Heaven, Texas Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Susan Elizabeth Phillips
be wise to let herself get distracted from the topic at hand. The phone began to ring again, but he paid no attention.
“This is your first movie, isn't it? Have you always wanted to be an actor?”
He looked at her blankly. “An actor? Oh, yeah— A long time.”
“You're probably not aware that every day shooting is delayed costs thousands of dollars. Windmill is a small, independent studio, and it can't tolerate that sort of expense.”
“They'll take it out of my paycheck.”
The idea didn't seem to bother him, and she regarded him thoughtfully. He was toying with the mouse that sat on a gray foam pad next to the computer. His fingers were long and tapered, the nails clipped short. One strong, bare wrist showed beneath the cuff of his robe.
“Since you don't have any acting experience, it occurs to me that you might be a bit nervous about the whole thing. If you're afraid . . .”
He uncurled from the desk and spoke softly, but with a certain intensity she hadn't heard in his voice until that moment. “Bobby Tom Denton isn't afraid of anything, sweetheart. You just remember that.”
“Everybody's afraid of something.”
“Not me. When you've spent the best part of your life facing eleven men hell-bent on pulling your guts out through your nose hairs, things like making movies don't have much effect.”
“I see. Still, you're not a football player any longer.”
“Oh, I'll always be a football player, in one way or another.” For a moment she thought she detected a bleakness in his eyes, an emotion almost like despair. But he'd spoken so matter-of-factly, she decided she'd imagined it. He came around the side of the desk toward her.
“Maybe you'd better get on the phone and tell your boss I'll be there one of these days soon.”
He had finally made her angry, and she drew herself up to her full five feet, four and three-quarters inches. “What I'm going to tell my boss is that both of us will be flying into San Antonio tomorrow afternoon and then driving on to Telarosa.”
“We are?”
“Yes.” She knew she had to be firm with him from the beginning or he'd take dreadful advantage of her. “Otherwise, you're going to be in the middle of a very nasty lawsuit.”
He rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger. “I guess you win, sweetheart. What time is our flight?”
She regarded him suspiciously. “Twelve-forty-nine.”
“All right.”
“I'll pick you up at eleven o'clock.” She was wary of his sudden capitulation, and it sounded more like a question than a statement.
“It might be easier if I met you at the airport.”
“I'll pick you up here.”
“That's real nice of you.”
The next thing she knew, Bobby Tom had her by the elbow and was steering her from the study.
He played the perfect host, pointing out a sixteenth century temple gong and a floor sculpture made from petrified wood, but in less than ninety seconds, she was alone on the sidewalk.
Lights blazed from the front windows and music drifted toward her on the scented night air. As she breathed it in, her eyes grew wistful. This was her first wild party and, unless she was very much mistaken, she had just been thrown out.
Gracie was back at Bobby Tom Denton's house at eight o'clock the next morning. Before she'd left the motel, she'd placed a call to Shady Acres to check on Mrs. Fenner and Mr. Marinetti. As much as she'd needed to escape her life at the nursing home, she still cared about the people she'd left behind three weeks ago, and she was relieved to hear that they were both improving. She'd also called her mother, but Fran Snow had been on the way to her water aerobics class at her Sarasota condominium, and she had no time to talk.
Gracie parked her car on the Street, where it was hidden from the house by shrubbery but still afforded her a clear view of the drive. Bobby Tom's sudden agreeableness last night had made her suspicious, and she wasn't taking any chances.
She'd spent most of'
“This is your first movie, isn't it? Have you always wanted to be an actor?”
He looked at her blankly. “An actor? Oh, yeah— A long time.”
“You're probably not aware that every day shooting is delayed costs thousands of dollars. Windmill is a small, independent studio, and it can't tolerate that sort of expense.”
“They'll take it out of my paycheck.”
The idea didn't seem to bother him, and she regarded him thoughtfully. He was toying with the mouse that sat on a gray foam pad next to the computer. His fingers were long and tapered, the nails clipped short. One strong, bare wrist showed beneath the cuff of his robe.
“Since you don't have any acting experience, it occurs to me that you might be a bit nervous about the whole thing. If you're afraid . . .”
He uncurled from the desk and spoke softly, but with a certain intensity she hadn't heard in his voice until that moment. “Bobby Tom Denton isn't afraid of anything, sweetheart. You just remember that.”
“Everybody's afraid of something.”
“Not me. When you've spent the best part of your life facing eleven men hell-bent on pulling your guts out through your nose hairs, things like making movies don't have much effect.”
“I see. Still, you're not a football player any longer.”
“Oh, I'll always be a football player, in one way or another.” For a moment she thought she detected a bleakness in his eyes, an emotion almost like despair. But he'd spoken so matter-of-factly, she decided she'd imagined it. He came around the side of the desk toward her.
“Maybe you'd better get on the phone and tell your boss I'll be there one of these days soon.”
He had finally made her angry, and she drew herself up to her full five feet, four and three-quarters inches. “What I'm going to tell my boss is that both of us will be flying into San Antonio tomorrow afternoon and then driving on to Telarosa.”
“We are?”
“Yes.” She knew she had to be firm with him from the beginning or he'd take dreadful advantage of her. “Otherwise, you're going to be in the middle of a very nasty lawsuit.”
He rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger. “I guess you win, sweetheart. What time is our flight?”
She regarded him suspiciously. “Twelve-forty-nine.”
“All right.”
“I'll pick you up at eleven o'clock.” She was wary of his sudden capitulation, and it sounded more like a question than a statement.
“It might be easier if I met you at the airport.”
“I'll pick you up here.”
“That's real nice of you.”
The next thing she knew, Bobby Tom had her by the elbow and was steering her from the study.
He played the perfect host, pointing out a sixteenth century temple gong and a floor sculpture made from petrified wood, but in less than ninety seconds, she was alone on the sidewalk.
Lights blazed from the front windows and music drifted toward her on the scented night air. As she breathed it in, her eyes grew wistful. This was her first wild party and, unless she was very much mistaken, she had just been thrown out.
Gracie was back at Bobby Tom Denton's house at eight o'clock the next morning. Before she'd left the motel, she'd placed a call to Shady Acres to check on Mrs. Fenner and Mr. Marinetti. As much as she'd needed to escape her life at the nursing home, she still cared about the people she'd left behind three weeks ago, and she was relieved to hear that they were both improving. She'd also called her mother, but Fran Snow had been on the way to her water aerobics class at her Sarasota condominium, and she had no time to talk.
Gracie parked her car on the Street, where it was hidden from the house by shrubbery but still afforded her a clear view of the drive. Bobby Tom's sudden agreeableness last night had made her suspicious, and she wasn't taking any chances.
She'd spent most of'