by Mari Freeman
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Beware of the Cowboy
ISBN 9781419914324
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Beware of the Cowboy Copyright © 2008 Mari Freeman
Edited by Kelli Kwiatkowski.
Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.
Electronic book Publication January 2008
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Beware of the Cowboy
Mari Freeman
Chapter One
Liza held her day planner high over her desk and let it drop, enjoying the loud thud the leather made as it hit the surface. She toed her shoes off and kicked them aside, walking around the desk that was covered in neatly stacked work. Her well-coordinated suit was still without wrinkles even though it was late in the afternoon. Letting herself flop into the chair, she looked at her assistant, Becky, and shook her head.
“What?” Becky got up from her desk against the wall, close to the bookshelves on the left side of the small office, and headed to the credenza to pour Liza a glass of wine. It was late Friday afternoon and the woman looked like she needed a drink—and probably something stronger than wine, but it was a start. “Problem with Mr. Dean?”
“No.” Liza’s head fell back to rest on the chair. “Well, I guess it’s not a problem,” she huffed. “Unless you consider my reputation being dragged through the gutter a problem.” She took the glass from Becky. “Not even through the gutter. No. It’s worse than that. I’ll be a laughingstock. No one will take me seriously ever again.”
Becky moved to the chair across from Liza’s desk, confused. Liza DeLane was the hottest event planner in Texas. Her schedule was nearly booked solid for the next two years. Weekends, holidays, the summer conference season and even the spring wedding season were nearly all double-booked. Her reputation for putting on the hottest, most opulent events in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex was spreading far beyond Texas.
Becky studied Liza’s face. Her boss looked more upset than she’d ever seen her. “What are you talking about? What on earth happened with Dean?”
Liza took a long sip of her wine. “Puppy love. That’s what happened. Mr. Dean’s wife wants a gala doggie wedding for her pug. Evidently, Ms. Penelope Pug is getting a pedigreed husband from Spain. Pedro the Pug.” She waved the wineglass for emphasis.
Becky raised a neatly shaped eyebrow. “And that ruins your reputation how?” Liza was a genius when it came to planning parties, but sometimes she let the clients push her too far.
“I’ll be the wedding coordinator for the happy occasion.” Liza nodded at Becky’s questioning look. “Oh yes. We’re doing it. Now I know how the man got to be so powerful. Bamboozled me.”
“Bamboozled?” Becky was smiling behind her glass.
“Don’t be so smug. We’ve only got two weeks to put together an A-list wedding for a couple of drooling dogs. You’re in this as deeply as I am.”
That got Becky’s attention—and a scowl from her boss as her assistant laughed out loud. “A-list? For a dog? I figured she wanted some cutesy stuff for the animals. You’re telling me that Gerald Dean, oilman, Dallas’ Man of the Year, is going to be holding formal puppy nuptials? I don’t believe it.” She considered the Merlot before taking another sip. “How did he get you to agree to that? We’re booked.”
“Oh, the man is a shark. He’s a very attractive, well-groomed, wealthy shark, but still a shark. He reminded me oh-so subtly of New Year’s, and how difficult it would be for him to have to find someone else to plan that event.” The New Year’s Eve party at Dean Petroleum was the hottest bash in the city. It brought in a good percentage of Liza’s new business every year, and the party kept getting bigger. So much bigger that they’d need to move venues if it kept growing.
“You’re kidding? That’s blackmail, isn’t it?”
“Not really.” Liza took another drink and loosened the collar of her shirt. She reached up and let her hair fall from the band that had been holding the curls in place. Blonde, shiny twists tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. “He was way too smooth for that. Evidently this is important to his wife, therefore it’s important to him. He’s paying us almost the same fee that we earn for the New Year’s Eve party. How do you say no to that?” She put her elbows on the desk and let her head fall into her hands, her hair falling forward to hide her face. “So, in two weeks we have to figure out how to make a puppy wedding the event of the month, without making ourselves look like idiots. In the process, we have to make the very extravagant Mrs. Bobbie Dean happy as well.”
Becky giggled. Liza needed to loosen up, have some fun and quit working so hard. Maybe working an event this lighthearted was just the thing. Dean was a big client and Becky knew Liza would be all over this project. Whether she wanted to or not, she would work like a dog herself to make it the best it could be. “Look Liza, it’s not the end of the world. It’s just one event. We’ve got two others that weekend and I think your reputation can handle it. I’ll manage most of the details. You handle the other bookings.”
“That was my first idea, but Dean has his own plan. Mrs. Bobbie Dean wants me there for the entire weekend—rehearsal dinner, ceremony, all the way to the end of a very elaborate reception. I’m stuck.” She pulled out her notes from the meeting and tossed them across the desk.
Becky eyed the list, still trying not to break into another fit of laughter. “If it bothers you that much, say no. But I don’t think it’s all that bad. We both know all about Bobbie Dean and her eccentricities, but really, it’s just one event on a relatively slow weekend. How bad can it be?”
