Into the Fury (BOSS, Inc. #1)(7)

Add to that, the way they took care of their bodies required tremendous work. Ethan regularly pumped weights and worked out in the gym in his apartment complex. It was just part of his job. These women worked with trainers, dieted furiously, limited their alcohol intake to practically zilch, and went to bed early. When in the hell did they have any fun?

After watching them a while, when a woman he’d dubbed Heather-with-the-silver hair strutted down the runway in her sky-high heels, stepped wrong and went down hard, he was only a little surprised.

Being close to the stage, he jumped up on the runway and walked over to help. Her nails dug into his arm as she took hold and tried to stand, released a grimace of pain.

“Take it easy.” Crouching beside her, he urged her to lie back down.

“Don’t move her!” Daniel Clemens and his young assistant rushed forward. “Someone call Dr. Harrison!”

“I’m okay,” the blonde said, but he could hear the anxiety in her voice. “Please—just give me a minute, Daniel. I’ll be fine.”

Clemens was tall and slender, with light brown hair moussed into some kind of bed-head style. Ethan had a hunch he was gay, but he wasn’t flamboyant. And as Matt Carlyle had said, he was clearly good at his job.

The choreographer knelt next to Ethan. “We can’t stop rehearsal. We need to get her off the stage, but she can’t walk on that ankle. Do you think you could carry her back to one of the dressing rooms?”

“Not a problem.” Bending, Ethan scooped the girl up in his arms and started striding toward the back of the stage.

Heather slid her arms around his neck. “Wow. If my ankle wasn’t hurting so damn much, I’d be impressed.”

His mouth edged up. “You aren’t that heavy.”

“Oh, you are a sweet talker.” Heather flashed him a pain-filled smile, then returned her attention to Clemens, who hurried along beside them. “I’ll be okay, Daniel, really. It only hurts a little. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“Sorry, dear girl. You know show policy. We’ll have to see what the doctor says. I’ll go make sure he’s on his way.”

Daniel hurried off as Ethan carried Heather into one of the dressing rooms. He tried not to notice the array of hot-pink panties, skimpy lace bras, feather boas, sequined thongs, and God-only-knew what else. Gently, he settled Heather on the sofa against the wall and stood up just as another woman pushed her way into the already cramped quarters.

Though her dimples weren’t showing, he recognized the blonde. Valentine.

She reached down and gently caught hold of the injured woman’s hand. “How are you doing, Heather?”

At the contact, the girl fought not to cry. “Oh, God, Val, I can’t believe this.”

“You’re going to be okay. Just lie back and let me take a look, all right?” Valentine knelt next to the platinum blonde. “Somebody get an ice pack. We need to keep the swelling down.”

She glanced over, spotted him standing in the doorway, and seemed to remember who he was. “Ethan, can you find someone to get an ice pack for us?”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” His last glimpse as he walked out of the dressing room was Valentine moving the ankle. He heard Heather’s hiss of pain, and then she started to cry.

“I’ve got the ice coming,” Daniel told him when he reached the open area behind the stage. “We keep a couple of physicians on our payroll, on call for emergencies like these. It shouldn’t take Dr. Harrison long to get here.”

“Will she be able to do the show?” Ethan asked.

Daniel shook his head. “From the looks of that sprain, it isn’t likely. La Belle has liability concerns when it comes to job-related injuries. Besides, I don’t think she’d be able to walk the runway in a pair of spike heels.”

Ethan didn’t think so either. But then, he couldn’t figure out how the models managed to do it when there was nothing wrong with them.

Daniel glanced back toward the dressing room and released a long sigh. “Heather is going to be crushed. These women prepare for the show all year.”

He was beginning to figure that out, coming to respect the models in ways he hadn’t expected. He liked the way Valentine had shown up to help her friend. There had to be a lot of competition between them. They were, after all, still women.

He looked up, spotted Dirk walking toward him in that lanky, restless stride of his.

“We got a problem?” Dirk asked.

“Yeah, but not the kind we’re here for. One of the women took a fall, sprained her ankle. She’s probably out of the show. They’ll have to run the production one model short.”

“Which one was it?”

“Heather.”

“Platinum blonde. I remember her. Told me she’s from LA. Guess she’ll be making the trip back home.”

Ethan cocked an eyebrow, leaving the words hands off unsaid.

“I know, I know. It wasn’t like that. She was just killing time between set changes.” He grinned, moving the short-cropped mustache that framed his mouth and trailed down to his jaw. “Besides, I prefer redheads. That one, Megan, with the big blue eyes, is just my style.”

Ethan chuckled. “Too bad about the no-touch rule. You could pretty much find anything here you wanted.”