That Wild Cowboy

CHAPTER FIVE

“OKAY, I’M IN.”

Victoria held her cell to her ear and rolled over to stare at the clock. Five in the morning? “Clint?”

“Yeah. I’m in. I’ve thought about it and I like this deal. But at the price I named and with the stipulations I requested.”

Victoria sat up and pushed at her hair. Greed didn’t seem to stop this man, but who was she to judge. She wanted him for the show. “Have you been up all night thinking about how you’ll spend this money?”

“No. About an hour or so. Couldn’t sleep. Old habits die hard. But yes, I’ve got big plans. You know, always think big. This is Texas and I plan to give the masses what they want, but the money will mostly go for a cause dear to my heart and maybe a few other things.”

Not sure what her boss would think, she let out a sigh. “Well, okay. I’ll tell Samuel and he’ll have our lawyers get with you to draw up the contract.”

“With stipulations,” he replied again, his tone as clear and precise as the silence that followed. “Highlight my nonprofit, Griffin Horse Therapy Ranch—better known as the Galloping Griffin—and don’t tape anyone in my family who is off-limits.”

“Got it.” She needed coffee to continue this conversation. “Is that all?”

“Like I said, I want to showcase a couple of organizations I’ve been involved with and...I want to secure my niece’s future. Nothing so underhanded and horrible, see?” He went silent and then said, “It’s not like I’m going to use the money to start that harem you mentioned. Or open a bar or hold a toga party at my house. Although, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a toga, understand.”

His bad-boy attitude obviously came out during the wee hours of the night. That image got her fully awake and back to business.

“It depends on how the stipulations can be highlighted as part of the show. But I’ll leave that up to you and the lawyers. Samuel will want to sit in on the meeting, too.”

“And you. I want you there.”

“I don’t usually—”

“I want you there.”

His husky request in her ear singed the skin on her neck and left it all tingly and warm. “Okay. I’ll let you know the time and place.”

“Good enough. See you then.”

Victoria tapped her phone and ended the call. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, she got up and padded to the kitchen for coffee. Samuel would be happy but she didn’t have that sense of joy she usually felt when they were about to work with a new subject. In fact, she felt something new and disturbing and difficult to accept.

She was still attracted to Clint Griffin.

That would never do, she decided. Never. Slamming down a hammer of self-control on her carried-away imagination, she stomped to the coffee pot and hit the on button. On that distant night, she’d enjoyed kissing the man, but she’d chalked that up to being young and naive. She had not come looking for him to become the next reality star because, honestly, one kiss long ago had not shaped her whole adult life. She’d been attracted to him that night, attracted to the tension and intensity of the man and to the notion that he’d even noticed her. But what he’d really noticed was the nearest female and the chance to flirt with her and maybe take her home.

When Victoria, still bruised from being left at the altar, had turned him down flat, he’d walked away without so much as a backward glance.

Victoria had been hurt, yes, but she’d gotten over that and made a life for herself. Even after her groom had left her at the altar, she’d managed to brush herself off and get on with life. After a while, she’d been glad she hadn’t married so young and she’d sure been glad she hadn’t had a one-night stand with Clint Griffin. Now she was happy to be independent and free.

Or she had been until Samuel had come to her with the notion of trying to get Clint for the show. Of all the cowboys in all of Texas, why had Samuel stumbled on this one and decided he’d be perfect? Seeing Clint again after such a long time had brought out all of her anxieties and self-doubts. So she was using the old revenge tactic to get back at him. But would it be revenge if he became a ratings winner?

“This is such a bad idea,” she mumbled to her wilted red geranium plant. It sat on the wide kitchen window with a lonely sideways tilt. Why her mother always brought her plants to kill was beyond Victoria. But she watered it anyway and begged it to stay alive. “Plant, what do you think about Clint Griffin?”

The plant’s one wrinkled flower took that moment to shed a few limp petals.

“That’s what I thought, too.”

Victoria turned back to her coffee and grabbed a Pop-Tart and stuck it in the toaster. She’d get a shower and get into the office so she could warn Samuel about the few noble requests their bad boy wanted in the contract.

And she’d certainly have to brace herself to get through the next few weeks. Life with a self-centered cowboy wouldn’t be easy. Even if this one looked as if he hadn’t been back on the horse in a while.

* * *

“HE WANTS EVERYONE in on this except his immediate family?”

Samuel stared at Victoria, his eyes bulging with disbelief. “We need those women to spice things up, V.C. Now what do we do?”

