Kitabı oku: «Home on the Ranch: Colorado», sayfa 6
Devlin nodded.
Elizabeth sat back, somewhat shocked. Sure, people could discover just about anything on the web, but that didn’t mean they understood what they read. Rory actually sounded as if he knew what he was talking about.
“From what I read, the spokesman makes more money that way than with a flat fee, but I read about something called a buyout. I’ll sign a contract today for thirty grand.”
Thin lines formed around Devlin’s mouth. “I have no guarantee you can pull off interviews or a TV commercial. I’m taking all the risk here.”
“Then I’ll have my agent call you.”
Rory’s little gem of news hit Elizabeth right between the eyes. Anger clogged her throat. Agent? How dare he not mention he’d signed with someone?
Wait a minute. Rory couldn’t have gotten an agent in the last two days. She relaxed. He was bluffing, and doing a damned good job of it.
Devlin’s angry eyes pinned Elizabeth like a butterfly in a child’s science project. “You said he was representing himself.”
“That’s what I was told.”
“If money’s going to be an issue, we can stop things right here. I’ll get an agent, and you can deal with him.” Rory crossed his arms over his broad chest. His determined gaze drilled into Devlin. “Who would you rather negotiate with? I’m guessing it’s me, but the choice is up to you.”
Elizabeth held her breath and waited. She’d just witnessed horse trading at its finest.
“I’m willing to go as high as twenty-five, but I want the payments made in thirds over the course of the contract.”
“I want half up front forty-eight hours after I sign the contract.”
“Deal, but I want everything we’ve agreed to today put into the contract.” Devlin held out his hand, and he and Rory shook on it.
Miracles did happen. Elizabeth closed her eyes to hide her relief. When she opened them, she reached for her Netbook. “I’ll write up the contract terms as negotiated, and let you both review it. Then you can send it to your legal department, Micah.”
Both men nodded.
“I’ll have the agency’s contract to you later today,” Devlin told Elizabeth. He turned to Rory. “If you give me your email address, I’ll send you our contract with you. I’d like to have it signed by early next week so we can proceed with the campaign.”
“I’ll sign it as soon as I have a lawyer look over it.”
Ten minutes later, a slightly shell-shocked Elizabeth escorted both men to the reception area. Once Devlin left, she faced Rory. “You should have told me what you intended to do.”
“If I had, would you have trusted me?”
“No.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“While your show was entertaining, and you came up with a good solution that benefited everyone, don’t ever pull something like that again.”
* * *
A WEEK LATER Rory thought he’d lost his mind. All he did was stand around and let people take pictures of him all day, and sit around the hotel watching any sports event he could find on TV all night.
He’d talked to Griff a few times. The first time, he’d called to get an update and make sure Devlin’s check cleared. So far, his little brother was doing a fine job managing the ranch in his absence. Not being missed there had been a tough pill to get down.
Restless and needing to see the sky above his head, Rory decided to take a walk. He missed being outside, being active. He’d tried working out in the hotel gym, and that helped some, but he needed to feel fresh air and the sun on his skin. Remembering his agreement with Devlin, he pulled off his worn Wranglers and tossed on the designer jeans before grabbing his hat and heading out.
The list of reasons he’d be happy once this gig was over kept growing, starting with the jeans. He’d never liked the blasted things no matter how much he wore them, and they still made him feel like a sissy.
He hadn’t walked a block when his cell phone rang.
“Thought I’d let you know we signed the papers for Jameson to buy Star’s foal.”
Good. That would help the ranch’s cash flow. “Don’t let him pick up the foal until you’ve got confirmation the money’s been transferred into our accounts.”
“Got it.”
“You’re doing a good job, little brother.”
Had he made it too easy for his siblings, always stepping in to take care of things when the situation got the slightest bit tough? Rory had thought he was helping. Being the oldest, he’d learn everything the hard way. He hadn’t wanted his younger siblings to go the same route.
“I don’t know how you do it. Managing this place is sure cramping my style. I was so damned tired last night I fell asleep at ten o’clock.”
Rory laughed. “Not so easy to be the life of the party when you’ve got to get up at dawn.”
“How are things going on your end?”
“It’s been a long week.” Rory rubbed his stiff neck.
“So modeling’s not all bright lights and pretty girls?”
“It’s hard work. I’m already tired of people telling me what to do.”
