Читать книгу His Forever Valentine - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Restless, Miguel Rodriguez was getting ready to drive out to the west end of his property to see if his son had had any luck in finding the break in the fence. It’d been a while since Rafe had driven out to try to locate the break—if there actually was one. One way or another, by Miguel’s calculations his son should have either called on that cell thing he liked to carry around in his pocket, or driven back by now.

The alternative was that someone was stealing their cattle, an explanation he would rather not entertain. Granted, cattle rustling was not entirely unheard of in this day and age, but he liked his neighbors and there hadn’t been a case of rustling in the area for quite some time.

The other alternative was that there were coyotes in the vicinity, hungry ones that could attack a cow and make short work of it. As a boy, he’d once seen a pack of coyotes bring down a full-grown head of cattle and systematically tear the flesh off the poor animal until there were only bones left. The bones were scattered to the extent that it would appear as if the cow had just vanished. Later, he realized that had he not been looking down on the scene taking place in a gulley, he might have served as the coyotes’ dessert.

Checking his pockets for the keys to his truck, Miguel thought he heard the front door open and close again. Miguel Jr. and Ramon were over at Eli’s, lending him a hand with the new quarter horses and, as far as he knew, Gabe and Alma were working in town as usual, so that only left one son unaccounted for.

“About time you got back, Raphael,” he called out, making his way to front of the house. “I was all set to call the sheriff’s office and have Alma send out a search party for you. Did you find the break?” Miguel asked as he walked into the living room.

Anything else he was about to say faded away as Miguel stopped in his tracks. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, his son was not alone. There was a very pretty redhead standing beside him.

“No,” Rafe answered. “I didn’t find the break yet.” Damn, he thought. Once he’d stumbled across Valentine and started talking to her, he’d forgotten all about the break in the fence that he was supposed to be looking for. He flashed his father a semi-apologetic smile. “But I found her.”

Miguel nodded as he made eye contact with the young woman. He knew the faces of all the people who lived around here and she definitely was not from around here—although, now that he looked closer, there was something vaguely familiar about her.

“I see. And she is much more interesting than a break in the fence,” Miguel agreed.

In his early sixties, Miguel Rodriguez was still a virile, powerful man, one who had been extremely handsome in his youth. People told him he still had humor in his dark eyes as well as a certain charm when he smiled.

And he was doing that right now.

Pausing a moment, Miguel glanced toward his son, then back at the attractive young woman he’d brought in with him.

“Since my son seems to have forgotten his manners, let me introduce myself. I am Miguel Rodriguez.” He took her hand in his. “Welcome to my humble home,” he said just before he bowed from the waist and ever so lightly kissed the hand he was holding, as was the custom of his forefathers. Still bowed, he raised his eyes to hers and asked, “And you are?”

Intrigued, Val couldn’t help thinking. She’d been born and raised in the land of make believe, accustomed to charm that oozed from the pores of exceptionally handsome men looking to make a name for themselves—or to seduce her for the space of a satisfying liaison or two. Handsome men whose charm—and subsequent nature—was as deep as a puddle on a sidewalk after a light spring shower.

But this Miguel Rodriguez’s charm seemed to come as naturally as breathing. Val smiled at the still dark-haired man. He was somewhat shorter than his son, but he appeared to be every bit as powerfully built. Muscles, no doubt, that had come from hard work. She had huge respect for someone like that. Her usual wariness, brought on by years of having to deal with plastic people out only for their own interests and advancement, slipped away like a feather gliding on an unexpected breeze.

“Valentine Jones,” she told Rafe’s father with a smile.

Miguel’s eyes shone with appreciation as they slid over her.

Val caught herself thinking, Like father, like son while Miguel told her, “Con mucho gusto. That means—”

“I know a little Spanish,” she responded. “I know what that means.”

“Excellent.” Miguel nodded his approval. Slowly releasing her hand, he stepped back. “May I get you something to drink? Perhaps something to eat?”

She liked his generosity. The man was extending his hospitality to her and he had no idea what she was doing there yet.

