Читать книгу Home on the Ranch: Colorado - Julie Benson, C.C. Coburn - Страница 14

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.”