High Heels and Homicide by Kasey Michaels Page A

that.”
    â€œOh, for God’s sake. What do you do, keep score on who gets the most face time?”
    Sam looked at her. “Oh, yeah. Sure. You didn’t know that? No, I guess you didn’t. That’s why you need a screenwriter to adapt your stuff from the book. It’s a whole other ball game when it’s on the screen.”
    But Maggie wasn’t listening. She was much too busy looking at the guy who was standing just at the entrance to the main saloon.
    Tall. Slim. Blond. Green eyes she could see from twenty feet away. Knife-creased camel slacks, a camel cashmere pullover sweater, a second black cashmere sweater draped over his shoulders and loosely tied. A young Peter O’Toole in Ralph Lauren; as gorgeous as any of Lauren’s models. Slightly aloof, faintly bored, enticingly detached.
    As she stared, Bernie came up behind her, bent down to whisper in her ear. “Can I keep him, Mommy? Huh, huh, can I, please?”
    â€œWe’ll see, sweetheart. We don’t know who he is, let alone where he’s been,” Maggie whispered, her gaze glued to the man as he spied Sir Rudy, waved, and walked over to him. She lifted the script and began fanning herself with it. “Oh, God. I’m too young to get hot flashes. Who is he?”
    â€œNot your problem. I’ve got dibs.”
    Sam Undercuffler sighed as if he knew he’d become invisible, gathered the pages of the script, and wandered off to talk to Marylou.
    Sir Rudy and the new arrival shook hands, and then the older man called out, “Everyone? My nephew, Byrd. Byrd Stockwell. He’s a model for the magazines. But he’s not queer. He can’t be queer. He’s m’heir. Not that he’s supposed to be here.”
    â€œThank you, Uncle,” Byrd said with a slight shake of his head. “I’m sure everyone will remember me now, won’t they? Unless someone would want me to strip and maul that lovely lady over there to prove my masculinity?”
    Nikki Campion, the lovely lady in question, hopped to her feet and broke all land speed records in getting herself to Byrd’s side, almost coming to grief over the hem of her Regency Era gown, which barely contained her boobs. “Hi. I’m Nikki.”
    â€œAnd the rest of us are dog meat,” Bernie said, sighing. “Oh, well, I’m too old for him anyway. Even if I wasn’t off men, which I am, considering my track record. We’re getting to be quite a crowd, aren’t we?”
    â€œ Shhh ,” Maggie said, leaning forward to listen to the introductions, and to watch Alex as he watched Byrd Stockwell.
    Nothing. No reaction. Obviously Alex didn’t look at the man and think competition . How did men do that? She looked at Nikki Campion and saw competition. Women knew competition when they saw it. Alex couldn’t care less.
    Man, she’d made him secure. And, sometimes, that really pissed her off.
    â€œI almost didn’t make it, Uncle,” Byrd was saying after the introductions were completed. “I told you to dredge that stream. Much more rain, and we’ll be cut off here.” Then he looked down at Nikki. “Not that that’s entirely a bad thing…Nikki.”
    Maggie groaned. “Oh, never mind. He’s a jerk. The handsome ones always are.”
    â€œExcept for Alex. But you already knew that, or you wouldn’t have modeled Saint Just after him. The perfect hero.”
    Oh, if Bernie only knew the truth! Maggie closed her eyes, thought for a moment, then said, “Bernie? Can you keep a secret?”
    Her friend laughed. “ Me? How long have you known me, Mags?”
    â€œYeah, right. Never mind, stupid question.” Maggie reached for her nicotine inhaler even as she wondered why Sir Rudy kept looking at his nephew as if he wished the handsome man was on the moon.

Chapter Six
    S aint Just stood at the mantel, observing the room and his companions.
    He felt