Liza rubbed her eyes. “It’s a doggie wedding, Beck.”
Becky considered her boss and good friend. Yes, this could be just the thing Liza needed, a weekend out of the city. She just had to convince her of that. “You need to relax, lighten up some. The doggie-do will be fun.” Liza flinched at the comment, but Becky was more of a friend now than an assistant and she could get away with telling her boss the blunt truth.
Becky leaned forward and reached out her hand to her friend. “You’ve built a prison out of this business and locked yourself in it. Get out, Liza. Get out and do something for yourself. I’ll take care of planning Penelope’s nuptials. You go to the spa, shopping, anything…just take a couple days off.”
“The spa? You know I can’t do that, Becky. I agreed to do the job, I’ll see it through.”
Becky watched as her boss scribbled a note on the list of requests Dean had given her. Becky had been with her for years and had only managed a couple of events without Liza micromanaging, making sure nothing was outside of the agencies specs. One of the few people who knew about Liza’s past, Becky understood her need for control—and Liza DeLane rarely gave up complete control of anything.
But that didn’t mean Becky would stop helping her try.
Becky leaned back and crossed her legs. “I have another suggestion that will make this all better.”
“I’m listening,” Li
za said.
“Why don’t you suggest that they make it a charity event for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals or a local animal shelter? Have the guests bring donations in lieu of gifts. Makes Dean look good, he can even write it off on his taxes, and then you’re planning a charity event instead of hitching pugs.”
A smile crossed Liza’s face as she contemplated her assistant’s suggestion. “That could work. Dean would certainly see the benefits of yet another charitable donation.” She scribbled something else on the list. “When was the last time I gave you a raise?”
“Last month,” Becky laughed.
“I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that myself. The only thing I could picture was the front page of the society section featuring the billionaire Bobbie and her ‘Dog-Gone Wedding’, with the write-up naming Liza DeLane of Main Events, Party Planners, as the person who made it all possible.” Liza held up her wineglass in a toast. “You laughed a little at the situation and then worked out a very simple solution. Bless you girl. Give yourself another raise.”
They clinked their glasses in celebration.
* * * * *
Blake groaned, already envisioning a catastrophe as the two youngest colts bolted from their mothers and headed toward the open yard. They’d wanted the youngsters away from all the decorations. His mother would kill him if her expensive party favors were ruined by his horses. He whistled to Thomas, his foreman, as he cantered by. “I got ’em. Get the mares penned in before they head over there too.” He turned his gelding to the house, watching as the colts hit the tented area of the yard and a woman in a suit came running out from under the tent, arms flailing.
She caught hold of the black colt by his mane and started rubbing his head. Blake came to a stop next to the other one, eased himself off this mount and tossed a rope around the colt’s neck. After securing the escapee to his saddle, he looked to see if the woman still had the black one under control.
Liza DeLane. He’d seen her at the last New Year’s Eve party and once or twice at the Dallas office. The woman was beautiful. She had bright green eyes that were a little too big and set a little too far apart, but that just made them dramatic. She didn’t put a bunch of makeup on them either. Instead they were nice and natural, just the way he liked it. The way she wore those expensive suits made him hard just looking at her. The short skirt and fitted jacket gave a man just enough information about those ample curves for his imagination to run away with him. And he wanted to know more about what was under this particular pinstripe. He lifted his hat and pushed his hair back as Thomas rode up to help collect his errant colts.
“Look, you guys are going to have to keep these horses out of the area this weekend. I know it’s a ranch, but there’s a lot of money tied up in these decorations.” As she spoke, the colt pulled out of her hands, took two awkward leaps to the left and happily sunk his teeth into an oversized, rhinestone-covered fire hydrant. She rushed over to grab the colt again. Blake moved to do the same and put his booted foot down—just before Liza’s spiked three-inch heel landed directly on his toe.
The cowhide did little to absorb the impact from the killer stiletto. “Ow!”
“Sorry!” She stumbled as she tried to get off his foot, but only managed to throw herself off-balance. She began to fall backward and Blake caught her waist to keep both of them from toppling into the folding chairs. Her hands, naturally reaching for balance, gripped his biceps. Once they’d regained their balanced, the two of them froze, looking into each other’s eyes.
Liza shivered at the heat in the cowboy’s gaze. She squeezed her hands, just to feel the strength in his arms. She enjoyed the ripple of movement his muscles made in reaction to her grip and the heat from his body as he leaned forward a little with his lips slightly parted. Liza’s heart pounded. Her pussy clenched at the prospect of tasting those lips, and the thought of how they would feel pressed against her own in a heated kiss. She felt his fingers tighten around her hips.
The colt jumped again, knocking over several of the rented chairs before trotting up the aisle, tearing the satin runner that had been hand painted with pink and lavender paw prints. “Shit!” Blake reluctantly released Liza, making sure her balance was good before following the colt. He managed to corner and calm the colt next to the elaborate altar, but not before the wayward baby had knocked two vases to the ground, scattering glass and tossing flowers over the first row.