Griff chuckled. “Getting a chance to see how the other half lives, huh?”
“Can’t say I like it a whole lot.” Rory stopped at the corner of Broadway and Forty-ninth and waited for the light to change. He’d learned early on that these New York City drivers would just as soon run someone over as stop to avoid him. “You heard from Mom? I called last night, but she was asleep. Avery says she’s holding her own, but the treatment’s tough on her.”
“Avery said it’s worse than chemo.”
As long as the treatment didn’t kill her, but killed the cancer.
“Keep me posted.”
He ended the call. People rushed past him. Everyone here lived in such a hurry. No wonder Elizabeth fit right in. The woman was a whirlwind. Would she act like that in everything she did—that is, if she ever loosened up? If she focused that energy on a man, she could burn him to cinders in the bed. Rory smiled. What a way to go.
Someone bumped into him, mumbled a quick apology and scooted off. This walk wasn’t accomplishing what he’d hoped. Instead of releasing his pent-up energy, being out on the streets had spiked his blood pressure.
He missed the quiet at home. When he hiked in the mountains, he could think. The solitude cleared his head. Whenever he took a walk here, he returned to the hotel with a headache.
He’d hoped the streets might be quiet this early in the morning, but no such luck. Neon lights flashed. Horns honked constantly. People hurried by. He glanced upward, hoping a glimpse of the sky would calm his nerves. Instead, the Times Square billboard caught his gaze. He froze.
No. It couldn’t be.
Lizzie never mentioned anything about a billboard. He stared. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t deny the reality slapping him in the face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THERE HE WAS, big as the Rocky Mountains, wearing nothing but the blasted fancy designer jeans and his cowboy hat, his arms crossed over his chest for all the world to see. The words Devlin jeans, strong enough for a real man ran along the bottom of the billboard.
He scoffed. Leave it to Lizzie to come up with that slogan. As if any real man would wear these jeans….
And how in the heck did she get the blasted billboard done so fast?
He’d thought the photo shoot had been embarrassing. Seeing himself staring down from a billboard sent him skyrocketing to new heights of humiliation. How would he ever handle television commercials airing on stations in his neck of the woods? At least no one he knew would see this.
Think about the money and Mom. That would get him through.
“Is that you up there?”
He turned to find a twentysomething brunette, her hair pulled into a ponytail and a Texas Rangers baseball hat perched on her head, ping-ponging between him and the billboard.
“It is,” her friend, dressed in jeans and an I love NY T-shirt, said. “He’s wearing the same jeans, and look, he’s got the same poker hand belt buckle.”
“Yup, it’s me.” Unfortunately.
“Are you famous?”
“No.” Please, Lord, let this be the extent of my fame. Don’t even give me fifteen minutes. That’s way too much.
“I bet you’ll be famous soon,” I Love NY said, her eyes glued on him as if he were the only stallion in the pasture.
Some men would think this scenario was a dream come true. “That’s kind of you to say so,” he mumbled.
I Love NY dug through her purse. A second later she handed him a Starbucks receipt and a pen. “Can I have your autograph?”
He almost asked her if she was kidding, before the manners his mother had drilled into his thick skull kicked in. “I’d be happy to. What’s your name?”
“Lindsay.”
He wrote “To Lindsay, thanks for being my first fan,” and signed his name. This autograph stuff wasn’t so bad. He might even grow to like it. “You ladies from New York?”
“We’re here on a girls’ vacation. We’re from Texas.”
“I should’ve guessed that.” He pointed to the baseball cap.
The other woman handed him a scrap of paper. “My name’s Judy.”
He stood there trying to figure out something clever to write. Signing autographs was harder than a person would think unless he simply scrawled his name, or wrote something generic. He thought doing that was kind of a raw deal. Everybody liked to feel special. He finally settled on “Judy, enjoyed meeting you in NYC” and signed his name.
When he looked up from the scrap of paper, a crowd of women had gathered and started tossing questions at him.
“Are you married?”
“No.” Someone else shoved paper and pen into his hand. “Who should I make—”
“Seeing anyone?”
An image of Lizzie flashed before his eyes. How insane was that? The last thing he needed was a relationship with another city woman. “Not right now.”
He scrawled his name on the paper and held it out. To heck with making them feel special. He just wanted to get out of here. This many women, all focused on him, couldn’t be good. One woman was unpredictable—a gaggle of them downright scary.
