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Home on the Ranch: Colorado: Big City Cowboy / Colorado Cowboy
Julie Benson
C.C. Coburn
THESE COWBOYS HAVE MET THEIR MATCHES IN TWO BIG-CITY WOMEN! BIG CITY COWBOY A fish out of water–that's how Rory McAlister feels when he leaves Colorado for New York City. True, he needs this money, but somebody should have warned him modeling designer duds meant butting heads with Elizabeth Harrington-Smyth. The bossy, and not to mention gorgeous, ad exec is determined to turn Rory into the original Rhinestone Cowboy!COLORADO COWBOY Luke O'Malley is shocked to learn he has a teenage son, Cody, living in New York City…and that the boy's in trouble. Luke had no idea his romance with Megan Montgomery had resulted in a child–only that it had left him brokenhearted. Luke brings them to his ranch as a last-ditch effort to keep Cody out of jail…and to have the family he's always dreamed of.



These cowboys have met their matches in two big-city women! Two reader-favorite cowboy romance stories from Julie Benson & C.C. Coburn.
Big City Cowboy
A fish out of water—that’s how Rory McAlister feels when he leaves Colorado for New York City. True, he needs this money, but somebody should have warned him modeling designer duds meant butting heads with Elizabeth Harrington-Smyth. The bossy, and not to mention gorgeous, ad exec is determined to turn Rory into the original Rhinestone Cowboy!

Colorado Cowboy
Luke O’Malley is shocked to learn he has a teenage son, Cody, living in New York City…and that the boy’s in trouble. Luke had no idea his romance with Megan Montgomery had resulted in a child—only that it had left him brokenhearted. Luke brings them to his ranch as a last-ditch effort to keep Cody out of jail…and to have the family he’s always dreamed of.

Praise for author Julie Benson
“This is a heartwarming story about beating the odds to find joy and love.”
—RT Reviews on Roping the Rancher
“Benson takes the reality TV world and bends it around in this charming contemporary romance.”
—RT Reviews on Bet on a Cowboy

Praise for author C.C. Coburn
“Filled with charm, angst, wit and romance, Coburn’s latest hits all the high points for a romantic read.”
—RT Reviews on Colorado Fireman
“Coburn’s romance is exceedingly witty, poignant and nearly a perfect love story.”
—RT Reviews on Colorado Christmas
Home on the Ranch: Colorado
Big City Cowboy
Julie Benson
Colorado Cowboy
C.C. Coburn

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

TABLE OF CONTENTS
BIG CITY COWBOY (#u9dcb511e-e806-53b5-9737-6bfc3e05c5a8)
COLORADO COWBOY (#litres_trial_promo)
Big City Cowboy
Julie Benson
JULIE BENSON An avid daydreamer since childhood, Julie Benson always loved creating stories. After graduating from the University of Texas at Dallas with a degree in sociology, she worked as a case manager before having her children: three boys. Many years later she started pursuing a writing career to challenge her mind and save her sanity. Now she writes full-time in Dallas, where she lives with her husband, their sons, two lovable black dogs, two guinea pigs, a turtle and a fish. When she finds a little quiet time, which isn’t often, she enjoys making jewelry and reading a good book.
To Kevin. Thanks for sticking with me through
the ups and downs of life, and for believing in
me and this dream. You’re definitely a keeper.
To Dr. Angela Krause and David Goddard.
Thanks for the wedding invitation and for
introducing me to Estes Park. This story
never would have happened without you two.

CONTENTS
Chapter One (#u5afa026a-e581-5873-bcad-df202c9341a8)
Chapter Two (#u4837032d-6744-5f8f-9e7f-a94acc1983ae)
Chapter Three (#u8fb477f7-0914-5ae8-adbf-d4e6482c9cca)
Chapter Four (#ud5659875-dade-5e02-991f-4041a788aea3)
Chapter Five (#ue30d1728-e3e6-5f39-ac13-2dd814cc6814)
Chapter Six (#u9b51767a-8721-52dd-8b69-f53c8f3dd165)
Chapter Seven (#u92728475-b3a3-5f5b-a693-dac9bb219b78)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE
Estes Park, Colorado
“THERE IS NO WAY I’m getting on a horse.”
Elizabeth Harrington-Smyth pulled into the Twin Creeks Ranch parking lot, vowing she’d never attend another wedding, not even her own should she ever make time to date. So far, being her cousin Janice’s bridesmaid hadn’t been the greatest experience. And don’t get her started on the problems with the whole destination wedding idea that was the trend now.
“Estes Park is so beautiful, and what better way to see the scenery than going horseback riding?” Since moving to Denver three years ago, Janice had gone all outdoorswoman. Today she really fit the part, wearing jeans, a denim shirt and a red bandanna tied around her ebony ponytail.
Elizabeth shuddered. “Looking at the mountains as I sat in the hotel bar was good enough for me.”
“I think this will be a great bridesmaid outing,” chirped Laura, obedient bridesmaid number one. Her Katie Couric perkiness had overwhelmed Elizabeth within five minutes of meeting Janice’s coworker.
“I was hoping we’d get time to go riding. It’s something I’ve always wanted to try,” chimed in Claire, perfect bridesmaid number two, as they spilled out of Janice’s Camry. In addition to being a morning person, Claire had the irritating characteristics of being tall, slender and possessing a disgustingly high metabolism.
“I let you out of the hike yesterday because you were queasy and tired from the altitude, but I want us to have a good time together,” Janice insisted. “It’s girl bonding.”
“The wedding party activities are half the fun of being a bridesmaid,” Claire said.
According to whom? Clearly, Elizabeth and the rest of the bridal party had different definitions of fun.
Dust swirled around her, making her sneeze. It seemed as if they were surrounded by bales of hay. At least she’d taken a Claritin this morning, so she wouldn’t look like a red-eyed monster due to raging allergies.
“My idea of a good time is having a massage, facial and pedicure at the hotel, not riding on a smelly horse.” Elizabeth waved a fly away from her face. “The outdoors is pretty to look at, but I’m not keen on actually being in it. I’ll wait here by this fence—”
“It’s a corral, Elizabeth,” Janice corrected.
“Then I’ll wait here by the corral. The rest of you go ahead and enjoy.”
“I’ve never ridden a horse, but I’m willing to be adventurous, Elizabeth,” Laura coaxed.
“You’re here, so you might as well come with us,” Claire added.
“I’m afraid my Jimmy Choos aren’t meant for horseback riding.” Now that was an excuse any woman could understand and respect.
“Didn’t I tell you to wear sensible shoes that you didn’t mind getting dirty?” Janice asked.
Elizabeth stared at her cute leopard-print flats and her blood pressure rose. “All you said was wear sensible shoes, which I am. These are flats. I’d never have worn Jimmy Choos if you’d mentioned getting dirty.”
“Sorry. I guess I must’ve forgotten the getting dirty part.” Janice flashed her an I’m-the-bride-forgive-me smile. “There are so many details to planning a large destination wedding. I’m surprised I haven’t forgotten more things. You’ll have to make the best of the situation now.”
The cool March breeze blew a strong odor of horse manure Elizabeth’s way. “Too late. It smells terrible out here. Flies are everywhere, and the quiet is driving me crazy. Everyone moves too slowly! I almost mowed over two people when I walked down to the hotel lobby to get coffee this morning.”
“Exactly why you should join us,” Claire insisted. “You need to slow down and learn to appreciate nature’s gifts.”
“I’m in advertising. I determine what people appreciate, not the other way around. And who says I don’t appreciate nature?”
“You have to go, Elizabeth,” her cousin whined. “I want all of us to go. This means so much to me.”
Elizabeth bristled. “Isn’t it enough that I took off work for your wedding when I’ve got a major ad campaign due? Between all the activities, the spotty internet service and a slight case of altitude sickness, I haven’t gotten half the work done here that I need to.”
Her job was hanging by a thread. Devlin Designs wanted to launch a new jeans campaign and she had the perfect one all mapped out, but couldn’t find the right spokesman. On top of that, the contract for the remainder of Devlin’s business was up for renewal soon. No spokesman, no new campaign, no contract renewals—and then she’d be out of a job.
“What an honor, you taking off work to come to my wedding,” Janice snapped.
Laura and Claire slid a few feet away, obviously wanting to avoid the awkward conversation.
In addition to the wedding, Elizabeth had hoped to spend a little time with her parents, who were flying in, as well. But when she’d checked her voice mail after arriving in Denver she’d learned they weren’t coming.
“I’m sorry, Janice, really. I’m out of sorts. Did Mom and Dad tell you they’ve headed off to some mountain in Germany on an archeological dig? I haven’t seen them in forever, and though I shouldn’t be, I’m pretty disappointed.”
“No. How could they do that at the last minute? Don’t they know we’ll have to pay for their dinners whether they’re here or not?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “They said a bone flute and an erotic figurine had been discovered there. If these pieces are authentic, it’ll be the best example Upper Paleolithic art ever. They insisted they absolutely couldn’t pass this up.”
“They say that about every dig.”
“You think I’d be used to their last-minute cancellations by now.” Elizabeth smiled weakly. This kind of parental disinterest and disappointment had filled her life for as long as she could remember. “Then there’s work. My job’s on the line with this campaign.”
“Come on, Elizabeth. You’re not going to lose your job. They’d have to hire three people to replace you,” Janice said.
“We’re on the verge of losing a client that represents over half of our business.” Her cousin didn’t realize how precarious the advertising business was.
Elizabeth was good at what she did. She knew this crazy ad world well. No one had given her the management supervisor job; she’d earned it. She’d started at the bottom and from there studied the market, worked hard, learned from her superiors and was the ultimate team player. She gave two hundred percent without being asked, and had eventually secured her current position. Unfortunately, sometimes hard work counted for squat.
“If we lose this account the company will have no choice but to lay off a lot of people, including me, since it was my account.”
“Work is all that matters to you.” Janice crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re a workaholic. You always have been. You’re just like your parents.”
Ouch. “I am not, and that’s a low blow.”
“You need to get some balance in your life,” Janice continued, shifting into sympathetic mode. “You’re all work and no play. You need to date. Have fun.”
Elizabeth winced, knowing where the conversation was headed. Why did every married or engaged person feel they possessed a sacred duty to impart relationship advice to single relatives and friends? “Work is so crazy right now I don’t have much time for anything, especially dating.”
“Is it a time issue, or is it because no guy meets enough requirements on your ridiculous checklist?”
“It’s not silly. I have to know what qualities I want in a partner, and what things are deal breakers.”
“You’ll be surprised how fast you’ll throw out that list when you find the right guy.”
Elizabeth had begun to think the right guy for her didn’t exist. Or if he did, she worried she wouldn’t find him without a map and a guide.
She grabbed a deep, calming breath. “Can we start over? I know I haven’t been the most fun lately. We’ve had one round of layoffs already at work, and with this client halfway out the door, I’m way past stressed out.”
“It’s really that bad?” Janice asked, genuinely concerned.
She nodded.
“I’m sorry my wedding turned out to be poor timing for you.” Janice reached out and clasped her hand. “I appreciate you being here, considering what’s going on with you. Is the altitude sickness getting any better?”
Biting her lip to hold back her emotions over her cousin’s unexpected empathy, Elizabeth nodded. “I’m tired and a bit queasy, but I can handle it, as long as it doesn’t get worse.”
“Look at that gorgeous cowboy walking our way,” Claire said, popping up beside them. “Not that your wedding isn’t reason enough, but this guy makes the entire trip worthwhile.”
Janice squeezed Elizabeth’s hand and let go. “Yumoh.” Her face lit up like Times Square after dark. “Elizabeth, you’ve got to see this guy. He’s behind you a few feet. Turn, but don’t be obvious that you’re looking.”
Behind her in the corral stood an attractive cowboy. His dark brown hat cast a shadow over his face, but didn’t conceal his strong jaw or classic cheekbones. Dressed in a simple navy button-down shirt, jeans, chaps complete with leather fringe and dusty cowboy boots, he was the real deal.
“I’d be willing to risk getting hay in all sorts of awkward places for a little time alone in the barn with him,” Claire said.
“Close your mouth, Janice, or you’ll start catching flies,” Elizabeth teased. “Plus you’re getting married tomorrow.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m dead. I can still appreciate the exceptional scenery.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Sure he’s good-looking, but what’s so fantastic about a cowboy? I don’t get it. They smell like horses. They spend a good part of their days cleaning manure out of barn stalls. What about that inspires romance?”
Claire looked ready to tackle the cowboy. “They’re so rugged. So strong.”
“Janice Rogers and party,” cowboy hottie called out in a lazy drawl.
“That’s me, or us, rather.” Janice waved her hand and gave him a big smile.
“Let’s see about getting you ladies on some horses.” He pointed to Claire. “Come with me.”
Claire beamed and practically ran over Laura to get to the cowboy. Then she introduced herself, giggled and tossed her hair.
Elizabeth laughed. Watching this show unfold might be fun, after all.
The ranch hand tilted his hat and nodded. “Rory.”
“Even his name’s gorgeous,” Laura crooned dreamily to no one in particular.
“Clem, help this lady with Biscuit.”
Claire slowly started moving toward an older cowboy, but kept glancing over her shoulder at Rory all doe-eyed.
Then he motioned to Janice, who stepped on Elizabeth’s foot in her haste to reach him.
“Watch it,” Elizabeth snapped.
“Sorry,” her cousin said, but her gaze remained locked on the cowboy. If he offered to sell her the Rocky Mountains right now, she’d be whipping out her Master-Card.
Wait a minute. Elizabeth smiled. That’s exactly what she wanted people to do—open their wallets. Thank you, Lord, for sending the answer to my prayers. She just might be able to pull this campaign out of the fire.
When she’d proposed that Devlin Designs center its men’s jeans campaign on a cowboy, she’d had this type of female reaction in mind. Micah Devlin liked the idea, but not the models she’d suggested. Now she understood what he’d meant about something being missing in all the models dressed like cowboys. They weren’t authentic.
Bingo. Yes, sir. Rory could be the answer to all her problems.
By the time he motioned her forward, she had a tentative pitch mentally mapped out.
“I hope the horse knows what he’s doing, because I don’t have a clue,” she joked as an icebreaker. Starting her conversation with, “Come to New York to model designer jeans,” seemed a little abrupt. She needed to loosen the guy up first. Appear to be interested in his life here in the great outdoors.
“As long as you hold on to the reins and sit up straight, you’ll be okay. We haven’t lost anyone yet.”
“Elizabeth might be the first.” Janice laughed. “She’s not exactly athletic.”
Rory looked her up and down with eyes that were liquid gold. She could feel herself blush, something she hadn’t done in years.
“She looks like she can handle herself well enough.”
Apparently chivalry wasn’t as dead as everyone believed.
“Put your left foot in the stirrup,” Rory said as he pointed toward the saddle. “Then grab hold of the saddle horn with your right hand and pull up while you swing your leg over.”
She glanced at the horse, an amazingly large one, and then back at Rory. The man had to be kidding. “Have you noticed how big the horse is, and how short I am? There’s no way I can get up there.”
“You are a little thing,” he said, smiling.
Again, she blushed. This blushing was getting a little out of control.
“I’ll help you.”
How, exactly? She pictured this gorgeous man pushing her butt to shove her into the saddle. Could this experience get more humiliating?
She’d get on the horse on her own if it killed her. After placing her foot in the stirrup, she grabbed the saddle horn. Then she pushed off with her right foot and pulled as hard as she could. She was about to swing her leg over the saddle when she started slipping back down. Then she felt Rory’s firm hands on her rear end, and next thing she knew, she was sitting on the horse.
Now she wished she hadn’t skipped so many Pilates classes lately.
A minute later they headed off down a path into the great outdoors. The trees formed a canopy around them as they rode. The mountains loomed, harsh and demanding, making her feel incredibly insignificant.
Birds chirped. Wind rustled through the leaves. A stream babbled past. How did people stand the quiet?
Flies swarmed around her and the horse. She wanted to swat at them, but feared she’d fall off if she took one hand from the reins. To keep her mind off the insects and her already screaming thigh muscles, she focused on Rory at the front of their little caravan. The set of his shoulders spoke of his confidence. He moved in the saddle with a casual grace. Everything about him said how comfortable he was in his own skin. Then there was his voice as he tossed out tidbits about the area and its history. Slow, melodic and deep, it wrapped around her like a warm hug.
Rory pointed to the towering oak to his left. “That’s our wishing tree. If you make a wish and circle the tree three times, your wish will come true. Feel free to hop down and make a wish while we’re here.”
Laura and Claire immediately vaulted off their horses, dashed to the tree and circled it three times. “What did you wish for?” Janice called out as she joined her friends.
“I wished to find someone as wonderful as David,” Laura chirped, referring to Janice’s fiancé.
Claire giggled. “I wished Michael would propose.”