“No, thank you, Mr. Rodriguez,” Val began.

Rafe knew how carried away his father could get, exuding Latin charm from every pore. He came to Val’s rescue.

“Val’s here on business, Dad,” Rafe interrupted before his father could get rolling.

The interested look in Miguel’s eyes only grew. “Oh?” His eyes shifted back to the young woman, taking quiet measure of her. “And what business would that be? You cannot be with the bank because all the payments are up to date,” he stated just in case this lovely creature with the sharp blue eyes was with the establishment that held the mortgage to his property. That would explain why he didn’t recognize her. She had to be from out of town. Somewhere up north would be his guess.

“I’m not with the bank,” Val confirmed. “I’m in the business of making movies, sir.”

Miguel’s smile broadened. He slanted a glance toward his son. “Ah, so you have brought me a movie star, Raphael,” he said to his son.

Val was quick to correct his mistake—if he’d actually made it. This one, she sensed, was a born flatterer. “I’m not a movie star, Mr. Rodriguez. I work behind the scenes.”

Smooth, she couldn’t help thinking. And still every bit of a charmer. She had a feeling that in his day, Miguel Rodriguez had been a force to be reckoned with and that no woman could resist him.

“That is a shame,” Miguel told her with genuine feeling. “You should be in front of the camera, not behind one. Come, sit,” he encouraged, gesturing toward the oversize tan leather sofa in his living room.

“Thank you.”

Walking in front of the older man, Val took a seat on the sofa. Rather than sit beside her, the man she had come to see took a seat on the matching armchair that was positioned kitty-corner to the larger piece of furniture. Looking at him, Val thought of him as a ruler, holding court.

Rafe sat down on the sofa beside her—just close enough to make her aware of his presence even if she wasn’t looking directly at him.

“Now then, what can I do for you, Miss—I’m sorry,” he apologized, leaning in toward her and creating a very personal space between them. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Valentine Jones,” Val repeated. Taking a business card out of the pocket of her jeans, she handed it to the older man.

Miguel glanced at the card, then raised his eyes to hers. She could feel him scrutinizing her. But it wasn’t the kind of scrutiny that made her want to squirm. On the contrary, though she wasn’t sure just what he was thinking, he made her feel welcomed and right at home. Because of the nature of her work, Val had the ability to adjust to almost any surroundings, but inside, there was always this wariness.

She didn’t really feel it this time.

“You know,” Miguel told her thoughtfully, “you remind me of someone, the way you hold your head and that beautiful hair of yours. You make me think of an actress. A very pretty lady, but I cannot recall who.” He raised his wide shoulders in a helpless shrug, then let them fall. “Getting older has its drawbacks, I am afraid,” he confided with a smile. “When I was younger, I would have known immediately.”

She knew exactly who he was talking about. It wasn’t the first time she’d been told that she reminded a person of someone they had once seen on the screen.

“People say I look like my mother,” she told Miguel.

The old man nodded a bit absently. “Many children look like their parents. My daughter, Alma, looks very much like my late wife.”

Val had seen photographs of her mother at her age, as well as a few of her movies. She was a dead ringer for her.

“My mother is Gloria Halladay,” Val told him, watching his face to see if the name brought any recognition with it.

Miguel’s eyes widened with surprise and then infinite pleasure as he put the name to a face. A much-beloved face.

“Yes, of course. Gloria Halladay.” There was excitement and a touch of reverence when he said the name. Val found herself instantly liking the man. “I remember seeing her in several movies years ago—I took my wife,” he recalled with a fondness enveloping his words. “Washington’s Birthday was my wife’s favorite.” Still eying Val, he cocked his head slightly, as another thought occurred to him. “I always thought it was a shame that your mother did not make more comedies. She was very gifted.”

Val smiled. “I’ll let her know you said so. She’ll be very pleased,” she told the man. Though she enjoyed her work as a casting director, nothing pleased her mother more than hearing flattering words from a fan. It gave her a sense of continuity as well as bringing back some of the old days.

