His Forever Valentine Page 9

  There was that concerned note again, Val thought, vacillating between feeling guilty and being annoyed. “Everything’s fine. I am in Forever. Actually, I’m right outside Forever.”

  Gloria paused for a moment, as if trying to understand what her daughter had just said. “Is that a state of mind, Valentine? Are you becoming existential on me?”

  “I’m being very straightforward with you, Mom,” Val countered. “And ‘Forever’ isn’t a state of mind, it’s a town, a very small, tight little town located in Southern Texas. The people are nice and it is just perfect for Jim’s movie.”

  There was another pause, as if her mother was dissecting what she’d just said and examining every word. “Uh-huh. What aren’t you telling me?”

  There were times when she was growing up that Val suspected her mother had a crystal ball which allowed her mother to monitor her 24/7 like some determined clairvoyant with tunnel vision. When she grew older, Val discarded that notion, laughing at the way she used to think.

  But now she was beginning to believe that there was merit to her initial theory, at least to some degree. Her mother had honed in on her restless state, a state that had come into being because of a kiss that had no business exploding like that.

  “What makes you think there’s something I’m not telling you?” Val asked innocently. Perhaps a tad too innocently.

  Her mother didn’t utter the word “Aha!” but Val could feel it nonetheless. What the woman did say was, “Because I’m your mother and I know all your ‘tells.’”

  Now that was just plain silly. Her mother was just reaching. “You’ve got to be able to see a person to notice their ‘tells,’ Mom.”

  “Not necessarily,” Gloria answered triumphantly. “There are the inflections in your voice, the pauses you make. You have your mysteries, dear, but you’re also like a giant thousand-piece puzzle—one that comes with a cheat sheet. So again, what aren’t you telling me?” Then, not waiting to be filled in, Gloria made a guess. Not for the first time. “You met someone.”

  “No! I mean, that is—” Tongue-tied, Val tried again. “Of course I met someone. I met people. I’m always meeting people. It’s part of my job in scouting for the right location. But if you mean have I met an italicized someone, then the answer’s no.”

  Her mother made a small, dismissive sound on the other end of the line, as if she knew better, then said, “Have it your way.”

  “Mom, I’m not ‘having it my way,’ I’m having it the way it was—is,” she stressed, then went on to business, which in this case also served as a lifeline for her. “What I do have to tell you is that the guy whose ranch we’re going to be using if Jim approves—”

  Gloria cut in with a very knowing, “He will.”

  “Please don’t jinx it, Mom,” she requested. “We don’t know that for a fact yet.”

  “You might not, but I do,” Gloria told her confidently. “I happen to know that Jim has great faith in you.”

  If her mother was going to keep interrupting, they would be on the phone until dawn. “Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”

  “Why, of course, dear,” her mother said in that tone that always drove her crazy. “I always want to hear anything you want to say.”

  Val bit back another sigh. There were times that her mother played the magnanimous mother figure with a bit too much swagger. She supposed it came from having been around actors her entire life.

  “What I wanted to tell you is that the guy whose house we’ll be using is a big fan.”

  There was a shadow of confusion as Gloria asked, “Of Jim’s?”

  “No, Mom, of yours.” It had been a while since her mother had been on the other side of the camera, but Val knew that her mother had treasured those years and, on occasion, missed being an actress.

  “Of mine?” Gloria asked incredulously.

  She could practically see her mother preening right over the phone. Once a budding actress, always a budding actress, Val thought, smiling to herself. That was what her father had affectionately told her mother when he saw her light up like the proverbial Christmas tree because someone had approached her for an autograph at their local grocery store a few months ago. She’d signed the man’s shirt with a flourish—he had no paper available—and then posed for a photograph.

  “Of course, of yours,” Val told her. “Said he always wondered why you stopped making movies.”

  “Because I had a real, live production of my own to take care of,” she heard her mother say. Her mother never tired of phrasing it that way, Val couldn’t help thinking. “What’s this man’s name? Maybe I’ll send him an autographed picture. I’m assuming you’ll take care of supplying me with an address.”

  “No problem, Mom. Coincidentally, I’m staying at his ranch right now.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew she was going to regret them.

  Sure enough, regret began immediately as her mother said, “Oh? And just how old is this man who’s pretending to be a fan?”

  “He’s not pretending,” Val said, feeling protective of Rafe’s father. “And he’s about Dad’s age.” She knew that her parents were only one year apart, but she never equated anyone to her mother’s age since the working theory was that Gloria Halladay was ageless.

  Or at least liked to think of herself in those terms.

  In reality, her mother did look a lot younger than her age. Val could only hope that sort of thing had been passed on to her via her mother’s genes.

  Instantly, the lioness intent on guarding her cubs was back. “Valentine, I’d feel better if you stayed at a hotel.”

  “Would if I could, Mom,” Val informed her mother cheerfully, “but they don’t have a hotel in this town.”

  “No hotel?” Gloria asked, horrified. Hotels were the last bastion of civilization to her. “Where are you, the last ring of hell?”