Victoria had been in the same meeting but she and Samuel had stepped outside to let Clint talk things over with his people. Clint had announced in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want his sisters or his niece to be a part of the show. At all. And she wasn’t sure if this was coming from him, or his mother and sisters. She wondered how Susie with the stars in her eyes felt about this.

“You heard the man,” she replied to Samuel. “He’s trying to protect his family.”

Surprising, but he’d been adamant. She glanced back through the windows to the conference room. He had his head down and was talking low to one of the suits.

When she remembered how good he’d looked in his jeans, boots and button-up shirt while he was playing hardball with them earlier, she had to swallow back the lump of awareness that caught at her throat each time she was around the man. Clint Griffin was bad news. She couldn’t wait to get that on tape so women everywhere would agree with her.

Or fall in love with him.

Samuel’s snort of disdain brought her out of her gossamer-revenge-tinged daydream. Her boss wasn’t ready to concede anything just yet, but he still wanted Clint. Even with charity events and a hands-off family.

“Yeah, right. So far, he’s managed to keep his relatives out of the limelight but we’ve found ’em now. I get his need to protect his womenfolk, but the world wants to see the interaction you described to me. We like people pushing at tables and breaking bottles. We need people shouting at each other and making scenes in public places. It’s the kind of stuff that makes or breaks a reality television show. We know that, but we don’t have to tell them that. Meantime, you can work on loosening his stubborn stance.”

Victoria wasn’t so hot on that idea, so she decided to stall Samuel’s own stubborn stance. “Then in the meantime, we need more cowboys and less family. Just until I can figure something out. We can create more outings, more bar scenes, a party atmosphere.”

Sam thought that over. “He does like to party, right?”

“Right. That’s why we went after him.”

“Then we’ll start there. Take him out to a bar and have at it.”

Victoria always managed to let Samuel think things were his idea. Maybe that was why he thought she was so good at her job. But hey, it worked. And she had to make this work.

Clint Griffin in a bar. Worse than any bull in a china shop. What could go wrong with that? Only about a million things.

Victoria waded through her warring thoughts and remembered she needed and liked a paycheck. “I’ll get right on it.”

“Good. Promos for the first episode go out in two weeks. We’ll use that bit you did when you found him the other day—the bathrobe scene. Get a release on that one right away.”

Nothing like a little pressure to get her going.

“You haven’t even signed the contracts.”

“We will.” Samuel glanced back toward the men gathered in the other room and gave her that special smile that meant his wheels were turning. “We get him in, get him going, and I’m thinking the fans will be so excited, the family will want in on this eventually. And soon our Cowboy Clint will want to stay with us for a long time to come.”

“He won’t like us trying to entice his family.”

“He’ll like the money and the notoriety, though. You just watch. I bet he’d sell out his mother for this.”

“He hasn’t so far.”

“Money brings out the mean and greedy in people, V.C.,” Samuel reminded her. “And in this case, Clint Griffin might be the man to save us. I can predict a lot of mean and greedy in his future once the numbers come in and that will allow a lot of mean and greedy for leverage to save our show.”

Victoria went back to her office to wait for Clint’s final adjustments and thought about her conversation with Samuel. A sliver of regret nudged at her, making her want to run into the conference room and tear up that contract. Was it worth disrupting a man’s life just to save a reality show? Just to get a little bit of satisfaction that amounted to mean and greedy revenge?

Yes, if you also want to save your job.

Since she didn’t have a choice in the matter, she gathered her notes and equipment and decided she’d order in and spend the rest of the day and evening preparing for the weeks ahead. She planned to find all the ammo she could to push at Clint Griffin so she could get to the real man underneath all that testosterone and bravado. The man she’d witnessed kissing that blonde and inviting Victoria in to be next in line. Was he trying to put on a good front because of his family? Or was he up to something else entirely?

What did she care anyway? Her job was to get in, get the shots and do the edits that would play up the drama. After all, reality television was all about the drama. She could cut and paste and get the worst that this man had to offer and people would still love watching. She just hoped his family didn’t form a revolt.

* * *

CLINT WANDERED DOWN the wide hallway of the Reality Network production rooms, fascinated with the whole studio thing. He’d had a little experience in studios, mostly cutting demos or sitting with some artist who wanted to record one of his songs, but nothing all that big or exciting. He’d been trying to get back into songwriting again lately, so this might give him the push he needed. If he could write a song and sing it on the show he might get a few nibbles from Nashville. Not for the money, but because he enjoyed writing songs. His daddy hadn’t agreed with Clint having a creative side so he’d gone back and forth between writing songs and riding broncs.

“You need to get those notions out of your head, son,” his father had advised. “You’re a Griffin. We work the land, tend our herds. Rodeoing will give you an outlet for all that pent-up frustration. That and a good woman.” But not a good song. No, sir.

