Dawn Stewardson - Wild Action

Carly felt herself starting to breathe more easily. She was still up to her ears in problems, of course, but at least Nick Montgomery wasn’t turning out to be an additional one.

On the way here, she’d let her imagination run rampant, picturing him as an enormous dragon who’d kill her by breathing fireballs when he heard he was only getting part of the estate.

In reality, he was a good-looking man—with a very nice smile and rugged features that made his appearance decidedly masculine. And even though he was clearly upset, she couldn’t see any homicidal impulses dancing in his gray eyes.

“Let’s lay our cards on the table,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and meeting her gaze. “I have absolutely no interest in the fashion industry, so the best thing all around would be for you to buy me out.”

She glanced at Roger. When he seemed as puzzled as she was, she looked at Nick once more. “The fashion industry?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t know a fashion trend from a snowplow, so—”

“Wait. You mean you’ve been thinking that Wild Action’s in the fashion business?”

“Ahh…You’re saying it’s not?”

“Nick?” Bill said before she could answer. “There are so many movies shot in Toronto that it’s known as Hollywood North. It masquerades as New York, Chicago, Detroit, you name it.”

“It’s cheaper to film here because of our low dollar,” Roger added.

“At any rate,” Bill continued, “Wild Action is an animal talent agency that supplies animal actors.”

Carly watched Nick digest that information, feeling distinctly sorry for him. His expression said he’d just as soon have inherited half a leper colony.

“Do you know much about animals?” she asked when nobody else broke the silence.

“I see a lot of the neighbor’s cat,” he muttered.

She glanced at the scratch on his hand. It made her suspect he and the cat weren’t the best of friends.

“Actually, when I was a kid I used to spend part of the summers on a ranch,” he went on. “So I know something about horses and cattle. That’s really it, though. But I guess it doesn’t matter what kind of business it is. Your buying me out is still the simplest way of settling things.”

“Yes…it would be. If I had any money.”

“Well, there must be money in the company, so if we—”

“No, I’m afraid there’s not,” she interrupted, hoping the fact wouldn’t reflect too badly on Gus. There probably should have been a lot more money than there was, but he’d always said money was for spending.

“But if it’s profitable…” Nick said. “I don’t have that wrong, too, do I? I was told it was.”

“And it is. It’s just not very profitable. We have a lot of expenses.”

“What? More than a million bucks’ worth?”

“Well, Gus was always trying to expand and improve. You know, replace old equipment, upgrade the facilities. Just this spring, we built a big new aviary for the owls.”

“We have owls,” Nick said dully.

“Uh-huh, and some other birds of prey. At any rate, between improvements and the day-to-day expenses… The bear’s food alone costs over a thousand dollars a month.”

Nick’s face went pale beneath his tan. “A bear? What kind of bear?”

“Oh, just a little black bear.”

Roger snorted. “You call Attila little? Hell, Gus told me he was pushing six hundred pounds.”

“Well…yes, I guess he is on the large side for a black bear,” Carly admitted, wishing Nick wasn’t looking more upset by the second. “I just meant he’s not a grizzly or anything really big.”

“And his name’s Attila?” Nick said. “As in Attila the Hun?”

“Yes, but he’s actually a sweetie. His only drawback is that he does eat up a fair bit of the revenue.”

“So to speak,” Nick said dryly.

“Yes…so to speak.” She smiled, surprised he could joke under the circumstances.

He eyed her for a long moment, then said, “Do we own a swamp full of alligators, too?”

She eyed him back, not entirely sure whether she found his sense of humor amusing or annoying. “If a movie’s set in a swamp, nobody’s going to shoot it in Canada,” she said at last. “So having alligators would be rather foolish. But getting back to the point I was making, the bottom line is that there’s no money. The company’s entire cash reserves would barely buy you a ticket home to Edmonton.”

Nick rubbed his jaw, looking even more unhappy. “Then do you know anyone who’d be interested in buying my forty-nine percent?”

She shook her head.

“I expect finding an investor would take time,” Roger said. “People are leery of getting into minority ownership positions. Besides which, Wild Action isn’t exactly your run-of-the-mill sort of business.”

“What about mortgaging the property?” Bill Brown suggested.

Roger gave him a quizzical glance. “It’s already mortgaged to the hilt. Did Gus forget to mention that, too?”

Carly glanced at Bill, wishing Gus had kept him better informed. The man was obviously not pleased that Roger kept handing him surprises.

“We took out the mortgage when we had a chance to buy a new trailer for Attila,” she explained. “We desperately needed one to get him to shoot sites, but it cost a small fortune. And Gus said that as long as we were taking out a mortgage anyway, we might as well make it big enough to build the new aviary and fix up a few other things.

“But look,” she continued, focusing on Nick, “I’m really sorry things aren’t the way you expected them to be. I feel badly about the whole situation.”

He exhaled slowly. She couldn’t feel anywhere near as bad as he did. But it wasn’t her fault there was a new will. And he’d known bad news came in threes, so if he’d used his brain, he wouldn’t have been so damn quick about quitting his job. Then this situation wouldn’t be such a disaster.

“Nick?” Brown said. “Lawyers are always coming across people who want to invest in a business. So if both Roger and I keep an eye out, sooner or later we’ll find someone to buy your share.”

Sooner or later. Nick had no doubt it would be later rather than sooner, and what the hell was he going to do in the meantime? Or maybe he should be more concerned about what was going to happen to the company in the meantime. Carly might have been Gus’s right hand, but that didn’t guarantee she could run things herself.

“Carly?” he said. “Are you going to be able to manage the business on your own?”

She shook her head. “I’ve found a high school kid to help out for the moment, but I’ll have to get somebody who knows more about animals. And hopefully has a head for business.”

“Absolutely,” Harris agreed. “And fast. You couldn’t possibly handle everything yourself even if you didn’t have the Get Real people practically on your front porch.”

“The Get Real people?” Nick said.

Carly looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he had to ask. “Get Real Productions. An up-and-coming player in L.A. Gus landed us a film contract not long ago—for a film directed by Jay Wall, no less. And Get Real is providing the financing.”

Nick nodded. He didn’t have a clue who Jay Wall was, but he could do without another of Carly’s “Did you just crawl out of a cave?” looks.

“They’ve already been filming in Toronto for a week,” she went on. “So any day now, Jay’s going to decide he wants to start shooting the wilderness scenes.

“This was supposed to be our big break,” she added. “Gus said that if a director like Jay Wall was happy with our animals, the sky would be the limit But now…”