His Forever Valentine. Marie FerrarellaЧитать онлайн книгу.
jerked a thumb in the bull’s direction. “Did you train him to come charging up out of nowhere like that?” she asked.
If he had trained the bull, there might be a position for this man on the set, she thought. They could never have too many animal trainers on board when they were filming this kind of movie.
Rafe looked at her uncertainly. He’d heard about Hollywood types, about how they lived in a world of their own making, but this was his first encounter with someone from that city and he was the type who always wanted to make sense of things, to understand them.
That caused him to ask, “Why would I do something like that?”
Val continued to brush bits and pieces of dirt and grass from her clothing and hair. “I would think that might be self-explanatory,” she told him, looking at Rafe pointedly.
Maybe she meant nothing by it. At any event, he supposed he should count himself lucky that she wasn’t screaming at him, or having a tantrum. So he laughed, shaking his head.
“I’m not an animal whisperer, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he assured her. “Jasper is his own bull and does whatever he wants to. My father bought him not that long ago for breeding purposes. So far, he’s shown more of an interest in playing poker than in mating with any of the candidates we’ve paraded in front of him. To tell the truth, this is the most alive I’ve seen Jasper since his former owner dropped him off.”
The bull, from what she could see, was now wandering off again. Feeling a little safer, her heart stopped beating wildly.
“Maybe he’d behave a little more macho if you changed his name to Bruce,” she suggested, watching the animal retreat.
Rafe grinned at the proposal. He sincerely doubted that the bull understood English. “A bull by any other name...” His voice trailed off as his grin grew in size.
She cocked an eyebrow at the attempted quotation. “Shakespeare?”
“Paraphrased,” Rafe allowed good-naturedly. “Anyway, I don’t think his name has very much—if anything—to do with his behavior.” The grin faded slightly as he became serious. “You sure you didn’t hurt anything?” His eyes swept over her.
She could almost feel them passing right over her body. This man, she had a feeling, would have fit right in with the men back in Hollywood. Something about him stirred the imagination—as well as her blood.
“Just my pride,” she answered.
His brow furrowed slightly. Pausing, Rafe bent down to pick up his Stetson and dusted it off. “I don’t think I understand. What does your pride have to do with anything?”
“I’m not exactly accustomed to being tossed over a fence and landing on my butt,” she replied, nodding at the fence.
From where he stood, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Survival came first. “My guess is that you’re probably not accustomed to running from a charging bull, either.”
She laughed. “Can’t say I am,” Val admitted.
The woman was being an awfully good sport about this, Rafe thought, feeling magnanimous toward her. “You want to come up to the house?”
“To talk to your father?” she asked a little uncertainly.
Having grown up in the world that she had, acting and masking her thoughts were second nature to her. Otherwise, her uneasiness at the invitation might have been evident. She did want to meet with whoever it was that could give her permission to use this property for the film, but how did she know for certain that there’d be anyone there? The prospect of being alone with a man she found more than a little attractive made her feel somewhat nervous.
Val didn’t consider herself a timid woman by any means, but she wasn’t a foolish one, either, and in her book, that meant not taking any undue chances or going off to meetings on her own with complete strangers. Even good-looking ones.
Especially good-looking ones, she amended.
“That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Rafe asked her. Then, before she could answer, he added, “I feel as if I owe you, seeing as how you weren’t expecting to go for an impromptu run when you came out here. For a Hollywood girl, you can certainly run.”
The comment made her wonder what sort of stereotypical image he had of Hollywood women. “I didn’t want to wind up on his trophy wall,” she told him, nodding in the direction that the bull had taken.
“I wouldn’t have let that happen.” He wasn’t bragging; he just wanted her to be reassured that while she was here, she was safe.
Her eyes swept over him as if she was looking for something. “What were you planning on doing, whipping out your bullfighting cape and distract him away from me?” she asked.
There was laughter in her eyes, Rafe noticed. She probably thought he was trying to make himself appear important after the fact—not that he could really fault her for that.
“No, but I would have run in another direction, after distracting Jasper and getting him to follow me.”
The humor slowly faded from her eyes, replaced by a look of fascination. “You’re actually serious,” she realized.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rafe asked. “We don’t get too many people passing through Forever, and getting one of them trampled by a bull wouldn’t exactly look very friendly on the tourist website,” he answered tongue-in-cheek.
The humor returned to her bright blue eyes. “I guess it wouldn’t at that.” She glanced back at the bull, who had apparently lost interest in both of them and was now ambling back to wherever he had initially come from. “Is he just trying to lure us into a trap by giving us a false sense of security?”
Rafe laughed. “You’re giving Jasper way too much credit. He doesn’t have any unusual powers of deduction. He just lost interest in us, you know, out of sight, out of mind.”
She nodded knowingly at the information. “In other words, he’s a typical male.”
“Ouch.” Rafe pretended to wince as if the words carried with them a physical blow. “What sort of men have you been encountering?”
Val deliberately blocked out any thoughts of Scott. That was way too sensitive a subject for her to discuss with a stranger. As for the other men she’d encountered, well, they were far more concerned with having a good time and moving on. For the most part, they were as shallow as puddles.
“The kind that like to sweet-talk women into things, then be on their merry way,” she answered. The way she raised her chin and tossed her hair over her shoulder made Rafe feel that they were not just talking in vague generalities.
He also had the feeling that there would be no specifics forthcoming at this juncture—they didn’t know each other nearly well enough for her to be capable of sharing something of importance with him.
Of course, if she stuck around, there was always that possibility that they would grow to know each other better. The idea had more than a little appeal for him.
“For the sake of argument,” he began.
A never-flagging sense of curiosity had always been a shortcoming of hers—or at least she viewed it as a shortcoming. That still didn’t keep her from wanting to know things. Everything.
“Yes?”
Rafe tried to sound nonchalant as he asked his question, but he had a feeling that he wasn’t quite successful. “If my father and the rest of us agree to having your boss film this movie on our ranch, would you be here for the duration of the filming?”
“If my boss doesn’t need me to find any other locations for the film, then yes, I get to stick around.” She posed a question of her own. “Why?”
Rafe shrugged just a wee bit too casually. “No reason,” he answered. “Just wanted