"things are really heating up in Montana"
Reviewed by Sandra Wurman
Posted February 6, 2013
Romance Contemporary
Anyone that lives in or has spent time in New York has to
marvel at a basic way of life there that is markedly
different than in Hollywood. You can walk around some very
normal looking streets and find performers of all levels of
celebrity casually passing by. What's so remarkable is that no
one usually bats an eye. But the reality isn't always
so idyllic when you add in the paparazzi just waiting in
the shadows. Thalia Thorne wasn't looking for a real man when she flew
to Montana from California. She wasn't looking for a real
cowboy either, but that's what she found. Her target was a
movie star who she idolized for as long as she could
remember. As a teenager she had his posters on her bedroom
wall. That's who she planned to meet having found where he
had sequestered himself for several years. She went to the
Bar B Ranch to find James Roberts Bradley but she found a
cowboy who went by R.J. California is full of self important people with ego the
size of a large continent. It's really hard to fit it and
even harder to carve out a place for yourself in this
plastic world. False smiles, unfulfilled promises and
cheating abound. As a young woman set on an acting career
and looking for her first break you have to be real careful
about whom to trust. That's pretty much stating the obvious. Well Thalia makes mistakes, lapses in judgment should we say
but not surprising given her young age. However these
errors in judgment turned out to be rather costly. Her
acting career is brought to an abrupt halt and she practically
has to beg for a job that is at least still in the
industry. Her boss is a sleazy producer whose winning
record gave him enormous power in the industry, power he
doesn't hesitate to use. In order to once again try to save a flailing career she
came up with an idea that her boss grabbed at. The
challenge was all hers and if she failed, well failure was
just not an option. The moment she arrives at R.J.s ranch there is a sense of
eminent doom to her plan. To say he is reluctant is to be
laughingly naive. If not for his ranch family he wouldn't
have even let her in from the cold. There is no room in
his life for anybody even remotely connected to his acting
life. Here on his doorstep is this gorgeous creature
totally unprepared for winter in Montana. Thalia is
quickly realizing that she should have done more homework
on this assignment. But the frost outside doesn't even compare with the chill of
the reception she gets from R.J. He is immediately
suspicious of this young woman as well as unfortunately
attracted. She stirs up things in him that have been left
ormant for quite some time. Somehow this crazy girl makes
his life harder and warmer. He has quite an inner battle to
convince himself he isn't interested. No matter that he keeps basically showing her the door, she
comes right back. She is unrelenting in her pursuit. But
pretty soon it becomes obvious that her pursuit is turning
personal rather than professional and he can't trust
that it was the man rather than the actor she is after. A REAL COWBOY is a pretty interesting look at celebrities
lives from a very
personal angle. Sure we all know how stars say they want
privacy, but then we watch as they do crazy things that
keep them very much in the public eye. Anderson does a
really fine job working with just this concept. She shows
what a very fine line there is between a normal and
celebrity life. Hiding in plain sight seems like a strange
option but she writes honestly about doing just that.
Anderson did a great job bridging two different worlds in a
totally enjoyable and engrossing tale.
SUMMARY
James Roberts Bradley burned out early. Ten years ago, he
walked away from multi-million dollar film roles and
disappeared into the Montana back country. As an assistant
producer for a blockbuster Western that already has Oscar
written all over it, it's Thalia Thorne's job to track
Bradley down and sign him to the project. She's used to
dealing with Hollywood egos and hardball negotiation
tactics. She never expected to find a real-life cowboy who
tips his hat and says 'no' with a smile. Can she convince
Bradley to take the comeback role of a lifetime?
ExcerptOne
The wheels of Thalia's rental sedan spun on the gravel
as the driving winds tried to push her off the road, but
she kept control of the car. It was nice to have control
over something, even if it was a Camry.
Because she certainly did not have control over this
situation. If she did, she wouldn't be stalking James
Robert Bradley to the middle–of–nowhere Montana
in what could only be described as the dead of winter.
Hell, she didn't even know if she'd find him. And, as it
had been close to an hour since she'd seen another sign of
life, she wasn't sure she'd find anything.
Still, there was a road, and she was on it. Roads went
places, after all. This one cut through miles and miles of
Montana grassland that was probably lush and green in the
summer. However, as it was late January, the whole
landscape looked lifeless and deserted. Snow so old it had
taken on a gray hue lined the road. If she were filming a
post–apocalyptic movie, this would be perfect.
At least it wasn't snowing right now, she told herself
in a forcibly cheerful tone as she glanced at the car's
thermometer. It was 22° outside. Not that cold, really. She
had that going for her. Of course, that didn't include the
wind chill, but still. It's not like it was subzero out
there. She could handle it.
Finally, she passed under a signpost that proclaimed Bar
B Ranch, which also announced trespassers would be shot.
The Camry's wheels bounced over a metal grate a part of her
brain remembered was called a cattle guard. She checked the
address she'd entered on to her phone's GPS, and a sense of
relief bum–rushed her. She was actually in the right
place.
