Big City Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) Page 2

  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 positiv
e. 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 non negotiable. 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 as
ked 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.