His Forever Valentine. Marie Ferrarella
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guessed that brains didn’t come along with the beauty. Such a shame.
“Renting it?” he questioned. That really wasn’t an option, either. “I’m sorry, but—”
Rafe didn’t get a chance to turn her down. Lowering her camera so that it now just hung from a strap, its lens pointing, unfocused, at the ground, she moved closer to him.
“Wait,” she requested, raising her voice just enough to register a tad louder than his. “Hear me out, please.” She gestured around the terrain with open enthusiasm. “This place is absolutely perfect.”
“And we intend to keep it that way,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
Gorgeous or not, he wasn’t about to let himself be turned around by the woman and make promises he had no right to make nor keep, even if he could—which he couldn’t. Everything that went on at the ranch was decided by a vote—and they all had a vote. So he couldn’t accept any offers she might make.
It really didn’t matter what the knockout in the sexy jeans that adhered to her like a second skin had in mind or was going to say.
He supposed that, in all fairness, he should hear her out. Let the woman talk. And then he would give her the bottom line: the Rodriguez land was not for sale.
“I guess maybe leasing it would be a better term for what I’m proposing.” She turned to face him directly. Her eyes were dancing and he found them absolutely mesmerizing—not that this changed the situation. “In my opinion, this place is absolutely perfect.”
Well, that certainly echoed his feelings on the subject. He had never experienced an iota of wanderlust. Forever was where he belonged. Specifically, on the family ranch.
“We like to think so,” he responded. “But this has also been in the family for several generations now and we don’t—”
Again, the woman interrupted him before he could finish his sentence and terminate the conversation. “We’d put it back just the way we found it,” she promised. “We’ve got a great cleanup crew.”
He stopped the protest that was on his lips and looked at her. Just who was “we?” And he had another question.
“Cleanup crew?” he asked. “You travel with a cleanup crew?” Who included that in their entourage? Just what did this woman do for a living?
“I don’t,” she clarified, “but the production company does.” And then she laughed, realizing that, as usual, she’d gotten ahead of herself. “Maybe I should start at the beginning.”
“Maybe you should,” he agreed, waiting for her to start making some sense.
Reaching into the pocket of the fringed vest she was wearing, the woman plucked out a business card and offered it to him. At the same time, she told him what was written on it.
“I’m Valentine Jones—Val to my friends,” she interjected. She didn’t expect the name to mean anything to him, although within the business, she was beginning to build up a fairly good reputation. “And I’m a location scout.”
Rafe glanced down at the card she’d handed him. There was a colorful logo on it that looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He only knew he’d seen it before, but on a larger scale. He offered to give her back her card, but she shook her head, silently indicating that he should keep it for future reference.
Not that there would be any, he thought, resigned.
“At the risk of sounding ignorant, what’s a location scout?” he asked.
Rather than laugh at the question, the way he half expected her to, Val flashed a smile at him that was equal parts understanding and unsettlingly sensual.
“I’m surprised you haven’t been approached about this before now. A location scout is exactly what it sounds like—I scout different locations.”
He saw no reason for that. “Why?”
“For movies,” she answered simply.
Her mother had been a starlet with a minor degree of success and fame. She had moved on to be a far more successful casting director, while her father was a well-known and much-in-demand cinematographer. Movies and Hollywood had always been part of her life. At times, it was hard for her to remember that a good many people she dealt with were outside the industry and as such, had to be educated as to what she did.
Rafe was trying to make sense out of what she was telling him. “You mean like for a movie theater? You’re looking to build a movie theater out here?” he asked incredulously. This definitely was off the beaten path. It would make far more sense to put up more movie theaters in the center of town, next to the one they already had.
“No, I’m looking to film a movie here.” That made it sound as if she was the one who made the movie and she wasn’t. “Or rather, my boss is—or he will be once I send him these pictures I just took.” Again, Val realized she was getting ahead of herself. There were questions she had to ask first. “The ranch house I saw coming out here was absolutely perfect for the story, just the right blend of old-fashioned and modern. You are the owner, right?” she looked at him hopefully.
Rafe inclined his head. “I’m one of them.”
Val experienced what she could only term was a slight sinking, disappointed feeling gelling in the pit of her stomach. “Your wife?” she asked, guessing as to who the other owner was.
Rafe laughed as he shook his head. “More like my father and my siblings,” he clarified.
“Siblings,” Val echoed, nodding her head. The sinking feeling disappeared as if it hadn’t been there to begin with. She could feel her mouth curving. “Siblings are good,” she pronounced.
“They seem to think so,” Rafe told her. “And that goes for my father, too,” he added.
Val nodded. She’d heard him specify his father the first time. It looked like she was about to present her case before a committee. Nothing she hadn’t done before. She’d been with Sinclair Productions for a few years now and during that time, she’d encountered a whole range of home owners from a single, hermit-like owner to a holding company she had to spend days tracking down. She’d pleaded her boss’s case before all of them.
“I’d like to meet these siblings and your dad so I could talk to them and see if there’s anything I can do or say to convince them to give their permission to use this ranch as a backdrop of the film we’re making. No sense in my sending on these photos to the director if it’s just to tease him and raise his hopes, only to find out that your siblings and dad won’t let us film here.”
The way she phrased it, he got the feeling that she had just arbitrarily had him throwing in his lot with her. Although he now saw no harm in it, he didn’t want her just taking it for granted, either. He wanted to hear the woman’s pitch first—just in case there was something she hadn’t mentioned or that he was overlooking.
“I didn’t say I’d be all right with it,” he reminded her.
He didn’t have to. She could feel the way he was leaning. But, for the sake of his pride, she played along.
The woman named Val turned her face up to his and it occurred to Rafe that he had never looked into such a soulful pair of eyes before.
“And there’s nothing I can say to get you to throw your lot in with us? We pay well. I’ve looked at a great many different places and this is the first one that struck me as being perfect. It’s so unspoiled and pristine—”
He could all but channel what his father and siblings would say. Money had never been their prime motivation and even less now, since they were no longer strapped.
“And we’d like to keep it that way,” he told her. That was what was important, keeping the land productive and beautiful.
“I completely understand and we can write