Liza shook off the momentary loss of concentration caused by the feel of the cowboy’s big hands holding her, and stomped toward the man’s horse. She had a job to do, and mooning over the hired help wouldn’t help get this mess cleaned up. She ripped a rope from his saddle. “If you can’t control these guys, please call someone who can. I understand that Mr. Dean’s son runs the ranch. Call him if you need to, but keep the livestock on the correct side of the fence.”
Blake watched as she headed toward him and the wayward colt, twisting and knotting the scrap of rope. Her swaying hips and her manipulations of the rope were equally interesting. Her long legs and curved hips moved in a silky fluid motion. Her usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, several rich golden strands escaping the rest of the pulled-back bunch to rest softly against her cheeks.
“But lady—” Thomas began to stammer from his horse as he neared the couple.
Blake gave his foreman a cutting look. “It’s okay. We’ll get the colts out of here.” His attention went back to Liza. She slowly inched the makeshift halter she’d tied from his rope over the colt’s head. Intriguing. She could make a halter out of a scrap of rope and had legs up to her ears. He looked back down into those green eyes. “I’m real sorry, ma’am. We were moving them to prevent just such a scenario.” Going heavy on his accent, he added, “Babies just got curious ’bout the shiny stuff.” He gave her a wink and started back to his horse, exaggerating a limp.
Damn, that woman was hot. His fingers itched to touch her again, to pull the rest of her shining hair out of the knot she’d fastened severely on the top of her head. Wondering what that hair would look like down and spilling over his thighs as she had those sweet full lips wrapped around his cock, he tipped his hat to her, mounted up and turned to lead the colts to the pasture.
For just a heartbeat, he’d seen something vulnerable in her eyes. He imagined that if he stripped her out of that pinstriped armor she hid behind, she would be a timid lover, strong on the outside, soft and sweet on the inside. She would flush a sexy shade of pink as he touched her, explored her. Blake felt his cock stir again.
His grip tightened on his reins as he imagined teasing his way down her body, feeling her body tremble beneath his fingers. She would be writhing, whimpering, her helpless pleas a siren’s call to his cock. With a body like hers, he would take his time. Yep, he’d be patient with that one…trace the lines of her breasts with his fingers, trail hot licks down past her bellybutton, above her mound, hinting at moving lower but not making any real progress in that direction. He could imagine her arousing aroma in the air around them, the smell of her need.
Finally, when he thought she wouldn’t be able to take any more teasing, he’d slide lower, spread her with his thumbs and spear her tender flesh with a pointed tongue. He’d lap at the soft lips and flick lightly over her swollen clit. He’d make her beg. Push her past spikes of pleasure she’d only ever imagined. But he wouldn’t let her come. He’d pull back, ease her down. Again and again, he’d bring her to the brink of orgasm. Would she scream his name or exhale a sexy sigh when he finally let her come?
Blake readjusted his jeans, slid back in the saddle to ease the pressure on his crotch and turned back for one last look. Yep, he wanted to push Liza past her limits, and he looked forward to discovering just where those limits were.
Still watching the ranch hand, Liza took a steadying breath as the cowboy rode away. All that gorgeous muscle had her rattled. She hadn’t reacted to a man this strongly in a very long time—and wow, what a reaction! The cowboy
was stunning, with chaps tightly fitted over sturdy thighs, a faded button-up denim shirt…and that dingy old hat was so cute the way it tilted just to the right. He filled out every inch of the cotton and leather, leaving little to a woman’s imagination. Shoulders, stomach and thighs sculpted from years of throwing hay bales and riding fence lines. Ranch work does wonderful things to a man’s physique. And she had almost lost her ability to bitch when she got a look into those dark brown eyes as he’d held her. She realized with a bit of shock that if the Deans weren’t her biggest clients, she might have let the mess go without a word, sat back and simply admired the man while he caught the colts. She shook herself and assessed the damage.
“Damn, what happened here?” Becky eyed the mess as she walked down the aisle toward Liza. “The runner!” She had spent two days finding someone to paint that thing. “What are you smiling about? The runner is ruined. And what happened to the flowers?” She gestured to the altar.
Liza shook her head to clear her brain of the sexy man. Dark, mysterious cowboy or not, they had some cleaning up to do. She shrugged and motioned to the broken vases. “Spread out the other arrangements so the missing ones aren’t as noticeable. Shorten the runner a bit and cut it off at the tear. No one will ever notice.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes…why?” Liza asked, puzzled.
Becky eyed Liza for a minute then started to rearrange the huge vases of pink and lavender roses on the right side of the altar while Liza adjusted those on the left. “Because, Miss Perfectionist, you’re not having a fit over this, whatever this is.” She nodded toward the broken vase at her feet.
“Just a small problem with a couple of loose colts. Those cowboys came and got them. They were just a few minutes too late to save the flowers, though. You’d better check the hydrant on the left side too. One of them took a bite out of the rhinestones.”
