Читать книгу Falling For Fortune - Allison Leigh, Nancy Robards Thompson - Страница 16
ОглавлениеWhile Jensen and Amber waited in the concession line at the refurbished Golden Horseshoe Theater, he stood like a young boy in a candy shop, studying the reprints of old movie posters that lined the walls.
Could there be anything more perfect for a clandestine date, which wasn’t supposed to be a date, than a darkened cinema on a Wednesday evening?
And to top it off, The Big Country was playing tonight.
Sadly, at least for the proprietor, there weren’t too many people taking advantage of the low price and 1950s ambiance, but there was still a bit of a wait at the concession stand.
Now, with his hand resting on the small of Amber’s back, his arm itching to circle around her, he didn’t care how long the lady in front of them took to place her order.
When it was finally their turn, a young man in his late teens wearing a pair of black slacks, a white shirt and a red bow tie asked, “What can I get you?”
Jensen asked Amber, “What’s your preference?”
“Something to drink—and maybe some munchies, like popcorn, I suppose.”
“Very well then. We’ll have a large buttered popcorn, a Kit Kat, a package of red licorice, those funny American sour candies shaped like naughty children and two large colas.”
“Seriously?” she asked. “How long is this movie?”
“If I remember correctly, it’s two hours and forty-five minutes, but it’s one of the few long classics without a proper intermission, so I thought we should stock up.”
The clerk tallied the order, and as Jensen paid the bill, it took only a moment to realize Mr. Murdock had received one hell of a senior discount. No wonder the proprietorship was able to get by charging such an inexpensive admission fee. They more than made up their loss on ticket sales here at the concession stand. Not that Jensen was complaining by any means. It was merely his habit as a financier to crunch the numbers and decide whether an establishment would succeed or not. Clearly, this place would do well on popcorn alone!
He reached for their refreshments and tried to balance one of the packs of candy and the popcorn container in his left hand, while grabbing his drink with the other.
Amber, proving herself to be quite practical, as usual, took the candy out of his hand and tossed it, along with the other packages, into her handbag before picking up her own cola and following him into the theater.
“Look, they have balcony seating,” he said, not the least bit embarrassed about his excitement over the novelty.
“It seems kind of far away from the screen.” Amber raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think many people choose to sit in the nosebleed section these days.”
“Come now. It’s not that high. Besides, it’ll be much more private up there.”
When they settled into the velveteen upholstered seats, he took in all the details of the old-time cinema setting, feeling as though he’d traveled back in time to 1958, when the movie was first released.
The Gregory Peck and Jean Simmons film had been quite popular in Britain back in its day, and Jensen had seen it before on DVD and cable. But with the cinematography so up close and personal, the way the producers had originally intended, the experience couldn’t be beat.
He glanced at Amber, who’d placed a red licorice stick in her mouth, her lips wrapped around it, taking it in...
Talk about new experiences. Being seated next to the beautiful and sexy Amber Rogers made it a bit difficult to keep his mind on the screen, especially when he was tempted to reach over and slip his hand in hers. But he forced himself to focus on the movie.
When Peck’s character, sea captain James McKay, left New England, moved out west and fell in love with a wealthy cattleman’s daughter, Jensen could relate to the man feeling like a fish out of water in a way he hadn’t been able to before.
And when McKay dumped the spoiled Patricia in favor of the beautiful Julie, played by Jean Simmons, a funny burble welled up in his stomach—and it had nothing to do with the extra butter on the popcorn or the sugar high coursing through his bloodstream.
Hadn’t he recently dumped the spoiled Monica, only to come to Texas and meet Amber...?
No, the similarity ended there. Everything was so much simpler in the movies, which was probably why he always found them to be such a pleasant escape from reality. But in the real world, men like him and James McKay had no business playing cowboys out west.
Yet, sometime during the course of the picture show, he’d succumbed to temptation and reached for Amber’s hand. And while they sat in the intimate confines of the darkened balcony, he fought the growing urge to take her in his arms and promise her the world—or at least the water rights to a sprawling ranch. But he restrained himself, knowing they’d each have to return to their own lives soon. Their very different, very separate lives.