Miguel nodded thoughtfully and with approval, as if some sort of a bond had just been forged between him and this movie star’s daughter.

His eyes swept over the young woman and then his son. The thought occurred to him that Raphael and Gloria Halladay’s daughter made a nice couple. A very attractive couple.

He began to wonder what he could do to help them see that.

“So, what is it that I can do for you, Valentine Jones?” he asked warmly.

“She’s a location scout, Dad,” Rafe interjected. The moment he said it, he realized that his father probably had no idea what that was. He was quick to explain. “That’s someone who—”

Miguel waved away the rest of his son’s words. “I know what she does, Raphael.”

“You do?” This time, it was Val who spoke, surprised that a man from his generation, with no ties to Hollywood, would know what she did for a living.

Miguel inclined his head. “Of course. I know what a scout is and I know what location is. And you said you were with a movie company. That means you are looking for some place suitable to make this movie of yours.”

He smiled tolerantly at the two young people. When he was their age, he was certain he was smarter than his father was, too. It was only when he grew older that he realized that perhaps he was not so very smart and his father was not so very dumb.

Miguel’s smile deepened fondly. Youth always felt it was smarter than any generation that had come before them.

“It really is not that hard to conclude,” he told her. “Continue, please. What is it that you want to say to me?”

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so hard after all, Val thought. She was fairly certain that she had won over Raphael, and his father certainly seemed to be reasonable and willing to hear her out.

“Well, Mr. Rodriguez, I think that your ranch would be just perfect for the movie that my boss is getting ready to direct—”

The rest of her sentence was unexpectedly interrupted and then aborted by the loud voice that called out, “Dad, you should see those quarter horses that Eli just got. They— Hello,” Mike automatically said, suspending his narrative as he took a look at the stranger sitting in his father’s living room. His dark eyes shifted to his father. “Sorry, I didn’t know we had company.”

Entering behind him, the youngest of the Rodriguez brothers, Ray, came to a sudden halt when Mike stopped moving, all but plowing into his oldest brother. Sidestepping at the last moment, Ray looked to see what had nearly caused the human pileup.

The second he saw the woman on the sofa, a broad grin took possession of his mouth as he tipped the brim of his Stetson in time-honored cowboy fashion.

“Hi,” he greeted the woman with enthusiasm. “I’m Ray Rodriguez.” His eyes swiftly raced over her as he made a quick, succinct assessment of the woman. “And you are?”

“Overwhelmed,” Val readily admitted, looking from one tall, dark and handsome man to another. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said she was sitting in the outer room of her mother’s casting office when she was casting for the male lead in that last action-adventure movie that had taken place at the turn of the past century.

She turned her attention to the senior Rodriguez. “You’ve raised a very handsome family, Mr. Rodriguez,” she told him. Shifting her attention momentarily back to the two men who had just walked in, she said, “I’m Valentine Jones and I think your ranch and property would be the perfect backdrop for the movie my boss’s production company is going to be filming.” At this point, her gaze took in all four men, seeking to make a connection with all of them and silently preparing to bring them all on board with this proposal she was about to make.

Mike turned toward his father. The expression on his face was far from pleased. “You didn’t say yes, did you, Dad?” he asked.

“I have not had a chance to say very much of anything yet, Miguel.” The head of the family looked at the young woman and made the necessary introduction. “This is Miguel Jr., Miss Jones. My oldest.”

Val began to rise and extend her hand toward Mike, but before she could say anything, Mike nodded at her curtly, summarily dismissing the offer she had been about to tender.

“If we’re voting on this,” he told his father, even as he continued looking at the woman, “I vote no.”

“Miguel,” his father said sharply. “It’s only polite to hear the lady out first.”

“I don’t need to be polite and I don’t need to hear what she has to say.” The look on Mike’s face challenged the interloper in their midst. “They’ll come, invade our privacy, disrespect our land, make a mess and then leave.” His eyes narrowed dismissively. “Like I said before, I vote no.”

