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 we
ar 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.
Big City Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) Page 3
