Home on the Ranch: Colorado: Big City Cowboy / Colorado Cowboy. Julie Benson
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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