Janice dashed around the tree. “I wish that I’ll always be as happy as I am right now.”
Why did people wish for things like that? Only the foolish wished for something impossible.
“What about you?” Rory asked. He’d dismounted, and now stood beside Elizabeth.
Even if she were willing to get off her horse and risk needing Rory to give her another boost into the saddle, the only thing she’d wish for was landing him as a spokesman for the jeans campaign. Wishing wouldn’t make that happen. She’d rely on her business skills to accomplish it.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“Come on, Elizabeth, make a wish,” Janice coaxed. “What could it hurt?”
If only her cousin knew.
The remainder of the ride passed in a blur of trees, rocks and mountains. Three hours later, when they returned to the corral, Elizabeth didn’t like the outdoors any better, but she knew her instincts about Rory had been dead on. He’d make the perfect spokesperson for Devlin Designs men’s jeans. He spun a good tale, which would work well in TV commercials, and then there were his looks and the way he moved. A guy either had a presence or he didn’t, and Rory had it in spades.
“I’m a management supervisor at Rayzor Sharp Media. It’s an advertising agency,” she said, ignoring her protesting muscles when he helped her off the horse. “You’d be the perfect model for one of my clients. You have a presence that can’t be taught or faked, while you’re real enough to connect with the average man.”
He laughed. Not a good sign.
“I’m not interested, but thanks for asking.”
“It’s a major national campaign. The exposure would be excellent.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
She reached into her purse, pulled out a business card and held it out to him. “You could get a free trip to New York out of the deal.”
“Right now all I’m interested in is getting this horse taken care of,” he said as he reached for the reins.
Her stubbornness kicked up a notch. She couldn’t give up when so much rode on this campaign and Rory’s participation.
“Elizabeth, hurry up,” Janice yelled from the parking lot.
“Lady, the rest of your party’s ready to go.”
Let ’em wait. “Did I mention the job will pay around thirty thousand dollars? Surely a ranch hand like you could use the money.”
Rory pushed his hat off his forehead a bit. Now she had his attention.
Dark coffee-colored eyes peered down at her. The look in those eyes could sell refrigerators to Eskimos. Or hopefully, designer jeans to the average man. Or the average man’s significant other.
Then gravel crunched under car tires, drawing his gaze away from her. When his attention returned a moment later, his interest had vanished.
“Lady, the next tour group has pulled into the parking lot, and I don’t have time for this.”
She held out her card again. “If I agree to leave, will you take my contact info, and consider my business proposal?”
“Deal.” Rory snatched the card out of her hand and shoved it in his shirt pocket. “But don’t count on hearing from me.”
That was okay. She believed in positive thinking. If she sent good karma into the world, good things would return to her. Now if she could only collect by getting Rory to agree to model—because she needed this cowboy or she was out of a job.
* * *
THREE DAYS LATER Rory sat in his worn leather desk chair as the banker he’d known all his life told him he couldn’t approve a second mortgage.
“Rory, if things were different, if we were still a family-owned bank, maybe I could approve this, but I’ve got stockholders to answer to. Twin Creeks carries too much debt to justify another loan.”
He thanked John, reassured him that he understood it was simply a business decision, and hung up the phone.
Rory’s chin sank to his chest. He’d already tried to sell some of their horses, but most folks were having financial difficulties, too. He’d looked for extra work, but there were too many unemployed people out there and no one was adding on help anyway. The second mortgage had been his last palatable choice to get the cash his mom needed. There had to be something he could do—his mom’s life depended on it.
The McAlister family had gone through their savings to pay for the medical bills when Rory’s dad had suffered a heart attack behind the wheel and sent his truck into a ditch, putting him and Rory’s younger brother, Griffin, into the hospital. Then two years ago, when his dad’s heart finally gave out, Rory cashed in most of their stocks to pay for those bills and his dad’s funeral. Now, their mom had gone as far as she could with her cancer treatments and was left with one alternative, which turned out to be experimental—and expensive.
You have another alternative. You just don’t like it.
He pulled open his middle desk drawer, shoved aside some papers and located Elizabeth Harrington-Smyth’s business card.
He twirled it between his fingers as he stared out the window. The snow-capped Rocky Mountains filled his view. Though he’d seen them every day of his life, their beauty never failed to amaze him. Some people thought they had a magnificent view when they looked out at a city skyline. Personally, he didn’t understand the appeal. Give him what God had created any day. Man’s creations were strictly amateur in comparison.
His hands tightened around the chair arm and the worn leather creaked in protest. Visions of his dad sitting in this same chair flashed in Rory’s mind. He still missed the old man every day. More so lately, since the doctor had found the inoperable tumor on his mother’s brain. How he wished he could talk to his dad about what to do, even though he knew what his dad would say. Do whatever’s necessary to get the money for your mother. She’s a good woman, the rock of this family, and she damned well deserves every shot to beat cancer.
Knowing his mom had only one alternative didn’t make this call any easier. Rory willed his hand to reach for the phone.
Nothing.
Not even a twitch.
Picking up a phone. Such a simple action, so why couldn’t he?
Because this call would change his life irrevocably. But at least it was his choice, as opposed to bankers and doctors calling the shots. Life was full of choices. Some turned out well and some sucked pond water. All a body could do was think things through, make a careful decision and deal with any fallout.
The last thing Rory wanted to do was leave this ranch, even short-term. He loved the land, the horses and the hard work that made his muscles ache at the end of the day. He loved the mental challenge of managing the ranching business.
A quiet knock sounded on his office door. “Come in, Mom.”
“How’d you know it was me?”
He smiled. “The ranch hands and Griff knock loud enough to break down the door. Avery rarely bothers to knock.”
His mom grinned, but weariness filled her eyes, twisting his gut as she walked across the office. Until the last year she’d been active and energetic. Then she’d started chemo. The constant nausea had almost killed her, but hadn’t done anything to shrink the tumor. Now, thanks to the steroids the doctor prescribed and her lack of energy for the long walks she enjoyed, her weight had ballooned. At least her hair had grown out enough for her to wear it in a short, spiky style. Despite all that, she hadn’t given up. Talk about strong.
Her quiet strength always amazed him. She never complained, and remained positive. He’d always loved his mom, but now he admired her in a different way.
Rory said a silent prayer that this experimental treatment would work.
“Griffin is ready to take me and Avery to the airport.” His mom stopped in front of his desk. Her frail hand rested on his forearm. “Are you sure we can afford this treatment, since insurance isn’t covering it? It’s so expensive.”
Thank goodness for Avery. His little sister, who’d always driven him crazy, wanting to tag along with him and his friends, had turned out okay. Since their mother’s diagnosis, she’d stepped into the family caretaker role. Avery coordinating their mom’s appointments and accompanying her had allowed Rory to focus on putting food on the table and keeping the ranch afloat. He couldn’t ask for a better sister.
“Don’t worry about the money, Mom. I’ve got the situation under control.”
She squeezed his arm and peered down at him. For a moment he worried that she’d read the lie in his eyes.
“If you’re absolutely sure.”
“I’ll worry about the finances. You concentrate on getting well.” He stood, walked around his desk and enveloped her in a hug, wishing he could take on this fight for her.
He couldn’t bear to lose her, too. Not so soon after losing his dad.
She kissed him on the cheek, and he pulled away. “Now, get out of here. I don’t want you to miss your flight.”
Once his mother had closed the door behind her, Rory returned to his desk. He picked up the business card, flipped open his cell phone and dialed.

CHAPTER TWO
“ELIZABETH HARRINGTON-SMYTH.”
Her voice sounded exactly as Rory remembered—pushy, businesslike and New York City. At the ranch she’d been like a defensive lineman, single-minded in pursuit of her goal, intent on getting to him, the quarterback. The lady definitely didn’t acknowledge the word no. Not exactly his favorite type of woman.
“It’s Rory McAlister. We met when you were at Twin Creeks Ranch in Estes Park last weekend. I was your guide on the horseback ride.”
“I remember, though I’m surprised to hear from you.”
That made two of them.
He swallowed hard and barreled forward. “The modeling job you said you could get me, is it still available?”
“Yes, it is.”
“And it’ll pay thirty thousand dollars?”
“Over the course of the campaign, yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll get paid when we do the photo shoots. Then you get paid again whenever the material is used for an aspect of the campaign.”
He needed to do some research to see if he could work a deal to get more money up front. “Are you interested?”
“Yes.” He forced the word past the lump in his throat.
“Email me a photograph of yourself as soon as we get off the phone. My address is on my card.”
“I don’t have anything taken by a professional photographer.” Nor would he, if he had to pay for them.
“I don’t care. Send me what you’ve got, even if it’s family photos. If you have ones showing your face clearly, that would be great.”
“I’ll send what I can find.”
“Have you gotten an agent yet?”
Forget that. An agent would take a percentage of what he made. No way would he give anyone a part of his money, when he needed every penny so desperately. Surely with an MBA he could negotiate the deal. “I’m representing myself.”
“I want you on the first available flight to New York.”
“You expecting me to pay for the flight?”
“We’ll reimburse you. Put the ticket on your credit card and turn in your receipt to me. I’ll send it on to Accounting, and they’ll cut you a check within two weeks.”
“I can’t do that.” He’d hit his credit limit paying for the two plane tickets to Portland.
“If that’s a problem, I’ll contact our travel person to book your flight.”
“You do that.”
“I’ll email you the details.”
“What about a hotel? I’m not paying for that, either.”
She paused, and he imagined her sitting at a clean desk in an efficiently organized office, trying to decide if he’d be this big a pain about everything. He made a mental note not to push her too much on anything but money. That issue was nonnegotiable. He had to pinch pennies.
“I’ll book you at a hotel near our office. I’ll email you the details. Is that to your satisfaction?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
For better or worse, his life was about to change.
* * *
ELIZABETH HUNG UP HER PHONE, jumped out of her chair, took two quick steps across her office, then stopped. A management supervisor who planned on becoming a vice president did not dash into the hallway because she was excited. She sucked in a calming breath, smoothing the front of her black pencil skirt, and headed for her friend Chloe Walsh’s office.
Reaching it, Elizabeth shuddered at the clutter surrounding her. Piles of paper dotted the room. She couldn’t even see the top of Chloe’s desk because of the stacks of portfolios and pictures on it. Elizabeth shook her head. How did her best friend find anything or get any work done? This office would drive her past the brink of insanity.
“I heard from cowboy hottie,” Elizabeth said as she sank into the chair in front of Chloe’s desk—once she’d transferred a stack of photos from the seat to the floor.
“The gorgeous ranch hand from Colorado?” Chloe pointed to the picture Janice had taken of Rory during the week of a million bridesmaid events.
“That’s our guy,” Elizabeth said. “A real-life cowboy dream, if you liked the rough outdoorsman type. He called me back.”
Chloe swiveled her chair around and glanced out her tenth-floor Madison Avenue window.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m checking for pigs. I swore they’d be flying if that cowboy ever called you back.”
“Me, too. Thankfully, we were both wrong.” Elizabeth plucked a piece of lint off her skirt. “We’ve got to get moving full blast on finalizing the idea. We need to finish storyboards, ideas for TV commercials, print ad mock-ups, billboard ideas, and have everything ready ASAP. Then when we do Rory’s photo shoot we’ll be set to present everything to Micah Devlin.”
“What’ll we do if Devlin doesn’t go for this idea?”
“Don’t even think it. Be positive. We have to believe in this campaign and sell him on it.”
“Got it, Chief. I’ll be Little Miss Sunshine.”
“Let’s not go overboard. The guy’s smart. Devlin won’t buy a snow job. We’ll believe in the campaign because it’s going to be wonderful.”
“I’ll make a note of that.” Chloe grabbed a scrap of paper and pen off the nearest pile and started writing. “Be positive, but not delusional.”
Elizabeth smiled. What would she do without Chloe? Her friend always made her laugh when she needed to most. “It’s scary how much rides on this idea.”
“You didn’t tell our cowboy that, did you?”
“Do I look stupid? If he knew how important this campaign is, and how central he is to pulling it off, who knows how much he’d want to get paid.”
Chloe held up her hands in mock defeat. “Excuse me for losing my mind and forgetting you’re all business no matter what the situation or how gorgeous the guy. Surely if he wanted too much money we could find another cowboy.”
Elizabeth took another calming breath, needing to channel her nervousness. “I’ve tried. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Believe it or not, most cowboys just want to spend time on their horses riding the range, or whatever it is they do. Plus there’s something about this guy.”
“Other than good looks?”
“There’s something about the way he moves. He exudes confidence.”
“If he’s a real cowboy, and all they want to do is ride the range, why’s this guy willing to model?”
Elizabeth had asked herself the same question since Rory’s call. “I don’t care, as long as he is.”
When she’d given him her card he’d been polite, but she’d seen the you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look in his eyes. She’d suspected modeling was the last thing he would do, right after moving away from Colorado.
So why the major about-face?
Well, there was no reason to borrow trouble when what had changed his mind wasn’t important. All that mattered was that she got what she needed for the campaign.
“We better hope he doesn’t change his mind,” Chloe said.
“Again, I say, don’t even think it. Think positive, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be on the unemployment line.”
“You think Devlin’s that close to pulling his business?”
“He made it quite clear when I talked to him yesterday that his patience has run out. He’s given me to the end of the week to find a spokesman, so we’re doing whatever we have to in order to get this done. We’ve got to finalize this campaign fast or we’ll all be out of a job.”
* * *
ELIZABETH STARED AT Rory’s face displayed on her computer monitor. No doubt about it, he was a natural. Despite the amateur photos, the camera loved him. His maleness oozed through the screen. He would be the perfect spokesman.
Women would take one look at Rory in Devlin’s designer jeans and buy a pair for their guy. Men would wear the jeans hoping they’d look like Rory, and have women falling at their feet. Exactly what the client wanted. Their jeans sold well in New York and Los Angeles, but hadn’t broken into other major markets. Devlin wanted to get the guys who wore Levi’s and Wranglers to spend their hard-earned cash on his expensive product. Rory could pry open those wallets.
She spun around in her desk chair, giddy over how things were coming together. She couldn’t wait to show Devlin the mock-up. If he didn’t like Rory and the campaign, then fine, let him take his business elsewhere, because nothing would please the man.
She considered sending Devlin Rory’s photos, but her practical nature balked at the idea. Instinct told her to wait until she had the campaign completely outlined and professional photographs of Rory. God forbid she sold Devlin on the cowboy, and then discovered Rory froze in front of a camera.
Needing to stretch her legs and energize her mind, Elizabeth decided to take a quick bathroom break and then grab a fresh cup of coffee before she dived into the details for Rory’s photo session.
She weaved her way through the maze of offices and cubicles until she reached the woman’s restroom, where quiet sobs floated toward her from the middle stall. She knocked gently on the door. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” More sobs contradicted the words.
“Nancy? What’s wrong?”
The door latch clicked free, and Nancy, a friend and fellow management supervisor, exited the stall. The middle-aged woman clutched a wad of toilet paper in each hand, and her eyes were red and swollen.
“Everything’s not fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Racking sobs consumed her. Not sure of what else to do, Elizabeth enveloped the woman in an embrace.
“I found out yesterday that I have breast cancer,” Nancy choked out, once her crying subsided.
You have breast cancer. One of the most feared phrases a woman could hear. Tears pooled in Elizabeth’s own eyes for this woman, and what she was facing. “I’m so sorry, Nancy.” She tightened her hold on her friend. “If you want to go home, I’ll say you weren’t feeling well.”
Nancy stepped out of Elizabeth’s embrace and dabbed at her eyes with the toilet paper. “Let me think about it. I’m not sure I want to go home. It’s so lonely there. I kept saying there was time for me to have a family. I said I’d focus on that once I felt secure in my career.” Her voice cracked. “Now I’ve got nothing but my career, and because of the cancer, I may never have the chance to get married.”
“They’ve made great strides in breast cancer treatment. It’s not the death sentence it once was.” Elizabeth’s words sounded so hollow, when women still died of breast cancer every day.
“From your mouth to God’s ears. They want me to have surgery next week and start chemo soon after that.”
“Do you need someone to go with you?”
“I’ll let you know. Right now I’m in shock.” She sighed deeply. “I think I will take the day off. I’ll call my best friend and see if she wants to go out for lunch. Then we can do some shopping therapy.”
As Elizabeth returned to her office, she heard her blaring phone from halfway down the hall. Once seated at her desk, she glanced at caller ID. Micah Devlin. So much for having everything in order before she talked to him. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone.
“I’m glad you called, Micah.” She tried not to wince over her white lie. “I’ve found the perfect man for your campaign, but I won’t have photos for you until after the shoot tomorrow.”
“Send me what you have.”
“They’re family pictures. I’d prefer to wait for the professional shots.”
“Send them. I want to see this guy to make sure we’re on the right track this time.”