As the lights turned on and the curtain closed, he continued to sit in his seat, holding her hand, not breathing a word and trying to make the fantasy last for just a few more heartbeats.
Actually, he wasn’t quite sure what fantasy he was trying to envision. Was he seriously entertaining the possibility that he and Amber might share something more than popcorn and candy at a movie?
“This was actually very nice,” Amber said, interrupting what could surely be a dangerous line of thinking. But she didn’t pull her hand away. And when she cast him a pretty smile, he felt as if he’d just won the UK National Lottery.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He glanced down at the empty popcorn bucket in her hands. “Hopefully, I didn’t fill you up on too much junk food because I had my cousin Wendy set up something for us at her restaurant.”
Amber glanced at her wristwatch. “But isn’t the Hollows Cantina closed now?”
“Yes, it is. And that makes my surprise all the more special.”
Her brow lifted again. Why was she so skeptical of anything he said?
“Are you going to cook for me?” she asked.
“No, not exactly. I’ve never been much of a chef. Why? Should I have prepared something for you myself?”
“No, of course not. I only...well, it’s just that Elmer took Gram on a date yesterday. And they came here to the movie theater. Then he cooked her a fancy gourmet dinner. I was beginning to think that you were getting dating tips from Elmer Murdock.”
Jensen laughed. “I can see why you might. And while Mr. Murdock is full of advice, some of which actually has merit, I came up with this one on my own. He merely mentioned the Golden Horseshoe, and I thought about bringing you here. But the dinner afterward was completely my idea.”
She sighed with relief. “That does make me feel better.”
“I must admit that some of my previous dates might wish that I sought out some dating tips from a real master, though.”
The hint of a smile blessed her lips—pretty lips, full and kissable. “I don’t buy that, Sir Jensen. The way the tabloids link you with a new starlet or supermodel every other month, it’s obvious that the women clamor to be your next conquest.”
He laughed as he escorted her out of the nearly empty theater. “Yes, one would get that impression. But don’t believe everything you read and see. In reality, my work and family obligations keep me far too busy for much of a romantic life.”
“Speaking of work,” she said, as he opened the door to his truck for her, “tell me more about what you do.”
Was she trying to change the subject on purpose because she wanted to discourage him from thinking about any possibility of a romance building between them? Maybe she was trying to remind him to stick to friendly and neutral topics.
He got in on the driver’s side, started the truck and headed toward his cousin’s restaurant, telling her about his job as a financier at Chesterfield Ltd. and what it entailed.
He knew his work probably sounded dull, especially when compared to the exciting life of a traveling rodeo star.
She listened, though, which one would expect from a polite woman, but she had to think that he was the biggest wanker with all his self-talk.
Was his life truly as mundane as it sounded?
They pulled up to the darkened restaurant. He parked, and they climbed out. When they reached the front door, he held it open for her, as the sounds of Linda Ronstadt filled the air.
“Well, it’s not locked yet, so I guess that’s a good sign.” She gazed around the empty room.
There was a single table set, but everything else had been cleared away.
“I’m just on my way out,” Wendy said by way of greeting. “There’s a pan of beef enchiladas in the kitchen and the plates are in the warming drawer. Help yourself to anything behind the bar, and don’t worry about cleaning up. The staff comes in early in the morning.” Then she handed Jensen a key and kissed him on the cheek before rushing out the door.
As Amber looked around, Jensen cursed himself for allowing his cousin to go a little too over the top in staging a romantic dinner for them.
He hadn’t been lying when he told Amber he wasn’t the Casanova type and that he never took the time away from his work or his family to pursue serious relationships—other than a week or two with Monica, although their relationship hadn’t lasted more than a few months, nor had it been serious enough to gain any special attention from the tabloids.
“Do you mean to tell me that you arranged for us to have the place to ourselves?” Amber asked.
