Big City Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)

by Benson, Julie

  The hospital door slid open behind them, ushering in a gust of fresh Colorado air and Micah Devlin. Lizzie stiffened and moved away slightly as he approached.

  Rory glanced from one to the other. What was up there?

  When Devlin reached them, his adoring gaze locked on to Avery. “How’s your mother? When I checked out this morning the front desk manager told me she collapsed last night.”

  Not happy with Devlin’s interest in his baby sister, Rory said, “We’re waiting for test results. Then Dr. Greer and Mom’s oncologist in Portland will go over everything in a phone conference.”

  Devlin reluctantly turned toward Rory. “If it would help, I’ll send the company jet to Portland and fly your mother’s oncologist here. Or if they’d have better treatment for her in Portland, I can fly her there.”

  For a minute Rory stood there regrouping. Talk about a shot out of the blue. Once he recovered from his shock over Devlin’s unexpected offer, he murmured, “Why would you do that? If it’s to get me to do the underwear campaign, it won’t work.”

  “My grandmother had cancer.”

  It made sense now. He belonged to the cancer-patient’s-family club. That explained why Devlin made the offer, but did Rory want to accept? He’d given up bits and pieces of his pride over the last months. How much more could he lose before the well was tapped out?

  He had to draw the line somewhere. “Thanks for the offer, but we’re doing fine.”

  Lizzie turned to Griff and whispered something.

  “What did you say, Elizabeth?” Rory scowled at his brother. “What’s going on?”

  “I asked Griff for his keys.” Lizzie shifted awkwardly. “I thought I’d wait in the car while all of you talked.”

  Was she that eager to get away from him? Rory stared into her eyes, trying to determine what she was thinking.

  Please. Tell me you want to stay. That you can’t bear to walk out of my life.

  She held out her hand to Griffin.

  Avery glanced between Rory and Elizabeth as if she wanted to say something, or hit him. Rory couldn’t tell which. Griffin tossed him a what-do-you-want-me-to-do-bro look.

  Rory wouldn’t beg her to stay. He couldn’t. If he asked Lizzie to remain in Colorado with him and she turned him down, how could he survive her rejection? Letting her go was safer. “Griff, take Elizabeth to the airport so she doesn’t miss her flight.”

  A WEEK LATER, Rory sat in his office, staring at the mountains, still reeling from Lizzie’s departure. He’d felt connected to her in a way he’d never imagined possible, especially after she’d gotten him through the scare with his mother. The love he felt for her made what he’d shared with Melissa seem like a childhood crush.

  He’d thought about calling Lizzie, but she hadn’t given him any indication she wanted anything to do with him. He’d hoped when he mentioned her going to the airport, she’d say something about wanting to stay, but apparently, they’d scratched each other’s itches and now the fling was over.

  At least he hadn’t begged her to stay. This way, while he hurt like hell, he still had his pride. Granted, that wasn’t much, but as his dad used to say, it was better than a kick in the teeth.

  How could he have thought he could have a brief affair with Lizzie? He wasn’t a love ’em and leave ’em guy like Griff. Rory wanted—hell, needed—that emotional connection, and the minute he’d touched Lizzie, deep inside he’d known he never wanted to let her go. He’d been a fool. Making love to her hadn’t gotten Lizzie out of his system. Instead he’d fallen even more in love with her.

  His cell phone rang. Hoping to find Lizzie on the line, he glanced at the caller ID. Disappointment crashed over him when he instead saw Devlin’s name. Rory had to stop wishing she’d call. A man could handle only so many letdowns before he became a masochist.

  He answered the phone, and again thanked Devlin for offering the use of the corporate jet.

  “Avery said she and your mom fly to Portland once a month. If you email me the treatment dates, I’d be happy to send the jet for them.”

  While Rory’s pride wanted him to say he could get his mother and sister to Portland, his financial common sense won out. Eliminating airfare costs would save a chunk of change, and he’d come to realize there was no shame in accepting help. “Thanks. I’ll send you the dates.”