Elizabeth winced at Devlin’s reminder of her previous suggestions for a spokesperson. Ones he had immediately, and not so politely, shot down. Some clients were dreams to work with. She had plenty of those, and they kept her sane and confident. Micah Devlin could benefit from a class on how to tactfully get his point across without incinerating those who worked for him.
“I have every confidence you’ll be as pleased with this choice as I am.”
She retrieved Rory’s message from her email, hit Forward and typed Devlin’s name. After saying a quick prayer, she hit Send.
Here goes everything.
“I’m emailing his photos to you right now. Keep in mind these aren’t professionally done, but I believe his essence, his personality, comes through nonetheless.”
She heard Devlin’s computer keys clicking as he retrieved her message. She couldn’t breathe. Thoughts bounced around in her brain. She hadn’t updated her résumé in years. How would she tell her parents if she lost her job? She had mortgage payments….
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. He’s somebody the average man can relate to. He’s not one of those pretty boy models. Before I sign him, I want to see how he comes off in a professional shoot.”
Air rushed into Elizabeth’s lungs, and she smiled over passing the first hurdle. “Rory will be in town tomorrow, and by Friday’s meeting we’ll have photos for you.”
“I’ve contacted Harms and Finn.”
Devlin’s little tact problem reared its ugly head again. So that’s why he’d called—to drop that bomb. Her firm, Rayzor Sharp Media, had lost an account to them six months ago. The agency was top-notch and hungry. “They’re good.”
“I meet with them tomorrow.”
“Then I look forward to showing you what we’ve got on Friday.”
She could pull this campaign together. If she didn’t sleep until after the meeting, lived on Starbucks with double shots, and the rest of her team did the same, they’d be fine.
No problem.
Except that they were working with a cowboy, not a professional model. A total unknown who’d never modeled before. The unknown made Elizabeth nervous. It was always so unpredictable.
* * *
RORY SAT IN HIS office waiting for his brother. Things were moving much faster than he’d expected. When he’d called Elizabeth he’d never dreamed she would expect him to be on the first flight to New York. She was probably one of those people who stayed attached to the office via her iPhone so she never missed a message, even when she was supposed to be on vacation. Life was way too short to spend it that attached to anything but family.
He smiled. At least he wouldn’t be the only one miserable. Having to manage the ranch would severely cramp Griff’s style. The life of the party, his kid brother never turned down an invitation, but would soon discover he couldn’t be out all night and sleep until noon while running the ranch.
Rory glanced up as he sauntered in and flung himself into the leather wing chair in the corner of the office. Griffin had a gift with animals, especially horses. He had a way of calming them, sensing when something was wrong. Business was an entirely different matter. Despite his ability in math, Griffin hadn’t shown any interest in learning that side of the ranch. All that was about to change. Little brother was going to have to step up.
“I couldn’t get the second mortgage.”
“Why?”
“The downturn in the economy has caused a drop in tourism. Pair that with the amount of debt Twin Creeks already carries, and John couldn’t justify it.”
“You’d think since he was dad’s best friend, he’d cut us a little slack.”
“John’s a smart businessman, and this was purely a business decision.”
“Wait a minute. Mom and Avery left for Portland yesterday. How did you pay for their flights?”
“I put it on a credit card.” One charging a fortune in interest. The hole Rory was digging kept getting deeper. “I need to get additional cash coming in before we start receiving Mom’s medical bills.”
“Did you tell her?”
Rory shook his head. “I didn’t tell Avery, either. She isn’t to know anything about this. No one is, for that matter. This stays between you and me. Are you clear on that?”
“But if—
“Avery’s got to take care of Mom. That’s her job, keeping her calm and positive. You mention any of this, and I’ll beat you to within an inch of your life. You got that, little brother?”
Griffin nodded.
“I’ve got the money situation under control, but I need you to take over the ranch’s day-to-day operations.”
“I’m obviously missing something. How did you find a way to come up with that kind of cash?”
“I’m going to New York City to model.”
Griffin laughed. “No, seriously, Rory. What’re we going to do?”
“This isn’t a joke. I called the advertising executive who was here last week. She’s got a client I can work for who will pay thirty grand for me to do an advertising campaign. I’m leaving tonight.”
“What? Are you sure about this? You hate being in the spotlight, and you hate having your picture taken. If anything, you’ve always tried to blend into the background.”
“What choice do I have? If Mom doesn’t get this treatment, she’ll die.”
Griffin nodded, and for a moment the weight of their worry hung in the air.
“You have to hold things together here while I’m in New York.”
“Tell me what to do.”
Some of the heaviness pressing on Rory’s chest lifted. He picked up a three-ring binder and gave Griff a crash course on Twin Creeks’ finances.
“Don’t spend money on anything but the essentials, Griff. I’ve cut expenses to the bone. In doing that I haven’t had to let anyone go.”
“It’s that bad?”
“We’re not on the verge of bankruptcy, but things are tight.” Rory handed over a file. “Jameson is interested in buying Star’s foal. Follow up with him next week. He’s been lowballing us. I’ve given him the best price possible. Don’t let him haggle with you. Another copy of the quote I gave him is in his file.”
“Everything sounds simple enough.”
“Stick to the budget.” Rory flipped to another section in the binder.
“Thank goodness for cell phones. You’re only a call away if I have questions,” Griffin murmured.
“I may have to call you back, since I’ll be working.”
“How are you going to stand being away from here? You break out in a cold sweat when you have to go to Denver. Being in a big city like New York will drive you crazy.”
That’s exactly what worried Rory the most.
* * *
WHEN RORY WALKED INTO Rayzor Sharp Media’s reception area, the first thing that hit him was how sterile the place felt. The desk was a sleek chrome-and-glass contraption with lines and angles and no warmth. A big black sign with the company name hung above it. The white walls added to the lifeless environment. He suddenly found himself missing the warm wood and earthy colors he saw everywhere at home.
A pretty little brunette dressed in black, who looked as if she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a month, glanced up and flashed him a perfect, blinding-white smile. “Hello…” She stretched out the word and looked him up and down, making him feel like a bright red apple held out to a horse. “What can I do for you?”
Man, he was out of his element. Fingering the brim of his Sunday Stetson, which he held in his hands, he said, “I’m here to see Ms. Harrington-Smyth.”
“Lucky Elizabeth. Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Bottled water? My phone number?”
For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Strong women didn’t scare him, but he wanted a woman to at least give him a chance to show interest before she made an all-out play for him, and he wasn’t used to being pounced on the minute he walked into a place of business.
“I’m good.”
“You sure are.” The receptionist pointed to a cluster of ridiculously flimsy metal chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll let Elizabeth know you’re here.”
As he sat, he hoped the chair would hold his weight. He didn’t belong here. Elizabeth’s client would take one look at him, laugh and ask her if she was crazy to put this cowboy in an ad campaign to sell clothes.
Now if the client was Ford or Chevy, that he could see. Man, he wished she wanted him to sell trucks instead of jeans. That wouldn’t be a bad deal. He could chuck a saddle and some grain sacks in the back of a flatbed, crawl in the cab and drive off into the sunset. Yup, that would be a sweet deal.
But he hadn’t gotten that lucky.
A minute later Elizabeth walked into the reception area. She was tinier than he remembered. Heck, she couldn’t be more than five-two, because she barely reached the middle of his chest, even wearing high heels. He grinned. Those spiky shoes sure made her calves look fantastic. How could such a little thing have legs that were longer than an Alaskan night?
“I’m glad you’re here. I hope your flight was pleasant.” She held out her hand.
He shook it, surprised at the softness of her skin. “The flight was fine.”
“Thanks for getting here on such short notice. Today we’re going to take some photos. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow with the client. You and I both work for him. Unfortunately, until we have professional shots he’s unwilling to sign a contract with you or the agency.”
“I can’t sign the contract and have him cut me a check today?”
“Mr. Devlin insists on seeing the professional photographs first.”
Rory nodded, trying to shove aside his nervousness and unease. The sooner he got to work, the sooner he’d get paid. “Then we’d best get started.”
“Follow me.” Elizabeth started walking. “Let me tell you a couple of things about today’s shoot. We’re doing this one in-house since the photos are to show the client how wonderful you’ll be to showcase his jeans. When he signs the contract, we’ll do the commercial and print shoots elsewhere.”
She glanced at Rory as if she expected him to say something, so he replied, “Makes sense.”
“I coordinate the shoot. It’s my job to make sure everyone else is doing his or hers, and that we have everything we need. We’ve got a small set, and once you change, our photographer will take pictures of you there. But the first thing we need to do is get you into our client’s designer jeans.”
Designer jeans. Probably uncomfortable, tight and way too fancy. Rory followed Elizabeth down a series of hallways to a big open room, where she picked up a pair of dark blue jeans off a table.
When she held them out to him, he realized this job was going to be worse than he’d expected. Way worse.

CHAPTER THREE
“NO REAL MAN would be caught dead in these.”
“Excuse me?” Elizabeth couldn’t believe what Rory had just said about the client’s jeans.
“I didn’t mean to say that loud enough for anyone to hear.”
Not an ounce of remorse showed in his clear, coffee-colored eyes, annoying her further. Her campaign rested on this cowboy, and he needed to take this job seriously. She’d fix that problem right now. “The first rule of being a spokesperson for a product, which is what we intend for you to be, is to always sing the product’s praises. Never, in public or private, make any negative comments about the company, its employees or their products.”
“Do I have to check with you before I say anything to anyone?”
“That might not be a bad idea until you get the hang of this business.”
“I was joking.”
She stared at him, not quite sure how to respond. “I know a lot of people don’t value advertising, but this is a serious, competitive business.”
“Lighten up. It isn’t brain surgery.”
Bullheaded man. Elizabeth pinched her lips together and counted to ten. If she didn’t need him so desperately, she’d fire him, because obviously her words weren’t hitting home.
“No, it’s not brain surgery or rocket science, but that doesn’t mean what we do here isn’t important. We’re a crucial part of the economy. If we create an ineffective campaign, company sales go down, which means people get laid off. It also means a possible fall in stock prices and less dividends for stockholders. That creates other repercussions in the economy, which I won’t go into here.” Mainly because Rory probably wouldn’t grasp the fine nuances. “Mistakes like criticizing the company’s product can cause a lot of people, you included, to lose their jobs. Are we clear on that?”
“Where do I change?”
She ignored his question for a minute, trying to determine if she’d made her point. Finally deciding the man would have to be a complete idiot not to have understood her, she pointed to a door on the opposite side of the studio. “You’ll find a shirt in there. You can wear your own boots for this shoot.”
While Rory changed, Elizabeth surveyed the scene around her, checking the details for the photo shoot. Micah Devlin was a perfectionist with a keen eye, and expected the same from everyone he worked with. He had to like Rory; otherwise the whole concept was a loss.
Think positively, Elizabeth. That breeds good energy, and good energy brings about good results.
The lighting was perfect. The background clean white. A saddle was propped on a hay bale, a rope casually wrapped around the saddle horn. Rats. She’d forgotten about requesting hay bales. She glanced at the set assistant. “Kudos on the set, especially on such short notice.”
The young woman beamed.
Elizabeth rubbed her itching eyes. The sneezing would start soon. She dug in her purse, searching for a Claritin to stem her allergy symptoms, but came up empty. No getting around it, she’d have to suffer through.
Two more hay bales sat beside the saddle, completing the scene. Enough props to let people know Rory was a cowboy, but not enough to detract from the jeans or the cowboy. For the actual campaign she planned outdoor shots in upstate New York at a barn, on a horse, working around the place. But right now she needed to sell Rory to Devlin.
Please let him look good in the jeans.
The coffee she’d gulped an hour earlier sloshed in her nervous stomach.
Wait a minute. What was she thinking? As long as the jeans fit, he’d look terrific in them. A man that gorgeous could make anything look good. A mental picture of Rory shirtless in a pair of jeans, his chest slick as he poured water over his sweaty skin after a long day of fixing fences, flashed in her mind.
Note to self—get shots of Rory with his shirt off.
She fanned her face, though that wasn’t the only place she was warm. What was she thinking? This was business. She never mixed business with pleasure, and besides that, Rory wasn’t her type.
The click of stilettos on the hardwood floor interrupted Elizabeth’s daydreaming. She turned to find Stephanie Jones, her black leather makeup case slung over her shoulder, sauntering toward her.
The leggy brunette stopped in front of Elizabeth. “Where’s our model?”
Before she could answer, she sneezed. Not one of those polite feminine sneezes, but one with hurricane force. Darn allergies. “He’s changing,” Elizabeth said, after two more sneezes. “Let me explain what I’m looking for today. Just play up his natural good looks. I want him to stay real, like the cowboy he is.”
“You’re kidding! He’s really a cowboy?” Stephanie’s blue eyes sparkled as if she’d snatched up the last fifty-percent-off cashmere sweater at Barney’s.
What was it about cowboys? Stephanie hadn’t even seen Rory and she was drooling. Mark, the lighting tech, had about stepped on his tongue when Rory walked in.
“He’s the real deal, and I want his pictures to reflect that. I want him to look like he’s just stepped out of the ranch house and is heading toward the barn to work.”
“In designer jeans?”
Elizabeth bristled at Stephanie’s skepticism about her ad campaign.
Breathe. Don’t let her negativity invade your space and make you doubt your decision. This is the right way to go with this campaign.
A big smile on her face, Elizabeth said, “Devlin Designs wants to crack the Western and middle-American market with their men’s jeans.”
“Okay, now using the cowboy makes sense.”
“I hope the public sees it the same way. I won’t keep you any longer. You need to set up, and I need to check other details of the shoot.”
While the stylist traipsed across the room to the makeup table and chair, Elizabeth went to talk to Chloe.
“I can’t wait to get this guy on film,” she said the minute Elizabeth stopped beside her.
Just then, Rory strolled out of the dressing room. The client’s designer jeans fit him perfectly, emphasizing his strong thighs. Ones he’d no doubt obtained from riding. Who’d have thought horseback riding was such a workout? But her quads and glutes had been sore for two days after her horse excursion.
Rory’s tanned skin contrasted nicely with the crisp, white, snap-front, Western-style shirt she’d picked out. Denim and white. Classic, clean. One never went wrong with the basics.
She smiled at the personal touches he’d added—his belt buckle, a royal flush fanned-out poker hand, plus his boots and his cowboy hat. Rugged, but accessible.
Absolutely delicious. Absolutely perfect. Absolutely wrong for her.
“If he’s any indication, they sure raise them handsome in Colorado.” A sinful grin spread across Chloe’s face.
Elizabeth continued staring at Rory. Before meeting him she’d have said her ideal man was more comfortable in a Brooks Brothers suit than jeans. Rory put those immaculately groomed men in their thousand-dollar suits to shame.
She started to move toward him, but Stephanie reached Rory first, introduced herself and led him to the makeup chair.
“Our model is too delectable for words,” Mark said as he joined them.
This was getting a little ridiculous. “Has everyone forgotten why we’re here? And no, it isn’t to ogle Rory.” She was beginning to think she needed to hire a bodyguard for the cowboy.
“There’s no harm in looking,” Mark said, glancing at him longingly.
“But with you it doesn’t stop there,” Chloe reminded the lighting tech.
“Plus I’m pretty sure he’s heterosexual,” Elizabeth added, trying to end the subject without having to give a lecture on professionalism.
“But you don’t know for sure.”
Elizabeth leaned toward him as if sharing a confidence. “I’m counting on you to help me out. This guy isn’t a model. He doesn’t understand the game. We all have to be careful that we don’t scare him off. I think this might be his first visit to New York.”
“All right. I’ll back off. Just for you.”
“I appreciate your sacrifice, Mark.” She smiled in relief. “You’ve done a super job with the lighting, by the way. You’re the best.”
“Can I have that in writing for when review time rolls around?”
“Absolutely.”
He glanced toward the set. “I’m off to be wonderful. I need to reposition one of the lights.”
“You sure you didn’t tell him to back off so you can have Rory all to yourself?” Chloe asked once Mark had left.
“Oh, please. You know my type, and Rory’s not it.”
“A guy doesn’t have to be a Mensa candidate to be worth spending time with.”
“That’s the difference between us. You can be involved with someone for right now. I don’t see the point in that.”
“Fun and great sex.” Chloe nodded toward Rory. “Look at him. I bet he’s amazing in bed.”
“There’s more to a relationship than hot sex.”
“Maybe, but that’s a pretty good place to start.”
“Now’s not the time to talk about this,” Elizabeth said, realizing how far they’d strayed off course. “Nothing can interfere with today’s shoot. Be the epitome of professional.”
“What he does for those jeans is amazing.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Not to stress you out more,” Chloe said as she adjusted the height of her tripod, “but we’re all counting on you to pull this one out. Word is Devlin’s agency-shopping.”