  Val strove for patience. “I already told you where I am, Mom. The town is called Forever and it’s really a very nice place. It just hasn’t gotten around to building a hotel, that’s all.”

  “Call Jim the second you hang up,” her mother instructed, tackling the situation in her usual no-nonsense way. “Once he okays the location, maybe I can persuade him to send out one of those large trailers for you—”

  Val closed her eyes. “I’m fine, Mom,” she said wearily.

  She apparently was not convincing her mother. “But what if he—?”

  Val cut her off. “He won’t. Besides, he’s got three of his sons still living on the ranch. Think of them as chaperones.”

  “Three sons?” There was renewed interest in her mother’s voice. The protective lioness had retreated into the wild.

  And she’s back, Val couldn’t help thinking. “Down, Mom, I’m not on an episode of The Bachelorette. I’m just doing my job,” she emphasized.

  Gloria was trying another approach to the same end goal. “All work and no play makes Jane—”

  “A very rich girl,” Val interjected. “Oops, gotta go, Mom, I hear another call coming in. Must be Jim. Love to Dad.”

  “But—”

  Before her mother could say anything else in protest, Val terminated the call. There wasn’t another one coming in, but she was getting sleepy again and she just wasn’t equipped for a battle of wits with someone like her mother, a woman she was fairly certain never slept.

  The moment she disconnected her mother, her phone vibrated again. Val sighed. The sigh went all the way down to her toes. Her mother was nothing if not persistent. Maybe next Christmas she’d rent some grandchildren for the woman to play with, she thought in frustration.

  Pressing the “accept” button, Val sought to cut her mother off at the very beginning. “Look, Mom, I haven’t got any more time to talk to you now. I’ve got to call Jim.”

  “Glad
to hear that,” the deep male voice said into her ear. “I guess that means I’m saving you the trouble of pressing all those pesky buttons in order to make that call.”

  The voice she heard was a complete contrast to the one she was expecting to hear. It took her a second to reorient herself. “Jim?”

  “Good, you still remember the sound of my voice. I was beginning to worry, not to mention give up hope.”

  As if anyone could forget the deep, rumbly voice, she thought. “Well, your hope is about to be restored, Jim. I have found the perfect place for the movie. The perfect ranch, the perfect town,” she enthused.

  “Go on,” the director encouraged.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” she told him. “Rather than my going on and describing the place to you, why don’t you just take a look at the pictures I’ve been taking? I’ll send them to your phone,” she offered. “Trust me, this place looks exactly like what you had in mind.”

  “Don’t lead me on, Valentine,” Jim warned. “I’m exceedingly vulnerable right now. There are rumors that the studio’s firing Vance Steele and putting a real fire-breather in his place to head the studio. Lewis Daniels. The man has a reputation that makes Lucifer look good. No project is safe.”

  She knew the man he was referring to. Knew, too, that the man was firm, but fair. He just couldn’t be talked out of anything once he’d made up his mind.

  “The king is dead, long live the king,” she murmured. It seemed to her like that was an ongoing thing. Every time a studio lost money or just broke even on a film rather than the piles of revenue it was anticipating, heads began to roll and people quaked in their shoes. Scapegoats were always in season.

  It was, admittedly, a brutal business, but she still loved it.

  The next moment, Jim complained, “I’m still looking at a screen full of nothing.”

  “Sorry, here comes something,” she told him as she pressed the right combination of keys to make the transfer happen. When there was nothing but silence on the other end, she grew uneasy. Had she misjudged exactly what he was looking for?

  “Well?” she pressed.

  “You’re teasing me, right?” Jim accused. “You haven’t come up with anything and this is your way of having fun.”

  He’d completely lost her. Maybe she should have had this call go to voice mail and just gone to bed the way any sane, normal person would have. “What are you talking about, Jim?”

  “This is too perfect,” he answered. “Every photo you just sent looks just like the sketches I had Sylvia make up at the outset,” he said, referring to the woman who had set up the movie’s storyboard.

  “I just sent you some of the photos I’ve been taking around the area. This place exists,” she argued. “I knew it was perfect the second I saw it. Now all I need to know is if you like it.”

  “Like it?” he echoed incredulously. “If this place had hands, I’d slip an engagement ring on the appropriate finger. I love it,” he declared with feeling. “Start the negotiations.”

  He caught her off guard with his last instruction. “I thought that you’d send Henderson to do that.”

  “Henderson’s down with the flu and I want this place as soon as possible. I want it yesterday. Promise them anything it takes—up to the limit.”

  “And if the limit isn’t enough?” she asked, even though she was fairly sure that Miguel would accept the offer with no argument. The amount of money involved had already left him close to speechless when she’d first mentioned it.

  “Raise the limit,” he told her without hesitation. “I want that location.” He made it clear that failure to secure it was not an option. “Call me the minute you seal the deal. I’ll have the crew out within two days. And, Valentine—”

  She was about to terminate the call, but stopped when he said her name. “Yes?”

  “I’m counting on you. Make this happen.”

  “You got it.”