“Do you have any pictures?”
“Not right—”
“Do you live in New York?”
These women could teach police interrogation classes.
“I live in Colorado.”
“Here’s my business card,” a tall blonde dressed in black pants and a blouse said. “Call me. We can go out to dinner.”
“Would you like me to show you around the city? Here’s my business card.”
Wonderful, he could start a collection. He managed to toss a smile in the general direction from which the card came.
The circle around him grew tighter. He backed up, bumped into a woman and mumbled a quick apology. A tall redhead leaned toward him. “You and I could have a lot of fun. Let’s get out of here.”
He considered telling her he was gay, just to get rid of her. But with the way his luck was going, she’d club him over the head and kidnap him to prove he wasn’t, that he just hadn’t met the right woman.
Before he could answer, the ladies all started talking at once, creating quite a noise. To the general crowd he blurted out, “Excuse me, I’ve got to go.”
But when he stepped forward to leave, the circle didn’t budge, and someone grabbed his arm. Fear shot through him. The women had him so surrounded that if he pulled away, he’d knock half of them down.
He turned to the heavyset woman at his elbow and smiled. “Would you mind letting go of my arm? I’m thinking I might need it later today.”
She leaned closer, and the bitter smell of coffee assailed him. “I’m from Littleton. Where in Colorado are you from?”
“I’m from Estes Park.”
Another woman grabbed his left arm. His fear spiked up a notch. “Ladies, if you don’t let go, you’re going to pull me apart like a wishbone.”
“Only if you agree not to go anywhere.”
Right now he’d agree to just about anything to get these two to free him. “I can stick around awhile.”
Apparently satisfied with his promise to stay, the women released him.
But when an escape route presented itself he’d be outta here faster than a jackrabbit with a coyote on its tail. Only who knew how long one would take to appear?
Then someone pinched him on the ass. He jumped and spun around, looking for the guilty party, not quite sure what to do if he identified her.
He drew the line at grabby women. His chest tightened and his heart banged painfully against his ribs. It was either him or them, because he couldn’t take this anymore. Deciding to call in reinforcements rather than trample the women as he broke free, he grabbed his cell phone and called Lizzie. “I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?”
A woman shoved a Wal-Mart receipt and a pen into his hand. “Will you sign an autograph for me?”
“Do you have any pictures like the one on the billboard to sign?” someone else yelled. “I’d love one of those.”
He tried to tune out the barrage of questions. “They’ve got me surrounded. You have to help me get back to the hotel.”
“Who?”
“What hotel are you staying at?” someone shouted at him.
They could torture him for days, but no way would he give out that information.
“Women have me surrounded,” he said, cupping his hand, still clutching the now sweaty pen and paper, around his ear in an attempt to hear better. “There’s a whole herd of them. They’re asking for my autograph. They’re asking if I have pictures like the billboard. I don’t know what to do, and they won’t let me leave.”
“This is fantastic!”
“No, it’s not.” A camera flash went off in his face, momentarily blinding him. Great. Now he was completely defenseless.
“We have a few photos of the billboard shot. I’ll be there with them in ten minutes. This is exactly the kind of reaction we want.”
“I’m glad one of us is happy, but you’d better get here sooner than ten minutes.”
“Whatever you do, be nice. Keep people talking, and try to get them to stay. As often as you can, mention Devlin’s men’s jeans and that they’re available at department stores.”
He was in the middle of a feeding frenzy, and Lizzie was worried about how often he mentioned the product? Didn’t her business mind ever take a day off?
He and Griff had often fought over the last cookie in the jar. More often than not, the treat had ended up in pieces. Rory never dreamed he’d one day know how the cookie felt.
* * *
CLUTCHING A HANDFUL of photos and wearing a huge smile, Elizabeth hurried to Times Square. Rory said a crowd had gathered. She should’ve asked him how many people were there. He lived in a town of seven thousand, so probably thought ten people constituted a crowd.
Her mind raced, trying to develop ways to capitalize on the situation. Hopefully, people would still be there when she arrived. That way they could keep the impromptu autographing going. If she got lucky, and it was a slow news day, maybe a local channel would stop by.