“This time the rumor mill’s right, but I’ve got everything under control.” Maybe if she said that enough times she’d believe it. The whole self-fulfilling prophecy thing. “Rory will help us change two crucial opinions. One, that only gay men wear designer jeans, and two, wearing designer jeans will make a man look like a pretty boy. I want the average, red-blooded, straight male to think that if a cowboy will wear these jeans, he can wear them, too.”
“Then let’s get this show on the road.”
* * *
WITH A ROOMFUL of people, all with their gazes glued on his every move, Rory felt like a piece of meat. Prime choice, grade A, but meat nonetheless.
The stylist opened her black case, revealing small bottles and other containers. His stomach tightened when he recognized it was makeup. He’d figured she might have a hair dryer and hair gel in the thing. He sat horrified as she stared at him, and then selected one bottle. She dumped some of the liquid on a foam triangle and leaned toward him.
“Whoa, hold on a minute. Is that makeup?” Sissy city jeans were one thing, but no way was he wearing makeup.
The stylist nodded. The triangle moved closer.
He leaned away. “Cowboys don’t wear makeup.”
High-pitched giggles greeted his response. “This cowboy needs to, because if you don’t wear base makeup and blush—”
Blush. Wasn’t that the pink stuff women swiped over their cheeks? He resisted the urge to hang his head in shame.
“If you don’t wear makeup, you’ll look washed out under the lights.”
“Better that than wearing that stuff. If any of my friends find out, I’ll never live it down.” He shuddered. “Next thing you’ll be telling me I need mascara.”
“It would—”
“No mascara. A man’s got to draw the line somewhere.”
The stylist lightly swatted his arm and giggled again. The sound grated on his nerves. “There’s no need for you to worry. No one will be able to see you’ve got makeup on, and I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
Her words failed to reassure him. Something in his gut told him that his wearing makeup would get out—that was the kind of luck he had. But what choice did he have? He needed this job, and photos were the first step to landing the gig. The things he did for his mom. “I’ve died and gone to hell, and this is my punishment.”
The woman used the sponge to dab makeup on his skin. The oily liquid slid across his face, sending ripples of revulsion through him.
“See, that’s not so bad.”
He gritted his teeth at the comment and refused to look in the mirror. He’d wear the blasted stuff, but no way did he want the sight of him in makeup burned into his memory.
“This doesn’t detract from your masculinity at all,” she declared.
He suspected she was a woman who thought a man wouldn’t be interested unless she agreed with everything he said, and complimented him nonstop.
Now little Lizzie—Elizabeth, he’d decided, didn’t fit her—didn’t appear to let anyone tell her what to think. In an effort to tune out Stephanie’s incessant chatter as she fussed with his hair, he’d watched Lizzie out of the corner of his eye.
Dressed in a black skirt and white blouse that showed off her knockout curves, she efficiently circled the room, checking lighting and the setup. What was it with all the women here wearing black? Hadn’t they heard of color in New York?
As if thinking about her pulled her to him, Lizzie walked his way. “Is he ready to go, Stephanie?”
“He’s perfect.”
Rory almost laughed. Perfect? Not in his universe. He looked like a sissy in these tight, fancy stitched jeans. “Anybody gonna ask me if I’m ready?”
Both women turned to him, their mouths hanging open. Guess he’d broken another photo shoot protocol.
Lizzie recovered first. “I’m sorry, Rory. I didn’t mean to appear rude. I need to make sure Stephanie’s finished her job, which is to make sure you look your best under the lights.” She turned to the stylist. “Once again, you’ve done super work. Now, Rory, if you’d come this way. I’d like to introduce you to the photographer before we start shooting.”
Rory stood, thankful to put distance between him and Stephanie before she jumped him in the chair. “Lead on.”
He liked the white shirt Lizzie had picked out for him, but the jeans wouldn’t last a week on the ranch. “Just out of curiosity, how much do these pants cost?”
“The pair you’re wearing retails for two hundred dollars.”
He whistled. “Men actually spend their hard-earned money on these?”
“Devlin’s men’s jeans are among the hottest in the upscale market.”
Guilt swirled inside him at the thought of playing a part in convincing people to waste money on high-priced jeans, when a pair of Wranglers or Levi’s worked fine. The world was so out of whack. Kids got killed over expensive sneakers. People who couldn’t pay their rent found money to get tattoos. Stuff didn’t make a person. Didn’t people get that?
Lizzie led him to a tall, slender woman with shoulder-length black hair, dressed in a long, flowing purple skirt and a red T-shirt with a baggy white sweater thrown over that. Big chunky beads hung around her neck. Finally, a female who wasn’t dressed as if she was heading to a funeral.
She introduced herself and tossed him a look that said she was interested in more than taking his picture. What was the deal with everyone at this agency?
“Are you ready to get started?” Elizabeth asked.
“Tell me what you need me to do.”
Chloe smiled. “Just be you. I’ll do all the hard work. Let’s start with some simple shots of you sitting here on the hay. That’ll give us both a chance to warm up. I hope you don’t have allergies like Elizabeth. She’s been sneezing since she arrived.”
“Thanks, Chloe, for pointing out the obvious.” Elizabeth punctuated her statement with an unladylike sneeze, followed by a delicate “excuse me.”
“The hay won’t bother me. I’m around it all day long.”
“Good. Chloe, you get behind the camera and see how everything looks. Rory, come with me. I’ll position you.”
Position him? A very intimate picture of him and Lizzie tangled together in bed popped into his head. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll show you where to sit on the set, which way to look, that kind of thing. That’s what we call positioning. What were you thinking?”
“I had a more intimate picture in mind.” As Rory followed her he couldn’t keep his gaze off the way her little black high-heeled shoes made her hips sway, causing his blood to pump.
She froze and a pretty pink blush spread across her face. “I’m sorry you were confused.”
He leaned toward her to rattle her chain a little more. After all, if he was going to be on display, he had no intention of being the only one uncomfortable. “Lizzie, if we get together, there won’t be any confusion.”
For a second her eyes widened and her pupils dilated. Then she swallowed hard. “My name’s Elizabeth.”
“You don’t look like an Elizabeth. It’s too long a name for such a little thing like you.”
She snapped her lips together. He expected to see steam coming out her ears any minute. This job could be fun, after all.
“My parents named me Elizabeth. That’s what they called me, and that’s the name I go by.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her blouse open farther at the neck. She had a pretty neck. He’d love to kiss that spot where the vein throbbed wildly beneath her skin. “Now, if we’re through with the discussion regarding my name, we both have work to do.”
He smiled, way more at ease than when he’d arrived. “All set.”
“Have a seat on the hay bale there.” Lizzie pointed to the one closet to the saddle.
He sank onto the hay, braced his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “Now what?”
That pretty pink color still tingeing her cheeks, Lizzie turned to Chloe. “How’s it look from your angle?”
“Good from here. Now, get out of the shot and let me work.”
The rapid-fire click of the camera shutter filled the studio. During a momentary lull, Stephanie buzzed around him, more annoying and persistent than the horseflies at home. “I think he’s getting a little shiny. Let me add some powder.”
Rory tried not to wince. Just what he needed, more makeup. Pretty soon he’d look like Bozo the Clown.
She swiped a brush across his face, tossed him a big smile and fluttered away. She wasn’t any better at getting the leave-me-alone signals than the horseflies.
More clicking.
This was every bit the torture he’d expected, except for the short diversion with Lizzie.
“Relax, Rory, you look like you’ve got a dentist appointment later today,” Chloe said.
“Relax? How’s a man supposed to do that with everyone staring at him, watching his every move? I feel like the turkey on Thanksgiving, sitting there in the middle of the table.”
“That’s an interesting point of view,” Lizzie said. “It’s not that everyone’s watching what you do so much as ensuring nothing needs their attention.”
“Try to forget everyone’s here, Rory. Concentrate on one thing, and tune out everything else,” Chloe suggested.
He focused on Lizzie. All straitlaced and in charge, but he’d seen a fire flash in her eyes when he’d called her that. There was definitely something there. All she needed to do was let go and channel that energy. Now that would be a job worth taking on.
“Hold that pose.”
More clicking.
Lizzie leaned toward the photographer and the women whispered back and forth for a minute, before Lizzie said, “Rory, let’s try some shots with you standing.”
He stood, but wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. That wasn’t exactly true. Right now he’d like to have his hands on Lizzie, caressing her dynamite curves and those long legs of hers. Heat shot through him. If he didn’t think about something other than her legs, these fancy jeans would get even tighter. “What do you want me to do with my hands?”
“Stand like you would if you were hanging around the ranch with friends.”
When he hooked his thumbs in his front pockets, Lizzie smiled.
She seemed different when she smiled. Softer. More approachable, more womanly.
“Fabulous. Keep looking like that.” The camera clicked away as Chloe rattled on. “Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s doing wonders for you.”
Rory’s gaze locked with Lizzie’s. He imagined holding her, exploring her full curves. He could almost hear her excited sigh in his ears as his hands glided over her breasts and hips.
Then his phone, which he’d instinctively shoved in his back pocket, rang. Lizzie’s smile evaporated, replaced with a scowl.
“Whose phone is that?” she asked. “Everyone here knows my policy on cell phones interrupting a photo shoot.”
“It’s mine.” Rory pulled it out of his back pocket and answered the call.
He answered the call? Elizabeth stormed toward him. The man possessed no work ethic. “I forgot to mention that when we’re at a photo shoot, everyone turns off their cell phones.”
Ignoring her, he said, “I know he’s trying to make it sound that way, but don’t worry about it. He’ll cool down.”
“Get off the phone now.”
“Got to go. I’ll call you back later.” Rory ended the call.
“I can’t believe you answered that call.”
“I had a life and responsibilities before this job came along. I still have things that need my attention.”
“I realize that. However, I expect you to deal with those things on your own time, not on the client’s.” Elizabeth held out her hand.
“I’ll turn it on vibrate.”
“Give it to me. I’ll hold on to it until we’re done with the shoot.” When he opened his mouth, she suspected to protest, she explained, “You can’t have your phone in your back pocket. It’ll ruin the line of the jeans.”
Reluctantly, he handed over his BlackBerry.
“Let’s get back to work.” She returned to her position beside Chloe. “Where were we?”
The photographer stepped out from behind the camera. “If our focus is to sell jeans, we might want to see more of them.”
“You’re absolutely right, Chloe.” Elizabeth tapped a manicured nail against her watch. “Got any ideas?”
“Rory, do you mind turning to the side and lifting that saddle?”
“Finally something I feel comfortable doing.” He lifted the saddle and balanced the leather against his thigh, as if he’d done so every day since he was strong enough to pick it up.
Rory’s gaze locked with Elizabeth’s and held. Electricity shot through her. Strong. Hot. Baffling. The look in his eyes mesmerized her, making her more confident that she’d chosen the right man for the campaign.
As she watched Rory’s biceps flex under his shirt, heat coursed through her. Then she glanced at his thighs. No doubt about his strength there, and his butt did amazing things for those jeans.
Oh, yeah, this shot was more than perfect.
If Micah Devlin didn’t like this picture and believe the campaign would sell jeans, then there was no pleasing him.
Remembering the campaign put things back into perspective for Elizabeth. She appreciated the sight of an attractive man as much as the next woman, but this was business. She couldn’t let irrational pheromones on overdrive interfere with her work.
“Angle behind him,” she whispered to Chloe. No way did she want Rory hearing this conversation. “I want shots from behind.”
“Butt shots coming up.”
She blushed, surprised at her reaction, since she and Chloe discussed models’ body parts all the time in shoots. “We’re selling jeans. The client will want to see how they look on our model from every angle.”
“No need to get defensive,” Chloe said as she moved to get the shots.
Elizabeth remained rooted in place, staring at Rory. The cowboy was absolutely mesmerizing. Stalwart. Confident. Any girl’s best dream. Elizabeth could barely breathe. Now if Chloe could get the heat radiating from him on film…
“Rory, would you mind putting down the saddle and taking off your shirt?”
“Yes, I’d mind.”
Elizabeth couldn’t have heard him. Either that or he misunderstood her question. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t mind putting the saddle down, but I’m not taking off my shirt.”
She stood there for a moment trying to regroup.
She was in charge. She told everyone what to do and they did as requested. No one at a photo shoot questioned her decision. Not even Chloe.
This cowboy so pushed her buttons.
For a minute she considered ordering Rory to take off his shirt, but the glint in his eyes stopped her. He flashed her a look similar to her first boss’s I’m-not-discussing-this expression. Sure, she was in charge, but her job hinged on two men’s whims right now, Micah Devlin and Rory McAlister. She couldn’t risk angering Rory enough that he hopped on the next plane to Colorado.
She could do this. Finesse and charm time. “Everyone take five.”
The crew scooted away, though not far, in case she and Rory put on a show.
She walked to where he stood beside the hay, wanting to make their conversation as private as possible. “Rory, what’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem, because I’m keeping my shirt on.”
She stared at him, trying to fathom what the hang-up could be. It wasn’t as if she was asking him to pose for a pinup poster. Granted, she hoped this shot would have the same effect and drive women wild for him and the jeans, but they were primarily selling the product.
Maybe he was embarrassed about his chest? It couldn’t be because he wasn’t in shape. No way could he be hiding a beer belly under that formfitting shirt. Okay, so what else could it be? He was a cowboy. They got thrown from horses. “Do you have some kind of injury or scar that’s making this uncomfortable for you?”
“No.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“You told me I’d be modeling jeans, not posing for beefcake shots.”
“Shots of you without your shirt will highlight the jeans, and it’s what the client wants.”
“We don’t always get what we want.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. The guy was one huge piece of granite, hard and unmoving. Needing a chance to cool off, she walked to the table with bottled water by the dressing room. She grabbed one, surprised that the top didn’t pop off the way she squeezed the thing, and stormed back to Rory.
“Here, have some water.” She shoved the bottle into his hands. Hopefully, the water would cool him off, too. “I need a minute.”
Then she walked to the opposite side of the studio to talk to Chloe.
“I gather he’s still refusing to take off his shirt?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I think he’s just being stubborn.”
“We’ve got to get the shots of him in just the jeans.”
What about Rory made her want to dig in her heels? She felt as if she were six years old again, fighting with Angela Simmons. I dare you. No, I double dare you, and the next thing she knew, they were both sitting in Principal Mathews’s office.
“You may have to pull rank.” Chloe glanced toward Rory. “Look at him. How else do you think you’re going to get him to cooperate?”
She followed her friend’s gaze. The cowboy was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his strong chest. His lips formed a thin line. Nope, he hadn’t let go of his anger, either.
His gaze locked with hers again. Then his chin tilted up ever so slightly and he smiled.
No way was he backing down.
She’d never been a gambler, especially when the costs were so high, and not just for her, but those who worked with her. So much rode on the campaign’s success, and she needed those shots of Rory in just the jeans.
If he wanted to lock horns about this issue, he’d chosen the wrong person to mess with, because she couldn’t afford to lose.
She stalked across the floor and stopped in front of Rory. She looked into his chiseled features, unmoved by his gorgeous face or his angry scowl. “I need shots of you with your shirt off. You either do as requested or you’re fired.”

CHAPTER FOUR
RORY, A DAMNED GOOD poker player, could bluff with the best of ’em, but Lizzie won this hand fair and square. Not that he would let her see how much the fact bothered him.
He unscrewed the plastic cap off his water bottle, kept his gaze focused on her and took a long drink. Then he set the bottle on the nearby table and tugged the shirttails out of his jeans. He grabbed one side in each hand and pulled. The snaps popping as they came loose broke the silence. Next, he peeled off his shirt and tossed the garment on the table.
His gaze still locked with Lizzie’s, he leaned back, crossed his arms over his bare chest and said, “How’s this work for you, sweetheart? Does what you see get your engine racing?”
Her cheeks immediately turned the same shade of pink as his mother’s favorite roses. Lizzie blinked and swallowed.
Point to him.
“Let’s get this done,” he said as he walked away.
Her high heels clicked on the wood floor as she scrambled to catch up with him. “Break over, everyone.”
He stopped beside the hay bales and turned toward her, deciding to have a bit more fun teasing her. “How do you want me positioned? I’m all yours.”
The pulse in her neck throbbed wildly. Her eyes dilated. He smiled, knowing he’d chipped a piece out of her in-control businesswoman facade. What would Lizzie be like if she loosened up a bit? She’d be a handful who could give a man a wild ride. Now that he’d like to see.
“I’m not quite sure.” After clearing her throat, she faced the photographer. “What do you think, Chloe? How should we position Rory?”
“Yes, ladies, by all means—what do you think would be my best position?”
Lizzie choked on the water she’d been about to swallow. He thumped her on the back. “You okay?”
She nodded, and he sank onto a hay bale.
“What you’re doing looks amazing, Rory,” Chloe said, the camera held to her eye. “Hold that pose.”
