off the winding highway onto a narrow asphalt road. “Gracie, this movie we're making. . . Maybe you'd better tell me a little something about it.”
“Like what?” She wanted to look her best when they got there, and she reached into her purse for a comb. She had put on her navy suit that morning so she'd look professional.
“Well, the plot for one thing.”
Gracie's hands stilled. “Are you telling me you didn't read the script?”
“I never got around to it.”
She closed her purse and studied him. Why would a seemingly intelligent man like Bobby Tom accept a part in a movie without having read the script? Was he that undisciplined? She knew he wasn't very enthusiastic about the project, but even so, she would, have thought he'd take some interest. There must be a reason, but what could it possibly—
At that moment she was overcome by a horrible suspicion, one that made her feel almost ill. Impulsively, she reached out and curled her hand around his upper arm.
“You can't read, can you, Bobby Tom?”
His head shot around, eyes flashing with indignation. “Of course I can read. I did graduate from a major university, you know.”
Gracie understood that colleges gave their star football players a great deal of latitude when it came to academics, and she was still suspicious. “In what field of study?”
“Playground management.”
“I knew it!” Her heart filled with sympathy. “You don't have to lie to me. You know you can trust me not to tell anyone. We can work on improving your reading together. No one would ever have to know that—” She broke off as she saw the gleam in his eyes. Belatedly, she remembered his laptop computer, and she gritted her teeth. “You're teasing me.”
He grinned. “Sweetheart, you've got to stop stereotyping people. Just because I was a football player doesn't mean I didn't learn the alphabet. I managed to struggle through U.T. with a respectable grade point average and earn myself a degree in economics. Although I'm usually too embarrassed to admit it, I happened to be an NCAA Top Six scholar athlete.”
“Why didn't you say so in the first place?”
“You're the one who decided I couldn't read.”
“What else was I supposed to think? No one in his right mind would sign a movie contract without reading the script first. Even I read the script, and I'm not even in it.”
“It's an action adventure movie, right? I'm supposed to be the good guy, which means there'll also be a bad guy, a beautiful woman, and a tot of car chases. Now that we don't have the Russians to kick around, the bad guy'll either be a terrorist or a drug runner.”
“A Mexican drug lord.”
He gave her an I-told-you-so nod. “There'll be a bunch of fights, all kinds of blood, gore, and cussing, most of it gratuitous, but still protected by the First Amendment. I'll be running around looking manly, and the heroine, movies being what they are, will prob'ly be running around naked and screaming. Am I pretty much on target so far?”
He was right on target, but she didn't want to encourage his slipshod study habits by saying so. “You're missing the point. You should have read the script so you could understand the character you're playing.”
“Gracie, sweetheart, I'm not an actor. I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to be anybody but myself.”
“Well, in this case, you're going to be a drunken ex-football player named Jed Slade.”
“Nobody's named Jed Slade.”
“You are, and you're living on a run down Texas horse ranch you bought from the brother of the heroine, who's a woman named Samantha Murdock. I presume you know that Natalie Brooks is playing the part of Samantha. The people at Windmill feel quite lucky to have signed her.” As Bobby Tom nodded, she went on. “You don't know who Samantha is, though, when she picks you up in a bar and seduces you.”
“She seduces me?”
“Just like in real life, Bobby Tom, so that part shouldn't give you any
“Like what?” She wanted to look her best when they got there, and she reached into her purse for a comb. She had put on her navy suit that morning so she'd look professional.
“Well, the plot for one thing.”
Gracie's hands stilled. “Are you telling me you didn't read the script?”
“I never got around to it.”
She closed her purse and studied him. Why would a seemingly intelligent man like Bobby Tom accept a part in a movie without having read the script? Was he that undisciplined? She knew he wasn't very enthusiastic about the project, but even so, she would, have thought he'd take some interest. There must be a reason, but what could it possibly—
At that moment she was overcome by a horrible suspicion, one that made her feel almost ill. Impulsively, she reached out and curled her hand around his upper arm.
“You can't read, can you, Bobby Tom?”
His head shot around, eyes flashing with indignation. “Of course I can read. I did graduate from a major university, you know.”
Gracie understood that colleges gave their star football players a great deal of latitude when it came to academics, and she was still suspicious. “In what field of study?”
“Playground management.”
“I knew it!” Her heart filled with sympathy. “You don't have to lie to me. You know you can trust me not to tell anyone. We can work on improving your reading together. No one would ever have to know that—” She broke off as she saw the gleam in his eyes. Belatedly, she remembered his laptop computer, and she gritted her teeth. “You're teasing me.”
He grinned. “Sweetheart, you've got to stop stereotyping people. Just because I was a football player doesn't mean I didn't learn the alphabet. I managed to struggle through U.T. with a respectable grade point average and earn myself a degree in economics. Although I'm usually too embarrassed to admit it, I happened to be an NCAA Top Six scholar athlete.”
“Why didn't you say so in the first place?”
“You're the one who decided I couldn't read.”
“What else was I supposed to think? No one in his right mind would sign a movie contract without reading the script first. Even I read the script, and I'm not even in it.”
“It's an action adventure movie, right? I'm supposed to be the good guy, which means there'll also be a bad guy, a beautiful woman, and a tot of car chases. Now that we don't have the Russians to kick around, the bad guy'll either be a terrorist or a drug runner.”
“A Mexican drug lord.”
He gave her an I-told-you-so nod. “There'll be a bunch of fights, all kinds of blood, gore, and cussing, most of it gratuitous, but still protected by the First Amendment. I'll be running around looking manly, and the heroine, movies being what they are, will prob'ly be running around naked and screaming. Am I pretty much on target so far?”
He was right on target, but she didn't want to encourage his slipshod study habits by saying so. “You're missing the point. You should have read the script so you could understand the character you're playing.”
“Gracie, sweetheart, I'm not an actor. I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to be anybody but myself.”
“Well, in this case, you're going to be a drunken ex-football player named Jed Slade.”
“Nobody's named Jed Slade.”
“You are, and you're living on a run down Texas horse ranch you bought from the brother of the heroine, who's a woman named Samantha Murdock. I presume you know that Natalie Brooks is playing the part of Samantha. The people at Windmill feel quite lucky to have signed her.” As Bobby Tom nodded, she went on. “You don't know who Samantha is, though, when she picks you up in a bar and seduces you.”
“She seduces me?”
“Just like in real life, Bobby Tom, so that part shouldn't give you any
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