Книга - That Wild Cowboy
That Wild Cowboy
Lenora Worth
It was just a kiss Producer Victoria Calhoun couldn't care less that famous strut-his-stuff cowboy Clint Griffin doesn't remember her. Or the kiss they shared. And she really doesn't care that he didn't call her afterward. Seriously, the kiss meant that much to her, too.Still, all that history makes working with him awkward–if you call it work, watching him parade around on her reality TV show. Clint seems to be trying to convince her he's much more than his swagger. But she definitely won't be falling for his charms again…even if the way he looks at her makes her want to believe him. She'll do her job and get out with her heart firmly in hand. Too bad her heart seems to have its own ideas….
It was just a kiss…
Producer Victoria Calhoun couldn’t care less that famous cowboy Clint Griffin doesn’t even remember it. The kiss meant that much to her, too. And all that baggage doesn’t mean she has to like working with him—if you can call it work, watching him parade around on her reality TV show. She won’t fall for his charms again, even if Clint is trying to convince her he’s much more than his swagger. Even if the way he looks at her makes her want to believe him. She’ll do her job and get out with her heart intact. Her heart, though, seems to have its own ideas….
Young or old, Clint Griffin still had it
Victoria tried to compare this man to the young cowboy who’d messed with her head all those years ago. No matter how she looked at him, he really did still have it.
But she hadn’t come here to gawk.
“No, no.” She pulled her hand and the camcorder away before he could grab it. “That’s not how this works, Mr. Griffin.”
“Call me Clint and come on in.”
Victoria wondered at the sanity of entering this house without her crew, the sanity of making any kind of deal with this man, verbal or otherwise. Would she come out later all giggly and dazed like the woman who’d just left?
A forbidden image shot through her sensibilities.
Job, Victoria. You need this job, remember? Her boss had hinted at a nice salary change if she nabbed Clint Griffin.
“I’ll wait for you to…uh…get dressed so we can talk.”
He looked down and let out a laugh. “Mercy me, I am half-nekked. Sorry about that.”
He didn’t look sorry, not the least little bit.
Dear Reader,
I’m so happy to see this story in print. We all love cowboys, and although they might change through the centuries, they will never go out of style. I think it has to do with their code of honor (even when they act like rascals) and their need to take care of everyone around them, especially “helpless” women.
My cowboy is a Casanova, but underneath that playful, good-time exterior, he has a heart of gold…and that heart is hurting. He’s acting out because of something that happened in his youth, something he never quite got over. But my heroine will show him the path to happy trails. It will take a lot more than a Texas-style reality show to bring these two together. For once in his life, Clint doesn’t know how to handle a woman. Victoria becomes his biggest challenge. But allowing her to bring in a television team to shoot a reality show might be his undoing, since being a star brings him all kinds of unwanted attention. Clint knows some secrets need to remain buried.
One thing I love about this story is the gift of a big, lovable, fighting family. Clint loves his family, but they sometimes drive him crazy. He’s the man of the house and he’s trying to please too many women. When he meets Victoria, he’s shocked to find her so refreshing and down-to-earth. He feels comfortable with her, almost too comfortable. Victoria is uncomfortable around him, since she’s been burned by more than one cowboy, but she soon falls for all that charm. Victoria can see in Clint what everyone else has missed. He’s not just a Casanova. He’s a good, gentle, loving cowboy with a big heart.
I hope you enjoy Clint and Victoria’s story. I had a great time bringing these two together.
Lenora Worth
That Wild Cowboy
Lenora Worth
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LENORA WORTH has written more than forty books for three different publishers. Her career with Love Inspired Books spans close to fifteen years. In February 2011, her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence made the New York Times bestseller list. Her very first Love Inspired title, The Wedding Quilt, won Affaire de Coeur’s Best Inspirational for 1997, and Logan’s Child won an RT Book Reviews Best Love Inspired for 1998. With millions of books in print, Lenora continues to write for the Love Inspired and Love Inspired Suspense lines. Lenora also wrote a weekly opinion column for the local paper and worked freelance for years with a local magazine. She has now turned to full-time fiction writing and enjoying adventures with her retired husband, Don. Married for thirty-six years, they have two grown children. Lenora enjoys writing, reading and shopping…especially shoe shopping.
To my nephew Jeremy Smith, who has become a true cowboy.
Happy trails, Jeremy :)
Contents
Chapter One (#u317c8fc3-a77d-55e4-88fc-8001ffcc85a6)
Chapter Two (#uc83912f6-6e3d-5d2c-b13b-aaecb2a1c26d)
Chapter Three (#ua70ae479-e5fb-5129-8a8f-52a9f7d987de)
Chapter Four (#uc6497894-ec7c-5e08-8b63-11cbbd53a701)
Chapter Five (#u86c817e4-8f63-5732-a3df-a3fe90b48067)
Chapter Six (#u4aa130ab-e92e-551b-8a58-c7a6b81744ae)
Chapter Seven (#u7c51c5ab-c60b-5765-ba39-69ed46048835)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
THIS WAS A bad idea on so many levels.
Victoria Calhoun stared up at the swanky stone-faced McMansion and wondered why she somehow managed to get all the fun jobs. Did she really want to march up to those giant glass doors and ring the bell? Or should she run away while she still had the chance? She really hated dealing with cowboys.
Especially the rhinestone kind.
Especially the kind that got drunk in a bar and kissed a very sober, very wallflower-type of girl and didn’t even remember it later.
Yeah, that kind.
But it had been a few years since that night in downtown Fort Worth. He hadn’t remembered her then and he wouldn’t remember her now. They’d danced, had some laughs and shared some hot kisses in a corner booth and then, poof, he’d moved on. Like two minutes later.
I’ve moved on, too. Enough that I don’t have to stoop to this just because some sexy, sloshed cowboy kissed me and left me in a bar.
Victoria decided she was pathetic and she needed to leave. She’d have to make some excuse to Samuel but her boss would understand. Wouldn’t he?
In the next minute, the decision was made for her. The doors burst open and a leggy blonde woman spilled out onto the porch while she also spilled out of the tight jeans and low-cut blouse she was wearing. The blonde giggled then started down the steps to the curving driveway, but turned and giggled her way back to the man who stood at the door watching her.
The man wore a black Stetson—of course—a bathrobe and...black cowboy boots with the Griffin brand, the winged protector, inlaid in deep rich tan across the shafts. It looked like that might be all he was wearing.
Guess if you lived on a five-thousand-acre spread west of Dallas, you could pretty much wear what you wanted.
Victoria wanted to turn and leave but the sound of her producer’s voice in her head held her back. “V.C., we need this one,” he’d said. “The network’s not doing so great. The ratings are down and that means the revenues are, too. Sponsors are pulling away left and right on other shows and soon the bigwigs will be cutting shows. The ratings will go off the charts if we nab Clint Griffin. He’s the hottest thing since Red Bull. Go out there and get me some footage to show our sponsors, while I keep pushing things with his manager and all the bothersome lawyers.”
So Samuel wanted some good footage? After trying to make an appointment by leaving several voice messages, Victoria had decided to do her job the old-fashioned way—by using the element of surprise. Since this was just a little recon trip and not the real deal, she could have some fun with it. She lifted the tiny handheld camcorder and hit the on button. And got a sweet, sloppy goodbye kiss between Blondie and Cowboy Casanova that should make Samuel and the sponsors, not to mention red-blooded women all over the world, sit up and take notice.
She remembered those lips and the way he pulled a woman toward him with a daring look in his enticing eyes. Remembered and now, filmed it. Revenge could be so sweet.
Blondie giggled her way to her convertible, completely ignoring Victoria as she breezed by. Clint Griffin stood with a grin on his handsome face. He waved to Blondie and didn’t notice Victoria standing underneath a towering, twisted live oak.
“You come back anytime now, darlin’, okay!”
Victoria rolled her eyes and kept filming. Until she got closer and saw that the cowboy in the bathrobe was staring down at her.
“Hello, there, sweetheart,” he said, his steel-gray eyes centered on his close-up. “Who are you? TMZ, Extra, Entertainment Tonight? Oh, wait, CMT, right?”
Victoria stopped recording and held out her hand, both relief and disappointment filtering through her sigh. “I’m Victoria Calhoun. I’m from the television show Cowboys, Cadillacs and Cattle Drives. We’re part of the Reality Network.”
Clint Griffin lifted his hat to reveal a head full of light brown curls streaked with gold and then took her hand and held it too long. “TRN? Get outta here. Did my manager send you as some kind of joke? ’Cause I’m pretty sure I told that fellow on the phone the other day that I’m not interested.”
Obviously, he didn’t have an inkling of ever being around her or kissing her in a bar long ago. Or maybe his whiskey-soaked brain had lost those particular memory cells. Good. That would make this a lot more fun and a whole lot easier.
Yanking back her hand, Victoria wanted to shout that he was the joke, but she needed this job to pay for her single-and-so-glad lifestyle. “No joke, Mr. Griffin. My producers want to do a few episodes about you. But then, you obviously already know that, since our people have been trying to negotiate with your people for weeks now.”
“So I hear,” he replied, his quicksilver eyes sliding over her with the slowness of mercury. Probably just as lethal, too.
Forever grateful that he’d tightened the belt on his robe, Victoria waited while he put his hat back on his head and walked down another step and stared right into her eyes. “Honey, you’re too pretty to be on that side of the camera.” He reached for her recorder. “Why don’t you let me film you?”
His teeth glistened a perfect white against the springtime sunshine while his gray eyes looked like weathered wood. His thick brown-gold hair curled along his neck and twisted out around the big cowboy hat. The man had the looks. She’d give him that. Even in an old bathrobe and just out of bed, he oozed testosterone from every pore. And his biceps bulged nicely against that frayed terry cloth.
Angry that he looked even better with that bit of wear surrounding him like hot red-pepper seasoning, Victoria tried to compare this man to the young cowboy who’d messed with her head all those years ago. Young or old, Clint Griffin still had it.
But she didn’t come here to gawk.
“No, no.” She pulled her hand and the camcorder away before he could grab it. “That’s not how this works, Mr. Griffin.”
“Call me Clint and come on in.”