As the photographer swarmed around him, clicking, his gaze never wavered from Lizzie. For all her confidence, put things on a man-woman level and she apparently didn’t know what to do.
“Now cross your arms,” Chloe said.
Rory started fantasizing, imagining taking Lizzie’s hair out of the tight ponytail and running his fingers through the blond, curly strands. His imagination wandered further. Would the texture be as silky as he suspected? He pictured her golden hair falling around her face as she leaned over him in bed.
“Pick up the saddle.” Her voice cut through his fantasy.
He stood and did as requested, but pretended he was lifting her instead. Heck, she probably weighed less than the saddle. Then an image of them flashed in his mind: of her sliding down his body and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her beautiful hair spilled down her back as she tilted her face upward, exposing her graceful neck. What kind of sounds would she make when he explored her skin with his lips?
He lowered the saddle a little to cover his rising excitement.
How long had it been since he’d had a date? Over six months. Talk about the date from hell. Their dinner conversation had consisted of her telling him all about her last boyfriend, who she’d dated for five years, and how he’d dumped her. Rory’s previous relationship had been over a year ago, and since he wasn’t a casual sex kind of guy, that was the last time he’d been intimate.
He stared long and hard at Lizzie. Something about her reached out to him. Danged if he knew what, because a lot of women were prettier.
“Stephanie, mist Rory.” Lizzie tossed the request over her shoulder. “I want him to look like he’s been working up a sweat.”
Confidence. She had an air about her. Maybe that was what appealed to him. Such a tiny woman and yet she looked as if she’d stand up to a grizzly. Had to be either her assurance or his dry spell that accounted for his body’s unusual reaction.
The stylist popped up in front of him with a water bottle. The moisture sprayed on his chest instantly reminded him that he stood half-naked in front of a group of people, and that Lizzie had threatened to fire him unless he agreed to comply. His daydreams burned like dry kindling tossed on a campfire.
“You’re doing a fantastic job.” Stephanie batted her long eyelashes. “Once this campaign hits the street, Devlin jeans are going to fly off the shelf.”
He didn’t care whether or not the jeans sold well. All that mattered was that he earned thirty grand. Then he’d kiss this big city and modeling goodbye.
“Rory, set down the saddle and put on your hat,” Chloe said.
Bossy city women. Rory, do this. Rory, turn and look at me. Rory, you need to focus. He felt like an elementary schoolkid having a bad day.
“Push your hat back a little. We need to see more of your face.” This order came from Lizzie. “Cross your arms over your chest,” she called out next.
Good thing, because he was about to put his hands around her pretty little throat.
“I think we have everything we need,” she finally said. “Let’s call it a day, everyone.”
He walked past her to where he’d left his shirt, slipped the garment on and returned to her. He leaned down, not wanting anyone to overhear. “Next time we have a disagreement—” and based on today’s events, future disagreements were a sure thing “—we work them out in private. Don’t ever pull rank on me again. I don’t perform on command.”
“Neither do I,” she called out to his back.
Damned if the little minx wasn’t a spitfire, and damned if he didn’t admire her for that.
* * *
RORY’S WORDS HAMMERED in Elizabeth’s head as she walked to her office. How dare he speak to her like that? Then to top things off, he’d walked away without allowing her to say anything but the lamest of comebacks.
She’d definitely needed to set ground rules with the cowboy. He wasn’t in Colorado anymore, and the New York business world ran differently than a horse ranch. His open defiance of her authority had to stop. Otherwise, they’d butt heads constantly and make everyone miserable. An uncomfortable environment bred negativity, which led to poor work performance and an unhappy client.
When she arrived in her office, she found Chloe at her desk, downloading photos. Her friend glanced upward. “I don’t know how you work in this office. It’s too ordered. Doesn’t that stifle your creativity?”
“An orderly work space leads to an orderly mind.” Her grandmother’s pet phrase popped out before Elizabeth could stop it. She slid the chair from in front of her desk to the other side, close to the computer, and threw herself into the seat. “Sleep deprivation’s warping my mind, and turning me into my grandmother.”
“It could be worse.”
“How?”
Chloe shrugged. “I’m not sure. That just sounded like the thing to say. Wait a minute, I’ve got it. The good news is getting sleep will fix the problem.”
“I wish that would work on my problem with Rory. I hope he’s not going to continue to be so difficult.”
“What was with you two, anyway?” Chloe asked. “Playing referee is not in my job description, and if it’s going to be in the future, I want more money.”
“He pushed every one of my buttons today. The man could write a book on how to become the world’s biggest pain in the ass.”
“Apparently the sparks are still flying.”
“Can you believe he refused to take off his shirt? I don’t get what the big deal was. It wasn’t like I was asking him to pose in his underwear.”
“If I could figure guys out, do you think I’d be here?” Chloe pulled up the first set of photos onto the computer screen, the ones of Rory sitting on the hay bale. “No, I wouldn’t. I’d be in the Caribbean living off the money I made from my New York Times bestseller on how to understand men.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Chloe pointed to the monitor. “Check these out.”
Elizabeth stared at the photos. Rory had a presence. Incredible, steamy, make-a-woman’s-insides-tingle-with-a-look presence. “The shots are fantastic, but they don’t showcase the jeans.”
“I agree, but do you want to put one of these in a portfolio to show Devlin how well Rory photographs?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
Chloe clicked computer keys and a second later the printer hummed to life. “Now, about you and Rory, I wasn’t talking about the arguing type of sparks. I was talking about the making-you-all-hot-and-bothered ones.”
Elizabeth stood and retrieved the photo from the printer. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Good comeback. That’ll make her drop the subject.
She laughed. “You never were a good liar.”
“So, I admit it. The guy drives me crazy.”
Chloe flashed her an annoying best-friend, know-it-all smile.
“I didn’t mean that in a good way,” Elizabeth stated. “He’s stubborn, inflexible, and refuses to take directions or criticism well.”
“One person’s fighting is another person’s dancing.”
“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.” After tossing the photo onto the desk blotter, Elizabeth sank back into her chair. “If you’re trying to say I enjoyed arguing with him today, you’re way off base.”
“You may not have had fun, but he was having a blast seeing your temper flare. Think about what it would be like making up with him. Oooh!”
“You think Rory was being difficult on purpose? Why would he do that?”
Chloe shrugged and pulled up more photos on the computer screen. These of Rory holding the saddle.
“If he was, he has a sick sense of humor,” Elizabeth declared. “A man with self-respect and a decent work ethic wouldn’t enjoy making his boss uncomfortable.” She tapped the monitor. “Print out that one.”
Chloe nodded. “Think about it from his point of view. He’s a strong, assertive man, a lone cowboy. I’m guessing Rory doesn’t take orders from too many people.”
“Then he’s going to have to start learning who’s at the top of the food chain.”
“When Devlin signs the contract and you center the jeans campaign on Rory, you’re going to have to find a way to coexist.”
“It’ll be easy. I plan for this campaign to do major things for my career.” That is, if Rory didn’t drive her completely insane first. Elizabeth paced the length of her office, stopping at her credenza to straighten the silver Effie Award she’d received for the Tug-Ups training pants ad she’d created last year.
Courage and self-esteem bolstered, she reasoned she could work with Rory. After all, she worked with Micah Devlin.
“Saving the Devlin account and creating a nationwide campaign can turn management supervisors into vice presidents. When Rory’s driving me insane, I’ll visualize my new, spacious, vice-presidential office.”
“Ah, yes. Your ten-year plan.”
Elizabeth ignored her friend’s sarcasm. Chloe wasn’t a big believer in planning, preferring to remain open to life’s opportunities because goals stifled her. Elizabeth believed that to achieve what she wanted took goal setting, strategic planning and a lot of visualization.
Chloe leaned forward in her chair and whistled. “Look at these photos. Cowboy here just might take both our careers places.”
Elizabeth gazed at the pictures. Rory stared back at her, his boots firmly planted on the ground, the white shirt pulled taut across his pecs, his biceps bulging as he held the saddle. The man would become the stuff women dreamed of. “Print that one.”
Chloe nodded, and scrolled through more photos. A few seconds later, she clicked on an image to enlarge it, then leaned back in her chair and sighed dreamily. “One of the perks of my job, butt shots of gorgeous men.” She tapped the computer screen with her dark purple nail. “And that man has one fine butt.”
Glancing at the photo, Elizabeth kept her lips pinned together for fear she’d start drooling. Once she had her emotions well under control, she said, “Remember the focus of our campaign is the jeans, not on how good the model’s butt is.”
“Are you saying you disagree with my assessment?”
She’d have to be blind to disagree. Not that she’d admit the fact to Chloe, for fear of eternal taunting. “My job is to focus on how the jeans look.”
“Which is pretty damn good on his butt.”
“Print the first one and the shot where he’s looking over his shoulder at us.”
“You mean the one where he looks like he’s ready to carry you off into the sunset?”
“If that’s the third shot, then yes. We’ll add that to the portfolio.” Elizabeth stared at the photo. Rory’s eyes had darkened to a deep walnut color, and he had the slightest smile on his face. “What makes you say he was thinking of me? Maybe he was thinking about you.”
“Don’t I wish.” Chloe sighed again. “But alas, his gaze followed you around the room.”
That information should’ve made Elizabeth warm in all kinds of places, but instead the fact worried her. She couldn’t afford having Rory see her as anything but his boss. “He can’t be interested in me. Can he?”
“Why’s that so unbelievable?”
“We’re ill-suited.”
“Opposites attract.”
“You’re full of clichés today.”
“You’re just ticked because I’m right, and don’t try to change the subject. It’s true. Opposites do attract.”
“They may have instant chemistry, but those relationships don’t last. The ones that do are based on things like similar values and interests.” Needing something to busy her hands and control her nervousness, Elizabeth grabbed a pen and fiddled with it. “Pull up the shots of him shirtless.”
“You’d give a guy up because you worked together? Even if you thought he was your soul mate?”
“There’s no such thing. In a world of over six billion people, there has to be more than one man I could have a lasting relationship with.”
Chloe shook her head. “If I thought a guy was the one, I wouldn’t let anything get in the way.”
The last shots of Rory popped onto the screen. Chloe whistled through her teeth. “Be still my heart. These are the best yet. Look at those six-pack abs.”
Elizabeth stared at the photo, speechless. Rory could make a nun think twice about her vow of chastity. Hell, think three times about it. “Make that one poster-size. I’ll put it on an easel. Put the rest in a portfolio. I’m off to make sure the mock-ups are ready for tomorrow.”
Pointing at the picture displayed on the computer monitor, Chloe said, “That’s all you’ve got to say about this?”
“I think it’s excellent. It should accomplish exactly what we need it to.”
Her friend flopped back in her chair and threw her hands in the air. “And that’s why you don’t date much.”
“Can we stick to the job here, and stay off the topic of my love life?”
“What love life?”
Elizabeth pointedly ignored her jibe, mainly because she lacked a good comeback. Tough to argue with the truth.
Her dating had been a little sparse lately, but that was because she had standards. If she let her friends set her up she could have three dates a week, but what was the point of dating if the candidates fell below par? On top of that, her job’s long hours left little time for a social life. But more importantly, she had no intention of letting dating sidetrack her from what mattered—saving Devlin’s accounts and advancing her career. That required work and sacrifice. Everything worthwhile did.
“How can looking at this gorgeous guy, one you’ll be working in close contact with, not make your body sing?”
“I’m tone-deaf.”
Listening to her body, being ruled by her hormones, led down a scary path. Going against common sense led to caring, wanting, expectations and possibly loving. All of those things, in her experience, led to heartbreak. No, thanks. Been there, done that. Gave away the T-shirt.
“I don’t have time for anything except getting ready for tomorrow’s meeting.” Elizabeth glanced at her watch. Eight o’clock. The night was zooming by at warp speed. “I still have to come up with a slogan before the morning meeting.”
“Got any ideas?”
“I have a bunch written down, but now that we’ve got Rory’s pictures they don’t seem right.” She rubbed her throbbing temples. “I want something memorable, like the Calvin Klein ad with Brooke Shields. ‘Nothing gets between me and my Calvins.’”
“Think about Rory’s qualities.”
“He’s stubborn to the point of pigheadedness.”
“His good qualities.”
She thought for a minute. “He’s strong. He’s authentic.”
“He sure is a real man, and very delectable.”
Rory’s comment that no real man would wear designer jeans popped into Elizabeth’s head. She grabbed a Post-it note and scribbled out a line as adrenaline gushed through her system, invigorating her. “I’ve got the slogan, Chloe, and it’s perfect.”
* * *
BY THE MORNING MEETING in the agency’s conference room, Elizabeth was running on stress and caffeine. The stuff that fueled corporate America. Once she presented a hopefully coherent campaign to Micah Devlin and answered his questions, which if past meetings were any indication would be many, she planned on collapsing and sleeping for two days straight.
When she escorted Devlin, dressed in a pair of his own jeans and a pin-striped button-down shirt, into the conference room, he sat at the long mahogany table and pulled out his iPad.
She smoothed the skirt of her charcoal-gray Ellen Tracy suit and glanced down at her red stiletto pumps. Chloe called them her ruby slippers, because Elizabeth felt invincible when she wore then.
Ruby slippers, do your magic. “We believe Rory McAlister is the perfect person to represent Devlin Designs’ men’s jeans.”
Elizabeth pulled the cover off the poster on the easel, revealing Rory—naked from the waist up, his arms crossed over his wide chest, his biceps bulging, his skin slick with sweat—wearing the company’s jeans and his cowboy hat. Below the picture ran the words Devlin men’s jeans. Strong enough to stand up to a real man.
Her breath stuck in her throat as she waited for her client to respond. When she’d first met Micah Devlin she’d been attracted to him. In his mid to late thirties, he was approximately five or so years older than her, and she liked that. He had an MBA from Harvard Business School. Was the CEO of the family business—a Fortune 500 company, no less. He was tall, in shape without being overly muscular. His company contributed to numerous charities. He’d seemed like her dream man. At least on paper.
Then she’d gotten to know him. His controlling personality and micromanaging had effectively incinerated her attraction.
No worries about mixing business and pleasure there.
“I like him,” Devlin said. “He’s strong and fit, but doesn’t look like he spends all day in the gym.”
Relief burst through her, making her knees weak, but Elizabeth clamped down on the emotion. There would be time to celebrate later, once the contracts were signed, her agency’s with Devlin and his with Rory.
“That’s exactly what we were trying to portray. His strength comes from working with his hands and his back, like so many Americans.”
“Do you plan to weave that hardworking attitude into the campaign?”
“Definitely.”
Devlin jotted down notes on the iPad. “What’re the rest of your plans?”
“I thought we’d start with the Times Square billboard, since Devlin Designs has it booked for the next three months. We’d pair that with ads in the New York Times, the Chicago Tribune and USA Today.”
“I understand the newspapers’ appeal, but I’m not so certain about the billboard. Sure, it’ll be seen by millions of tourists, but other than that, how will it help us appeal to middle America?”
His question momentarily threw her off stride. Her grandmother’s voice rang in her head. Is that really the decision you want to make? Have you thought this through thoroughly, Elizabeth?
Shaking herself mentally, she tuned out her grandmother. Elizabeth refused to be intimidated, when she’d prepared for this meeting until three in the morning, and this was one of the questions she’d anticipated. “I think showcasing Rory on June’s billboard is the quickest way to create a buzz while we’re finalizing magazine ads and shooting the TV commercial. When people see Rory’s picture, they’ll want to know who he is. Women will hit your website en masse to find out more about him. We’ll add a new page to the site—meet Devlin Designs’ newest model. We’ll get him tweeting, to add to the buzz. That excitement should help me book spots for him on the morning show circuit.”
Devlin tapped his pen on the table. “Plus the billboard should give us a boost to our East Coast sales.”
Elizabeth nodded, the knot between her shoulder blades loosening. What was it about Devlin that cracked her self-confidence? “The average man is going to want to look like Rory. Women will think if their man wears your jeans he’ll look like Rory. The gay man is going to want to date him. No matter what, they’re going to check out Devlin jeans. I think we’ll get an excellent return on the investment. Even though we’re targeting a different market, everything fashionwise starts here in New York.”
“Since we can’t use the ad we’d planned on for the May billboard because of that model’s scandal, let’s showcase the jeans and introduce Rory instead.”
Elizabeth stared at Devlin, momentarily stunned. A billboard took a minimum of two weeks to put together, and today was April 16.
What did this guy think? That she twitched her nose like Samantha on Bewitched, and billboards magically appeared?
“If we go with this shot—” Elizabeth pointed to the easel and Rory’s gorgeous beefcake photo “—we might be able to pull it off.”