“Well, I called Wendy and told her I owed you dinner and that we would be in the cinema until late. All of this wasn’t completely my idea. Unless you think it’s terribly impressive, in which case, it was one hundred percent my doing.”
At that, she blessed him with a pretty smile, and his nervousness—Jensen was never ruffled around the ladies, so where had that come from?—soon dissipated.
“Can I get you a cocktail?” he asked. “Or maybe some wine?”
“A glass of merlot sounds good.”
He went behind the bar, found a nice bottle of California wine and uncorked it. Then he carried it to the table and poured them each a glass.
Hopefully he hadn’t laid it on too thick. He didn’t want her thinking he was trying to seduce her, but at the same time, he had to wonder if deep down, maybe he was.
“I’ll get our dinner.”
As he turned toward the kitchen, she followed him. He should have known Amber wouldn’t be the type of woman to merely sit still at the table like a regal queen, waiting for someone to serve her.
It was one of the things he liked most about her. She always seemed willing to jump in and lend a hand—to his sister, to her grandmother or to anyone who needed it.
After he filled their plates full of hot and cheesy enchiladas, they carried them back to the intimate table, where a small candle flickered in the votive.
Since he didn’t want to give her the impression that he was trying to wine and dine her, he talked about the movie, horses and about anything else that would be considered neutral territory.
“I’m certainly going to miss the delicious southwestern food when I go back to London,” he said as he finished his last bite.
She paused, fork in midair. “When are you leaving?”
She seemed surprised—as if he’d announced he was going tomorrow.
Would she miss him if he was to go so soon? Or would she be relieved? He knew she didn’t like having her name linked with his in the tabloids.
“Not until after the weddings in February. I’m sure the whole town will be glad to see the lot of us go and take the sleazy paparazzi with us.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think a few of the townspeople are enjoying the notoriety.”
“Maybe. But some of them are just fame and fortune seekers, looking for the opportunity to get a piece of the limelight. I can’t stand people like that. If they had any idea how terribly difficult it is to go about their lives and protect their families from bloodthirsty newshounds stalking them every second, maybe they’d rethink that.”
She shifted in her seat, and he wondered if his tirade had made her uncomfortable. He’d never been able to stomach the poor little rich boy image, either.
It wasn’t as though he was trying to sell her on becoming a permanent fixture in his life, thank goodness. Because, if he was, he was sure making a jolly muck of it.
And as pleasant as the thought of having her become his temporary lover was, he knew better than that. The two of them were as different as night and day, as oil and water, as...
He glanced across the table at her, wondering if her thoughts had strayed in that direction, too. After all, they’d been tiptoeing around a temporary relationship of sorts—laughing and sharing, holding hands and kissing each other senseless.
The glimmer in her eyes, which had been glowing in the candlelight just moments ago, seemed to have dimmed—or perhaps that was merely his imagination.
If he had made a muddle of things, then perhaps that was just as well. Nothing could come of this—whatever this was. And the sooner he put that fool notion out of his head, the better.
So why couldn’t he keep his gaze or his thoughts to himself?
* * *
Four days later, Amber entered the side door of the Horseback Hollow Grange Hall, carrying her saloon-girl costume on a coat hanger. Of course, no one knew exactly what it was, since she’d carefully draped a green plastic trash bag over it, hiding it from public view.
To be perfectly honest, she was beginning to have second thoughts about agreeing to show up for the stupid dance rehearsal/audition that Larry Byerly from casting had lined up for today. But after Gram had gone to so much trouble to make the ruffled dress, which was actually pretty darn good, she hadn’t had the heart to consider changing her mind.
Besides, she’d been avoiding Jensen ever since their date at the Golden Horseshoe the other night, and moving toward a future without him seemed to be a good game plan—and one that would keep her heart from getting any more involved than it might otherwise be. The problem was, she was falling for the guy—like it or not—and could see heartache coming at her like a raging bull.
