Rich, Rugged Ranchers. Kathie DeNosky

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СКАЧАТЬ on her to-do list today. Thalia couldn’t remember being this cold, not even when she was a kid and spent all day playing in the rare snowstorm in Oklahoma. She’d lived in L.A. for the last ten years, for crying out loud. People there complained of the cold when it got below sixty.

      Thalia banged on the door again, this time with both hands. Maybe someone was in there, she reasoned. The house was huge. Maybe they were in a room way in the back. “Hello?” She shouted, but the wind wasn’t done with her yet.

      No one came.

      Okay, time to regroup. What were her choices? She could stand here on the porch until someone showed up, at the risk of freezing. She could try one of the barns. Maybe someone was feeding the animals, and if not, well, at least she’d be sheltered from the wind. The thin stiletto heels on her expensive boots made that a risky proposition. Still, better boots than her body. Or she could get back in the car, crank the heat and wonder what she’d done to deserve this.

      Her foot was on the first step down when she saw them—two cowboys on horseback cresting one of the low hills. Thalia gasped at the image before her—it was perfect. The sunset backlit the riders, giving them a halo of gold. Clouds of fog billowed from each of the horse’s noses, which made them look otherworldly. Powerful, with a hint of danger. The whole thing looked like something right out of a movie—and she would know. This is exactly how she wanted to introduce the character of Sean Bridger in Blood for Roses. She’d been right to push for signing James Robert Bradley. This was perfect. He was going to be perfect. She could see the Oscar nominations rolling in.

      Plus, someone was here. She could go inside and warm up.

      The riders slowed as one of them pointed in her general direction. She’d been spotted. Thank heavens. Much longer, and she wouldn’t be able to feel her legs anymore. She gave a hopeful wave, one that said, “Hi. I’m cold.” It must have worked, because one rider broke off and came charging toward the house at full speed.

      Her optimism flipped over to fear in a heartbeat. This guy didn’t look like he was coming to greet her—he rode like he was going to run her down. Sure, Bradley didn’t want to be found—but he or whoever that was wouldn’t hurt her, would he? This wasn’t about to become a shoot-first-ask-later situation, was it? As quickly as she could without betraying her terror, she stepped back onto the porch and out of the line of those hooves.

      Still, the rider came on at full speed, pulling up only when he was parallel with her rental. The horse, a shining palomino, reared back, hooves flailing as the steam from his mouth almost enveloped the two of them. The rider’s long coat fanned out behind him, giving her a glimpse of fringed chaps. If she hadn’t been so afraid, Thalia would have appreciated the artistry and sheer skill of the moment. As it was, she half expected to find herself looking down the barrel of a gun.

      When the horse had settled down, the rider pulled the bandanna down. “Help you?” he said in the kind of voice that was anything but helpful.

      Then she saw his eyes—the liquid amber that had been one of the defining characteristics of James Robert Bradley. She’d found him. The part of her brain that was still nineteen and watching him on the big screen in the movie Hell for Leather swooned, and swooned hard. God, she’d had the biggest crush on this man a decade ago. And now she was here, actually talking to People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. Sure, that had been thirteen years ago, but those eyes were still just as dreamy. She fought the urge to ask him for his autograph. The man was intimidating the hell out of her.

      Not that she’d let him know that. The first rule of negotiating with actors was not to show weakness. Never let the other party know they held all the cards. So she sucked up what frozen courage she could and said, “James Robert Bradley?”

      A look of weariness flashed over those beautiful eyes, then he said, “Miss, I’m not interested.”

      “That’s only because you haven’t heard—”

      He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I appreciate the offer, but you can be on your way now.” He turned his mount toward one of the larger, newer barns.

      “You didn’t even listen to what I have to say!” She took off after him, her thin heels wobbling on the uneven terrain. “Your agent told me you’d—”

      “I’m going to fire him for this,” was the last thing she heard before Bradley disappeared into the barn.

      Thalia pulled up. The wind was stronger in the middle of the drive, but she didn’t think following Bradley into the barn was in her best interests. He hadn’t even listened to the offer. How was she supposed to sign him to the movie when she couldn’t even get a civil reply out of him? And if she couldn’t sign him, how was she supposed to go into the office and tell her boss without losing her job?

      She heard hoofbeats behind her, and turned to see the other rider approaching at a slow walk. “Howdy,” the cowboy said, tipping his hat. “Said no, didn’t he?”

      Maybe it was the cold, or the blown plan, or the prospect of being unemployed in less than twenty-four hours. Whatever it was, Thalia felt her throat close up. Don’t cry, she thought, because nothing was less professional than crying over a rejection. Plus, the tears would freeze to her face. “He didn’t even listen to the offer.”

      The cowboy gave her a once-over. “I’d be happy to take the part, miss, providing there’s a casting couch involved.” Then he winked.

      Was he … laughing at her? She shook her head. Maybe he was joking. She couldn’t tell. “Thanks, but I was looking for—”

      “An Oscar winner, yeah, I know. Wish I could help you, but … he’s pretty set in his ways.”

      “Hoss,” came a shout from inside the barn.

      “Boss man’s calling.” The cowboy named Hoss seemed to feel sorry for her.

      “Could I at least leave my card? In case he changes his mind?”

      “You could try, but …”

      “Hoss!” The shout was more insistent this time. Hoss tipped his hat again and headed toward the barn.

      So much for making progress. Yes, she’d found Bradley, and yes, seeing those eyes of his was probably worth the trip. Everything else? The wind was blowing away her body heat, her career and her crush. If she got in that car and drove away, she’d have nothing left. Levinson would fire her butt for failing to deliver the goods, and she’d be blacklisted. Like last time, when her affair with Levinson had blown up in her face. She couldn’t face having every professional door shut in her face a second time.

      She needed Bradley in a way that had nothing to do with his eyes and everything to do with gainful employment.

      At least the anger she currently felt was warm in nature. She’d lost contact with her toes, but she could still feel her fingers.

      The barn door through which both men had disappeared slid shut.

      This was her own fault, she realized. She was the one who had suggested Bradley for the role of Sean. She was the one who had convinced Levinson that even a recluse like Bradley wouldn’t be able to turn down the comeback role of a lifetime. She was the one who had staked her career on something that seemed so simple—getting a man to say yes.

      She was the one who had bet wrong. And now she had СКАЧАТЬ