  No pressure here, she thought cryptically as she finally ended the call. Not that she thought Rafe’s father would turn her down. He all but came out and said yes to her. It was just that she didn’t like taking anything for granted. Because when you took something for granted, that was when the gods decided to pull the rug right out from under your feet and you wound up hitting your head and being rushed off to the hospital.

  Or, in her specific case, she’d believed that she was going to be married until she was old and gray—and possibly longer. And then, suddenly, rather than looking forward to celebrating anniversaries and having children, there she was, holding a wake for Scott and trying desperately to hold herself together.

  Putting her phone away, she shut off the light, then lay back in bed and closed her eyes, willing herself to wind down again. She needed her sleep. Come morning, she had people to see and deals to finalize.

  Chapter Nine

  Ordinarily, she could sleep anywhere, any time. Her father liked to joke that she could probably sleep hanging in the closet on a wire coat hanger. But tonight, sleep took its own sweet time in coming to her.

  Val didn’t know exactly when she finally did manage to drift off, but it had taken her quite a while—and then there was dawn, slipping in through the open curtains, making itself known as it nudged her awake.

  Feeling like something that the cat had dragged in, Val stared at the ceiling for a couple of moments, trying to orient herself and remember exactly where she was. Waking up in beds that weren’t her own wasn’t unusual for her. Because of the nature of her job, she traveled a great deal. Even so, putting a name to her latest locations was tricky for her at times.

  Like now.

  And then she remembered.

  Remembered discovering the ranch and feeling confident that she had lucked out. Remembered Jim’s pleased voice when she’d sent the photographs she’d taken of the ranch. Remembered feeling good because she’d been right.

  Remembered Rafe’s kiss.

  The last had her smiling languidly for exactly ten seconds, and then she bolted upright when her thoughts began to take her to places she had absolutely no business going.

  Places that, while wonderful, she’d already been to and had no intention of revisiting. Because those places were coupled with disappointment and heartache. She knew that as certainly as she knew that night followed day.

  Enough of this “castles in the sky” nonsense. She needed to get going, Val told herself. Grabbing her discarded shirt, jeans and boots, she rushed into the bathroom, hoping that a quick shower would make a new person out of her—or at the very least, revive the person she’d been before moonlight and Rafe had robbed her of her ability to focus clearly.

  Fifteen minutes later, Val was sailing down the stairs, ready to do whatever it took to get Miguel Rodriguez to agree to lease the production company the use of his ranch for their movie.

  Preoccupied, she sailed right into Rafe, who was just about to go upstairs to knock on her door and wake her.

  Obviously, he thought wryly, that was unnecessary at this point.

  Catching hold of Val’s shoulders to keep from knocking her down, he was surprised at how sturdy they felt. This was not some delicate little flower no matter what she looked like.

  “Whoa. Where are you going in such an all-fired hurry?” he asked. When she looked first at one of her shoulders, then the other before fixing him with a stare, he dropped his hands from them and held them up as if in partial surrender.

  “The kitchen,” she answered, banking down a wave of embarrassment because she’d almost run him down. “I wanted to catch your father at breakfast.”

  “He’s still very ‘catchable,’” Rafe assured her. “Trust me, right now, he’s not going anywhere.” Captivated, he cocked his head as if to study her a little more closely. He could see that she really didn’t look all that rested. “You sl
eep well?”

  He’d called it, she thought. For the most part, she believed in telling things the way they were. But, seeing as how what had kept her up were the after-effects of his kiss, that really wasn’t something she wanted to share with him right now.

  Most likely, never.

  She wanted to focus on presenting her most charming, convincing side—to him as well as to his father and the rest of his family. Jim was eager to get started shooting and he was sold on this place. There was a lot riding on her powers of persuasion, not the least of which was giving her an excuse to be in Forever and around Rafe without appearing to be going out of her way.

  If she was being honest with herself right now, she wasn’t sure what it was that she was looking for at this point in her life. She’d been in love, been a wife and been a widow. And while she missed the emotions associated with the first two, she did not miss the pain that came with the third.

  She supposed that the best that she could hope for right now was that, with any luck, she’d recognize what she was looking for when she finally saw it.

  “Slept like a log,” she answered cheerfully.

  Rafe’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they washed over her again, this time ever so slowly. “A log that was being taken downriver by enterprising loggers after they’d just cut it down,” he judged. Then, before she could protest his assessment, he told her what he knew she’d want to hear. “By the way, he said yes.”

  The words, coming out of the blue like that, stunned her. “Who said yes?”

  “My dad,” he answered simply, then, because she was still looking at him uncertainly, he added, “He said yes to having your crew out here, filming in the area and using our ranch.”

  “You made my pitch for me?” Why would he do that? Especially without telling her?

  He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’m a good listener,” he told her. “I just repeated what you’d said yesterday. Figured you wouldn’t start out by offering to pay less for the use of the ranch than you did the day before. Since he already seemed sold on you yesterday, I figured this was already a done deal, and I was right. There was no need to negotiate.” Rafe smiled at her. “Now you can relax and have your breakfast without trying to work it past the knot in your stomach.”