“Tony,” Adam’s hand closed over his shoulder as Lee followed Mason up the stairs and both actors disappeared down the second floor hall. “I saw Mason talking with Karen from craft services earlier. Go make sure she didn’t add any bagels to his muffin basket.”

“And if she did?”

“Haul ass upstairs and get make sure he doesn’t eat one.”

“You want me to wrestle the bagel out of Mason’s hand?”

“If that’s where it is.” Adam grinned and patted him manfully on the shoulder—where manfully could be defined as better you than me, buddy. “If he’s actually taken a bite, I want you to wrestle it out of his mouth.”

Mason loved bagels but the dental adhesive attaching Raymond Dark’s fangs to his teeth just wasn’t up to the required chewing. After a couple of forty-minute delays while Everett replaced the teeth, and one significantly longer delay after the right fang had been accidentally swallowed, CB had instigated the no-bagels-in-Mason’s-dressing-room rule. Since Mason hadn’t had to ultimately retrieve the tooth—that job had fallen to Jennifer, his personal assistant who, in Tony’s opinion, couldn’t possibly be paid enough—he’d chosen to see it as a suggestion rather than a rule and did what he could to get around it.

As a result, Karen, from craft services, found herself under a determined assault by a man who combined good looks and charm with all the ethical consideration of a cat. No one blamed her on those rare occasions she’d been unable to resist.

Today, no one knew where she was.

She wasn’t at the table or the truck and there wasn’t time enough to search further. Grabbing a pot of black currant jam off the table, Tony headed up the staircase two steps at a time, hoping Mason’s midmorning nosh hadn’t already brought the day to a complete stop.

As the star of Darkest Night, Mason had taken the master suite as his dressing room. Renovated in the fifties, it took up half the front of the second floor and included a bedroom, a closet/dressing room and a small bathroom. Provided he kept flushing to a minimum, Mr. Brummel had cleared this bathroom for Mason’s personal use. Lee had to use the honey wagon like every one else.

All the doors that led off the second floor hall were made of the same Douglas Fir that dominated the rest of the house but they—and the trim surrounding them—had been stained to look like mahogany. Tony, who in a pinch could tell the difference between plywood and MDF, had been forced to endure a long lecture on the fir-as-mahogany issue from the gaffer who carved themed chess sets in his spare time. The half finished knight in WWF regalia that he’d pulled from his pocket had been impressive.