Wrangling the Redhead - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,12

always at his desk in Beverly Hills by the time Wall Street opened, on the phone to his broker ten minutes later.

“Hello, Jason. I thought when we said goodbye the other day, you understood what the word meant,” she said. “Why are you calling?”

“It’s taken some real hardball negotiating, but the studio just agreed to a higher figure if you’ll sign for that comedy we talked about,” he said, sounding exceedingly pleased with himself. “It’ll make you the highest-paid woman in films after Julia Roberts.”

Her heart sank. They’d already had this discussion—several times in fact. “Jason, I’m having a flashback here. Didn’t you call me a few days ago when I was packing my bags and say almost exactly the same words?”

“This is a new offer, even more money, and a percentage of the gross. They want you, Lauren, and they want you bad.” He was triumphant.

“Lovely, but my answer’s still the same,” she said. “I’m not interested in doing this project or any other project. Why are you still negotiating?”

“Because that’s what I do,” he explained patiently. “It’s what you pay me the big bucks to do. I want you to get every penny you’re worth. You’re the second-biggest female box-office star in the country these days. This film will set the precedent for every deal you do from here on out. It’s important to get it right.”

Lauren sighed. “But, Jason, you’re missing the point. I’m not going to do this film, period.”

“Of course you are.”

“I am not, so stop trying to run the money up. You’re wasting your time and theirs. How’s it going to look when they discover that I never intended to commit? You’re going to end up with a lot of egg on your handsome little face. Your credibility will be shot when you can’t deliver me.”

Her response was met by a long silence. “I don’t get it,” he said finally, clearly bemused by her attitude. In Jason’s world no one turned down the kind of money the studio had just put on the table. No one quit at the height of success, unless it was part of some publicity gambit to up the stakes.

“Is it the script?” he asked. “We talked about that. They’ll bring in a new writer to tweak it. You can have anybody you want.”

“The script is fabulous the way it is,” Lauren assured him. “I’m just not interested. How many times do I have to say that?”

“Until you make a believer out of me,” he retorted, evidently still unconvinced. “Whoops, hold on a sec. Ken just stuck a note under my nose. The studio’s on the other line.”

He sounded so gleeful. Clearly he hadn’t heard one word she’d said. “I am not holding on,” she told him, seizing the excuse to end the frustrating call. “I have to go.”

“Why? What’s more important than this?” Jason demanded.

“I have a date with a horse,” she said, and hung up before he could respond.

Because she knew Jason would call back a half-dozen times or more before he gave up for the day—and then only so she could sleep on the latest offer and he could begin the badgering again fresh in the morning—she left the house at once and headed for the corral. If there was any more communicating to be done, Jason could do it with the answering machine. He obviously didn’t care about much besides the sound of his own voice anyway.

Across the yard, the corral was empty, but as Lauren moved toward the open pasture beyond, she spotted Midnight. She climbed onto the split-rail fence and watched him. His black coat glistening in the sun, he was all alone, far from the other horses who’d been turned out that morning. After a moment, his proud head rose. He sniffed the air and his ears twitched. Slowly he turned in her direction, and it was as if he was studying her with the same intensity she had been directing his way.

Lauren took a piece of apple from her pocket and held it out. Midnight whinnied and shook his head, as if he was declining the tempting offer, but a minute later the powerful stallion with the blaze of white on his face trotted sedately toward her. He stopped a few feet away, still cautious.

“If you want this, you’re going to have to come and get it,” Lauren said quietly, still holding the apple out toward him.

Midnight pranced away.

“Okay, then.” She started to put the fruit back in her pocket, but a