Victoria wondered at the sanity of entering this house without her crew, the sanity of making any kind of deal with this man, verbal or otherwise. Would she come out later, all giggly and dazed like the woman who’d just left?
A forbidden image shot through her sensibilities.
Job, Victoria. You need this job, remember? Her boss had hinted at a nice salary change if she nabbed Clint Griffin.
“I’ll wait for you to...uh...get dressed so we can talk.”
He looked down and let out a laugh. “Mercy me, I am half-nekked. Sorry about that.”
He didn’t look sorry, not the least little bit.
His cowboy charm grated on her big-city nerves like barbed wire hitting against a skyscraper window. “It’s okay. I did kind of sneak up on you. But I did try to call first. Several times.”
“Did you? I’ll have to find my phone and check my messages. Been kind of out of commission for a few weeks.” He grinned at that. “That’s me, I mean, out of commission. The phone works just fine. If I can keep up with it.”
She knew all about him being out of commission but she figured he had his phone nearby at all times. His life was in all the tabloids. Rodeo hero parties too hard and gets arrested after a brawl in a Fort Worth nightclub. A brawl that involved a woman, of course. Apparently, his phone wasn’t the only thing he didn’t bother to check. Rumor had it if he didn’t check his temper and his bad attitude, he’d lose out on a lot of things. One of them being this ranch.
What a cliché of a cowboy.
He motioned her inside. The foyer was as expected—as tall as a mountain peak, as vast as a field of wheat. But the paintings that graced the walls were surprising. A mixture of quirky modern art along with what looked to be serious masterpieces. And here she’d thought the man didn’t know art from a postcard.
Maybe someone else had picked these out.
Victoria pictured a smartly dressed, brunette interior-design person. A female. She imagined that most of the people in Clint Griffin’s entourage were females. Or at least she’d gathered that from all the tabloid stories she’d read about the man. He’d probably seduced the designer into bringing in the best art that money could buy to show he had some class.
Victoria wasn’t buying that. She’d researched her subject thoroughly. Part of the job but one of the most fascinating things about her work. She loved getting background information on her subjects but this had been an especially interesting one. When Clint’s name had come up in a production meeting, she’d immediately raised her hand to get first dibs on researching him. That, after trying to forget him for over two years.
Rodeo star. Hotshot bull rider, and all-around purebred cowboy who’d been born into the famous Griffin dynasty. Born with a silver brand in his mouth, so to speak. Money wasn’t a problem until recently but that rumor had not been substantiated. Credibility however, had become a big deal. Former rodeo star, since he’d retired three years ago after a broken leg and one too many run-ins with a real bull. Country crooner. Shaky there, even if he could play a guitar with the same flare as James Burton and sing with all the soul of Elvis himself, he only had one or two hit songs to his credit. Rancher. She’d seen the vastness of this place driving in. Longhorns marking the pastures, Thoroughbred horses racing behind a fence right along beside her car, and a whole slew of hired hands taking care of business.
While he lolled around in boots and a bathrobe.
But his résumé did impress.
Endorsement contracts. For everything from tractors to cars to ice cream and the next president. His face shined on several billboards around the Metroplex. Nothing like having one of your favorite fantasies grinning down at you on your morning drive.
Women. Every kind, from cheerleaders to teachers to divorced socialites to...giggly, leggy blondes. He’d tried marriage once and apparently that had not worked.
And again, Victoria wondered why she was here.
“Come in. Sit a spell.” He pointed toward the big, open living room that overlooked the big, open porch and pool. “Give me five minutes to get dressed. Would you like something to drink while you wait? Coffee or water?”
“I’m fine,” Victoria replied. “I’ll be right here waiting.”
“Make yourself at home,” he called, his boots hitting the winding wooden stairs. He stopped at the curve and leaned down to wink at her. “I’ll be back soon.”
Victoria wondered about that. He’d probably just gotten out of bed.
* * *
CLINT GOT IN the shower and did a quick wash then hopped out and grabbed a clean T-shirt and fresh jeans. He combed his hair and eyed himself in the mirror while he yanked his boots back on.
“No hangover.” That was good. He at least didn’t look like death warmed over. The tabloids loved to catch him at his worst.
But he’d had a good night’s sleep for once.
The determined blonde named Sasha had obviously given up on him taking things any further than a movie and some stolen kisses in the media room and had fallen asleep sitting straight up.
She’d probably never be back, but she’d be happy to tell everyone she’d been here. Since he’d had the house to himself all weekend, he’d expected her to stay. But...they almost never stayed.
And now another woman at his door—this one all business and different except for the fact that she wanted him for something. They almost always did.
He thought of that Eagles song about having seven women on his mind and wondered what they all expected of him.
What did Victoria Calhoun expect of him?
This was intriguing and since he was bored... The woman waiting downstairs struck him as a no-nonsense, let’s-get-down-to-business type. She didn’t seem all that impressed with the juggernaut that was Clint Griffin, Inc. He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t all that impressed with him, either, these days.
But the executives and the suits had sent her for a reason. Did they think sending a pretty woman would sway him?
Well, that had happened in the past. And would probably happen again in the future.
It wouldn’t kill him to pretend to be interested.
So after he’d dressed, he called down to his housekeeper and ordered strong coffee, scrambled eggs and bacon and wheat toast. Women always went for the wheat toast. He added biscuits for himself.
When he got downstairs Victoria wasn’t sitting. She was standing in front of one of his favorite pieces of art, a lone black stallion standing on a rocky, burnished mountainside, his nostrils flaring, his hoofs beating into the dust, his dark eyes reflecting everything while the big horse held everything back.
“I know this artist,” she said, turning at the sound of his boots hitting marble. “I covered one of his shows long ago. Impressive.”
Clint settled a foot away from her and took in the massive portrait. “I had to outbid some highbrows down in Austin to get it, but I knew I wanted to see this every day of my life.”
She gave him a skeptical stare. “Seriously?”
It rankled that she already had him pegged as a joke. “I can be serious, yes, ma’am.”
She turned her moss-green eyes back to the painting. “You surprise me, Mr. Griffin.”
“Clint,” he said, taking her by the arm and leading her out onto the big covered patio. “I ordered breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said, glancing around. “Nice view.”
Clint ushered her to the hefty rectangular oak table by the massive stone outdoor fireplace, then stopped to take in the rolling, grass-covered hills and scattered oaks, pines and mesquite trees spreading out around the big pond behind the house. This view always brought him a sense of peace. “It’ll do in a pinch.”
She sank down in an oak-bottomed, cushioned chair with wrought-iron trim. “Or anytime, I’d think.”
Clint knew all about the view. “I inherited the Sunset Star from my daddy. He died about six years ago.”
She gave him a quick sympathetic look then cleared her pretty little throat. “I know...I read up on you. Sorry for your loss.”
Her clichéd response dripped with sincerity, at least.
“Thank you.” He sat down across from her and eyed the pastureland out beyond the pool and backyard. “This ranch has been in my family for four generations. I’m the last Griffin standing.”
“Maybe you’ll live up to the symbol I saw on the main gate.”
“Oh, you mean a real griffin?” He leaned forward in his chair and laughed. “Strange creature. Kind of conflicted, don’t you think?”
Before she could answer, Tessa brought a rolling cart out the open doors from the kitchen. Clint stood to help her. “Tessa, this is Victoria Calhoun. She’s with that show you love to watch every Tuesday night on TRN. You know the one about cowboys and cars and cattle, or something like that.”
Tessa, sixty-five and still a spry little thing in a bun and a colorful tunic over jeans, giggled as she poured coffee and replied to him in rapid Spanish. “She’s not your usual breakfast companion, chico.”
Clint eyed Victoria for a reaction and saw her trying to hide a smile. “Comprender?”
“Understand and speak it.”
Okay, this one was different. “Coffee?” Clint shot a glance at Tessa and saw her grin.
“I’d love some,” Victoria said, thanking Tessa in fluent Spanish and complimenting the lovely meal.
Clint watched her laughing up at the woman who’d practically raised him and wondered what Victoria Calhoun’s story was. Single? Looked that way. Prickly? As a cholla cactus. Pretty? In a fresh-faced, outdoorsy way. But when she smiled, her green eyes sparkled and her obvious disapproval of him vanished.
He’d have to make sure she kept smiling. But he’d also have to make sure he kept this one at arm’s length.
“We have toast or biscuits,” he said, serving the meal so Tessa could go back inside and watch her morning shows. “Tessa’s biscuits make you want to weep with joy.”
To his surprise, she dismissed the skinny toast and grabbed one of the fat, fluffy biscuits. After slapping some fresh black-cherry jam and a tap of butter on it, she settled into the oversize chair and closed her eyes in joy.
“You’re right about that. This is one amazing biscuit.”
“Try her scrambled eggs. She uses this chipotle sauce that is dynamite.”
“I love spicy food,” Victoria replied, grabbing the spoon so she could dollop sauce across her cluster of eggs.
Clint hid his smile behind what he hoped was a firm stance of boredom. But he wasn’t bored at all. For someone who’d insisted she wasn’t hungry, she sure had a hearty appetite. He sat back and enjoyed watching her eat. “Where did you learn to speak Spanish?”
She lifted her coffee mug, her hand wrapped around the chunky center, bypassing the handle altogether. “This is Texas, right?”
He nodded, took in her tight jeans and pretty lightweight floral blouse. “Last time I checked. I mean, where did you go to school?”
She gave him a raised eyebrow stare. “In Texas.”
“Hmm. A mysterious...what are you? Producer, docu-journalist, director?”
“All of the above sometimes. Mostly, I’m a story producer, but I’ve worked in just about every area since joining the show a few years ago, first as a transcriber and then as an assistant camera person.”
“Are you always this tight-lipped?”
She finished her eggs and wiped her mouth. “Yes, especially when my mouth is full.”
And it sure was a lovely mouth. All pink, pouty and purposeful. He liked her mouth.
He waited until she’d scraped the last of her eggs off the plate and let her chew away. “When was the last time you had a good meal?”
She squinted. “I think yesterday around lunch. Does a chocolate muffin count?”
“No, it does not.” He loaded her plate again. “So you television people like to starve?”
“I’m not starving. I mean, I eat. All the time. I just got busy yesterday and...well...the time got away from me.”
