“You sponsor that animal shelter in town, don’t you?” she asked him, but somehow she already knew the answer. It just made sense to her, which was odd. She barely knew him.
He was turned in profile to her.
“Jacob?”
“That’s not public knowledge.”
“I understand. I wouldn’t say anything to anyone. But you do, don’t you?”
He continued to keep his face averted as he petted Charger and a big, brown dog. “Ye
s,” he finally replied.
“Have you always liked animals so much?”
A pit bull nuzzled his hand. He just nodded silently. The idea struck her that he looked perfectly natural surrounded by animals while wearing an impeccable suit. She also thought at that moment that while he seemed completely open and warm with the animals, he’d grown wary toward her questions. Shut off.
Shy? No, it couldn’t be. That characteristic just didn’t fit with the rest of the man. But neither did this house for abused and forgotten dogs. Something inexplicable quivered within her, elusive and fleeting. He was such a strange, compelling man. And he seemed so alone in that moment, standing there and carefully petting the dogs that vied for his attention. No wonder rumors and speculation clung to him like metal filings to a magnet. Harper herself experienced his haunting, powerful pull. She needed to be very careful.
He straightened and faced her.
“What about you? Do you like dogs?” he asked.
“Sure. I mean . . . as much as the next person.” She glanced down at the adorable puppy in her arms and kissed Milo’s smooth head again. “I think I like them a little bit more this size than say . . . that one,” she admitted, nodding toward the brown pit bull. She realized her vague anxiety must be on display, because his gaze on her was sharp. She tried to laugh it off. “I just get a little nervous when big or aggressive dogs come at me.”
He nodded. “Most people do. Especially if they’ve had a bad experience in the past. I should have warned you.”
“I haven’t had a bad experience with dogs.” Had she said that too sharply? She suspected she had, given his knitted brow.
She gave the black puppy another fond caress and set him down on the floor. She smiled as she watched his surprisingly smooth three-legged trot toward the pack of bigger dogs. It horrified her, to think of an innocent, powerless thing being tortured in that way. Who would do such a thing? It would require a degree of depravity—of evil—that her brain shied away from considering.
“It’s nice that you do it. Give shelter to the animals. Medical care. And for these, a home.”
He shrugged off her praise. An awkward silence descended. Harper was wondering if she should take her leave, but he spoke first.
“Won’t you consider asking Ellie about the film?”
She exhaled on a bark of laughter. “Why are you so dead set on doing it?” she asked incredulously.
“I told you on the beach. I’ve admired of your work in the past, but I was particularly drawn to that story. I’d like to see it reach a wider audience.”
She threw up her hands helplessly. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask Ellie about it. She’s kind of a Hollywood fanatic. She might be thrilled at the idea. I’ll call her.
“Good,” he said, stepping toward her. The dogs had scattered, several of them returning to their beds and a few ducking out the flapped opening to the backyard.
“Cyril will offer you and Ellie payment for rights to the story, of course, so there are details to work out there. I think he might ask you to help him write the screenplay, as well.”
“Really?”
“I take it from your reaction you’ve never written a screenplay before?” he asked, a small—very distracting—smile molding his lips.
“No, never.”
“Would you be interested?”
“Maybe,” she replied dubiously. It actually sounded pretty exciting . . . like the exact kind of opportunity she needed to shake up her life even more than her recent move and job change had.
Precisely the kind of thing that would help me avoid that black hole of grief.