  “Now on a business note, I need to inform you of a change I’ve made,” Devlin said, his voice oddly strained. “I’ve signed with another agency for the rest of the men’s campaign.”

  “You fired Elizabeth?”

  “I parted company with her agency on the rest of my business. Her firm will still be handling the advertising for our men’s jeans.”

  Rory had taken business speak 101 at Harvard. No way was he buying Devlin’s whitewashed version. “What happened to Elizabeth when you pulled the rest of your business?”

  “There’s no point to this line of discussion.”

  “There is to me.”

  “I heard she was part of the layoffs Rayzor Sharp Media recently went through.”

  Elizabeth had lost her job, the thing that meant the most to her, because she wouldn’t talk him into modeling underwear. She was a single woman trying to support herself in New York. Not an easy thing to do considering the cost of living. Damned if he’d let her lose her job because she wouldn’t twist his arm.

  “I’ve signed with Harms and Finn,” Devlin continued, after an awkward silence. “The new management supervisor will contact you regarding advertising plans for other products in our line.”

  “Hold on there. I don’t have a contract for anything other than jeans.” Rory smiled. Turnabout wasn’t only fair play, it felt damned good.

  “I’m sure we can come to an understanding regarding further ventures.”

  “Not if it doesn’t include Elizabeth.”

  “This is business. Don’t let your feelings for a woman cloud your judgment.”

  Rory’s hand tightened around his cell phone. “I’ll say this once. My personal life is none of your concern.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you. I should have said that we can make this a profitable business relationship for both of us.”

  “I’m not modeling underwear. Not even if hell freezes over.”

  “We’ll put that on the back burner.”

  Devlin’s twinge of desperation raced across the phone lines. Rory smiled. Being in the driver’s seat was the only way to travel.

  “The new management supervisor and I will fly to Estes Park,” Devlin continued. “We can discuss plans for the rest of the clothing line.”

  “I don’t work with anyone but Elizabeth.”

  “I’m sure once you meet Matthew, you’ll like him.”

  “It’s not a matter of liking the guy or not.” Rory leaned back in his desk chair and stretched his legs out. “Elizabeth earned my trust and respect. If the deal doesn’t include her, forget it.”

  “That’s not the best decision for my company.”

  “You aren’t the only one who has news to share. The billboard and Wake Up America interview created quite a buzz. I’ve had other major men’s clothing companies contact me about acting as a spokesman for their lines,” Rory bluffed.

  “We have an exclusive contract.”

  “For jeans.” Rory paused. “I bet any one of those companies would be willing to hire Elizabeth, too.”

  “We agreed that you’d be Devlin Designs’ men’s spokesperson.”

  “Until a contract is signed regarding the rest of the clothing lines, everything is negotiable.” Throwing Devlin’s words back at him went down as smoothly as Johnny Walker Blue. “This is a business decision. I’m sure you understand that I have to look out for my best interests.”

  Silence. Rory waited. He wished he could see the look on Devlin’s face. The man wouldn’t like being on the disadvantaged side of the negotiation process.

  “If I agree to hire Elizabeth, will you sign a contract to act as our spokespe
rson exclusively for all of our men’s clothes?”

  “Hire Elizabeth and we’ll discuss the issue.”

  ONCE INSIDE HER town house, Elizabeth kicked off her red pumps and collapsed onto her couch. Not even her ruby slippers had helped with today’s interview.

  A sadist had to have invented the job search process. That was the only explanation for the torture involved.

  She picked up her phone and called Nancy. “How’d the chemo go this week?”

  “Not too bad. The new anti-nausea medicine is helping a lot.” Nancy’s voice sounded much stronger than it had in weeks.

  “Thank goodness for modern pharmaceuticals. And congrats. You’ve passed the halfway mark in your treatment.”

  “That does feel good. I love the Fight Like a Girl T-shirt you gave me, by the way.”