And though she had no business dancing the cancan, even in the privacy of her own bedroom, she’d agreed to come out today and accept some “private instruction” to see if she was “teachable.” Even if she wasn’t, they still wanted her to be the face on their ad campaign and planned to do a trial photo shoot today.
She thought the whole thing was just plain nuts, but she got a kick out of it, too. So she would listen to whatever they had to say.
Nothing like a little down-home notoriety, huh? But if there was something she knew deep in her soul about her fellow townspeople, it was that they were usually a forgiving lot—at least, with each other and when given time.
She knew she wouldn’t be a complete dud today. She’d done a little acting in high school and had twirled around in front of the mirror a lot as a kid. She really couldn’t compete with a professional dancer, though.
Besides, riding in the Wild West Show was going to keep her busy enough. So she probably ought to tell Larry to forget it, to go find his local gal somewhere else since most of the townsfolk would be opposed to one of their own having anything to do with Cowboy Country USA.
It was just that she’d never liked people telling her what she should or shouldn’t try out for. It only made her more determined to give it her best shot.
“Miss Rogers!” Larry called out. “It’s good to see you. I was afraid you might not make it. Come and meet GiGi LaSalle, the choreographer. She’ll work with you for twenty minutes, then we’ll see how quickly you catch on. It’s all very simple.”
Yeah, right. She smiled and greeted GiGi, a tall, slender woman in her early thirties. “I...uh...brought a costume. Should I put it on?”
“By all means.” Larry pointed toward the rear exit. “The ladies’ room is down there.”
Amber knew exactly where it was. She’d been coming to the Grange Hall for wedding receptions, family reunions and pancake breakfasts sponsored by the volunteer fire department since she was a kid.
“I’ll be right back,” she told him.
Moments later, she stood before the mirror, all decked out in the red-satin-and-black-lace ensemble Gram had created, her shoulders bare, her breasts more prominently displayed than she was used to. She tugged at the fabric, hoping to cover up a bit of the swell, to no avail.
She supposed the costume wasn’t all that revealing, at least, by some people’s standards. But while a lot of women liked showing off their wares, she usually kept her blouses buttoned nearly to the neck—other than that top she’d worn to Smokey Joe’s. The one that Jensen seemed to think had caused every cowboy in the place to gawk at her.
Just the thought of his jealousy drew a smile to her lips, and she cocked her head to the side, assessing herself in a way she never had before.
Dressed in denim and cotton, she’d always thought of herself as just one of the cowboys—only a bit on the feminine side. But in red satin and lace, with every curve blatantly exposed one way or another, there was no doubt she was a female through and through—and pretty darn sexy, if she did say so herself.
“Miss Rogers?” Larry called out. “We don’t have all day. I have other dancers coming in to audition—and we need to be out of here by six o’clock. The mayor’s daughter is having her wedding rehearsal here tonight.”
Amber quit her preening and exited the restroom, carrying her folded street clothes and boots with her.
“Oh, wow,” Larry said. “I knew it. You were a natural.”
She tugged at her neckline. “No, I’m not. I’ve never had a dance lesson in my life—other than this one.”
“You’re a natural in that costume. Who’ll care if you flub up? Everyone will be watching you in that dress.” He glanced at GiGi. “Don’t you agree?”
“She definitely has potential, in a Podunk rodeo queen sort of style.”
Who was GiGi calling Podunk?
She nearly objected when GiGi reached out and grasped a lock of her hair. “Do you mind?”
“Mind what?”
“If I just improve on what you’re working with here. Larry, give me five minutes and be prepared to be wowed.”
Amber sighed and gave a little shrug. Gram used to try to dress her up for Sunday school, especially at Easter and Christmas. But Amber usually threw such a fit, the poor woman gave up.
Doggone it, Gram had once said, if the Good Lord knew how hard it was to get you ready to go to church, young lady, He’d tell me to stay home.
GiGi walked to the corner of the room, where she had a multidrawer case of some kind. She brought it back and opened it up, revealing a wide display of makeup and things a Hollywood hairstylist might need.