This realization buoyed her spirits. James Robert
Bradley's agent, a small, nervous man named Bernie
Lipchitz, hadn't wanted to give up the address on his most
famous—and most private—Oscar–winning
client. Thalia had been forced to promise Bernie she'd give
his latest would–be starlet a role in the new movie
she was producing, Blood for Roses.
Of course, it was her movie only as long as she could
get James Robert Bradley signed for the part of Sean. If
she couldn't do that...
No time to dwell on the worst–case scenario. She
was making excellent progress. She'd tracked down Bradley's
whereabouts, which was no easy task. She'd gotten on to his
property—so far, without anyone shooting at her. Few
people could claim to have gotten this close to Bradley
since he'd disappeared from Hollywood after winning his
Oscar almost eleven years ago. Now she had to sign him to
the comeback role of a lifetime. Easy, right?
The clock in the dash said four o'clock, but the sun was
already setting, shooting brilliant oranges and purples
across the icy blue sky. Beautiful, Thalia thought as the
colors lit up the gray landscape. Off to what she thought
was the north were a series of low hills that merged with
taller mountains in the west. The south and east were as
flat as a pancake. She could almost see it in the full
bloom of spring. The land was beautiful.
Maybe we could do some of the filming here, she thought
as she rounded a bend and saw a massive structure that
would have been called a log cabin, except cabin didn't do
it justice. She couldn't tell if the huge, rough–hewn
logs rose up two stories or three, and she also couldn't
tell how far back the building went. Behind it were a
number of barns—some with an old, weathered look,
others made of gleaming metal. Except for the shiny metal
buildings, everything looked like it had been on this patch
of land for decades. If not centuries.
She didn't see a single living thing. Not even a dog ran
up to greet her as she pulled in front of the house. A wide
covered porch offered some protection from the wind.
Well, she wasn't going to get anyone signed to anything
by sitting in a car. Gathering up all of her positive
energy, she opened the door.
The icy wind nearly slammed the door shut on her leg and
cut right through her patterned tights. Dang, she thought
as she pushed against the door. Sure, it had been cold when
she'd left the small airport terminal in Billings, Montana,
to get into the car—but it hadn't been this cold.
Suddenly, the knee–high boots and tights under the
wool dress didn't seem like a smart business outfit making
a concession to winter. They seemed like the definition of
foolishness.
Bracing herself against the wind, she pulled the
fur–lined collar of her wool trench coat up around
her neck and trudged up the porch steps. Please be home,
she thought as she looked for the doorbell. Her coat was
not rated for this kind of weather.
Another blast of winter rushed up the back of her skirt,
making her teeth chatter. Where was the doorbell? Screw it,
she thought, pounding on the door in a most unprofessional
way. Manners didn't matter when she was freezing to death.
No one answered.
Freezing to death—in Montana, of all
places—wasn't 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 to
pay the price.
She marched back up to the front door, her head held
high. That was the second rule of negotiations—never
let them know they've won. Her hands were shaking, but she
managed to get a business card out of her coat pocket and
wedge it in the screen door. The whole time, she mentally
tried to come up with some contingency plans. Maybe she'd
caught Bradley at a bad time; she knew where he lived now,
and she had his number. She could try again, and
again—as long as it took until he at least heard her
out.
Thalia remained convinced that, if he would just listen
to her pitch, he'd be interested in the role. Actors, as a
rule, craved public adoration, and what could be better
than an Oscar–worthy movie?
No, this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Still,
hypothermia was becoming a risk. She wished she could go
inside and warm up her hands and feet before she tried to
drive, but it didn't look like an invitation would be
forthcoming. As she turned back to the Camry, she saw the
headlights of another vehicle coming down the road. Someone
else meant another opportunity to plead her case, so she
put on her friendliest smile and waited.
A mud–splattered SUV rolled up, window down.
Before the vehicle had even come to a stop, a woman with
graying hair stuck her head out. "What are you doing
outside?" she demanded.
"I was hoping to talk to Mr. Bradley." Thalia kept her
voice positive.
The woman gazed out at the barn. When her attention
snapped back to Thalia, she looked mad enough to skin a
cat. "And he left you out here? That man..." She shook her
head in disgust. "Poor dear, you must be frozen. Can you
wait long enough for me to pull around back and get the
door open, or do you need to get in the car?"
Thalia loved this woman more than any other person in
the whole world right now, because she was going to let
Thalia inside. But she didn't want this stranger to know
how cold she was—or how long she'd been stuck in this
frozen purgatory. "I can wait." Her teeth chattered.
Without another word, the woman drove off. Thalia tried
stamping her feet to keep the blood going, but it didn't do
much except send pain shooting up her legs. Just a few more
seconds, she told herself.
However, it felt like several minutes passed with no
movement from either inside the house or from the barn.
Should have gotten in the car, she thought. Then the front
door swung open, and the older woman pulled her inside.
"You're like to frozen stiff!" she said in a clucking
voice as she wrapped Thalia in what felt like a bearskin
and pulled her deeper into the house. Thalia didn't have
time to take in her surroundings before she found herself
plunked down in a plush leather chair. Before her was a
fire burning brightly in a massive stone fireplace that
took up most of a wall.