  “I thought it was fitting, since you’re one of the toughest—and I mean that in a positive way—women I’ve ever known. You will kick this.” Nancy’s battle put Elizabeth’s job situation into perspective. Her problems were insignificant compared to her friend’s. “What time do you want me to bring over the soup from Cohen’s Deli?”

  “Will six-thirty work?”

  “My schedule is wide open.”

  “Speaking of that, how’s the job search going?”

  After telling Nancy the job situation was going well, Elizabeth ended her call.

  If only the search was going as well as the picture she’d painted for her friend.

  The interview she’d had today with a small but stable agency had gone passably well by most standards. Rhea and Kayse primarily dealt with food service companies. Not the best fit, considering Elizabeth’s culinary skills, and the salary wouldn’t come close to covering her mortgage payment, let alone her other expenses. But she didn’t have a lot of options.

  The more she interviewed, the less enthusiastic she became. She wanted to choose her clients. The thought of getting people to buy luxuries and useless products to increase sales for huge corporations left her feeling hollow. She wanted to help people like Rory, who needed to increase their family business to pay for life’s necessities.

  Thinking of him sent an ache chasing through her system. She’d tried to stop this exercise in futility and focus on her future, but everything reminded her of him. Today, when she’d seen him staring down at her from the Times Square billboard, her eyes had teared up, blurring her vision so badly she’d stumbled off the curb.

  After her interview she’d transferred money from her emergency savings to cover this month’s mortgage payment. Then, after seeing her account balance in stark reality, she’d called a Realtor about putting the town house on the market. If she lived off boxed mac and cheese, ramen noodles and PB&J sandwiches, she could last another two months tops. No getting around the brutal fact that she had to get out from under her mortgage payments. So much for a permanent home.

  She inhaled deeply. No big deal. She’d survived before she purchased the town house, she’d survive after she sold it.

  Darth Vader’s theme rang out from her cell phone. Hell must have frozen over if Devlin was calling. How had she missed that happening when she’d read the paper this morning, and why hadn’t she deleted him from her contact list? “Hello, Micah. What a surprise to hear from you.”

  No kidding. That was like saying snow in June was a surprise.

  “I’ve been reconsidering our working relationship. For cohesiveness’s sake, I’d like you to continue being part of the team on the new men’s line campaign.”

  Good thing she was sitting down because otherwise she would’ve fainted. Yup, hell had definitely frozen over. “You signed with Harms and Finn.” Chloe had relayed that bit of information yesterday.

  “Jack Finn will be contacting you about a position with them.”

  Considering how she’d pretty much told Devlin to go to hell the last time they’d talked, the job offer made no sense, setting off Elizabeth’s if-something-appears-too-good-to-be-true-it-usually-is radar. “What would my position be?”

  “You’d work exclusively coordinating Rory’s shoots and appearances.”

  “Does he know about this?”

  The man’s silence spoke volumes. Rory knew. Devlin was simply trying to figure out how to spin the truth. He cleared his throat. “When I told Rory we’d signed with another agency, he refused to consider any further ventures if you weren’t involved.”

  While thrilled that Rory cared enough to fight to get her job back, she wanted to land a position on her own merits. She didn’t want something handed to her because she was involved with the campaign’s model.

  But if she accepted the job she could probably keep her town house, and she could see Rory again.

  However, accepting Devlin’s offer also meant working with pain-in-the-ass clients. She would go back to having no control over her career and convincing people to buy high-priced designer clothes to make themselves feel better instead of concentrating on the things in life that really mattered. Family. Friends. Honesty. Creating a legacy.

  And the thought of returning to that life left her cold and surprisingly depressed. She desperately needed more.

  Her earlier thoughts flitted through her mind. Small family-owned firms needed, but couldn’t afford, quality advertising. Why couldn’t she work with people like Rory to increase their business and make their lives better? The idea blossomed within her, leaving her more excited about her career than she’d been in years.