“You need to eat on a regular basis.”
She gave him a look that implied he needed to back off. “I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions.”
Clint drank his coffee and inhaled a buttered biscuit. Then he sat back and ran a hand down the beard shadow on his face. “Okay, fair enough. So, now that you’ve had some nourishment, why don’t we get down to business? Why do you want me on your show? And I do mean you—not the suits.” He leaned over the table, his gaze on her. “And what’s in it for me?”
Tilting her head until her thick honey-streaked brunette ponytail fell forward toward her face, she said, “That’s three more questions from you. I think it’s my turn now.”
Clint liked flirting, but business was business. “You don’t get off that easily. You came looking for me and I’m not signing on any dotted lines until I know what the deal is with this television show. And I’m certainly not making any decision this early in the morning. At least not until you answer my three questions, sweetheart.”
She glared at him and grabbed another biscuit.
CHAPTER TWO
VICTORIA RUBBED HER full stomach and wished she’d resisted temptation with those incredible biscuits. She was not a leggy blonde, after all. More like a petite and too-curvy brunette. And she had a job to do.
She also had another temptation to resist.
Him.
He smelled like freshly mowed hay. With his hair still damp and his five-o’clock shadow long past that hour, he looked as dangerous and bad as his reputation had implied. But he also looked a little tired and worn down.
Long night with the blonde?
Squaring her shoulders, she took in a breath and got back to business. After all, she was burning daylight just sitting here chewing the fat with this overblown cowboy.
“Okay, my producer, Samuel Murray, is a whiz at doing reality television. He has several Emmys to prove it.”
Clint nodded, leaned forward. “I got trophies for days, darlin’. And my time is valuable, so why should I sign up to have you and that fancy camera poking around in my life?”
How to explain this to a man who obviously thought he was so above being a reality?
“Well, you’ll get instant exposure. You’ll become famous all over again. You can revive your—”
Clint got up, stomped around the flagstone patio floor. “My what? Rodeo career? That’s been over for a long time. My songwriting? That’s more of a hobby, according to what I read in the papers and heard on the evening news.” He lifted his hand toward the vast acreage behind the yard. “This is it for me right now. Just a boring cattle rancher.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear and read,” Victoria replied, surprising herself and him. Why should she care how he felt or what he thought? “And the viewers love anyone who is living large.” She indicated the house with a glance back at it. “And it certainly seems as if you’re doing just that.”
Once again turning the tables on her, he asked, “And what do you believe? What have you read or heard about me? How am I living large?”
Should she be honest and let him know upfront that she despised everything he stood for? That beginning with high school and ending with a called-off wedding and later, one long kiss from him, she’d dated one too many cowboys and she’d rather be in a relationship with a CPA or a grocery store manager than someone like him? That she thought he was one walking hot mess and a complete fake?
“No need to answer that,” Clint replied, his hands tucked into the pockets of his nicely worn jeans. “I can see it in your eyes. You don’t like me and you don’t want to be here, but hey, you have a job to do, like everyone else, right?”
Victoria didn’t try to deny his spot-on observation. “Right. If we can work together, we both win. I get a nice promotion and you get the exposure you need to put your name back out there, so to speak.”
Clint lowered his head and gave her a lopsided grin. “Meaning, I can either make the best of this offer or I can show myself in a bad light and make things worse all the way around.”
She’d thought the same thing, driving out here. If he acted the way the world thought he acted, he wouldn’t win over any new fans. Or they’d love him and watch him out of a morbid fascination with celebrities doing stupid things. Watch him to make themselves feel better, if nothing else. Why the world got such a perverse pleasure out of watching others have public meltdowns was beyond her. Victoria valued her own privacy, which made her job tough sometimes. Filming someone in a bad light had not been her dream after college. But a girl had to earn a paycheck. She’d get through this. Right now she needed Clint Griffin to help her.
“I won’t lie to you,” she said, hoping to convince him. “This could work in your favor or it could go very bad. But I think people will be fascinated by your lifestyle, no matter how we slant it.”
“Oh, yeah.” He turned to grab his coffee then stared out over the sunshine playing across the pasture. “Everybody wants a piece of Clint Griffin. Why is it that people like to watch other people suffer?”
Wondering how much he was truly suffering, Victoria watched him, saw the pulse throbbing against the muscles of his jawline. Hadn’t she just thought the same thing—why people liked to watch others suffering and behaving badly?
She ignored the little twinge of guilt nudging at her brain and launched back into trying to persuade him to cooperate.
“I think people like reality television because they get to be voyeurs on what should be very private lives and they see that celebrities are humans, too.”
He turned to look at her, his eyes smoky and shuttered. “They like to watch people hurting and trying to hide that hurt. They like to see someone who’s been given everything fail at it anyway. That’s why they watch.”
“I suppose so,” she conceded. “It’s a sad fact, but today’s reality television makes for great entertainment. And I do believe you’d make a great subject for our show.”
“In spite of your better judgment?”
“Yes.” Victoria believed in being honest. But she couldn’t help but notice the shard of hurt moving through his eyes. “You’d be compensated for your time, of course.”
“At what price?”
The look he gave her told her he wasn’t talking about money. Did this shiny, bright good ol’ boy have a conscience?
“You’ve heard the offer already but you could probably name your price.”
He stared at her then named a figure. She tried not to flinch. No surprise that he was holding out for more. “I’ll talk to Samuel. But I think we can come to an agreement. I can’t speak for the network and the army of lawyers we have, but I can report back and have someone call you or meet with you and your handlers.”
He laughed, shook his head then offered her a hand. “No dice, darlin’. I don’t have a lot of handlers these days except for my manager, who also acts as my agent. But I’ve already informed him and your army of lawyers, as you called them, that I’m really not interested in your show.”
“What?” Victoria didn’t know how to respond. She would have bet a week’s pay that this ham of a man would have jumped at the chance to preen around on a hit television show.
But he didn’t seem the least bit interested or impressed. He actually looked aggravated.
Victoria’s head started spinning with ways to sway him. Should she stroke his big ego and make him see what he’d be missing—a captive audience, loyal female followers and his name back in the bright lights?
She couldn’t go back to Samuel without at least a promise that Clint Griffin was interested. “Look, you’d be in the spotlight again. You could write your own ticket, sing some of your songs. All we want to do is follow you around on a daily basis and see how the great Clint Griffin lives his life. And you’d make a hefty salary doing it. What’s not to like about this?”
“You said it yourself,” he replied, obviously done with this conversation. “People like to get inside other people’s private affairs and...I might be dumb but I’m not stupid. I’ve been on the wrong side of a camera before—both the tabloid kind and the jailhouse kind. That’s a can of worms I don’t intend to open.” His chuckle cut through the air. “Heck, if I want attention I’ll just get into another brawl. That always gets me airtime.”
Victoria could tell she was losing him. “But I thought you’d jump at this chance. The pay is more than fair.”
He whirled and she watched, fascinated as his expression changed from soft and full of a grin, to hard and full of anger. Her heart actually skipped a couple of thumps and beats. Even if she didn’t like him, she could see the star potential all over his good-looking face.
“I’m not worried about the pay, darlin’. I know everyone and his brother thinks this ranch is about to bite the dust, but this isn’t some I’m-desperate-and-I-have-to-save-the-ranch type story. The Sunset Star will always be solid. My daddy made sure of that. It’s just that—” He stopped, stared at her, shook his head, stomped her toward the open doors into the house. “It’s just that I need to take care of a few things before I settle down and get back to keeping this place the way my daddy expected it to be kept. And I don’t need some reality show to help me do that.”
“But—”
He held her by the arm and marched her and her equipment toward the front of the house. “But even though you’re as cute as a newborn lamb and you seem like a good person, I’m not ready to take on the world in such an intimate way.”
Victoria’s panic tipped the scale when he opened the front door. “What if you just give me a week? One week to follow you around. Just me. No crew? I’ll edit the footage and let you have the final say.”
“No.”
“What if I double the offer?”
He stopped, one hand on the open door and one hand on her elbow. “Can you do that or are you just messing with me?”
“I can do that,” she said, praying Samuel would do that. “We really want you for this show.”
Clint glared down at her, his nostrils flaring in the same way as the black stallion in his favorite piece of artwork. “I don’t know. Maybe Clint Griffin is worth even more than that. You must want me pretty bad if you’re willing to give me millions of dollars just so you can follow me around.”
She blushed at the heated way he’d said that. But she was willing to play along. “I do. I mean, we do. I can’t go back without a yes from you. I might get fired.”
“And that’d be so horrible?”
“Yes. I’m a single, working girl. I have bills to pay. I have a life, too.”
“Then film your own self.”
“I can’t do that. I was sent out here to film you, to get you to become a part of our highly successful television series. You’d be a ratings bonanza.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard all that.” He leaned close, so close she could smell the scents of pine and cedar. “And yes, I would.” He let her go, leaving a warm imprint on her arm to tease at her and tickle her awareness. This was so not going her way.
Victoria gave up and took in a breath. She’d failed and now she had to tell Samuel. He would not be pleased. She started down the steps with the feeling that she was walking to her own execution.
“Hey,” Clint called. “C’mere a minute.”
Victoria whirled so fast, she almost dropped her camera. “Yes?”
“Would this contract include anything I wanted in there? Would I have a say over what goes in and what stays out?”
She swallowed and tried not to get too eager. “Uh, sure. We can put whatever you want into your contract—within reason, of course.”
He leaned against a massive column and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Victoria a nice view of his healthy biceps. “Come to think of it, I do have a nonprofit organization I could promote on air to get some exposure. That might be good. And I could certainly put the money into a trust for my niece. I’ll have to consider that possibility, too.”
Victoria was all for good deeds, but good deeds didn’t always make for good ratings. He couldn’t go all noble on her now. She needed bad—the bad-boy side of him. Or did she really? “Charities? You? On air?”
“Yes, charities, me. On air. I might be a player, sweetheart, but believe it or not, I’m also a human being.”
“Really now?”
“Really. Yes. I tell you what, you come back with a contract I can live with and I just might sign on the dotted line.” His grin stretched with all the confidence of a big lion getting ready to roar. “And I just might give you a little bit of what you want, too.”
Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Oh, yeah, and what’s that?”
He moved like that roaring lion down the steps and got to within an inch of her nose. “My bad side,” he said, his eyes glistening with what looked like a dare.
“You’re on.” She backed up, glad she could find her next breath. She would not let this womanizer do a number on her head. She had to work with him, but she didn’t have to fawn all over him. Or put up with him fawning all over her.
Clint laughed and shook her hand. “We’ll see, sweetheart.”
Victoria knew that might be as good as she could get today. She’d be back all right. And she’d have a strong contract in hand and a couple of lawyers with her to seal the deal.
She might be dumb herself, but she wasn’t stupid either. She had to get Clint Griffin to star in Cowboys, Cadillacs and Cattle Drives or she might be out of a job.
She didn’t want her last memory of working on the show to be Clint Griffin turning her down. And honestly, she didn’t want things to end here. The man had somehow managed to intrigue her in spite of his wild reputation and in spite of how he’d treated her during their one brief encounter. But she was interested in him on a strictly professional level.
Victoria wanted to see what was behind that wild facade.
And she wanted to get to know Clint a little better in the process, too.
Temptation, she told herself. Too much temptation.
But this was a challenge she couldn’t resist.
Clint seemed to see the conflict in her soul.
“Whaddaya say, darlin’? Ready to rodeo?”
“I’ll get back to you within twenty-four hours,” she replied.
He tipped his hand to his forehead and gave her a two-finger salute. “I’ll be right here doing Lord knows what,” he called. “Think about that while you’re negotiating on my behalf.”
Victoria hurried to her Jeep and tried to drown out the roar in her head with some very loud rock music, but she heard his satisfied chuckle all the way back to the studio.
CHAPTER THREE
VICTORIA APPROACHED Samuel Murray’s office with trepidation mixed with a little self-serving hope. She didn’t want to disappoint her boss, but part of her wished Clint Griffin would turn down any and all offers. That way she wouldn’t have to ever be near the man again. Why on earth had she thought this would be a good idea?
He gave her the jitters. Victoria was usually cool and laid-back about things but after spending an hour or so with him, she needed a bubble bath and a pint of Blue Bell Moo-llennium Crunch ice cream.
How was she going to explain to the show’s producer/director and all-around boss that she’d failed in her scouting mission? Samuel had hired her right out of film school as a junior shooter and transcriber, but after watching her follow the head camera operator around, he’d promoted her because he liked her confidence and her bold way of bringing out the “real” in reality stars. Victoria worked with her subjects until they felt uninhibited enough to be honest, even with a roving camera following them around. What if she couldn’t do that with Clint? What if he messed with her head and made a fool of her? Or worse, what if he became too real, too in-her-face? What if Clint became much more than she’d ever bargained for?
And why was she suddenly so worried about this? She always did heavy research on her subjects, always had an action plan to get the drama going. But this time, with this man, she was too close, her old scars still too raw to heal.
“You’re behind the camera,” she reminded herself as she pulled into the parking garage of the downtown Dallas building where the TRN network offices were housed. That meant she had to be the one in control of the situation. “And you need your job.”
Unlike Clint Griffin, Victoria didn’t have land and oil and cattle and a reputation to keep her going. She had to live on cold hard cash.
Her parents had worked hard but had very little to show for it. Money had always been a bone of contention between her mother and father and in the end, not having any had done them in. They’d divorced when she was in high school. That had left Victoria torn between the two of them and confused about how to control her life. She’d been making her own decisions since then, but she’d never told Samuel that she’d honed her negotiation skills and her ability to soothe everyone from dealing with her parents.
She didn’t envy Clint Griffin his status in life, but she’d had some very bad experiences with men like him. Pampered, rich, good-looking and as deadly as a rattlesnake in a henhouse. She still had post-traumatic dating stress from her high school days and a typical Texas-type cowboy football player who had turned out to be the player of the year, girlfriend-wise. She’d been number three or four, maybe.
But high school is over, she reminded herself. And you’re not sixteen anymore. More like pushing thirty and mature beyond her years. Realistic. After high school, she’d dated for a while and finally found another cowboy to love. But that hadn’t worked out, either. He’d called off the wedding minutes before the ceremony because he couldn’t handle the concept that she might have a career. And she couldn’t handle his demand that she give it all up for him.
So when a very drunk Clint Griffin had planted that big, long kiss on her a few weeks after she’d been jilted, she’d needed it like she needed a snakebite. But that hadn’t stopped her from enjoying his kiss. Too much.
She didn’t have the California-dreaming, making-movies career she’d hoped for, but she was free and clear and she was still good at making her own decisions. Victoria prided herself on being realistic. Maybe that was why she was so good at her job. She couldn’t let the prospective subject get to her.
After hitting the elevator button to the tenth floor, Victoria hopped in and savored the quietness inside the cocoon of the cool, mirrored box. The dinging machine’s familiar cadence calmed her heated nerves. Still steaming from the warm summer day and the never-ending metro-area traffic between Dallas and Fort Worth, she rushed out of the elevator and buzzed past Samuel’s open office door then hurried to her own overflowing cubbyhole corner office. At least she had a halfway good view of the Reunion Tower. Halfway, but not all the way. Not yet. She’d go in and talk to Samuel later. Right now she just needed a minute—
“I know you’re in there, V.C.,” a booming voice called down the hall. “I want a report, a good report, on your scouting trip out to the Sunset Star Ranch.”
And now that he’d shouted that out like a hawker at a Rangers baseball game, everyone within a six-block radius also knew she’d been out in the country with a rascal of a cowboy.
Grimacing around the doorway at Samuel’s grandmotherly assistant, Angela, who was better known as Doberman since she was like a guard dog, Victoria shouted, “On my way.” Looking around for her own assistant, Nancy, she almost called out for help but held her tongue.
Everyone screamed and hollered around here for one reason or another, but one thing she’d learned after working for Samuel for three years—she couldn’t show any fear or he’d devour her with scorn and disdain. Samuel didn’t accept failure. But he might accept an almost contract from Clint Griffin.
Samuel pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Take a load off, V.C.”
Victoria stared down at the stack of old newspapers in the once-yellow chair then lifted them to the edge of the big, cluttered desk, careful not to disturb the multitude of books, magazines, DVDs and contract files that lay scattered like longhorn bones across the surface.
“So?” her pseudo-jolly boss asked, his bifocals perched across his bald head with a forgotten crookedness. What was left of his hair always stayed caught back in a grayish-white ponytail. He looked like a cross between George Carlin and Steven Tyler. “What’s the word from the Sunset Star?”
Victoria settled in the chair and gave him her best I’ve-got-this look. “We’re close, Samuel. Very close.”
He squinted, pursed his lips. “Very close doesn’t sound like definite.”
“He’s thinking about it but he haggled with me about the contract. He wants more money.”
“How much?”
Samuel always got right to the point.
“Double what we offered.”
“Double?” Samuel’s frown lifted his glasses and settled them back against his slick-as-glass head. “Double? Does he think we’re the Mavericks or something? We’re not in Hollywood and we don’t have basketball-player money. We work on a budget around here.”
“Well, that budget had better have room for Clint Griffin’s asking price or we won’t be featuring him on our show. He’s interested but only if we pay his price and only if we highlight his favorite charitable organization.”
Samuel sat back on his squeaky, scratched, walnut-bottomed chair and stared over at her with a perplexed glare, then let out a grunt that brought his bifocals straight down on his nose. “Charities? We’ve never done nonprofit work. We need drama and conflict and action. People behaving badly. Ain’t any ratings in do-gooder stuff.”
Victoria nodded, considered her options. “I told him I’d talk to you and then we can both talk to him. At first, he wasn’t interested but I tried to explain the advantages of signing on with us.”
Samuel’s frown lifted then shifted into a thoughtful sideways glance. “Such as exposure on one of the highest rating shows on cable? Such as endorsements that will make him blush with pride? Such as—”
“I mentioned some of the perks,” she said, wishing again Samuel hadn’t sent her to do this work. Where were all the big shots and lawyers when a girl needed them? “I also pointed out that he’d appreciate the money, of course.”
“You mean he badly needs the money.”
“I was trying to be delicate since that is only a rumor and hasn’t been confirmed. He denied that the ranch is in trouble. I think most of his trouble might be personal.”
Samuel snorted at that. “You don’t have a delicate cell in that pretty head, V.C. But you’re perfect to persuade Cowboy Clint that he needs to be a part of our team.”
“So you sent me because I’m female, Samuel? Isn’t that against company policy...being sexist and all?”
“I didn’t mention anything about that,” Samuel said, looking as innocent as a kitten. “I sent you to just get a feel, to see the lay of the land. This man makes the supermarket tabloids on a weekly basis. Now he’s playing all high and mighty?”
Victoria pushed at her ponytail. “I got a feeling that Clint Griffin doesn’t give a flip about any reality show and I saw the lay of the land, and frankly, the Sunset Star seems to be thriving. I think the man just likes to make a commotion. I’m beginning to wonder if all those rumors aren’t the truth after all. He’s certainly full of himself.”
“There is always truth in rumors,” Samuel said, repeating his favorite saying. “You need to go back out there. Something isn’t connecting here. He’s hot right now because he’s a headline maker. He’d be stupid to turn down this offer.”
“He’s not stupid,” Victoria said, remembering Clint’s words to her. “He’s smarter than he lets on, I think.”
Samuel grabbed a pen and rolled it through his fingers. “I’d say. He played you, V.C. Which is why you need to get right back on that horse and convince him to take the deal before he asks for even more money.”
“I can’t, not until you tell me yes or no on the asking price. And I mean his asking price, not what our team has offered. I know we can afford that, at least.”
Samuel squinted, looked down through his bifocals. “Now we bring in the lawyers and his manager,” he replied, a dark gleam in his brown eyes. “You gave him a nibble. I’d bet my mother’s Texas Ware splatter bowl, he’s talking to his people right now.”
Victoria wondered about that. Did he really want this kind of exposure? Or did he need it in spite of how he felt about doing a reality show? She figured Clint Griffin had already forgotten about the whole thing, including meeting her and having her camera in his face.