Why leave the situation to chance? Make it happen, but not with the local stations. The Wake Up America studio sat right on Times Square. She pulled out her phone and called a reporter on the show that she’d met at a breast cancer awareness event she’d attended last year. “Brooke, have you seen the new Times Square billboard?”
“Is it one of yours?”
“Sure is, and this cowboy’s a dream.”
“I’ll have to check it out.”
“My guy’s there now, and from what I hear, he’s gathering quite a crowd. Women are already recognizing him.” Elizabeth sped up and dodged a cab. “If it’s a slow day, it could make a cute filler piece on tomorrow’s show. Colorado cowboy takes the big city by storm.”
“Trolling for free publicity again?”
“This could be mutually beneficial. Rory’s the new spokesman for Devlin’s men’s jeans. He’s going to be hot. You could be the first show to interview him.”
She turned the corner onto Broadway and spotted a crowd of at least thirty women. “Got to go. Trust me. Get over here. You don’t want to miss out on this.”
Adrenaline shot through Elizabeth’s system. She couldn’t have orchestrated a better scenario. Rushing forward, she started handing out Rory’s photo to women, and shoved a Sharpie into his hand.
“Get me out of here,” he pleaded, his eyes wide with fear.
She almost laughed. The man towered above the women and outweighed most of them by at least fifty pounds.
“No way. We’re making the most of this.”
He leaned down and his warm breath tickled her ear. “They’re getting grabby. I’ve been pinched three times.”
She couldn’t hold back her laughter this time. To these women Rory probably looked like a piece of chocolate cake at a Weight Watchers meeting. “You’ll survive. Sometimes you’ve got to take one for the team.”
He glared at her. “The team damned well better appreciate this.”
“Duly noted.”
Part of her did feel sorry for him. Models expected this kind of thing and had experience dealing with public appearances. Rory was completely out of his element. She made a mental note to prep him for these types of public situations. Her instincts told her this wouldn’t be the last time someone recognized him.
“Ladies, Rory will be glad to talk to all of you. If you could just move back a little bit to give him some breathing room, that would be great.”
While he signed autographs and answered personal questions, she told everyone they could find Devlin’s men’s jeans at most department stores. She and Rory made a pretty good team. Once they returned to the office, she’d call Devlin to tell him Rory had been recognized from the billboard, and that the reaction he’d received had been exactly what they’d hoped for.
The situation went great for about ten minutes. Then suddenly, a fortysomething woman dressed in skintight jeans and a rhinestone T-shirt cupped her hand around Rory’s magnificent butt and goosed him. He jumped, his panicked gaze locking with Elizabeth’s.
She placed her palm gently on the diva’s arm. “Please treat Rory with respect.”
“Are you accusing me of something?”
The woman tugged her arm free at the same time Elizabeth removed her hand. Elizabeth flew backward, knocking into part of the crowd. Coffee rained down.
Another woman grabbed Rory. The brittle sound of tearing material filled Elizabeth’s ears. Glancing at him, she saw his shirtfront was ripped from the pocket to the waist, revealing his bronzed, toned chest.
The noise grew deafening. Women yelled about getting splashed with coffee. Some screamed as they fell to the sidewalk. Others threatened to trample them. Women lunged at Rory.
Elizabeth reached for the fallen ones. “Watch out. Don’t step on anyone,” Rory said as he helped a middle-aged lady to her feet.
Women shoved each other, trying to get away or to get to Rory. An even bigger crowd grew as passersby stopped to watch the scene. It looked like one of those old films, with the blundering cops falling over each other.
What had she done?
“This wasn’t what I had in mind,” Elizabeth said as she helped another woman to her feet.
“You didn’t mean to start a catfight?” Rory asked.
She shook her head. “What do we do? How do I stop this?” She had experience creating buzz, not shutting it down.
“Running comes to mind.”
A whistle blew, immediately halting the chaos.
“Who started all this?” a policeman asked as he approached.
Every person except Rory pointed to Elizabeth.
“Officer, this is all a terrible misunderstanding,” she said, desperate to diffuse the situation and pacify the cop. “A crowd had gathered. People got a little close. Someone bumped into someone else, and then everything went crazy.”
“Everything was fine until she got here,” the woman in the rhinestone T-shirt yelled.
What was it with her? Did she wake up this morning intent on destroying someone’s life, and Elizabeth held the lucky ticket?
“Everyone seems pretty clear you’re the instigator. Start at the beginning with why a crowd had gathered,” the officer told Elizabeth.
