Lone Star Daddy

He shook his head in frustration. He was tempted, but too smart to follow her down a trail that would most likely only set him even farther back in the end. “Look, even if I wanted to do this, there’s no way I could afford this machine.” The price label on the side stated it retailed for two hundred fifty thousand dollars.

Or about the same as the new tractor he needed but could not yet purchase.

“Actually, you can,” Rose insisted smugly.

Clint scoffed. “What are you going to do? Loan me the money to lease it?”

Her grin widened. “Better than that. I’ve worked out an arrangement with both Jeff and Farmtech, the manufacturer.”

Clint couldn’t say he was surprised Rose had the owner of the dealership at her command. Or any red-blooded man with an appreciation for a smart, beautiful, sexy woman, for that matter.

“What kind of arrangement?” he couldn’t help but ask. Jeff quietly excused himself and headed back in the direction of the office.

Now that they were alone beneath the shimmering blue Texas sky, Rose focused all her energy on Clint. “One that won’t cost you a cent!” She stepped closer, persuading cheerfully, “All you have to do is use the berry picker on your property to bring in the crop. And then offer the required testimonial, which I will support and bolster in any way that’s needed.”

He studied her. “Okay, I see what’s in it for you.” She would get access to the blackberry crop she so desperately wanted for her wholesale produce business. He lowered his face until they were almost nose to nose. “But why would the dealership and the manufacturer agree to let me do this free of charge?”

Instead of stepping back as he expected, she came nearer, enticing him to inhale her sunny, citrus perfume. “Because this particular machine is a brand-new design, with very few willing to buy it thus far. Farmtech is hoping to change that via positive experience—especially here, because in Texas, most berries are still picked by hand.”

It sounded simple enough, but his gut told him there was more to it. He stepped back and studied her, glad they were no longer within kissing distance. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She shifted her glance to the left, suddenly looking a little nervous. “That’s pretty much it...”

“But not all,” Clint surmised.

She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to him. “They also want to come out to the Double Creek Ranch and film you using the product. Of course, you’ll get paid for your time and trouble at a rate commensurate with others working in the spokesperson industry.”

No question, the additional money would help. But the thought of riding around on a berry picker in front of a camera bordered on the ridiculous. “You’re kidding.” Dread filtered through him. “You’re not kidding.”

“Well—” Rose wrinkled her nose. “You are a former rodeo star. And, well, if not all that handsome, at least not all that ugly...”

“Cute.”

“And it wouldn’t be your first endorsement.”

Aha. Here comes the sales pitch...

Luckily this wasn’t the first time a beautiful woman had used her charm to try and wheedle him into agreeing to something he had no business doing.

He rocked forward on the toes of his boots. She did the same on hers.

Letting her know with a glance she wasn’t going to railroad him into anything, he said, “What few ad campaigns I’ve done have been for saddle soap and leather gloves. Nothing to write home about.”

She aimed another sweet, tempting smile his way that had his lower half tightening, despite his vow to remain unaffected.

“Well, maybe this will be,” she offered hopefully.

Silence fell.

Before the two of them could say anything more, Jeff strode toward them. He held a clipboard piled with papers in one hand, a pen in the other. “The film crew and publicity team will be here at some point during the next couple of weeks, provided we can get the papers signed and faxed back to Farmtech today.”

Clint thought about the potential hassle and humiliation. He also thought about the income such a deal could bring in. And what that, in turn, could do for his plans for his ranch. Which was more important? His pride—or the future of the Double Creek?

Clenching his jaw, he asked, “What about the berry picker?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rose was so excited she was practically bouncing up and down.

“We can have it delivered to the McCulloch ranch by Wednesday,” Jeff promised.

Two days from now. “And in the meantime...?”

“The dealership will loan you a tractor and tiller.”

Rose smiled gleefully. “By tomorrow morning?”

Jeff nodded. “Just tell me what time you want it out there.”

She turned to Clint. “9:00 a.m. okay with you?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. And given the fact he’d wanted to mow down all those bushes anyway—and did not have a working tractor of his own—Clint figured this would give him a head start. “Sure, why not.” Jeff handed him a set of contracts that covered all manner of product endorsements and included an extensive general liability clause. Clint had expected it to be a generic fill-in-the-blank document. Instead, his name and address were preprinted on everything.

He frowned suspiciously at the two people standing opposite him. “How the heck did the manufacturer know I would say yes?” The company’s legal department had set the first advertising component of the work to begin ten to fourteen days after signing. Which—he noted by the date on the documents—they had expected to be today?

Rose flushed guiltily.

It wasn’t hard for him to jump to the next assumption. “You said yes for me?” Clint asked in disbelief.

Rose cleared her throat and made a dismissive gesture. “Tentatively. But only because I knew I could talk you into it.”

Damn, but she had moxie.

The prettiest sage-green eyes.

And the softest, most kissable lips.

Oblivious to the nature of his thoughts, she defiantly stood her ground. “With the crop ripening any day, there was no time to waste. And it wasn’t that big of a gamble. You’re a businessman as well as a rancher. I figured it wouldn’t take long for you to see the light. You’ll get sixty-five cents from my operation per pound of fruit.”

He stopped her with an imperious lift of his palm. “Make it a dollar.”

She scowled. “Now, wait just a red-hot minute, cowboy! I still have to clean, sort, package and market the berries for you.”

“Not to mention pick up and deliver,” he added. “Since I don’t have a produce truck, either.”

She stared at him. “Seventy-five cents, McCulloch. And that’s my ceiling.”

He stared right back, then shrugged. “Done.” He extended a hand.

Rose slid her palm into his. The sensation of her surprisingly soft and silky skin, coupled with the strength of her grip, sent heat pouring through his veins.