Shay’s hopeful mood faded instantly. She glared at her friend and stomped down the metal stairs to meet her singular and ignoble fate.

The dump truck was parked in the rear lot, as Richard had said, and the camera people were checking angles. Surreptitiously, Shay looked around as she walked toward the RV allotted for her use. If Mitch was there, she didn’t see him.

This time her makeup was simple; merely a heavier version of what she normally wore. She shooed Richard’s chattering assistant out of the RV and got ready, leaving the coveralls she would wear for last.

Outside—thank heaven, there was still no sign of Mitch—she read off the list of special car deals Marvin had authorized before his departure for Europe and then braced herself as the clapboard snapped and the cameras focused on her and on the dump truck parked nearby.

Smiling brightly, she announced, “Come on down to Reese Motors, folks! We guarantee you a sweet deal!”

On cue, the back of the dump truck ground upward and an avalanche of white sugar cascaded down onto Shay, burying her completely. She fought her way to the surface, sputtering and coughing, silently vowing that she would kill Richard Barrett if he wasn’t satisfied with the first take.

“It’s a wrap!” Richard shouted joyously and a laughing cheer went up from the salesmen, who had, as usual, gathered to watch.

Shay’s hair and eyelashes were full of sugar. It filled her shoes, like sand, and even made its way under her clothes to chafe against her skin. She vowed she’d never put the stuff in her coffee again as she hurried back toward the RV, desperate to shower and change her clothes.

She began ripping them off the moment she’d closed the door behind her, flinging them in every direction. When the RV’s engine suddenly whirred to life and the vehicle lurched into motion, she was stark naked.

Her first thought was that the salesmen were playing some kind of prank. Half amused and half furious, she wrenched a blanket from the bed above the RV’s cab and wrapped it around herself.

“Stop!” she yelled.

The RV stopped, but only for a second. It was soon swinging into midmorning traffic. Just when Shay would have screamed, a familiar masculine voice called from the front, “Don’t worry, it’s all arranged! You have the day off!”

Too furious to think about the fact that she was crusted with white sugar and wrapped in a blanket, Shay flung aside the little curtain that separated the cab of the RV from the living quarters and raged, “Mitch Prescott, you stop this thing right now! I’m getting out!”

He looked back at her, his mouth serious, his eyes laughing. “In this traffic? Woman, are you mad? You’d make the six o’clock news, and if you think the commercials were embarrassing…”

“You’ll be the one who makes the news!” Shay screamed, outraged. “This is not only kidnapping, it’s grand theft auto!”

“I’ll have you know that I rented this rig,” he answered calmly.