Rubbing her hands together, she scooted forward to soak
up the heat.
"I'm Minnie Red Horse, by the way. Let's get those boots
off you. Nice boots, but not the best for winter out here."
"Thalia. Thorne." That was all she could get out as her
blood began to pump through her frozen extremities. When
Minnie pulled the boots off, Thalia couldn't keep the cry
of pain out of her voice.
"Poor dear. You sit there and warm up. I'll make you
some tea." Minnie stood and pulled the mesh covers off the
fireplace before she stoked the logs. The flames jumped up,
and Thalia felt closer to human.
"Thank you. So much." She managed to look at what she
was wearing. Definitely an animal skin, which kind of
creeped her out, but it was warm, so she ignored whatever
PETA would say about it.
She heard Minnie shuffling around behind her. Thalia
managed to sit up enough to look around. She was at one end
of a long room. Behind her was a plank table, big enough to
seat six. Beyond that was an open kitchen with rustic
cabinets and a lot of marble. The whole effect was like
something out of Architectural Digest—and far beyond
the small ranch house her grandpa had spent his whole life
in.
As big as the place seemed, it had looked much larger
from the outside. Minnie had a kettle on. "Where are you
from, Thalia?"
"Los Angeles." She tried wiggling her toes, but it still
hurt, so she quit.
"You're a long way from home, sweetie. How long you been
traveling?"
Thalia decided she liked Minnie, above and beyond the
warm fire and the tea. It'd been a long time since anyone
had called her sweetie. Not since Grandpa had died. Mom was
more fond of dear. "My flight left LAX at 3:30 this
morning."
"Goodness, you made that whole trip in one day?" Minnie
walked over and handed Thalia a steaming mug. "That's quite
a journey. Where are you staying tonight?"
"Um. . ." She'd had a plan, but her head was fuzzy right
now. "I have a room in Billings."
Minnie gave her a look that landed somewhere between
concern and pity. "You realize that's five hours away, and
it's already near sunset, right? That's a long drive in the
dark."
Thalia hadn't realized how far away Billings was from
the Bar B Ranch when she'd booked the room, and given her
current state, five hours seemed like five days. How was
she going to make it that far? The drive out had been hard
enough, and that had been during daylight hours. Fighting
that wind in the dark on strange roads was kind of a scary
thought.
"Here's what you're going to do." Minnie patted her arm
after Thalia took several sips of the tea. "You're going to
sit right here until you feel better, and then you're going
to have dinner. You came through Beaverhead, right?"
Thalia nodded, trying not to snicker at the juvenile
name. Minnie's tone made it clear that dinner was
nonnegotiable, but Thalia wasn't sure she could have hopped
up and bailed if she'd tried. Her toes hurt.
"Lloyd has rooms he rents—as close as we've got to
a motel `round these parts." Thalia didn't have a clue as
to what Minnie was talking about, but she was in no
position to argue. She took another sip of tea, loving the
way the warmth raced down her throat and spread through her
stomach.
"I'll tell him you'll be by later," Minnie went on, as
if Thalia was still with her. "That's only forty minutes
away. You can make that."
Thalia nodded again. Now that she was returning to
normal, she seemed to have lost her words.
Minnie gave her a tender smile. "I've got to see to
dinner, but you rest up." She stood and headed back to the
kitchen area, muttering, "All the way from L.A. in one
day!" and "That man..." as she went.
Thalia settled back into the chair, still sipping the
tea. She knew she needed to be game–planning dinner
with Bradley, but her brain was mushy.
She heard a door open. Men's voices filled the space.
One was grumbling about the weather, but the
other—Bradley's—said, "Minnie, what the hell
is—"
Is she still doing here. That's what he was going to
say. After all, he'd pretty much kicked her off his land,
and now she was sitting in his house. He sounded
none–too–happy about the whole prospect. How
was she going to make it through dinner with him? She
debated thanking Minnie for the tea and leaving, but then
the smell of pot roast filled the air and Thalia realized
that she hadn't eaten anything since she'd grabbed a
sandwich in the airport. The Denver airport—eight
hours ago.
"Now, now!" Thalia wasn't watching the
conversation—listening was bad enough—but she
could imagine Minnie waggling a finger at James Robert
Bradley like he was a child and she was the boss. "You boys
go on and get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready by and by."
"I don't want—"
"I said, go! Shoo!"
Thalia grinned in spite of herself at the mental image
that filled out that conversation. The thought of Minnie,
who was on the petite side of things and probably in her
late forties, scolding James Robert Bradley was nothing
short of hilarious.
She was safe, for now. Minnie was going to feed her and
make sure she was warm. Thalia settled back into the comfy
chair, her eyelids drooping as she watched the flames dance
before her. She needed to figure out how to convince
Bradley to listen to her without him throwing her out of
the house. She needed a plan.
But first, she needed to rest. Just a little bit.
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