* * *
HE KEPT REMEMBERING her face. It had been two days since Clint had met Victoria Calhoun but he hadn’t heard a word back from her about the so-called deal she wanted to offer him with Cowboys, Cadillacs and Cattle Drives. He’d talked to his accountant, his manager and even the family minister, but he still hadn’t decided about taking on this new venture. His accountant’s eyes had lit up at the dollars signs mentioned. His manager’s eyes had lit up at the possibility of asking for even more dollars. Greedy, both of them. The minister—probably sent by Clint’s mother to check on him concerning other areas of his life—had lit up with the possibility of more funding for some of the church mission work.
Everyone wanted something from Clint. Either to take over his soul or save his soul.
And all he wanted was one day of peace and quiet. Just one. He’d had the house to himself all week but he’d had more people dropping by than ever. He needed to get out of the state of Texas, just to rest.
Or to be restless and reckless.
But it’d be worth taking this deal to have a little fun on the side with that perky but slightly buttoned-up camera operator and production-assistant-story-time-girl-Friday named Victoria.
He’d have to make up his mind soon. Clint knew offers such as this one came and went by the dozen. But an interesting working woman? Well, he hadn’t been around many of those lately. It’d be worth his trouble to have some good times with her. That and the nice salary he’d get for agreeing to this.
He could secure a good future for his only niece, fifteen-year-old Trish, or Tater, as he always called her. His little sweet Tater.
Still, taking on Victoria Calhoun would mean having to deal with one more female in his already full-of-females life. And he hadn’t exactly asked how anyone else around here would feel about constant cameras in their lives.
Clint listened to the sound of girly laughter out by the pool, his eyes closed, his mind in turmoil while he sat in the shade of the big, open patio, watching the steaks sizzle on the grill. With a cowboy hat covering his face to shade him from the bright glare of the afternoon sun, he listened to the women gathered for a quick swim before dinner.
“Well, he said he’d take me to the party.”
That would be Tater. The young, confused, teenage one.
“But did he ask you to the party? Because you wanting him to take you and him asking, that’s a whole different thing.”
That would be Susan. Or Susie. The bossy older one.
“Take, ask, what does it matter? I want to go with him but he treats it all like a joke.”
“It is a joke. Men like to treat us that way.”
“You two need to quit worrying about boyfriends and get outta that water and help me finish dinner.”
And that would be Denise. Denny—the nickname she hated. The divorced, even older one.
Man, he loved his sisters and his niece but sometimes they got on his last nerve. Favorite, Forceful and Formidable. That’s how he labeled them in the pecking order, youngest to oldest.
“Can’t a man get some shut-eye around here without all this squawking?”
“And you, Mister Moody. You need to turn those steaks ’cause your mama is on her way over right now.”
Clint opened one eye and squinted up at the one he liked to call Denny just to irritate her. Tater technically belonged to Denny, but everyone around here was trying to advise his niece on how to get a date for the summer party coming up in a few weeks. “Mama? You invited Mama for a cookout?”
“She does live right over there—sometimes,” Denise said, one hand on her hip while she pointed toward the white farmhouse near the big pond at the south end of the yard. When he’d built this house, their stubborn mother had insisted on staying on out there. “And she does come for dinner at least once or twice a week.”
“And she doesn’t like to see her grown son lying around like a lazy donkey,” Clint added, groaning his way out of the big lounge chair. “I sure enjoyed having the house to myself this week. Y’all need to take Mama to visit Aunt Margaret in Galveston more often.”
Denise gave him an impish smile. “I might consider that since I’m mighty tired of finding feminine clothes scattered all over this house each time I come back home. Not a good role-model-type thing for your niece.”
“I don’t mind the parties,” Tater said on an exclamation-point holler. “I’m old enough to handle things like that if y’all would just quit trying to ruin my life.”
“You have a good life,” Susie said with her infamousness sarcastic tone of voice. “Enjoy being young and carefree. Adulthood isn’t all that fun.”
Denny shook her head at her younger sister. “You know, you need a better attitude.”
“You don’t know what I need,” Susie retorted before she went back to scrolling on her phone.
Clint held up both hands, palms out. “I have no idea what any of you are talking about.”
“Right.” Denise turned and flipped the steaks herself, as was her nature with all things.
Control. Everyone around here wanted control but they were all out to control. Especially him.
Clint put his hat back on his head and sat back down in his chair, wondering when exactly he’d lost control of his own life. Maybe taking on this crazy reality show would serve them all right. At least then he could call the shots himself.
* * *
TWO WHOLE DAYS and Samuel was on Victoria to go back out to the Sunset Star Ranch. Okay, so she was accustomed to using a handheld camera to get a few shots when she went out on a scouting assignment, and she was used to going on these missions by herself since she’d been more than a production assistant from day one. Samuel depended on her spot-on opinions of people and he also appreciated that she stayed in shape for the physical part of her job, which sometimes entailed lugging cameras of all sizes that often weighed up to twenty-five pounds, or running around with hair and makeup, or soothing an angry castmate, or maybe, just maybe, getting a good scene without anyone having a real meltdown.
But mostly Samuel depended on her to ease a subject into becoming a reality star. One small camera, no pressure and nothing on the air without a consent release. That was part of what her job required and most days, this was the best part of that job. Discovering someone who’d make a great star always got her excited. Looking into someone else’s life and seeing the reflection of her own pain in their eyes always made her thankful for what she had and how far she’d come. Her job allowed her to create stories out of reality and in the process, she’d seen some amazing changes in people who started out all broken and messed up and ended up whole and confident again.
But for some reason, coming to talk to Clint Griffin again made her break out in hives. She didn’t think she could fix him without destroying part of herself.
“Get over yourself,” she whispered as she parked her tiny car and started the long hike up to those big double doors. She’d just reached the top step when the front door burst open and a young girl ran out, tears streaming down her face.
The girl glared at Victoria then stomped into a twirl and glared up at the house. “I hate this place.”
Victoria wasn’t sure what to say, but when she heard someone calling out, she stood perfectly still and went into unobtrusive camera-person mode. This was getting interesting.
“Tater, come back here.”
She sure knew that voice. Surely he wasn’t messing with high-schoolers now.
The girl let out a groan. “And don’t call me Tater!”
Then another voice shrilled right behind Clint, obviously addressing that heated retort. “Tell her to get back in here and finish helping me set the table.”
The woman whirled past Victoria in a huff of elegance. She had streaked brown hair and long legs and a dressed-to-impress attitude in a white blouse dripping with gold and pearl necklaces and a tight beige skirt that shouted Neiman Marcus. So he also dated lookers who knew which hot brands to wear.
By the time Clint himself had made it to the open door, Victoria was boiling over with questions and doubts, followed by a good dose of anger. She couldn’t work with this man.
Clint stared down at the driveway, where the two other women were arguing, and then turned to stare at her. His mouth went slack when he realized one of these things was not like the others. “Victoria?”
She nodded but remained still and calm, her leather tote and one camera slung over her shoulder. Let him explain his way out of this one.
Before he could make the attempt, two other women—one pretty but stern and definitely more controlled in jeans and a blue cashmere sweater over a sleeveless cotton top, and the other smiling and shaking her beautiful chin-length silver bob—virtually shoved Clint out of the way and completely ignored Victoria.
Clint put his hands on his hips and listened to the chattering, shouting, finger-pointing group of women standing in his driveway. Then he turned to Victoria with a shrug. “I can explain.”
“Yeah, right,” she retorted. “Do you have a harem in there, cowboy?”
“I only wish,” he replied. “You want reality. Well, c’mon then.” He took her by the arm and dragged her down the steps and pushed her right in the middle of the squawking women. But his next words caused Victoria to almost drop her tiny not-even-turned-on video recorder.
“Victoria Calhoun, I’d like you to meet my mother, my two aggravating sisters and my hopping-mad niece. This is my reality.”
CHAPTER FOUR
VICTORIA DID A double take. “Excuse me?”
“Turn on that little machine,” Clint replied, pointing to her handheld. “Get this on tape, darlin’.” Then his voice grew louder. “Because this is my life now.”
All of the women stopped talking and stared at Victoria.
“What did you say?” the oldest one asked, giving Clint a sharply focused, brilliant gray-eyed appraisal.
“Mama, this is Victoria Calhoun. From TRN. She works on that show y’all like to watch. Cowboys, Cadillacs and—”
“Cowboys,” the fashion plate said, her angry frown turning to a fascinated smile. She went into instant star mode. “Really?”
“Really,” Victoria replied, wondering how his entire family had turned out to be females. And thinking this explained a lot about the man. He was obviously spoiled and used to being pampered with so many women around.
“I love that show,” the starlet woman replied, her attention now centered on Victoria. “But why on earth are you here?”
“She’s probably filming us,” the young rebel replied, her eyes a lot like Clint’s mother’s. “Did you get all of that? Are you gonna put that on television?” She turned in a panic. “I will die of embarrassment. I so don’t want anyone to see that on TV. Uncle Clint?”
“I haven’t filmed anything yet,” Victoria replied in a calm voice. “I came out a few days ago, scouting, and took a few candid shots. But...Mr. Griffin was the only one here.”
He gave her a look that said, “Right,” but he didn’t call her out on getting the leggy blonde on tape because if he said anything he’d have to confess to having a leggy blonde here. “That’s true,” he said. “And if you’ll all come in the house, I’ll explain everything.”
Victoria took that as her invitation to go inside with them. Had he made a decision? Probably not, since he hadn’t bothered to tell his family...or her...about it.
The older-looking sister in the casual outfit gave Victoria a look that suggested she hated this idea and she wasn’t going to budge. “Somebody go and check on the steaks,” she said, waiting for Victoria to get ahead of her in the procession. “I think we need to set an extra plate for dinner.”
“No, I couldn’t—”
“I insist,” Clint’s mother said.
Victoria knew that motherly tone. No arguments.
“I’m Bitsy,” the silver-haired lady continued. She guided Victoria toward the back of the house. “We’re having supper out on the porch by the pool. Do you eat meat?”
Stunned, Victoria nodded. “This is Texas, right?”
Bitsy chuckled, gave her son a quick glance. “Last time I checked. But my granddaughter—the one we call Tater—has decided she’s a vegan. So I always ask.”