She paused, not quite sure what to say. Police frowned on impromptu advertising events. They were sticklers for permits and advance notice. Both of which she’d forgotten in her excitement.
“Women started asking me for autographs when they recognized me from this,” Rory said, pointing upward.
The officer glanced at the billboard. “Nice photo.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Were you one of the autograph seekers?”
“I work with Rory.”
“In what capacity? Are you his agent?” The man glared at her disapprovingly.
What she wouldn’t give to be beamed out of this situation. Or to have the ability to erase everyone’s memory, starting with this cop and the question he’d just asked. Because unless she lied, her answer would not make him happy.
She swallowed hard and prayed she could talk her way out of this sticky situation. “I’m not his agent. I’m the executive in charge of the ad campaign.”
“You decided to stage an impromptu advertising event,” the officer accused. “You thought you could get some free publicity without the hassle of getting the proper permits. When are you ad people going to realize you can’t do that?”
“I absolutely did not stage this.”
“I was feeling a little cooped up this morning, so I took a walk,” Rory said. “When the crowd gathered I called Elizabeth to help me.”
“What happened when you arrived?”
“She passed out pictures for him to sign, and started bossing everyone around,” one woman, probably the diva, said.
“She bumped into me and spilled coffee all over me,” another added.
The officer raised his hands, silencing everyone. “I’ve heard enough. I’m giving you and cowboy guy tickets for disturbing the peace, unlawful assemblage, failure to obtain the proper permits, and anything else I can think of. This little stunt is going to cost your company a bundle, little lady.”
“That’s all you’re going to do?” someone called out.
“You should arrest her for assault,” another woman added.
“That might not be a bad idea.”
If this kept up these women would get her life in prison. Talk about a mob mentality.
Rory glanced at the officer. “Can I speak to you alone, man to man?”
The cop nodded and motioned to the crowd. “The rest of you, break it up. If your clothes were damaged, get a business card from her.”
When he pointed at Elizabeth, she said, “I’ll be happy to pay for dry cleaning or replace any garments that can’t be cleaned.”
As she handed out business cards and the crowd dispersed, Rory said, “This is my fault. I’m new to all this stuff. A few weeks ago I was in Colorado giving horseback riding tours. Now here, today, I was surrounded by a group of women wanting my autograph. It’s a little much for a simple cowboy to handle. They got very close, if you know what I mean.”
The officer laughed. “I can see that from your shirt.”
“That wasn’t the only place they got grabby.” Rory shuddered. “They damn near scared me to death. I tried to leave, but they circled around me. The only way I could’ve escaped was to run the ladies over, but I was raised to treat women right.”
Elizabeth watched in amazement as the officer’s posture relaxed the longer he spoke with Rory. Give them five more minutes and they’d probably be fast friends.
The cop tilted his head toward Elizabeth. “What about her?”
“I called her. The crowd kept asking me for pictures, and I figured that if she brought some, they’d take the photos and go.”
“You promise me nothing like this will ever happen again?”
“It won’t, because if it did, it’d probably kill me.”
The officer nodded and then turned to Elizabeth. “I want one of your business cards, because if I hear you’ve been involved in something like this again, I won’t just ticket you. I’ll haul you off to jail.”
* * *
AS LIZZIE AND RORY walked into her office, his anger threatened to boil over. If he was back home, he’d saddle Blaze and head for the mountains, hoping a long ride would clear his head and cool his temper. If that didn’t work, he’d muck out a few stalls to burn off steam. Unfortunately, none of those options were available.
As Lizzie sank into her leather desk chair, he realized his best alternative would be putting his fist through her office wall.
She, on the other hand, had been a little ball of excited energy once she’d found out they weren’t going to jail or getting ticketed.
“Tell me this kind of thing doesn’t happen a lot,” he finally said, once he’d calmed down enough to speak.
“Why are you so upset? Everything turned out fine, but you look like you’re ready to hit something.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Rory rested his fists on her desk. “You’re wondering why I’m upset? We nearly got arrested. I don’t know about you, but that’s never happened to me before.”
“But thanks to you, we weren’t.”
Only because he’d aw-shucked his way out of trouble. Not one of his proudest moments. He’d handled the situation only because he was doing this for his mom. If he wanted to live in a big city and be in crowds all the time, he’d have gone to Boston with Melissa.