  “Micah, while I appreciate your offer, my answer is no, thank you.”

  A WEEK LATER, Elizabeth stood on the McAlister front porch, her purse full of Claritin, and wished her knees would quit knocking. What if Rory didn’t feel the same way she did? After all, he hadn’t called her since she’d left Colorado. Maybe he hadn’t felt the same connection. Maybe he didn’t want a long-term relationship with her. Maybe he didn’t love her like she loved him.

  But he cared enough to strong-arm Devlin to hire her.

  Okay, say he didn’t love her. She still had an advantageous business proposal for him. They could both benefit from her advertising suggestions whether they had a personal relationship or not.

  Who was she kidding? That would never be enough for her.

  “Never thought I’d see you here again.”

  Her breath caught in her throat at Rory’s low, husky voice coming from behind her. With her heart banging against her ribs, she turned to find him standing there on the walkway. He looked almost exactly as he had the day they’d met. Dark blue snap-front shirt, fringed chaps, the crazy royal flush belt buckle and his ever present Stetson. The reality of how much she’d missed him, of how much she loved him, of how much rode on his response to her proposition slammed into her, leaving her weak. “I have a business proposal for you.”

  “Other than the twenty-five grand I made, our last business deal didn’t work out so well. At least the money will get us through a few months.”

  Since his hat shaded his eyes, she couldn’t tell if he was kidding. Didn’t matter. She barreled forward. Big gains required big risks. “I’m unemployed, in large part because of you and your stubbornness. The least you can do is hear me out. I think you owe me that.”

  That’s it, Elizabeth, get off to a good start by blaming the guy. That’ll make him want to talk to you.

  “That didn’t come out right.” She clutched her briefcase tighter to control her shaking hands. “I’d appreciate the opportunity to present my ideas to you.”

  His gaze softened as he sauntered toward her. For a minute she thought he might pull her into his arms. She wished he would. That way she’d know he cared.

  “Come on in and tell me about this business proposal.”

  He opened the front door and stepped aside for her to enter. Once inside, the house’s warmth and comfort enveloped her. Somehow in the short time she’d spent here, this house had become a home to her, more so than any other place she’d lived.

  She walked into the living room and
sank onto the couch. Not knowing what else to say, she asked about Nannette’s health.

  “She’s doing better. The oncologist confirmed her collapse was from stress and exhaustion. He’s ordered her to take it easier.”

  “Bet you’re having fun trying to get her to follow that order.” Elizabeth stared out the window at the mountains, which were so like the man she loved—sturdy, constant, providing shelter to the valleys below.

  “Every day or so I lock her in her room so she has to rest.”

  Elizabeth laughed. She loved his humor, and how he made her smile.

  “Mom and Avery are in Portland for another round of treatment. The last CT scan showed her tumor hasn’t grown.”

  “That’s wonderful news.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and plunged ahead, while she had the courage and he’d given her an opening. “That’s part of what brings me here. You need to increase your business to pay for her treatment. I can help you do that.” She unzipped her briefcase and pulled out a black binder. Through working on this idea for Rory’s ranch, she’d rediscovered what had brought her to the advertising field—the joy of creating something she felt passionate about.

  She held out the proposal, and when he failed to take it, she placed it on the coffee table in front of them.

  “You haven’t been able to find another job?”

  “I’m tired of being part of a large agency. I want to choose my clients, and do work that excites me. I want to make a difference for people who need to increase their business to improve their lives.”

  “Is that why you turned Devlin down?”

  “He told you?”

  Rory nodded.

  “While I appreciate what you did for me, I want to get a job on my own merits.”

  “I thought that’s how you’d feel, but I wanted you to have a choice.” Rory picked up the binder and flipped through the pages.

  Her gaze remained locked on his hands. Such strong hands, capable of creating such incredible passion. She blushed, remembering what he’d done to her body when they’d made love. And yet his hands could offer such compassion, as they had when she’d been sick.