A few minutes later, she’d whipped out some blush, lipstick, eye shadow and mascara and made quick work of applying it to Amber’s face. Next, she teased Amber’s hair to new heights, then whipped it into a twist or topknot of some kind. “Now go take a look at yourself and tell me what you think.”
She thought GiGi and Larry were a couple of over-the-top wannabe stage parents, but she kept her thoughts to herself and returned to the ladies’ room. When she glanced into the floor-length mirror, her breath caught.
Wowzer. She looked va-va-voom sexy now. Mae West could eat her heart out. But more to the point, what would Jensen say if he saw her in it?
It was sure to turn his blue blood raging red-hot.
Of course, she didn’t look as if she was in the twenty-first century anymore—or in Horseback Hollow, for that matter. But the look Larry and GiGi had been going for was definitely accomplished.
She almost hurried to the corner where she’d left her belongings so she could grab her cell phone out of her purse and take a selfie to show Gram, but she didn’t want to come across as a complete country bumpkin.
Oh, well.
For the next twenty minutes, GiGi showed her some moves. She wasn’t a complete klutz, and while it took her some time to get it right, she finally caught on and had a few laughs in the process.
After the audition, Larry explained the idea behind Madame LaRue’s Lone Star Review. “We’ll have someone play the piano, there’ll be a comedian, some actors will do a shoot ’em up at the bar. It’ll be a nightly dinner show—and a real addition to Cowboy Country USA.”
“I’m already committed to ride in the Wild West Show,” Amber said. “My attorney looked over the contract, and I signed on. As fun as it could be, I still run a working ranch. And while I followed through on the audition because I told you I would, I won’t have time to be involved in two productions. So you’re going to have to find another cancan dancer.”
“All right, I understand. But speaking of attorneys...” Larry looked at the young assistant sitting on the folding metal chair and taking notes. “Remind me to talk to the suits about making an addendum to Miss Rogers’s contract...”
“Why would you do that?” Amber asked.
“After what we’ve seen today, we’re gonna need to add a clause about you being our local PR gal. As far as the dinner show goes, we’ll have plenty of saloon girls to perform, but since we plan on having you as the face on the posters, we’ll need you to make some appearances.”
“I’m not sure I even want to do one appearance.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Listen, I need to take off.”
“No problem. We have the next auditioner in the ladies’ room. Thanks so much for coming. We’ll have our photographer get in touch with you for the upcoming publicity shoot.”
“Like I said, we’ll need to talk about that later.” Amber still only planned to commit to the Wild West Show, although she actually liked the idea of having her photo in the ad, especially dressed in costume.
She snatched up her clothes from the spot on the floor where she’d left them. But rather than stick around long enough to change back into her jeans and shirt, she decided to head home dressed as she was. Besides, she hadn’t taken that selfie, and she wanted Gram to see her all dolled up, with her hair and makeup done.
She could hardly wait to see the look on her grandmother’s face.
But it wasn’t just Gram who’d get a gander at Amber after GiGi and her magic makeup box had their way with her. When she arrived at the ranch, she found a couple of unexpected vehicles parked in the yard. The first was Elmer’s green machine, which she supposed shouldn’t have been all that surprising. She couldn’t say the same for the other one, though, which was Quinn Drummond’s pickup, the one Jensen had been using.
Evidently the handsome Brit had decided to stop by unannounced, which was fine with Amber. But from the look on Jensen’s face, the surprise was really on him.
While looking in the mirror of the Grange Hall restroom, she’d wondered what he would think if he was to see her in the saloon-girl getup. But in all her imagining, she hadn’t been able to envision his actual expression when she climbed out of her truck dressed in red satin, her hair pulled up in that fancy twist GiGi had coiffed, her face painted, her shoulders bare and her breasts ready to burst out of the neckline.
And poor Jensen looked a bit stunned, to say the least. You’d think he didn’t know whether he was afoot or on horseback.