Yeah, his daddy knew a thing or two about horses and...women. Too many women.

“Guess I inherited that from you at least,” Clint mumbled to himself now.

He noticed the framed posters on the walls, most of them showcasing some poor celebrity who’d just signed an agreement like the one he’d inked minutes ago. Had he sold his soul again?

When he came to an open door down the way, he glanced in and saw Victoria sitting at her desk jotting notes to beat the band. Her hair was down around her shoulders today, tangled and tempting. She wasn’t all painted up like a lot of the women he knew. She looked natural and girl-next-door. Innocent in some strange sweet way. Flowered shirts and soft-washed jeans, nice sturdy boots. One silver thread of a necklace dangling against the V of her shirt. A necklace with some sort of intricate token weighing it down.

“Wanna go to lunch?” he asked before he had time to think. To ease his eagerness, he added, “You can start picking me apart today. Film at eleven or something like that.”

She looked shocked and kind of cute. She’d obviously been deep into plotting out his future. Now she lifted her hand through all that twirling hair and asked, “You want me to go to lunch with you? Right now?”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Lunch, dinner, whatever you want to call it. I’m hungry.”

Her green eyes darkened at the quiet that followed that comment. And suddenly Clint was hungry for one thing. Her mouth.

That tempting mouth spoke. “I...uh...sure, I could eat.”

And he could kiss. Her. Right. Now.

Clint blinked and laughed to cover the shock of attraction moving like heat lightning throughout his system. “Okay, then, let’s go.” He turned to glance down the hall, sure someone had seen that rush of awareness sparking up the back of his neck.

“I know a great place on the corner,” she said. He turned back and watched as she grabbed a tiny laptop and several piles of papers and magazines, and shoved them into that big brown bag she carried. “But no taping. This is just you and me, getting to know each other. I’ll take notes, though. I have a lot of background questions.”

“Ask away,” he said through a smile. That way, he could stare across the table at her without looking too obvious.

When she breezed by, a hint of something exotic and spicy filled his nostrils. Then he watched her retreat, enjoying the way her jeans curved around her feminine body.

Nice.

And since when did he not notice a woman’s posterior?

But this woman had something he couldn’t quite figure out.

She wants you.

Yep, but she wants you for a different reason than all the rest. She wants you as a means to an end. She’s using you so her show will stay on the air a little longer. Nothing personal.

And that was the thing that just might drive him crazy.

* * *

THE SANDWICH SHOP did a chaotic dance of lunch-hour service, the spicy scents coming from the kitchen making Victoria’s stomach growl. But she wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat a bite with Clint sitting across from her.

Already, the downtown women were giving him the eye.

And already, she was remembering why she didn’t want to be here with him.

What have I signed on for? she thought. Why did I jump at this chance when Samuel presented it? I should have declined and found someone else, someone better suited for the show.

But who could be better suited for a down-and-dirty reality show than the man sitting across from her?

“So, what’s good here?” he asked, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil. “The steak sandwich sounds great but so does the tamale pie.”

Victoria shut down her jittery nerves and pretended to read over the menu. “I love the tamale pie.”

“Then pie it is,” he said, grinning over at her. “I’m not hard to please.”

She stared at him for a minute before responding. A minute that only reminded her of all the reasons she shouldn’t be here with him. “Why did you ask me to lunch?”

Surprised at her blunt question, he drew back. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“I’d think you have a reason for every step you take.”

He put down his menu and braced one arm on the back of his chair. “You really don’t like me very much, do you?”

Wishing she’d been a little nicer, she shrugged. “It’s not really my job to like you. It’s my job to make sure you and I can work together to put on a good show.”

He nodded, drank some of his water. “And that’s what this is about—putting on a good show.”

“Yes,” she said, the snark still lurking in her words. “And I believe you’re very good at that.”

“Whoa.” He sat up and leaned his elbows on the table. “You’re sure prickly today. Having second thoughts, Victoria? If you don’t like me, why do you want to work with me?”

“I just told you,” she said, sweat beading on her backbone. She did not want to have this conversation. “Anything I do from here on out is strictly for the show, Clint. I have to make it work.”

“And that’s always your first priority? Making the show work?”

“Yes. It has to be. It’s my job.”

“Right.” He leaned back and motioned for the waitress. “Get that camera out and watch and learn, sweetheart.”

Victoria watched, fascinated, as his frown turned into a brilliant, inviting smile. A smile aimed at the pretty waitress and not her. “Hey there, darlin’. I think we’re about ready to order up. I heard from a slightly reliable source that your tamale pie is delicious.”

