Dying to Have Her by Heather Graham Page A

any help you can give. Just try not to make me look like an ass.”
    “Are all the forensics reports in yet?”
    “No, but I should have something more definite soon. And when I do, I’ll let you know.”
    Liam rang off.
    He stared at her house once again, gritted his teeth, and sank back in the car seat.
    Damn, but the nights could be long.

Chapter 7
    M ONDAY, BACK ON THE set, Serena was early. Her weekend had been restless, to say the least. She had thought that getting to work as early as possible and getting on with her usual routine would be a good idea.
    She was so early that only Clancy, glumly on duty on the ground floor, was there to greet her. Heading up to her dressing room, she passed the standing show sets—still dark, except for the emergency lighting.
    On the board by the stairs she saw huge shoot notices posted for the day: “Meeting! All cast and crew, no exceptions! 9:00 A.M. sharp. SHARP!”
    Beneath that order was a call notice: “Serena McCormack, Conar Markham, extras—Egyptian set, 10:00.”
    There had been some rewrites for the day, that was certain. Extras? What extras? What were they shooting?
    She looked around the big room with its many sets on either side of the central aisle where the cameras moved. Crime tape still surrounded the restaurant set where the light had fallen. That must not be making Joe and Andy very happy, she thought. Of all the sets, the restaurant one was used most frequently.
    She heard a noise on the set and froze for a moment. Turning around, she saw only a shadowy figure at first, coming from the area of the crime scene. As he moved toward her, she saw it was a man, very tall and broad shouldered.
    A murderer! she thought, the unease of the last few days setting in.
    No, she told herself logically. He must be an extra. Maybe he didn’t know where to go.
    She started toward him. “Excuse me. You must be lost. I don’t think you should be wandering around on the set alone. The police still have that area roped off. If you go up two floors, you’ll find costuming and makeup for the extras.”
    She was stunned by the answer she received.
    “I’m not a damned extra, and I don’t need a costume or makeup, Serena.”
    The man stepped into a pool of light. His dark hair was rumpled and slashing across his forehead, and an annoyed scowl tightened his rugged features.
    Liam.
    Her first thought was that she was a total disaster. Here she was, not a speck of makeup, hair barely brushed, in leggings and an oversized T-shirt.
    She’d heard from Conar, who was one of Liam’s best friends, that he was dating an archaeologist, or a paleontologist, or something like that—a young blonde who for some reason dug holes in the earth and loved the outdoors. A woman with a real purpose in life. Probably all legs and tan and …
    “Hello, Serena.”
    “Liam,” she murmured. She wondered what emotion her voice registered.
    “Yeah. Sorry,” he said curtly, and she realized that she had sounded displeased.
    Well, she was displeased. It was much better when she didn’t see him. But there he was, in the flesh. Or rather, in a casual beige jacket, khakis, and a dark blue tailored shirt that worked especially well with his coloring. His hair was very dark, as close as possible to black, and his eyes were nearly the same shade. He had classically defined features, like a carved Roman statue, yet he still managed to have a rugged air, very masculine and decidedly sexy. His hair was damp from a recent shower, and he wore an aftershave that instantly made her think of …
    She harnessed her thoughts. “What are you doing here?” she asked politely. “Conar said that you had left the police force and were working for yourself.”
    “I am,” he said. Hands casually shoved in his pockets, he looked at her. “You mean that neither Joe nor Andy has spoken with you yet?”
    She frowned. He was very familiar with the cast and crew of Valentine Valley, having been on the force during a