Polite and elegant. Manners. This woman was a true Texas lady. A society dame, Victoria thought. What a nice contrast to Clint and his bad-boy ways. But why were they both here together?
* * *
CLINT SAT AT the head of the long pine table and took in the women surrounding him. How did a man escape such a sweet trap? He turned to Victoria, conscious of her quiet reserve. She observed people and watched the exchange of comments, criticisms and contradictions that was dinner at the Sunset Star. What was she thinking? That she needed to run as fast as her legs would carry her? Or that this was certainly fodder for her show?
He decided to ask her. “So, you think we could entertain people with our little family dynamic?”
Her green eyes locked horns with him. “Oh, yes. You have an interesting family dynamic.”
He chuckled, drained his iced tea. “We ain’t the Kardashians, darlin’, but we love each other.”
He saw the hint of admiration in her eyes. “I can see that, I think. But all of this chaos makes for good television.”
“Uh-huh.” Chaos, hormones, mood swings and his man-view. Couple that with all the mistakes he’d made and how his family clung to those mistakes like a rodeo pro clinging to a bucking bronco and well, who wouldn’t want to see that on television? That would make for great entertainment. But did he really want to reduce his family to ridicule and embarrassment just to make a buck or two? Hey, that was what this popular show was all about and his family was kind of used to it anyway.
Victoria perked up. “Have you decided to accept our offer?”
“I’ve been waiting to hear back from you on that account.”
She gave him a surprised frown. “We were waiting to hear back from your lawyers—”
“Forget the lawyers. This is my decision.”
“Well, I’m here now and we can decide, once and for all.”
“Did you come all the way out here to pin me down?”
“Yes, I did. My boss wasn’t happy with me the other day.”
“He can’t blame you. We have a whole passel of lawyers and one greedy manager looking into the matter but I told them to hold off. So this is my decision and my fault if I decide not to participate. Which I haven’t decided. Yet.”
“So you are interested?”
“Maybe.” He nodded toward his mother at the other end of the table. “But ultimately it will be up to her and the rest of them.”
“And here I thought you were the master of your domain.”
“An illusion. I’m just the dog-and-pony show.”
“Having family here will add to the drama of the show.”
“Maybe. We do have lots of drama around here. But I’m not so sure I want to put my family through anything that will make them uncomfortable. Or rather, anything more.”
Her disappointed look didn’t surprise him. Maybe she was just like everyone else. Greedy and needy and clueless about leaving a trail of stepped-on people behind her. Maybe he was the same way himself.
She leaned forward. “When we first thought of you, we didn’t know you had family here. I was under the impression you lived alone in this big house.”
He fingered the condensation on his glass. “I did for a while. The old family home is on the other side of the property. My folks lived there for many years. Then my daddy passed and my sister got a divorce and my other sister lost her job and...”
“You took them all in?”
“They kinda came one at a time. Mama didn’t really want to move into this house, so she stays out in the old place by the pond, but we see her just about every day. Denise didn’t want to move in but after her divorce, well, she couldn’t afford her own overblown home. So I finally convinced her by asking her to help me out around here. She’s the ranch manager but she does her own thing on the side. She has an online business selling clothes. The latest is Susie. She lost her high-fashion job in California, even though she’d tell you she was a struggling actress, so she came home for a visit about a month ago and...she stayed.” He grinned and lowered his voice. “But, bless her heart, she still thinks like a Californian.”
Victoria’s smile indicated she enjoyed bantering with the best of them. “And dresses like one, too.”
“Yep. She wants to be a star but she was forced to find a real job between auditions and bit parts. Rodeo Drive—not quite my kind of rodeo, but it paid the bills until the owner up and shut everything down.”
From down the table, his mother tapped a spoon on her glass. “Clint, are you going to explain about this television show or do I have to read about it in the local paper?”
He let go of Victoria’s gaze and looked at his mother. Bitsy Griffin hated scandal of any kind. She valued her privacy so much, she’d rather stay in that old farmhouse than stay in the nice room he’d fixed up for her upstairs. So what made him think she’d ever agree to a television crew filming her every move? And his every scandal?
Denny glared at him, always in perpetual distrust of any man, especially her playboy brother, who’d introduced her to her playboy husband, who’d become her ex-husband but was still very much a playboy. Too many issues with that one.
“Let me lay it out on the table,” he said, holding his breath and bracing for a storm of catty protests. “Ms. Calhoun came out here the other day as a representative of the show and offered me a contract to appear in several episodes of the show. We talked about the offer and discussed the pay. I told her I’d have to think about it.”
“And it never occurred to you to tell us this?” Denny asked, fire burning through her eyes.
“I’m telling you now,” he replied, a heavy fatigue drawing him down. “I never agreed to have any of you on the show anyway. If I decide to do this that doesn’t mean any of you have to participate.”
“Did you invite her to come and explain to us?” Susie asked, her long nails tapping on the table, her brown eyes full of interest.
“No, he didn’t,” Victoria said, sitting up in her chair. “I came back to see what he’d decided and to answer any questions he might still have. I didn’t know...about all of you.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Denny said, her tone bordering on hostile. “My brother likes to keep us all a secret. Gives him more of a spotlight.”
“Look,” Clint said, holding out a hand in defense. “I’m sorry for not telling y’all. That’s because I had to think long and hard about this before I said anything. I know how rumors get started, some of them right here at this table.”
That quieted everyone.
“Would we have cameras around twenty-four hours a day?” his mother asked, her tone caught between interest and exasperation.
“No,” Victoria answered. “We’d frame each episode. That means we’d plan it out to tape show segments at a certain time, say for an event such as this. But we won’t be here every day, all day.” She glanced around the table. “We’d do a few episodes and see how it goes.”
Clint nodded at her, impressed with her calm, professional tone.
“What do you expect from us?” Denny asked, still glaring.
Instead of turning snarky, Victoria smiled. “Our viewers love Texas. They want to see how a real cowboy lives. You know, the horses, the homes, the cattle. Oil and everything that entails. The saying that everything is bigger in Texas pretty much sums up this show. We like to show off our stars.”
Denny didn’t look happy. “So you’d be exploiting us?”
Clint gave her a warning look. Denny sent back a daring look.
“We don’t want to exploit anyone,” Victoria replied. “But we do want good ratings. Good ratings mean better sponsors and more dollars and not getting canceled. So I get to keep my job.”
Susie shot Clint a greedy glance. His ambitious little sister would be all over this like a duck on a June bug. “Well, I am unemployed right now and I do have some acting experience. I’m available.”
“We haven’t reached that part,” Clint retorted. “And you know I’ll take care of you while you’re looking for work.”
“I don’t want to be taken care of,” his sister said on a hiss of breath. “I can take care of myself. But I would benefit from being featured in this show.” She shifted her gaze to Victoria. “Of course, I don’t come cheap.”
“Susan,” her mother said, a hand on her daughter’s arm, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is your brother’s house, but we all have a say in this since we live on the property.”
“It’s your property, Mama,” Denny said. “He could have asked before he allowed these people out here.”
“He didn’t allow anything,” Victoria said. “I came looking for him because he didn’t return my calls.”
“And why exactly did the powers-that-be send you?” Denny asked, a killer glare in her brown eyes.
Victoria didn’t skip a beat. “My boss is Samuel Murray and he is both the producer and director of Cowboys, Cadillacs and Cowboys. He sent me—his production assistant and story producer—because I’ve done every job on the show from camera work to hair and makeup to just being a gofer for food and drinks. He trusts me to scout out people who will be able to handle being on a reality show.”
For the first time since her hissy fit earlier, Tater spoke up. “And do you think we’re those kind of people?”
Victoria shot Clint a glance that reassured him and terrified him. “Yes. Yes, I certainly do.”
* * *
“I’LL WALK YOU to your car,” Clint told Victoria after they’d cleared away the dinner dishes.
They were alone now and at least she’d survived the scrutiny of his overly protective family. They’d all listened, intrigued and repulsed in turn, and she believed they were curious enough to want to try this. Susie obviously wanted to be a part of things and was ready to sign tonight. Denny refused to even discuss it. But Victoria wasn’t sure she’d convinced his mother, or Tater for that matter, to open up their lives to the world. And honestly, Victoria couldn’t blame them. There was a reason she stayed on the other side of the camera.
“Thanks,” she told him now, putting her guilt and her own reservations out of her mind. “That was a great dinner.”
His self-deprecating smile sizzled with charm. “I almost burned the steak.”
“The steak was just right but I was talking about the undercurrents around the table.”
“Oh, I see. You’d like to get that on the screen?”
“That’s the kind of family interaction we dream about getting on TV.”
“Keep dreaming then, darlin’.” He strolled her to her car then leaned back against it to stare down at her. “I don’t think my girls are quite ready for prime time.”
Victoria didn’t want to lose this chance, especially after meeting his family. At first, she’d only been intent on showing Clint Griffin in his worst light because she wanted to reveal him for the player he’d always been. She’d wanted nothing more than to expose his shenanigans to the world because viewers loved to see others in misery. But she had a gut feeling that showing him interacting with all of his female relatives would send a new message and make the ratings skyrocket. Women loved a man who knew how to handle women. It was a bit sexist but true. Clint’s handling of his many girlfriends would contrast nicely with how he interacted with his family. Plus, everyone loved watching notorious people having meltdowns. It was a sad paradox, but it was there. She had every reason to want to cash in on that.
“What can I do to convince you?”
“I’m almost in,” he said, nodding. “But even before you showed up tonight, I was gonna explain it to all of them and ask them to let me work around them—not include them, unless they agreed to it.”
“Susie seems interested,” she pointed out. “And she does have an impressive acting résumé from what she told me.”
“Yes, that and an ego the size of our great state,” he said on a guarded chuckle. “I’ll have to think about bringing her in but she just might work out and she does need some means of an income.”
“We could start with you,” Victoria replied. “We’d just coordinate scenes with you, doing your thing. Nothing too hard. Then we’d ease into the family stuff.”
“Me?” He puffed up. “Well, that’s what you came for, right?”
Right. But she was getting more than she bargained for. Just being in the same space with him upped her ante and made her have interesting, dangerous daydreams. “You don’t seem too worried, either way. Your picture is in the papers a lot and you make the local news on a weekly basis. This would just be another day at work for you.”