“I like it. An outdoor scene on a billboard will clutter up the message anyway. I don’t want anything distracting from the cowboy, the slogan and the company name.” Devlin clicked his pen as he thought. “Do what you have to, within reason, to get the job done. If you think the budget needs to be revised, let me know.”
Elizabeth nodded. So much for sleeping for two days after this meeting.
“What’s this cowboy’s voice like?” Devlin asked. “Can he do the commercial work or will we need to hire a voice-over actor?”
“Rory has a pleasant voice with a slight Western drawl, which will work perfectly for the campaign.”
“Pleasant? We need more than that for our spokesman.”
“Forgive me. That was a poor choice of words. His voice is hardly average.” She couldn’t tell this Fortune 500 CEO that Rory’s voice sent ripples of excitement through her and made her lace panties damp. Or could she? “The women at the shoot commented that his voice was as good as his looks.”
“I’ve got a lot riding on this. Before I sign this cowboy and the agency contract I want to know what he sounds like.”
Warning bells clanged in Elizabeth’s head. Considering Rory’s unpredictable behavior at the photo shoot, the thought of him meeting Devlin sent dread snaking down her spine. She counted to ten.
Never let a client see uncertainty. It’s the kiss of death.
She smiled at Devlin. “Do you want to meet him in person or would a demo CD work?”
Please say the latter.
Devlin had been about to answer her when his cell phone played “I Could’ve Danced All Night.” He grabbed it out of his briefcase. “Excuse me. I have to take this.”
Phone to his ear, he stepped outside the conference room.
She couldn’t believe that Micah Devlin, who chastised her when she took a call from another client with an “emergency,” had answered his phone. Obviously, he subscribed to the do-as-I-say, not-as-I-do philosophy.
“What’s up?” his surprisingly gentle voice floated in through the open door. “Can it wait? My day is full of meetings.”
While Elizabeth longed to scoot her chair to where she could actually see him as he talked on the phone, she resisted the urge. Innocently overhearing a conversation and openly eavesdropping were two different things, and she had no desire to be caught doing the latter.
“Don’t do that,” Devlin almost pleaded. “You know the doctor told you not to drive for three weeks. Please wait.” Frustration crept into his voice. “I’ll run by the pharmacy after this meeting. I’ll be there in a half an hour tops.” Again he paused. “I love you, too, Nana.”
Elizabeth hoped she’d concealed her shock when he returned to the conference table, phone in hand, the softness she’d heard in his voice only seconds ago nowhere visible in his eyes. Who would’ve thought he actually had relatives, much less one he cared about?
“Since Rory McAlister will be a company spokesperson, I want to talk to him face-to-face. I need to make sure he can have a coherent conversation.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard. Sure she knew Rory’s voice sent a women’s happy hormones into overdrive, but how would he do when a reporter tossed questions at him? How could she have forgotten that when she’d developed the campaign? Details mattered, especially to Devlin.
“I met Rory on a ranch in Colorado. He’s used to interacting with tourists. He was quite engaging with facts and local-color tidbits.” At least he’d appeared to be, from the bits and pieces of stories she’d heard, riding at the end of the line of horses.
“He’d better be able to handle interviews.”
“I assure you he will.” Elizabeth smiled. By his first interview she’d be certain he was prepared. She could make a fortune in Vegas playing high stakes poker with her bluffing skills.
“Once I’ve talked with this cowboy and am convinced he’ll suit our needs, I’ll sign him to a contract. Then I’ll sign the jeans contract with your agency. Set up the meeting for tomorrow.”
She noted he hadn’t mentioned renewing the other lines’ contracts. He probably still wanted that leverage to hold over her.
Devlin pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and punched a couple of buttons. “Ten works for me. I don’t want to see his face everywhere, by the way. When the public sees him, I want them to think of Devlin Designs.”
“I agree. I suggest you have your legal department add an exclusivity clause to the standard contract.”
“You don’t think his agent will balk?”
“He’s currently representing himself.”
Devlin smiled openly for the first time. “Then there’s no need to pay him thirty grand over the course of this campaign. What do you think we can get him for?”
Sleep deprivation had to be playing tricks with her hearing, or had rotted her brain cells, because they’d extensively discussed what to pay a spokesman, even an unknown, before she’d started her search. “I told Rory he’d make thirty thousand, as per our discussions.”
Devlin picked a piece of lint off his spotless shirt. “When we talked, we discussed a lot of options, from models to rodeo cowboys. That amount seems a little steep for an unknown with no experience.”
Elizabeth swas seated and folded her hands in front of her to keep from shaking the man silly. Glancing into his eyes, she realized the truth. He’d changed his mind about the money when he’d discovered Rory lacked an agent.
“Offer him twenty thousand,” Devlin stated.
“This puts me in an awkward position. Rory and I had a verbal agreement.”
Devlin folded his arms across his chest. His sharp gaze bore through her. “I pay your agency to negotiate with models on my behalf.”
What was it lately, with men drawing a line in the sand with her? “I’ll inform Rory of your wishes, and will do everything in my power to get him to agree to the new terms.”
“Make sure you’ve dealt with the money issue by the time we meet tomorrow.”
“I’d feel more comfortable taking a day or two to prepare before I discuss the subject with Rory.”
“I want him signed to a contract so we can move forward with this campaign.” Devlin’s icy tone and granite gaze left no room for further discussion.
“I’ll talk to him today.”

CHAPTER FIVE
ELIZABETH WALKED DOWN the hallway to Chloe’s office and suppressed the urge to bang her head against the wall.
“Shoot me now and put me out of my misery. I’ve lost the will to live,” she said as she sank into the wooden chair in front of her friend’s desk. Now that the adrenaline and caffeine had worn off, exhaustion claimed her.
Chloe paled. “Do I need to update my résumé for the next round of layoffs?”
“No, but you might want to measure me for a straitjacket, because I’m going to lose my mind working with Devlin.”
“What happened?”
“I have two new problems. The first being Devlin wants to meet with Rory before he’ll sign the contract.”
“Why is that a problem? Rory’s perfect.”
“He’s a cowboy, and his mystical cowboy charm won’t work on Micah Devlin.”
“Rory will do fine.”
“I’m not so sure. When I first gave him the jeans for the shoot, he said no real man would be caught dead in them. Can you believe that?”
“Since you’re still talking about Rory in the present tense, I assume you didn’t kill him. But what did you do after he said that?”
She glared at her friend. “I’m not the Wicked Witch of the East, you know.”
“I didn’t say you were. It’s just you get a little overzealous sometimes, especially when people make mistakes in their job.”
“I very calmly and professionally pointed out the important points of being a company spokesperson.”
“I bet that went over like a lead balloon. Guys love having a woman tell them they screwed up.”
“I think he took it well, but after the jeans comment, you can see why I’m concerned about him talking with Devlin. All I need is for Rory to say something negative about the product.”
“He won’t, since you set him straight.”
“You’re just saying that because he’s good-looking. In an interview situation, he’ll have to think on his feet, and who knows what someone might ask him? What if he doesn’t stop to think before he answers, and blurts out the first thing that pops into his head?” Once Elizabeth started voicing her concerns, she couldn’t hold them back. “Sure, he’s photogenic, but I have no idea what kind of education Rory has, or whether he can hold an intelligent conversation. What if he can’t talk about anything but horses, mucking out a stall and fixing fences?”
“Whoa. Can we slow down this runaway train? Rory doesn’t need to be a Rhodes scholar to do well on the morning show circuit. He’s got a great personality and charisma. Those two things can’t be taught, and will go a long way in an interview. Plus you’ll prep him.”
When Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, Chloe held up her hand. “If you’re worried about anything else, talk to Rory. Find out about his education and background. Ask him how he feels about doing interviews.”
“Men have such fragile egos. What if he hasn’t graduated high school, and my asking about his education embarrasses him? There has to be a reason he’s a cowboy and not a white-collar businessman. He might get mad enough to quit.”
“How much sleep have you gotten this week?”
“Not much.”
“You must be dead-tired, Elizabeth. This kind of situation never flusters you. In fact, you thrive on a challenge.”
“I’m beginning to understand why sleep deprivation is so effective in breaking down prisoners of war.” Elizabeth walked to the small refrigerator in the corner of Chloe’s office, pulled out a can of Red Bull, popped the top open and took a long drink. Within seconds the caffeine bolted through her system, reviving her brain cells. “You’re right. I can do this. I can use Rory’s male ego to my advantage. I’ll tell him I need his opinion on Devlin’s concerns and the rest of the campaign.”
“Guys like that. They’re fixers.”
“While we’re talking, I can identify any weaknesses he might have in a business meeting or an interview situation.”
“Good, problem number one under control. What’s the second problem?”
Elizabeth squeezed the Red Bull can. The sound of crumpling aluminum filled the room. “Devlin has decided the money I quoted Rory, the price we discussed at length beforehand, is too much to pay. He wants me to renegotiate the deal.”
Chloe leaned back in her chair and threw her hands in the air. “You’re going down in flames.”
“What happened to playing the encouraging best friend and colleague?”
“Sorry, I can’t lie that well. No way is Rory going to take your news well. Not that I blame him. If someone quoted me one amount for a job, and then wanted to lowball me, I’d throw a fit, too.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Elizabeth resisted the urge to pick at her nail polish. “Devlin wants me to have renegotiated Rory’s contract by tomorrow’s meeting.”
“Push the meeting back.”
“I tried. Devlin refused.”
“Sure sucks to be you.”
Elizabeth grabbed a scrap of paper off the desk, wadded it up and tossed it at her friend. The shot fell short, landing in Chloe’s lap. “I don’t need you pointing out the obvious. What I need are suggestions on how to keep Rory from strangling me when I talk to him.”
“The best you can hope for is avoiding a major scene and/or violence.”
Elizabeth laid her head on the desk. “You’re right. I’m going down in flames.” She peeked up at Chloe. “Where did you go the last time you were going to break up with a guy and you were worried he’d make a scene?”
“I’ll chalk up that comment as a stress-induced insensitivity.” Chloe tossed the wad of paper at Elizabeth, and it bounced off her head. “When I was worried Jason would make a scene when I broke up with him, I did the deed at Bar American.”
“Brilliant idea.” Elizabeth straightened. “Hope springs eternal. No one makes a scene at a restaurant, especially one of Bobby Flay’s.”
“That idea will cost two white peach margaritas from Mesa Grill.”
“Well worth the price, and speaking of Mesa Grill, I think we’ll eat there. The Southwestern food and atmosphere are more Rory’s style.” Elizabeth stood and walked across the room. “I’m off to call him. Hopefully he hasn’t eaten yet. I’ve got the making-a-scene issue under control, but how am I going to convince him to take a pay cut?”
“I have no idea. You’re on your own there.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
As she walked out of Chloe’s office, she told herself to think positive and pray, because that was her only hope—divine intervention.
* * *
ELIZABETH ARRIVED at the restaurant fifteen minutes early, in the hopes that by the time Rory showed up she’d have developed a strategy to convince him to agree to the pay reduction. As she waited, she told herself she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Rory hadn’t been signed to a contract. She acted on behalf of the client with the model. Despite all those logical reasons, the thought of renegotiating his contract left her feeling a little sleazy.
She’d think positive. Would convince him this setback wasn’t permanent. He could turn this into an opportunity to impress the client, and get a huge raise on the next contract.
Elizabeth thought for a minute. How lame was that? Unless Rory was comatose, no way would he buy it.
She glanced around the restaurant. Hanging on one wall was a picture of a cow. Another had a picture of John Wayne in classic cowboy pose and dress. The booth upholstery was a print of cowboys on horses. Rory would fit right in. The restaurant should remind him of hearth and home, and hopefully put him in a good mood.
By the time he arrived, ten minutes late, she hadn’t come up with a better option. After the maître d’ showed him to the table, Elizabeth bit her lip and resisted the urge to lecture him about the importance of promptness for business meetings.
His hair was damp, as if he’d just crawled out of the shower, and curled at the collar of his plain white shirt. With that he wore a pair of navy slacks. She smiled when she noticed he still had on his cowboy boots and the royal flush belt buckle. Cowboy GQ. Not bad. Her pulse jumped. Seeing him now made her realize what a fool Devlin was to risk losing Rory by haggling over money.
“I appreciate you meeting with me after such a long day.” She looked pointedly at her watch once he sat across from her.
“I had to eat. This way you’re picking up the tab.”
Elizabeth winced. If Rory was worrying about the cost of dinner, Chloe was right. She would go down in flames once she brought up renegotiating his salary.
For a moment she focused on the menu, not quite sure where to begin. Business meetings usually never bothered her, so why was this one making her uncomfortable? And it was more than the fact that she had to renegotiate his contract. Maybe because across the table from her sat one gorgeous man. She scoffed at the idea. She’d been alone at similar meetings before with way better-looking male models.
Gay models. Big deal.
From the red-hot glance he’d tossed her when he’d pulled off his shirt this afternoon, the man had to be straight. No gay man could look a woman in the eyes like that and nearly singe her eyebrows.
The waiter took their drink orders, pulling her away from her unsettling thoughts. Deciding her brain was fuddled enough from lack of sleep, and this was a business meeting, she stuck with water. Rory ordered a beer.
To repair any damage she’d done to their karma that afternoon, Elizabeth said, “First of all, I wanted to apologize if I offended you in any way at the shoot today. I’m afraid I may have come off a little harsh. There’s so much riding on this campaign, and it’s put me a bit on edge.”
“I’m a big boy. I can take it.”
His words, coupled with his sultry gaze, sent tremors rippling through Elizabeth. She grabbed her water glass and took a long sip, not quite sure what to make of his comment. The man either loved playing word games or was clueless about how what he said sounded to other people.
Since ignoring the comment provided the wisest course, Elizabeth barreled onward. “I wanted to apprise you of what transpired today in my meeting with Micah Devlin.” Start with the positives. She sucked in a deep breath and smiled. “He was very happy with your photos. He thinks you definitely have the image and the presence he’s looking for to represent his company’s jeans.”
Rory nodded, grabbed a slice of sourdough bread and slathered it with butter. “What’s our next step?”
Out of the corner of her eye Elizabeth noticed an attractive redhead with perfect teeth flashing a smile Rory’s way.
“We hope to get you on some morning shows.”
He nodded again, revealing no signs of panic in his voice or his facial expression. Good. Elizabeth relaxed her grip on her water glass.
The redhead continued to stare. A stunning blonde at the bar looked at Rory as if she wanted to skip dinner and go straight to him for dessert.
On the good-news side, he garnered exactly the reaction Elizabeth had hoped for with women. On the negative side, having them openly drooling over him set off a feeling alarmingly close to jealousy in her.
“How do you feel about doing interviews?” she asked. “Have you had any experience with that kind of situation?”
“I’ve been interviewed for the local paper a time or two.”
“Good.” That was better than nothing. Barely. “Then you’re used to having a reporter ask you questions.” Elizabeth almost stumbled over her words. What kind of tough questions could a local reporter ask? What do you think of the price of grain at the feed store? “Sometimes a reporter will put you on the spot. If you think it’ll make you more comfortable, we could do some practice interviews.”
“Whatever you say.”
Why was he being so agreeable? Nervousness tickled her spine. This couldn’t be the same man who’d refused to take off his shirt earlier today. Something was up, and from her interactions with Rory so far, she reasoned it couldn’t be good. Either that or the man had undergone a stubbornectomy since their photo shoot.
She shook herself mentally. Quit borrowing trouble.
The waiter placed a glass in front of Rory, then poured the bottled beer and asked if he could take their orders.
“The ancho chile-honey glazed salmon is superb. I highly recommend it.” She turned to the waiter. “In fact, that’s what I’ll have tonight.”
He nodded and turned to Rory.
“I’ll have the rib eye, rare, and a side of mashed potatoes.”
It figured he was a meat-and-potatoes guy. She took a drink of water and focused on her goal.
“Back to the interviews,” Elizabeth said, once the waiter departed. “When I met you in Colorado, you seemed fairly comfortable talking to people.”
“I hold my own.”
“On the guided tours you talk about your local community and its history. Are you comfortable talking about other things?”
His right eyebrow inched upward. “I’m aware of what’s going on in the world. We get cable and everything in Estes Park.”
She mentally cringed. How did she keep managing to say the wrong thing? She’d never been prone to that before. “I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t. I was wondering what topics you felt comfortable talking about in an interview.”
“I can talk about most anything. Being in the tourist industry has taught me to think on my feet. You wouldn’t believe some of the situations that come up.” Then he smiled. She almost reached into her purse for her sunglasses. “Or maybe you would, considering our first meeting.”
Her mouth went dry. His smile could make Mother Teresa sin. Elizabeth had to get that smile on film.
“The main thing to remember in interviews is to be upbeat and personable.”
“And to be positive about the client’s product. See, I can be taught.”