Elizabeth swiveled toward her computer and punched a few keys.
“Did you see all the people videoing the scene on their phones? This is wonderful.” She typed something on her keyboard. “I’m checking to see if it’s on YouTube yet.”
Rory shook his head. Had he heard her right? She couldn’t have described the horror they’d just experienced as wonderful. “You’re saying that there’s no such thing as bad publicity?”
“Exactly.” She spun her chair back around to face him. “It’s not on YouTube yet, but I bet it will be tonight.”
The sparkle in her ocean-blue eyes captivated him and took his anger down a notch or two. “Promise me this will never happen again.”
“Gee, now I’ll have to cancel the near riot I had scheduled for tomorrow.”
He glared at her, more out of principle than genuine anger. “Very funny. It’s easy for you to joke about this. You didn’t almost get your clothes ripped off.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve anticipated someone recognizing you from the billboard. If I had prepared you more, the situation wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand.”
“Next time I head out I’m either taking a guard dog or going on horseback for a quick getaway.”
When she laughed, the warm rich sound filled him, evaporating the last of his irritation. “I’m sorry there’s no room in the campaign budget for those items.”
“If I’d known the risks, I’d have added them to my contract demands.”
His gaze locked with hers. Something passed between them. Something Rory hadn’t expected and didn’t want to examine. Lizzie was wrong for him in so many ways, and the timing couldn’t be worse.
Her cell phone rang, thankfully breaking the spell. He’d been just about to make a very wrong turn.
Elizabeth could barely contain her excitement when caller ID revealed her contact from Wake Up America on the line. While she wouldn’t have planned a scenario like the one in Times Square, she certainly planned to make the most of the free publicity.
“I heard your new model is so hot he caused a riot,” Brooke said.
“I told you he was going to be big. What can I say? Women go wild for this guy.”
“We’d love to interview your cowboy. Have him at the studio by 5:00 a.m.”
Between prepping him and proofing the material for the print ads that had to go out first thing in the morning, Elizabeth would be up all night. The things she gave up for the job. But who needed sleep, anyway? Getting more than four hours a night was highly overrated.
“He’ll be there.” She ended the call. “Wake Up America wants to interview you. Their studios are at Times Square. It seems everyone’s talking about you.”
“Will they expect me to talk about what happened? If they do, I’m not too clear on things. All I remember is all these women surrounding me, and let me tell you, there’s nothing scarier than a herd of angry, grabby women. My whole life flashed before my eyes.”
“My first tip is not to refer to the women as an angry herd, or you might find yourself facing another one.” For the first time since she’d met Rory, uncertainty briefly flashed in his eyes. How surprising that a group of women put a kink in his armor. “Just remember to utilize that cowboy charm I’ve seen you wield so often.”
“Cowboy charm?” He flashed her a grin that could sell whiskey to a teetotaler.
“Give Brooke that look that mesmerizes a woman, and makes her think you’re going to grab her, toss her on your horse and ride off into the sunset.”
“Do I do that for you?”
His warm, husky voice rippled through Elizabeth as he leaned forward in his chair and peered into her eyes. He had the slightest smile on his face. Oh, yeah, that was the look.
Horse and sunset, here I come.
“Apparently I have cowboy immunity. Must’ve been included in my childhood shots, because I don’t get why women go all wild for you cowboys.”
“If you took a chance, you might be surprised.”
Her mouth went dry. Her mind went blank. Her heart raced. This man was dangerous. He could get her to forget everything, including her own name.
Sometimes in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep, she imagined letting go, of not living her life so tied to rules. She dreamed of finding a man—lately more often than not, Rory—to love her, but then reality crashed down.
“It takes a lot to surprise me.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Sirens blared in her head. This game had gotten way out of control. The last thing she wanted was him thinking she’d challenged his manhood. Talk about waving a red cape in front of a bull. “We have a professional relationship, nothing more.”
Maybe if she told herself that enough, she’d believe it.
He grinned. “If you say so, Lizzie.”
“It’s Elizabeth,” she snapped, angry more over his comment than the use of his nickname for her. But the way he said it, combined with the way he looked at her, as if she were the scoop of ice cream on a slice of apple pie, made her toes curl. “Why do you persist in calling me Lizzie when I’ve asked you repeatedly not to?”
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