“With one infraction or another, yep.”
She tried another tactic. “Maybe you don’t want people to know that you’re really a decent man who’s trying to hold his family together, a man who takes in his sister and niece because they’re going through a rough patch. A man who takes in his other unemployed sister to save her pride. Or a man who makes sure his widowed mother has a home when she needs a place to get away and be by herself.”
“You got all of that from dinner?”
Victoria couldn’t deny what she’d seen with her own eyes. “I got all of that from watching you and your family and asking you questions. I think the viewers would be surprised, too.”
His gray eyes turned to silver and swept over her with a liquid heat. “Well, I like to surprise people.”
She wondered about that while she tried to shield herself from that predatory gaze. “So, what if we just go with taping you first and then see how everyone else feels?”
“How ’bout I think it over and call you tomorrow?”
Victoria needed more than that. She’d like to march triumphantly into Samuel’s office first thing in the morning and tell him she’d nabbed the infamous Clint Griffin for their show. But that would have to wait. “Okay. Call me early. I have a busy day tomorrow.”
“I have your card,” he replied. “I’ll get back to you.”
How many times had she heard that from a man?
Victoria left knowing she’d never see him again unless she subscribed to all the papers and magazines in town. He’d go on being him and she’d miss out on getting it all down on tape.
A shame, too. She really liked his mother.
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.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked.
He got up, shook his jeans down over his boots. “Yes. Let’s get this show on the road. I’ve got real work to do later today.”
“What kind of real work do you do?”
He gave her an exaggerated frown. “Do you really believe all that hype about me going from bar to bar, making trouble and breaking hearts?”
Victoria thought of one heart long ago, but then she reminded herself she was so over that night. “Yes,” she said, more to herself than to him.
“Well, then, you’ll come with me and you’ll watch and learn. This is a working ranch—not just for show.”
Victoria’s radar went off. “We’ll tape that side of you, too, if you don’t mind. To show the contrast between the good-time Clint and the Clint who truly does do a day’s work.”
A disappointed look colored his eyes a dark gray like a quick-passing cloud. “Yeah, that’s me. Two different personalities in one broken, tired body.” Then he lifted an arm to show off his biceps. “Think I’m still in pretty good shape considering.”
“Not bad,” she said through a haze of awareness. “Not bad at all.” She turned away before he saw the flare of that awareness in her eyes. If Clint even saw a hint of interest, he’d swoop in and do what he did best—enjoy the hunt. When that was over, she’d be left for dead. “Okay, everyone, let’s get going,” she called out.
When she looked back at Clint, his eyes were back to that knowing, glowing silvery gray. Dangerous. This was going to be a very long day.
* * *
CLINT DECIDED TO give the cameras a good show. And since everyone in this so-called household was fuming at him right about now for agreeing to do this, he planned on making the most out of the situation. He had his reasons for signing up for this crazy show, but no one around here needed to hear those reasons. A man had to keep some things to himself.
His mother had been so conflicted she’d announced she was going back to the other side of the ranch to the old farmhouse and she did not want to see a camera anywhere near that house.
Denny was so mad that she’d taken Tater on an extended trip to the New Braunfels Schlitterbahn to meet up with some of their Louisiana friends. And Susie was piping mad because he refused to let her be a part of things—for now.
He didn’t mind Susie chiming in since she was single and looking for work, but he wanted to get the lay of the land and he didn’t need his baby sister hanging around and messing with his head when he did it. So now she was off on the other side of the house, lurking and pouting.
Add to that, he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who’d convinced him to do this in the first place. Victoria Calhoun’s curvy little body and wild mane of sun-streaked hair were driving him nuts. But her lips were killing him softly.
He still wanted to kiss those lips. Why, he couldn’t understand. He’d kissed a lot of women in his life but for some reason he needed to verify what his mind was already telling him—that a kiss from Victoria would either cure him or kill him. And he didn’t care which right now.
She came hurrying toward him, her clipboard on her arm, her dark green cargo pants looking more feminine than outdoorsy. And her form-fitting white T-shirt made her look like she was on the prowl instead of on a busy set.
“Ready?” she asked, a long curl of bangs falling across her face. “This is it.”
Clint nodded, took a breath. He didn’t have a nervous bone in his body but she made him jumpy. “Yep. So I just look into the camera and welcome people into my home, right?”
“Right. We’ll give them a quick tour and explain you’re about to throw a party out by the pool. Fun in the sun with friends.”
“Got it.” He knew how to play things up, but he wasn’t so sure he could pretend to be having a great time with cameras all around. “I’ll give it the ol’ college try.”
“Give it your honest self,” she replied, her smile indulgent. “Just do what you did the morning I met you.”
Her expression told him she remembered every bit of that little scene.
“Right. I’ll need at least two cheerleaders and a model for that, darlin’.”
She shot him a look filled with both anticipation and distrust. “Well, bring ’em on then.”
“They should be arriving any minute now.”
Victoria glanced around, obviously not all that impressed that he could conjure up pretty women with the snap of his fingers. “Let’s get you going on the tour,” she said, her mind already racing ahead.
Clint braced himself and put on his game face. He knew the drill. Tease ’em, give ’em a good time, then move on.
A few hours and several takes later, he’d made it through what would be the intro to his time on the show and was now opening the doors to the patio. The party was already going on and the crew wanted to get in some segments before the hot Texas sun settled in the western sky.
“So, there you have it. You’ve seen my home and now it’s time to see how I live in this home. I’m Clint Griffin and I’d like to welcome you to Cowboys, Cadillacs and Cattle Drives.”
He swung the doors open and did a sweep of the pool and yard, his hands lifting into the air as he turned to smile into the camera. “Let’s go have some fun.”
Then he winked at the women waiting for him then stripped off his shirt and headed straight for the deep end of the pool.
But when he came up out of the cool depths of the sparkling water, a fourth woman was sauntering out in front of the cameras, a provocative smile centered on her pretty face.
His little sister Susie was on the set. And the cameras were taking it all in.
* * *
“GET HER OUT of here,” Clint hissed as he rose out of the water and headed toward his sister.
Victoria followed him, motioning for the cameras to get all of this on tape. They wouldn’t be able to use it without a release from Susie, but she couldn’t miss recording this little bit of drama.
Clint took Susie—who was clad in a black bikini, her long brown hair falling around her shoulders in soft curls—and pulled her to the side. Quickly wrapping a towel around her, he said, “You weren’t supposed to come down right now and you know it.”
Susie shrugged, dropped the towel and smiled into the camera. “My big brother neglected to mention that I live here, too, and I like to take a dip in the pool myself.” She gave Clint a daring glance. “I don’t mind the whole world watching. Just little me, taking a late-afternoon swim.” With a swish of her slender hips, she waved to the other women frolicking in the pool and headed for a lounge chair.
“Susie!”
The cameras swung to follow Susie while Clint stalked toward Victoria. Victoria nodded to the cameras to keep rolling. This was the kind of stuff she needed. If Susie wanted to become a reality star, then who was she to judge the woman.
“Victoria!”
“Yes?”
“Do something! I don’t want to have all of America ogling my baby sister.”
“She’s a grown woman,” Victoria replied, wondering why he didn’t get the double standard here. “As long as she signs a release, I’m cool with it. And she’s beautiful.”
“Yes, she is beautiful,” he said on a growl. “But no, I’m not so cool with every man alive seeing too much of her.”
Victoria automatically went into damage-control mode. “Look, Clint, we can delete the footage with Susie. If you don’t like it, it won’t go in.”
“I won’t like it,” he said. “I won’t.”
“Go and play,” she cautioned, her calm only a front. “We’ll keep the cameras on you and the girls but we’ll let Susie think she’s being filmed.”
He settled down at that. “Why did I think this would be a good idea?”
“It is a good idea,” Victoria replied, lying through her teeth. “And it’s only the first day. You’ll get used to the cameras.”
“I doubt that,” he replied. “But I do need a drink and some sweet talk. I’ll just have to pretend my baby sister isn’t watching.”
He headed back to the pool and started earning his pay in such a big way that Susie got up, put her hands on her little hips and announced, “Next time, I’m inviting my friends, not yours.” Then she stomped past Victoria with a glare and a parting shot. “This isn’t reality. It’s ridiculous.”
* * *
VICTORIA LET OUT a yawn. It had been a long day. Nestled safely in the spacious pool house, she wondered at the wisdom of staying so near that big stone house across from the pool. But Samuel liked the crew to stay on sight as much as possible to capture any and all incidents. And boy, had they had incidents today.
Susie showing up at the pool.
Denny calling Clint in the middle of the B-roll. His mother coming over and holding a hand over her face as she marched through the house to give him an important package that had been mistakenly delivered to her side of the ranch.
They had most of it on tape and they’d have to delete most of that. It would be tricky, taping around his unyielding family. But Victoria hoped she could keep the segments with Susie. Clint’s sister couldn’t be much younger than Victoria, but she had the spoiled Dallas socialite routine down pat. And that would make for great television. Well, great reality television anyway. She’d have to do a good job of editing, so Clint could see that the tension between Susie and him was undeniable. As long as she kept it light, however, she thought she could make it work without getting too deeply into family dynamite best left on the cutting-room floor.
And just how far are you willing to go?
This was always the dilemma for her. How long could she keep up this pace? How long could she push to get into people’s heads and lives just to keep the ratings up and the sponsors happy?
As Samuel would say, “As long as it takes, sweetheart.”
So she gritted her teeth and went back over the raw footage for today’s taping. If she liked what she saw, she’d send it electronically to Samuel with editing suggestions. Then back at the studio, they’d work through the rough cuts to create what would become the footage for the first show highlighting Clint Griffin. He’d lived up to his promise to put on a show. He’d flirted, whispered sweet nothings, had a few drinks and played a few tunes on his acoustic guitar.
Victoria had tried very hard to ignore how smoothly he moved from woman to woman. Now if she could only ignore the beating drums of her heart and how that tune had changed today each time he kissed one of those bikini-clad women.
Because Victoria knew how good that man’s kisses could be.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CLINT COULDN’T SLEEP. Nothing new there. Normally when he had insomnia he’d get dressed and head into town for some nightlife. Sometimes, he’d stay out all night and sometimes he’d bring the party home.