Val could feel herself taking umbrage. She’d worked with this director and his crew a number of times before. They all got along well and had become more like family than merely a crew. She didn’t take kindly to this man’s careless and dismissive assessment of her “family.”

“We clean up after ourselves,” Val informed him with a deceptively calm voice. “And your privacy—as well as your land—will be fully respected,” she assured him. “Now, would you like to hear why you should say yes?” she asked pleasantly.

Mike was not particularly receptive. No doubt he’d heard stories of what a production crew could be like and didn’t want to see that happening to his family’s property. “Not particularly,” he answered coldly.

“I would,” Ray spoke up brightly, flashing a one-thousand-watt smile at her. “By the way, I’m Ray,” he said, extending his hand to her. Both he and Mike were still standing where they had entered. “The nice brother,” he clarified.

“All my sons are nice,” Miguel immediately corrected, then slanted a look at his oldest. “Some are just a little more hotheaded than others.”

Val smiled warmly at the patriarch. “I understand,” she told Miguel Sr., then appraised the other three men. “I really do. But this is not going to be like some intrusive reality program where the cameramen are going to be following you around, capturing your every movement on film. All we would require from your property would be a few outdoor shots of the ranch house and some panoramic shots of the outlining property.” She paused for a moment before adding something that she worried Mike might take exception to. “Our set decorator might want to come and look around inside—”

“And that’s how it starts,” Mike declared as if he had just scored the game-winning point.

Val was not about to give up this easily. “But only to be able to recreate the best parts of your home on a studio set,” she insisted, then stressed, “You wouldn’t be inconvenienced.” Val paused before adding what she hoped was the thing that would win them all over despite Rafe’s earlier comment about money not meaning very much to them. “And you would be well compensated for all this.”

“Exactly what is ‘well compensated’ in your book?” Mike asked.

Making the final offer would be the director’s decision once he saw her photographs. She didn’t want to aim high and then come in with a lower figure. The oldest brother would just use that to try to make his father change his mind.

“Well, just off the top of my head.” Val thought for a moment, then quoted what the last person had been paid for the home she had located for the last movie her boss had directed.

No one said a word as the figure sank in.

Ray was the first to say anything, after emitting a long, low whistle in response to the number. “You’re kidding.”

Mike seemed in complete agreement with the sentiment Ray had just expressed. She had to be kidding. No one paid that kind of money just to “borrow” a ranch house. That was the kind of serious money men who were looking to buy a ranch house bandied about.

“You’re just saying that to get us to agree,” Mike accused.

“I’m ‘just saying it’ because it’s true,” she informed him. “That was what was paid out for the last house we used on location.”

Mike snorted. “Right.”

By nature, Rafe was the easygoing one, the one who was neither hotheaded nor sought to be the first to jump into a fray. But he had stood back and listened to just about enough. Since he’d brought the woman to the house to talk to the others, he felt responsible for her. And as the responsible one, he felt obliged to protect her from the likes of someone like his oldest brother, who was acting surly even for Mike.

“Why don’t you back off, Mike, and let her talk?” Rafe suggested in a voice that was deceptively calm. “I’m sure there’ll be a contract drawn up and if it doesn’t have the numbers on it that she’s telling us, then Dad doesn’t have to sign it and they’ll go find their property somewhere else.”

Val looked from one member of the family to another. She did not want to be the source of discord between these brothers. But she really liked what she saw, both the exterior and the interior of the place. The more she saw, the more perfect this ranch house seemed to her. She was certain that the director would feel the same way.

“There’s another reason to consider agreeing to having my boss film here,” she told them. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. She just had to do everything to convince them.

“You having second thoughts about that sum you waved in front of us?” Mike asked.

“No, what I was going to point out is that the crew will be in town for the duration of the shoot, which at this point will be six or eight weeks. That means that for six to eight weeks, they’ll be eating here and spending money here. You can’t tell me that your town couldn’t use that kind of a boost in business, especially in this economy,” she said, looking from one man to the other.

Gotcha, she thought in satisfaction.