She laughed. The man possessed quite a sense of humor. “I forget that this is all new to you, and you’re not a professional model. I also proposed television commercials to Devlin as part of the campaign. He wants to meet you before we go further. He’s a bit of a control freak.”
“Takes one to know one.”
She bristled until she looked at him. Humor shone in his sparkling brown eyes. “I could say the same for you.”
“Sure could. That’s what made today’s photo session hard for me. Seemed like everyone was telling me what to do. I’m not used to that.”
She made a mental note to slow down and explain things to him on future shoots.
“FYI, the only one you need to listen to is me, unless the client’s present.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She liked this easygoing man a lot better than the pain-in-the-ass model from earlier in the day. Too bad she had to spoil things by bringing up salary issues.
“Devlin wants to meet you tomorrow at ten. Will that work for you?”
“I’m at your service.”
Rory’s slow drawl wrapped around her, sending a rush of heat through her system. If he used that voice in TV commercials, women would cause a stampede on their way to department stores to buy Devlin’s men’s jeans.
“I appreciate your flexibility,” she said as their waiter placed their entrées in front of them.
The redhead who’d been eyeing Rory since he arrived, now finished with her meal, sauntered toward their table on a roundabout way to the front door. All the while she eyed Rory like an air force pilot preparing for a precision strike. She slowed down beside their table and then “accidentally” dropped her purse right at Rory’s feet.
He reached down, picked up the woman’s crimson leather bag and held it out to her. When she accepted it, she none too subtly slipped a piece of paper into his hand, smiled and strutted away.
How could she hit on a guy when he was with another woman? Elizabeth was amazed at such tackiness. She stared at Rory and waited. What straight man under the age of eighty wouldn’t take this gorgeous woman up on what she so obviously offered?
He tossed the paper on his bread plate without even glancing at the note.
Wonders never ceased. Elizabeth scooped up a piece of salmon. Knowing her time was running out, she found the expertly cooked fish tasted like paper in her mouth. She needed to get to the money issue before they finished their entrées. “Is there anything you’re concerned about with our meeting tomorrow with Devlin?”
“Should I be?”
No, I’m the one who should be worried, since Devlin wanted me to renegotiate your salary.
She shook her head. “Devlin wants to meet you before he officially puts his stamp of approval on the campaign and signs the contracts, but we shouldn’t have any problems. You’re the right person for the job.”
She knew she should bring up the subject of money, but couldn’t. The topic change would bring their pleasant dinner to a quick and deadly end. “How long have you lived in Colorado?”
“All my life. I’m third-generation. All my family’s there.”
She couldn’t imagine living where her parents and grandparents lived. Probably because her parents never stayed very long in one place.
“How ’bout you?”
“I’ve lived in New York state all my life, but I’ve only lived here in the city since I graduated from college.”
She paused, hoping he would share his educational background with her. When he didn’t, she gathered it was probably because he lacked a college education.
When the waiter cleared away their dinner plates, Elizabeth knew she couldn’t avoid the salary issue any longer. She took a long drink of water and then forced the words past her tight throat before she chickened out. “There was one thing Devlin wanted me to discuss with you before tomorrow’s meeting.” She swallowed hard, struggling to choose the correct words. Hell, there weren’t words that would make this any easier. “Seeing as you have no name recognition and no experience—”
“You said that made me interesting.”
He remembered that, huh? Figured. He possessed the most inconvenient memory. “Name recognition and experience are vital in the modeling industry, and factor into what a company is willing to pay. Because you lack those two things Mr. Devlin feels thirty thousand for the campaign is a little high. He thinks twenty thousand is more reasonable.”
There. She’d gotten the words out. She waited for the hurricane to hit.
“We agreed to thirty thousand,” Rory said, his voice low and unexpectedly calm, like the air before the storm hit and tossed trees and buildings around.
“Yes, that’s what we discussed, but we haven’t signed a contract.”
She considered telling Rory to get an agent to watch out for his best interest, but her conscience balked at the idea. She and Rory worked for Devlin Designs. In this situation she represented her agency and her client, not the model.
Rory crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze drilled into her. “I can head right on back to Colorado. My job there’s waiting for me. It’s no skin off my nose.”

CHAPTER SIX
AFTER DELIVERING HIS ULTIMATUM, Rory took a long swallow of beer, hoping the icy liquid would calm his rising temper. He should’ve known better than to trust Lizzie. Obviously, he hadn’t learned the don’t-trust-career-driven-city-women lesson well enough from Melissa.
Memories rushed back. They’d met at Harvard, and he, young idealistic fool that he’d been, had fallen madly in love. They’d made plans for a future together, or least he thought they had.
He’d believed Melissa loved him enough to follow him to Colorado. When she accepted his proposal she’d agreed to live with him on the ranch, but the closer the wedding date loomed on the calendar, the more she waffled, until she finally admitted she’d changed her mind. She wanted him to move to Boston instead, and if he wouldn’t the engagement was off.
Now here he sat across the table from another bossy city woman, and apparently Lizzie thought him a complete idiot. What did she expect him to say when she announced the client wanted to throw their deal out the window and renegotiate?
Sure, you can screw me over. I’ll let you.
No way would he roll over and play dead. He wouldn’t go down without one helluva fight. Not when his mom’s life was at stake.
Rory carefully folded his napkin and placed it on the table. A deal was a deal. “I specifically asked you what this job would pay, and you told me thirty thousand. If there was a chance the job would pay less, that was the time to tell me.”
Elizabeth paled.
Good. No way would he make this comfortable or easy for her.
“In my own defense, I discussed the issue with Devlin, and thought we were clear on this.” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Yesterday was the first time he mentioned not wanting to pay you that amount.”
“He needs to honor our agreement, and so do you.”
Rory prided himself on conducting his business honestly and above reproach. Obviously, Devlin possessed fewer scruples.
“While you and I had discussed your monetary compensation, until a contract is signed there isn’t a formal agreement in place with the client, and renegotiation is possible.”
“Is this how he does business?”
“I’ve never had a problem like this with him before.”
“I’m just lucky then.”
“I don’t blame you for being upset.”
He couldn’t let her know how important this job was to him, but he couldn’t let her and Devlin screw him on the deal, either. “I’m past upset. I’m about ready to tell the guy to go to hell.”
“Then we’ll both be out of a job.”
“And Devlin will be out of a spokesperson.” Rory leaned back in his chair. “He’ll have to start his search all over.”
“Everybody loses then. What good does that do?”
“It’ll make me feel damn good. I won’t play the fool.”
“No one is doing that. This is a business decision. You have to prove to Devlin that you’ll increase sales enough to justify what he’s paying you. If you had modeling experience, you could point to previous campaigns, and what they’d done for the company.”
“Just because I don’t have the numbers to prove it doesn’t mean I won’t bring in money.”
“I agree. In fact, I’m banking on that very fact, but Micah Devlin is a numbers man. If he can’t see it on paper, it doesn’t exist.”
“Is this a deal breaker for Devlin?”
“I honestly don’t know, but it very well could be. He mentioned that cowboys had to be a dime a dozen.”
“I don’t see a whole lot of them in New York City.” Rory waved his arm around the room. “You see a lot of cowboys here?”
“I tried all these arguments with Devlin. Between you and me, and if you mention this to anyone I’ll deny it, I don’t agree with what he’s doing.”
“But here you are, asking me to work for less.”
“Devlin Designs is my client. I have to respect the CEO’s wishes.” Her finger drew lines in the condensation on her water glass. “If you want to keep your job, the best thing to do is agree to Devlin’s demands.”
“I’ve met this kind of businessman before. He doesn’t care who he plows over as long as the deal works out well for him.”
“Help me out here.” Elizabeth leaned forward and placed her small hand on his forearm.
Her simple touch sent off shock waves through his system stronger than a kick from an unbroken horse, momentarily sending him into a giant fog.
“I sense we both want to find a solution to this problem,” she continued. “I don’t want to see you get screwed, but Devlin’s met with other agencies. He could go with someone else.”
“I can’t take less money.” If Rory gave in now, Devlin would try to screw him again somewhere down the road. “I do more than give tours. I breed horses. Sometimes on paper a foal doesn’t look like he’ll be anything out of the ordinary. Then when I work with him I see something special, something I can’t put a finger on. You know those intangibles you were talking about.”
She nodded.
“When I come across a horse like that, I’m going to drive a hard bargain when I sell him. What I’m saying is I’m an experienced horse trader. No one’s going to take advantage of me.”
* * *
AT NINE-FIFTY the next morning, Elizabeth met Rory in the agency reception area and ushered him to her office, closing the door behind them. A night of worry and anger threatened to choke her. “Please tell me you’ve changed your mind about your salary demands.”
Rory shook his head. “The man told you he’d pay me thirty. That’s what you told me. A deal’s a deal.”
She hated stubborn men. She ought to put Rory and Devlin in a room and let them fight it out, because she’d had enough of both of them.
“There’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this?”
“Nope.”
She reminded herself to breathe. Maybe when faced with Rory’s defiance, Devlin would back down.
Sure, and as Chloe often said, pigs would fly.
At least Rory was dressed like the cowboy spokesman Devlin wanted. He wore the same navy shirt he’d worn when they’d met, plus his boots and his royal flush belt buckle. “I’m glad you had the common sense to wear the client’s jeans.”
“Don’t give up, Lizzie.” He reached out to her, but at the last minute pulled back and shoved his hand in his pocket. “You might be surprised how this meeting turns out.”
His smooth, cool voice wrapped around her, and the confidence in his eyes almost had her believing him. Wait a minute. How could he remain this calm and collected unless he was up to something?
“Tell me you don’t have some harebrained scheme planned.”
“Would I do that?”
“I don’t know you well enough to answer that question.” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, that’s not true. I suspect you’d try just about anything to get your way.”
“Harebrained ideas aren’t my style.”
These two men were going to kill her. Either that or drive her completely insane if she didn’t rein them in. But before she could respond, her office phone buzzed. She reached around Rory, grabbed her phone and answered the inside line.
After ending the call, she picked up her Netbook off her desk. “Devlin’s waiting. Don’t try anything we’ll both regret. He’s a very astute businessman and doesn’t like to be questioned.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I recognize sarcasm when I hear it, and I don’t appreciate it. At least listen to what the man has to say. He’s always been reasonable in the past.”
“I have to do what’s right.”
“Please…” She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. Muscles rippled under her palm, sending corresponding waves ricocheting through her. “Remain open-minded.”
A second later he broke the contact. As she and Rory walked toward the conference room, she couldn’t help but think she was heading into a business meeting that would end in a pissing match. As the only non-testosterone-filled party present, she’d be utterly doomed.
When they entered the conference room, she introduced the two men and they shook hands.
“I don’t believe in running around the mountain,” Rory said as he sank into a leather chair across from Devlin at the conference table. “I climb straight to the top. I heard you had concerns about the campaign.”
Elizabeth cringed as she sat beside Devlin and booted up her Netbook. Hadn’t the cowboy ever heard of small talk and tact? She turned to Devlin. “Rory and I met last night.” She tossed him an I-talked-with-him-like-you-told-me-to look. “I shared some of your concerns regarding the campaign.”
“My first concern has been addressed,” Devlin said. “I wanted to make sure your voice will work in commercials and in public appearances.”
“I’m glad we have that settled.” Elizabeth retrieved the file containing her notes. “Rory and I discussed him doing spots on morning shows.” She glanced at her file to refresh her fuzzy, sleep-deprived brain, then swiveled her chair toward Devlin. “Rory’s had experience with the local media. Morning shows won’t be his first interview situation. Also, his work with tourists from all over the world has taught him to deal with unusual situations and to think on his feet.”
She smiled. Could she spin a situation or what?
“National morning shows are very different from being interviewed by local reporters,” Devlin said.
Rory leaned forward in his chair and braced his elbows on the table. “People are people. I figure if I treat these high-priced morning show hosts with respect, I ought to do fine.”
Respect? Sirens blared in Elizabeth’s head, sensing where Rory’s thoughts had turned. Her mind scrambled to determine a way to derail him before he blasted Devlin. Say anything. Just get the words out before Rory does. “That attitude will definitely come across on TV, and people will relate to Rory for that. Don’t you agree, Micah?”
“I have a lot riding on this campaign,” Devlin said to Rory.
“As long as I represent your company, in public no one will see me in jeans other than yours.”
“As it should be.”
Rory nodded. “I’ll talk up the product. I can tour the rodeo circuit. I know a few boys that might be able to get us some publicity in that market. What you see here is what you get. I pride myself on honesty.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut instead, deciding to sit back and watch the show. Rory had said he was an experienced horse trader. He hadn’t been joking. The cowboy was holding his own with Devlin. No small accomplishment, considering Devlin held an MBA.
“I expect the same from you,” Rory added. “Which brings me to the issue of money. We had a verbal agreement regarding my payment, and now you’re going back on your word.”
“This is business, and until there’s a signed contract, everything is negotiable.” Devlin straightened in his chair. “With your experience, thirty thousand for a campaign is a bit high.”
“I’m worth every penny.” Rory leaned forward.
The man’s confidence astounded her, and was in fact a thing of beauty to watch.
“There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance.” Devlin’s hands tightened around the upholstered chair arms as he glared at him.
“I have a proposition for you,” Rory said, clearly unfazed by Devlin’s harsh look. “I did some checking on the internet last night. From what I gathered, a spokesman is usually paid every time pictures are taken or a commercial is shot. Then he gets paid again when ads run in magazines, newspapers or on TV. He also gets paid more for interviews.”
Devlin nodded.
Elizabeth sat back, somewhat shocked. Sure, people could discover just about anything on the web, but that didn’t mean they understood what they read. Rory actually sounded as if he knew what he was talking about.
“From what I read, the spokesman makes more money that way than with a flat fee, but I read about something called a buyout. I’ll sign a contract today for thirty grand.”
Thin lines formed around Devlin’s mouth. “I have no guarantee you can pull off interviews or a TV commercial. I’m taking all the risk here.”
“Then I’ll have my agent call you.”
Rory’s little gem of news hit Elizabeth right between the eyes. Anger clogged her throat. Agent? How dare he not mention he’d signed with someone?
Wait a minute. Rory couldn’t have gotten an agent in the last two days. She relaxed. He was bluffing, and doing a damned good job of it.
Devlin’s angry eyes pinned Elizabeth like a butterfly in a child’s science project. “You said he was representing himself.”
“That’s what I was told.”
“If money’s going to be an issue, we can stop things right here. I’ll get an agent, and you can deal with him.” Rory crossed his arms over his broad chest. His determined gaze drilled into Devlin. “Who would you rather negotiate with? I’m guessing it’s me, but the choice is up to you.”
Elizabeth held her breath and waited. She’d just witnessed horse trading at its finest.
“I’m willing to go as high as twenty-five, but I want the payments made in thirds over the course of the contract.”
“I want half up front forty-eight hours after I sign the contract.”
“Deal, but I want everything we’ve agreed to today put into the contract.” Devlin held out his hand, and he and Rory shook on it.
Miracles did happen. Elizabeth closed her eyes to hide her relief. When she opened them, she reached for her Netbook. “I’ll write up the contract terms as negotiated, and let you both review it. Then you can send it to your legal department, Micah.”
Both men nodded.
“I’ll have the agency’s contract to you later today,” Devlin told Elizabeth. He turned to Rory. “If you give me your email address, I’ll send you our contract with you. I’d like to have it signed by early next week so we can proceed with the campaign.”
“I’ll sign it as soon as I have a lawyer look over it.”
Ten minutes later, a slightly shell-shocked Elizabeth escorted both men to the reception area. Once Devlin left, she faced Rory. “You should have told me what you intended to do.”
“If I had, would you have trusted me?”
“No.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“While your show was entertaining, and you came up with a good solution that benefited everyone, don’t ever pull something like that again.”
* * *
A WEEK LATER Rory thought he’d lost his mind. All he did was stand around and let people take pictures of him all day, and sit around the hotel watching any sports event he could find on TV all night.
He’d talked to Griff a few times. The first time, he’d called to get an update and make sure Devlin’s check cleared. So far, his little brother was doing a fine job managing the ranch in his absence. Not being missed there had been a tough pill to get down.
Restless and needing to see the sky above his head, Rory decided to take a walk. He missed being outside, being active. He’d tried working out in the hotel gym, and that helped some, but he needed to feel fresh air and the sun on his skin. Remembering his agreement with Devlin, he pulled off his worn Wranglers and tossed on the designer jeans before grabbing his hat and heading out.
The list of reasons he’d be happy once this gig was over kept growing, starting with the jeans. He’d never liked the blasted things no matter how much he wore them, and they still made him feel like a sissy.
He hadn’t walked a block when his cell phone rang.
“Thought I’d let you know we signed the papers for Jameson to buy Star’s foal.”
Good. That would help the ranch’s cash flow. “Don’t let him pick up the foal until you’ve got confirmation the money’s been transferred into our accounts.”
