the afternoon at the country club, straightening out problems with the arrangement of the tables. When she was done, it was nearly five o’clock, and she realized she hadn’t picked up her paycheck. Since she had exactly four dollars left in her wallet, she made a mad dash back to Windmill’s suite on the top floor of the hotel, hoping to get there before the woman who took care of the payroll had left.

To her disappointment, Willow was locking the door as she stepped off the elevator. Gracie hurried forward. “I’m sorry to be so late, but it’s been a crazy day. Would you mind letting me get my paycheck?”

Willow shrugged and opened the door. “I guess not.”

Gracie followed her inside. Even though she tried to be as helpful to Willow as she could, their relationship had continued to be strained, and Gracie suspected it was because Willow had planned to launch her own affair with Bobby Tom. She didn’t want to think how angry the producer would be if she discovered that the engagement was bogus.

“I know you can’t be crazy about me spending so much time away from the set, but you told me I’m supposed to be taking my orders from Bobby Tom, and he wants me to tend to these organizational details for the golf tournament.”

“It’s fine, Gracie. Whatever.”

Willow was a tough taskmaster, and Gracie couldn’t imagine her being so lenient with anyone else. Now, while they were alone, seemed as good a time as any to broach the subject of the future. “I’ve been wondering what your plans are for me.”

“Plans?”

“For L.A. Whether you want me to go there or not.”

“I guess you should ask Bobby Tom.” She began riffling through one of the portable files on top of the credenza. “I heard a couple of the Lakers have arrived for the golf tournament. I’ve followed the team for years, and I hope I get a chance to meet them at the dinner tonight.”

“I’m sure Bobby Tom will be happy to introduce you.” She hesitated, picking her words carefully. “Willow, I don’t want my personal relationship with Bobby Tom to influence my professional future. Regardless of who I take my orders from, you’re my employer, and I guess I’d feel better if I knew what you have in mind.”

“I’m sorry, Gracie, but I can’t tell you any more right now.” She seemed to be having difficulty finding the check, and she started through the file again, only to pause. “Oh, that’s right. Your check is processed separately.”

A small chill crept through Gracie as she watched Willow move over to the desk, open the center drawer, and pull out a long envelope.

Her voice had a faintly hollow sound. “Why is that? Why is my check handled differently from anyone else’s?”

Willow hesitated a fraction too long. “Who knows why bookkeeping does things?”

“You do,” she forced out. “You’re the producer.”

“Look, Gracie, maybe you’d better talk to Bobby Tom about this. I’m really rushed for time.” She thrust the check into Gracie’s stiff fingers.

Gracie felt something cold trickle down her spine, and she could barely find enough air to speak as a terrible certainty took hold of her. “Bobby Tom has been paying my salary all along, hasn’t he? He’s my employer, not Windmill.”

Willow picked up her purse and walked to the door. “I really don’t want to get involved in this.”

“You already are.”

“Look, Gracie, one thing you learn fast if you want to survive in this business is not to piss off the star. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Gracie understood too much. Bobby Tom had been paying her salary all along, and he’d told Willow to keep it a secret.

Her knees were rubbery as she followed Willow from the suite. She felt as if something fragile had shattered inside her. This was a betrayal she had never expected. As the elevator descended, all her daydreams evaporated. This had been so important to her. So essential. Just this morning, she had tantalized herself with the notion that he might love her, but now she knew he didn’t see her any differently from all the other parasites who preyed on him.