His eyes moved down the girl’s trim figure then roved back up to her face. “Nice service around here.”

Victoria wanted to bolt out of the sandwich shop. She knew these people, talked to them every day. Now this show-off was milking it for all it was worth.

“The tamale pie is one of our favorite dishes,” the college student replied. Her giggly smile merged with her blushing cheekbones.

“Well, I can’t wait to sample me some of that.”

“And you?” The girl didn’t even bother to look at Victoria.

“I’ll have the...chicken salad sandwich.” And a slice of humble pie.

Clint winked at the waitress then waited for the enamored woman to leave before turning back to Victoria. “What? You didn’t tape me putting on a show?”

She gritted her teeth. “I’d have to get that college student to sign a release. We can’t put everyone you meet in the show.”

He reached a hand up to play with the fresh daisy in the tiny vase between them. “Well, then, you’d better bring a whole stack of those forms ’cause once ol’ Clint gets started, there sure ain’t no stopping him. I intend to make the most of being overexposed to the entire universe.”

“Not quite the entire universe,” Victoria countered, her pulse tripping over puddles of dread. “But most of the six million or so people in the Metroplex and surrounding areas.”

“Do they all watch your show?”

“Not yet, but together we can change that.”

He winked at her, too. “That’ll get us started then.”

CHAPTER SIX

THE FIRST DAY of production was always busy, stressful and chaotic. Usually Victoria loved starting a new project but today her stress level weighed on her like the state of Texas, big and vast and ever-changing.

“Nancy, where’s my—”

“Hot-sheet?” Nancy, punk-rock, red spiked hair and black fingernails aside, was an ace assistant. “Right here, boss.”

Nancy handed Victoria her notes on the day’s production schedule, along with her clipboard and her cup of strong coffee. “Why are you so jittery today?”

Victoria shot a glance at Clint. “I should have never agreed to this.”

Nancy giggled. “You mean because of your history with him?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a history,” Victoria said on a whisper. Wishing she’d never mentioned having kissed Clint long ago she put a finger to her lips. “We can’t talk about that. He doesn’t even remember and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Nancy pushed a bejeweled hand through all that red hair and grinned. “My lips are sealed. But I think it’s sweet.”

“Right, sweet like those chewy little candy things that eventually break your teeth.”

Nancy frowned and went about her work, while Victoria sweated in the early morning Texas sun. Taking a deep breath, she shook off her trepidation and decided to get on with her job.

Clint sat in a corner reading over the list she’d given him earlier. She’d decided to frame this segment out by the pool and she’d asked Clint to invite some friends over. His sisters and his niece were supposed to be out of the house and Bitsy had elected to keep to the old farmhouse for the next couple of days. So Clint should be relaxed enough to get into the groove and forget the cameras were even there. She hoped.

Gearing up, Victoria walked around the lighting and camera crew and stepped over cords. She hopped around the main camera operator, who’d be in charge of the B-roll—the head shots and any extra footage they would try to work in today.

Clint looked up as she approached, his eyes moving from her face to her toes in a way that left her feeling stripped and vulnerable, but also warm and...tempted.

“So you want me to just forget about all these people milling around and be me?” he asked, his expression showing signs of fear.

Victoria had to smile at that. The man was big, strong and brawny, and yet he was camera-shy. It was her job to calm him down and get his mind off the cameras. “Yes. Be you, Clint. Entertain your guests and have the kind of party you’d have if we weren’t here.”

“Really?” He gave her a wink. “Some of that might not be suitable for prime-time television, darlin’.”

Victoria’s whole being buzzed like a bee to a flower. But she reminded herself this big bee could sting. “Keep it clean. Keep it real. Keep it going. That’s what my boss always says.”

She did one more visual of the entire pool area. “We want fun, and calamities and honest personal conflicts, but we’ve always been proud that we don’t have to bleep out words or edit too heavily. We do warn parents to keep their young children out of the room, especially when we’re doing party segments.”

“Cowboys and shindigs just go hand in hand, don’t they?”

She nodded. “It seems that way, yes. That’s what our show is all about—highlighting the rich and the spoiled and the bigger-than-Texas attitude.”

“You know most working cowboys don’t have the luxury of a swimming pool or a party every night, though, right?”

“Yes, that’s why I put the emphasis on the rich part.”

Clint gave her a hard glance then pulled out that charming smile. “I’m not all that rich so I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Victoria knew better. The man wasn’t hurting, not one bit. She’d verified that with several reliable sources, but the rumors that he was losing everything only fueled the hard-to-put-out fire. And made Victoria want to figure him out even more.