“Got it.”
“You’re doing a good job, little brother.”
Had he made it too easy for his siblings, always stepping in to take care of things when the situation got the slightest bit tough? Rory had thought he was helping. Being the oldest, he’d learn everything the hard way. He hadn’t wanted his younger siblings to go the same route.
“I don’t know how you do it. Managing this place is sure cramping my style. I was so damned tired last night I fell asleep at ten o’clock.”
Rory laughed. “Not so easy to be the life of the party when you’ve got to get up at dawn.”
“How are things going on your end?”
“It’s been a long week.” Rory rubbed his stiff neck.
“So modeling’s not all bright lights and pretty girls?”
“It’s hard work. I’m already tired of people telling me what to do.”
Griff chuckled. “Getting a chance to see how the other half lives, huh?”
“Can’t say I like it a whole lot.” Rory stopped at the corner of Broadway and Forty-ninth and waited for the light to change. He’d learned early on that these New York City drivers would just as soon run someone over as stop to avoid him. “You heard from Mom? I called last night, but she was asleep. Avery says she’s holding her own, but the treatment’s tough on her.”
“Avery said it’s worse than chemo.”
As long as the treatment didn’t kill her, but killed the cancer.
“Keep me posted.”
He ended the call. People rushed past him. Everyone here lived in such a hurry. No wonder Elizabeth fit right in. The woman was a whirlwind. Would she act like that in everything she did—that is, if she ever loosened up? If she focused that energy on a man, she could burn him to cinders in the bed. Rory smiled. What a way to go.
Someone bumped into him, mumbled a quick apology and scooted off. This walk wasn’t accomplishing what he’d hoped. Instead of releasing his pent-up energy, being out on the streets had spiked his blood pressure.
He missed the quiet at home. When he hiked in the mountains, he could think. The solitude cleared his head. Whenever he took a walk here, he returned to the hotel with a headache.
He’d hoped the streets might be quiet this early in the morning, but no such luck. Neon lights flashed. Horns honked constantly. People hurried by. He glanced upward, hoping a glimpse of the sky would calm his nerves. Instead, the Times Square billboard caught his gaze. He froze.
No. It couldn’t be.
Lizzie never mentioned anything about a billboard. He stared. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t deny the reality slapping him in the face.

CHAPTER SEVEN
THERE HE WAS, big as the Rocky Mountains, wearing nothing but the blasted fancy designer jeans and his cowboy hat, his arms crossed over his chest for all the world to see. The words Devlin jeans, strong enough for a real man ran along the bottom of the billboard.
He scoffed. Leave it to Lizzie to come up with that slogan. As if any real man would wear these jeans….
And how in the heck did she get the blasted billboard done so fast?
He’d thought the photo shoot had been embarrassing. Seeing himself staring down from a billboard sent him skyrocketing to new heights of humiliation. How would he ever handle television commercials airing on stations in his neck of the woods? At least no one he knew would see this.
Think about the money and Mom. That would get him through.
“Is that you up there?”
He turned to find a twentysomething brunette, her hair pulled into a ponytail and a Texas Rangers baseball hat perched on her head, ping-ponging between him and the billboard.
“It is,” her friend, dressed in jeans and an I love NY T-shirt, said. “He’s wearing the same jeans, and look, he’s got the same poker hand belt buckle.”
“Yup, it’s me.” Unfortunately.
“Are you famous?”
“No.” Please, Lord, let this be the extent of my fame. Don’t even give me fifteen minutes. That’s way too much.
“I bet you’ll be famous soon,” I Love NY said, her eyes glued on him as if he were the only stallion in the pasture.
Some men would think this scenario was a dream come true. “That’s kind of you to say so,” he mumbled.
I Love NY dug through her purse. A second later she handed him a Starbucks receipt and a pen. “Can I have your autograph?”
He almost asked her if she was kidding, before the manners his mother had drilled into his thick skull kicked in. “I’d be happy to. What’s your name?”
“Lindsay.”
He wrote “To Lindsay, thanks for being my first fan,” and signed his name. This autograph stuff wasn’t so bad. He might even grow to like it. “You ladies from New York?”
“We’re here on a girls’ vacation. We’re from Texas.”
“I should’ve guessed that.” He pointed to the baseball cap.
The other woman handed him a scrap of paper. “My name’s Judy.”
He stood there trying to figure out something clever to write. Signing autographs was harder than a person would think unless he simply scrawled his name, or wrote something generic. He thought doing that was kind of a raw deal. Everybody liked to feel special. He finally settled on “Judy, enjoyed meeting you in NYC” and signed his name.
When he looked up from the scrap of paper, a crowd of women had gathered and started tossing questions at him.
“Are you married?”
“No.” Someone else shoved paper and pen into his hand. “Who should I make—”
“Seeing anyone?”
An image of Lizzie flashed before his eyes. How insane was that? The last thing he needed was a relationship with another city woman. “Not right now.”
He scrawled his name on the paper and held it out. To heck with making them feel special. He just wanted to get out of here. This many women, all focused on him, couldn’t be good. One woman was unpredictable—a gaggle of them downright scary.
“Do you have any pictures?”
“Not right—”
“Do you live in New York?”
These women could teach police interrogation classes.
“I live in Colorado.”
“Here’s my business card,” a tall blonde dressed in black pants and a blouse said. “Call me. We can go out to dinner.”
“Would you like me to show you around the city? Here’s my business card.”
Wonderful, he could start a collection. He managed to toss a smile in the general direction from which the card came.
The circle around him grew tighter. He backed up, bumped into a woman and mumbled a quick apology. A tall redhead leaned toward him. “You and I could have a lot of fun. Let’s get out of here.”
He considered telling her he was gay, just to get rid of her. But with the way his luck was going, she’d club him over the head and kidnap him to prove he wasn’t, that he just hadn’t met the right woman.
Before he could answer, the ladies all started talking at once, creating quite a noise. To the general crowd he blurted out, “Excuse me, I’ve got to go.”
But when he stepped forward to leave, the circle didn’t budge, and someone grabbed his arm. Fear shot through him. The women had him so surrounded that if he pulled away, he’d knock half of them down.
He turned to the heavyset woman at his elbow and smiled. “Would you mind letting go of my arm? I’m thinking I might need it later today.”
She leaned closer, and the bitter smell of coffee assailed him. “I’m from Littleton. Where in Colorado are you from?”
“I’m from Estes Park.”
Another woman grabbed his left arm. His fear spiked up a notch. “Ladies, if you don’t let go, you’re going to pull me apart like a wishbone.”
“Only if you agree not to go anywhere.”
Right now he’d agree to just about anything to get these two to free him. “I can stick around awhile.”
Apparently satisfied with his promise to stay, the women released him.
But when an escape route presented itself he’d be outta here faster than a jackrabbit with a coyote on its tail. Only who knew how long one would take to appear?
Then someone pinched him on the ass. He jumped and spun around, looking for the guilty party, not quite sure what to do if he identified her.
He drew the line at grabby women. His chest tightened and his heart banged painfully against his ribs. It was either him or them, because he couldn’t take this anymore. Deciding to call in reinforcements rather than trample the women as he broke free, he grabbed his cell phone and called Lizzie. “I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?”
A woman shoved a Wal-Mart receipt and a pen into his hand. “Will you sign an autograph for me?”
“Do you have any pictures like the one on the billboard to sign?” someone else yelled. “I’d love one of those.”
He tried to tune out the barrage of questions. “They’ve got me surrounded. You have to help me get back to the hotel.”
“Who?”
“What hotel are you staying at?” someone shouted at him.
They could torture him for days, but no way would he give out that information.
“Women have me surrounded,” he said, cupping his hand, still clutching the now sweaty pen and paper, around his ear in an attempt to hear better. “There’s a whole herd of them. They’re asking for my autograph. They’re asking if I have pictures like the billboard. I don’t know what to do, and they won’t let me leave.”
“This is fantastic!”
“No, it’s not.” A camera flash went off in his face, momentarily blinding him. Great. Now he was completely defenseless.
“We have a few photos of the billboard shot. I’ll be there with them in ten minutes. This is exactly the kind of reaction we want.”
“I’m glad one of us is happy, but you’d better get here sooner than ten minutes.”
“Whatever you do, be nice. Keep people talking, and try to get them to stay. As often as you can, mention Devlin’s men’s jeans and that they’re available at department stores.”
He was in the middle of a feeding frenzy, and Lizzie was worried about how often he mentioned the product? Didn’t her business mind ever take a day off?
He and Griff had often fought over the last cookie in the jar. More often than not, the treat had ended up in pieces. Rory never dreamed he’d one day know how the cookie felt.
* * *
CLUTCHING A HANDFUL of photos and wearing a huge smile, Elizabeth hurried to Times Square. Rory said a crowd had gathered. She should’ve asked him how many people were there. He lived in a town of seven thousand, so probably thought ten people constituted a crowd.
Her mind raced, trying to develop ways to capitalize on the situation. Hopefully, people would still be there when she arrived. That way they could keep the impromptu autographing going. If she got lucky, and it was a slow news day, maybe a local channel would stop by.
Why leave the situation to chance? Make it happen, but not with the local stations. The Wake Up America studio sat right on Times Square. She pulled out her phone and called a reporter on the show that she’d met at a breast cancer awareness event she’d attended last year. “Brooke, have you seen the new Times Square billboard?”
“Is it one of yours?”
“Sure is, and this cowboy’s a dream.”
“I’ll have to check it out.”
“My guy’s there now, and from what I hear, he’s gathering quite a crowd. Women are already recognizing him.” Elizabeth sped up and dodged a cab. “If it’s a slow day, it could make a cute filler piece on tomorrow’s show. Colorado cowboy takes the big city by storm.”
“Trolling for free publicity again?”
“This could be mutually beneficial. Rory’s the new spokesman for Devlin’s men’s jeans. He’s going to be hot. You could be the first show to interview him.”
She turned the corner onto Broadway and spotted a crowd of at least thirty women. “Got to go. Trust me. Get over here. You don’t want to miss out on this.”
Adrenaline shot through Elizabeth’s system. She couldn’t have orchestrated a better scenario. Rushing forward, she started handing out Rory’s photo to women, and shoved a Sharpie into his hand.
“Get me out of here,” he pleaded, his eyes wide with fear.
She almost laughed. The man towered above the women and outweighed most of them by at least fifty pounds.
“No way. We’re making the most of this.”
He leaned down and his warm breath tickled her ear. “They’re getting grabby. I’ve been pinched three times.”
She couldn’t hold back her laughter this time. To these women Rory probably looked like a piece of chocolate cake at a Weight Watchers meeting. “You’ll survive. Sometimes you’ve got to take one for the team.”
He glared at her. “The team damned well better appreciate this.”
“Duly noted.”
Part of her did feel sorry for him. Models expected this kind of thing and had experience dealing with public appearances. Rory was completely out of his element. She made a mental note to prep him for these types of public situations. Her instincts told her this wouldn’t be the last time someone recognized him.
“Ladies, Rory will be glad to talk to all of you. If you could just move back a little bit to give him some breathing room, that would be great.”
While he signed autographs and answered personal questions, she told everyone they could find Devlin’s men’s jeans at most department stores. She and Rory made a pretty good team. Once they returned to the office, she’d call Devlin to tell him Rory had been recognized from the billboard, and that the reaction he’d received had been exactly what they’d hoped for.
The situation went great for about ten minutes. Then suddenly, a fortysomething woman dressed in skintight jeans and a rhinestone T-shirt cupped her hand around Rory’s magnificent butt and goosed him. He jumped, his panicked gaze locking with Elizabeth’s.
She placed her palm gently on the diva’s arm. “Please treat Rory with respect.”
“Are you accusing me of something?”
The woman tugged her arm free at the same time Elizabeth removed her hand. Elizabeth flew backward, knocking into part of the crowd. Coffee rained down.
Another woman grabbed Rory. The brittle sound of tearing material filled Elizabeth’s ears. Glancing at him, she saw his shirtfront was ripped from the pocket to the waist, revealing his bronzed, toned chest.
The noise grew deafening. Women yelled about getting splashed with coffee. Some screamed as they fell to the sidewalk. Others threatened to trample them. Women lunged at Rory.
Elizabeth reached for the fallen ones. “Watch out. Don’t step on anyone,” Rory said as he helped a middle-aged lady to her feet.
Women shoved each other, trying to get away or to get to Rory. An even bigger crowd grew as passersby stopped to watch the scene. It looked like one of those old films, with the blundering cops falling over each other.
What had she done?
“This wasn’t what I had in mind,” Elizabeth said as she helped another woman to her feet.
“You didn’t mean to start a catfight?” Rory asked.
She shook her head. “What do we do? How do I stop this?” She had experience creating buzz, not shutting it down.
“Running comes to mind.”
A whistle blew, immediately halting the chaos.
“Who started all this?” a policeman asked as he approached.
Every person except Rory pointed to Elizabeth.
“Officer, this is all a terrible misunderstanding,” she said, desperate to diffuse the situation and pacify the cop. “A crowd had gathered. People got a little close. Someone bumped into someone else, and then everything went crazy.”
“Everything was fine until she got here,” the woman in the rhinestone T-shirt yelled.
What was it with her? Did she wake up this morning intent on destroying someone’s life, and Elizabeth held the lucky ticket?
“Everyone seems pretty clear you’re the instigator. Start at the beginning with why a crowd had gathered,” the officer told Elizabeth.
She paused, not quite sure what to say. Police frowned on impromptu advertising events. They were sticklers for permits and advance notice. Both of which she’d forgotten in her excitement.
“Women started asking me for autographs when they recognized me from this,” Rory said, pointing upward.
The officer glanced at the billboard. “Nice photo.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Were you one of the autograph seekers?”
“I work with Rory.”
“In what capacity? Are you his agent?” The man glared at her disapprovingly.
What she wouldn’t give to be beamed out of this situation. Or to have the ability to erase everyone’s memory, starting with this cop and the question he’d just asked. Because unless she lied, her answer would not make him happy.
She swallowed hard and prayed she could talk her way out of this sticky situation. “I’m not his agent. I’m the executive in charge of the ad campaign.”
“You decided to stage an impromptu advertising event,” the officer accused. “You thought you could get some free publicity without the hassle of getting the proper permits. When are you ad people going to realize you can’t do that?”
“I absolutely did not stage this.”
“I was feeling a little cooped up this morning, so I took a walk,” Rory said. “When the crowd gathered I called Elizabeth to help me.”
“What happened when you arrived?”
“She passed out pictures for him to sign, and started bossing everyone around,” one woman, probably the diva, said.
“She bumped into me and spilled coffee all over me,” another added.
The officer raised his hands, silencing everyone. “I’ve heard enough. I’m giving you and cowboy guy tickets for disturbing the peace, unlawful assemblage, failure to obtain the proper permits, and anything else I can think of. This little stunt is going to cost your company a bundle, little lady.”
“That’s all you’re going to do?” someone called out.
“You should arrest her for assault,” another woman added.
“That might not be a bad idea.”
If this kept up these women would get her life in prison. Talk about a mob mentality.
Rory glanced at the officer. “Can I speak to you alone, man to man?”
The cop nodded and motioned to the crowd. “The rest of you, break it up. If your clothes were damaged, get a business card from her.”
When he pointed at Elizabeth, she said, “I’ll be happy to pay for dry cleaning or replace any garments that can’t be cleaned.”
As she handed out business cards and the crowd dispersed, Rory said, “This is my fault. I’m new to all this stuff. A few weeks ago I was in Colorado giving horseback riding tours. Now here, today, I was surrounded by a group of women wanting my autograph. It’s a little much for a simple cowboy to handle. They got very close, if you know what I mean.”
The officer laughed. “I can see that from your shirt.”
“That wasn’t the only place they got grabby.” Rory shuddered. “They damn near scared me to death. I tried to leave, but they circled around me. The only way I could’ve escaped was to run the ladies over, but I was raised to treat women right.”
Elizabeth watched in amazement as the officer’s posture relaxed the longer he spoke with Rory. Give them five more minutes and they’d probably be fast friends.
The cop tilted his head toward Elizabeth. “What about her?”
“I called her. The crowd kept asking me for pictures, and I figured that if she brought some, they’d take the photos and go.”
“You promise me nothing like this will ever happen again?”
“It won’t, because if it did, it’d probably kill me.”
The officer nodded and then turned to Elizabeth. “I want one of your business cards, because if I hear you’ve been involved in something like this again, I won’t just ticket you. I’ll haul you off to jail.”
* * *
AS LIZZIE AND RORY walked into her office, his anger threatened to boil over. If he was back home, he’d saddle Blaze and head for the mountains, hoping a long ride would clear his head and cool his temper. If that didn’t work, he’d muck out a few stalls to burn off steam. Unfortunately, none of those options were available.

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