But lately, even that temptation had gone sour. Maybe he was getting old. The things that used to get him all excited and happy now only made him tired and cranky. And bored.
Then why are you putting on this show for the entire world?
Why, indeed?
He got up and pulled on some sweatpants and threw on an old T-shirt. Maybe a nightcap.
Padding through the quiet coolness of the house, he noticed Tessa’s light was out. She deserved her sleep because she was a kind, spiritual soul. She probably slept like a baby.
Susie had long ago left the house to do her own late-night kind of thing, whatever that was. She wanted in on this new gig, but Clint couldn’t allow that. Not that he could stop her, technically, but he could stop her with a big brother clarity that would protect her and the rest of the family. His baby sister wasn’t known for being discreet.
He had a feeling that after today, however, he’d lose that battle. And how could he blame her for wanting to be noticed? She’d had a good thing going for a while there out in California. Sure she missed the spotlight.
Clint grabbed some milk and a hunk of Tessa’s sour cream pound cake and headed out to the patio, where he’d left his guitar. He liked to sit here back in the shadows late at night and stare at the heavens while he tried to come up with another perfect song. Tonight, the moon was as close to full as it could be. It hung bright and punch-faced across the lush blue-black sky. A few bold stars shined around it just to showcase the whole thing.
Beautiful.
Then he was startled by a splash and watched as two slender arms lifted out of the water and two cute feminine feet kicked into a slow, steady lap across the pool. Curious as to who could be swimming at this late hour, he waited to see.
And watched, fascinated, as Victoria walked out of the water and pushed at her long, wet hair.
Beautiful.
Clint took in her white one-piece bathing suit and her glistening skin. The suit shimmered like pearls against the darker pale of her skin. She walked toward a table and picked up a big bright towel, then started drying off. How long had she been here? Did she know he was hidden up under the covered patio?
Clint set down the napkin full of cake and lifted out of the wrought-iron chair. The slight scraping of metal against stone brought her head up.
Her eyes widened. “Clint?” She grabbed the towel again and held it to her.
“Yeah.” He walked out toward her. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I...I couldn’t sleep.”
She pushed at her damp hair. “I...I couldn’t, either. I hope you don’t mind if I took a quick swim. We have a pool at my apartment building and this helps me settle down.”
He moved closer, liking how the moon highlighted her pretty skin and wide pink mouth. “Don’t mind at all. Don’t let me stop you.”
“I’m done,” she said, already gathering her things. “I did a few laps and sat awhile—that moon.” Her head down, she added, “I just took one last lap and I really should try to get some sleep.”
“Sit with me awhile.”
She looked as surprised as he felt but nodded. “We could talk about today.”
“We could. Or we could talk about something else.”
Wrapping herself with the big striped towel, she asked, “What else is there?”
Clint could think of a lot else but he didn’t explain that to her. “I don’t know. You. Me. I don’t know much about you but you know a whole lot about me.”
“Just my job. I have to ask the intimate questions so I can understand things and get a storyboard going for the show.”
He motioned to two chairs by the shallow end of the pool. “I want to hear how you got this job.”
He was shocked that he really did want to know about her life, but he was even more caught off guard because he just wanted to sit here in the moonlight with her and enjoy looking at her.
Full-moon madness?
Or just a man tired of chasing and ready to settle down.
But he wasn’t that man quite yet, was he?
* * *
VICTORIA THOUGHT SHE should probably go back into the pretty little pool house and call it a night. She’d wondered at the wisdom of staying on-site but in the end, the crew had decided it would be easier to stay on the ranch rather than drive back and forth through heavy traffic each day. Clint had agreed and had graciously offered Victoria and some of the other crew members the use of the pool house. The pool house where she should be right now, working, instead of visiting with her new star.
But something melancholy drew her to Clint. Or maybe his open shirt drew her. Either way, it would be rude to leave now that he had asked her to sit down.
“What’s that?” she asked, her gaze hitting on what looked like food. She’d skipped supper and now her stomach growled with a vicious plea.
“Tessa’s pound cake,” he said, sliding the napkin over to her. “Did you forget to eat again?”
How did he already know that about her?
“Yes,” she admitted, comfortable with him knowing. Liking that he’d noticed. “I love pound cake.”
He chuckled. “Want something to drink?”
She nodded between bites. “Milk?”
He pushed his glass toward her. “You eat and drink and I’ll go get us more food.”
“But...”
“Hey, the cameras are off. We follow my rules now, okay?”
“Okay.” She sat and glanced around. No one in sight. Then she noticed his guitar on the other table. She’d have to play up that angle because he obviously loved to play the guitar and he had mentioned his songwriting dreams. She liked that about him.
She might even like the way he always took charge and made her feel safe and cared for, too. But she couldn’t handle that for too long, she was sure. She was used to being in charge and being in control. And she really liked being single and independent.
Comparing the way Clint Griffin made her feel to her need to take care of herself was like comparing apples to oranges.
She liked both but they were two different things.
By the time he’d returned, she’d polished off the cake and downed most of the big glass of milk. And she’d talked herself out of any notions of a big strong man in her life. How old-fashioned and clichéd did that sound?
He had brought more food. A whole tray full of sliced cake, cold chicken and steak strips, tortillas and chips and salsa. And a bottle of sangria.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he spread out the food with all the flourish of a maître d’.
“I’m feeding you,” he replied with a grin. “Now eat up, and between bites tell me about you.”
She grabbed a soft tortilla and threw some meat and salsa on it then rolled it tight and started nibbling. Clint poured them both some sangria and pushed a goblet toward her.
After she took a sip, she sat back to stare over at him, thinking he really was a paradox. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Where were you born?”
“You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“I have a lot of catching up to do, remember?”
She nodded, smiled, glowed with a full tummy and a nice calm. “I was born in Dallas, of course.”
“But you’re not the cowgirl type.”
“No, I grew up in a trailer park. It was nice and clean but crowded and...certainly not upper class.”
“Class isn’t in the upper or lower,” he said. “It’s all in how you handle life.”
She lifted her goblet to him. “A cowboy, a playboy and a philosopher, too. You never fail to surprise me.”
“Sometimes, I surprise myself.” He gave her a look that seemed to include her in that realization. “But back to you. So what happened with your life?”
“You mean did I have a happy childhood?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“My parents got a divorce when I was a teen so my childhood pretty much ended.” She shrugged. “But it wasn’t all that great to begin with. I learned to fend for myself since they didn’t seem capable of taking care of business.”
“That’s tough.” He pushed more cake toward her then broke off a piece for himself. “But you survived.”
Victoria thought about that, memories filtering through her mind like falling leaves. “Barely. My mother worked hard and my dad—he sent a little money but it was never enough.”
“Did he leave y’all?”
“He did. He traveled here and there, always looking for some sort of dream. He died never finding that dream, but he sure had some tall tales to tell.”
“Don’t we all?”
She wiped her mouth and put down her napkin. “I suppose so. I think I like this job because even though our show is based in reality, we always manage to get into people’s heads and find out what really matters. Most people have dreams they keep to themselves.” She motioned to the guitar. “Like you. You should pursue that again.”
“Maybe.”
Clint went silent, his head down, so she pushed on. “You have this big vast family. Noise and laughter, shouting and drama. But it’s kind of nice to see you all living together. Not what I expected at all.”
He shrugged, gave her a soft smile. “I know—it makes for good television.”
“No, I mean, I didn’t have that growing up. It was quiet and sad most of the time around my house. Like we were mourning.”
“Maybe you were.”
She glanced out at the lights shimmering in the pool. The water glistened in shades of aqua and azure. A group of palm trees swayed in the wind near a constantly streaming foundation that emptied into the deep end. It felt foreign, being the one on the hot seat.
Finally, she turned back to Clint. “Are you mourning for anything?”
He looked shocked then he gave her an evasive gaze. “I do miss my dad. We didn’t see eye to eye, but I thought I’d always have him.”
Victoria zoomed in on that admission. Here was something to bring out, something the audience could understand and identify with. So could she.
“I miss my dad, too,” she said, hoping to draw him out. But her words were the truth. “He just never got it together and I always wondered what my life might have been like if he’d had a different mindset.”
“You might be a different person now,” Clint said. “Or I might not have ever met you. And that would have been a shame.”
Okay, she needed to steer this back around. “Tell me more about your daddy.”
He didn’t speak for a minute, then said, “He didn’t like me dabbling in songwriting, so I gave it up and became a rodeo star.” That evasiveness again. “Among other things.”
Back on track, she continued probing. “Did you like being on the rodeo circuit?”
He nodded. “I did. It was dangerous, a challenge, and I had friends all over the place. But a lot of times after a big event, I’d sit in my hotel room, alone, strumming on my guitar.” He grinned over at her. “I think I’ll write you a song.”
Victoria lifted her head, grabbed her towel. This was getting way too intimate for her. A song? Soon he’d have her bawling like a baby. Or worse, pining away like a forlorn lover in a twangy country song. “It’s late. I’d better get inside. Early day tomorrow.”
“Victoria?”
She didn’t dare turn around. How had he dragged that out of her about her father? She didn’t miss people. She put people in little compartments and shut the door on her feelings about them. She needed to do that with Clint, too. She also needed to remember she was the one good at digging up secrets. He had no reason to delve into her hidden places.
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- Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература, Современные любовные романы
- Язык: Книги на английском языке
- Объём: 320 стр. 1 иллюстрация
- ISBN: 9781472094094
- Дата выхода книги: 14 мая 2019
- Версия: 📚 Электронная книга
It was just a kiss Producer Victoria Calhoun couldn't care less that famous strut-his-stuff cowboy Clint Griffin doesn't remember her. Or the kiss they shared. And she really doesn't care that he didn't call her afterward. Seriously, the kiss meant that much to her, too.Still, all that history makes working with him awkward–if you call it work, watching him parade around on her reality TV show. Clint seems to be trying to convince her he's much more than his swagger. But she definitely won't be falling for his charms again…even if the way he looks at her makes her want to believe him. She'll do her job and get out with her heart firmly in hand. Too bad her heart seems to have its own ideas….
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