Corporate Cowboy

Six months ago she hadn’t wanted to admit that it was over. Now she could hardly believe it had taken her this long to let it go. The only reason their relationship had lasted as long as it did was because she had made it work, not because of any effort on his part. That’s why when his Dear Joan letter came she felt so angry. He was the one calling it quits when she was the one who had done all the work.

Kacy had not been happy in New York, not just because of what had happened with Steven. She knew now that it had been foolish of her to think that working in a concrete and glass world would make her happy. She needed open spaces and fresh air. For that’s what was in her blood—the smell of leather and dust, the sight of cattle bunched in the corner of a pasture, waves of buffalo grass and sage, and sunsets that seemed to go on forever making one realize just how small a speck anyone is on this earth. Give her a man in jeans and boots any day over any of the suits pressing the city pavement. She preferred to live in a world of Levi’s and leather rather than wool and silk.

“Didn’t anybody tell this suit that the reason the program works is because it’s a team effort? I say let him rent a car and drive out here himself,” she grumbled.

“Kacy, be reasonable.”

“Reasonable as in get in the van and go get him?” she asked dryly.

“Doesn’t it beat reciting poetry around the campfire?”

“It’s too wet for a campfire,” she reminded him.

“Then we’ll have to have poetry around the fireplace.” He grinned. “Come on. Be a sport. Other than the orientation meeting, you won’t be missed this evening.”

Kacy knew what he said was true. She was the public relations person at the Triple J which meant she usually saw to it that guests were comfortable at all times. Her other job was to give riding lessons and lead trail rides.

“Please say you’ll do it,” he begged.

She tried to give him the stubborn look the Judds were noted for, but failed. “All right. But I’m not taking that big old honkin’ van. I’ll drive my pickup.”

“You can’t pick up a CEO in that beat-up old pickup!”

Kacy didn’t appreciate anyone referring to Bertha as either “old” or “beat-up.” “Do you want me to do it or not?”

Dusty handed her a white placard with “The Triple J” written across the front in large black letters. “You probably won’t need this, but better take it anyway.”

“You’re lucky I have such a strong sense of family duty,” she mumbled as she took the placard from him.

On her way out she grabbed a slicker from the coat room. It was a good thing because before she had reached the airport, rain fell in a steady downpour. She pulled up in front of the terminal in the loading zone, looking for signs of a suit. No one waited near the entrance.

She felt her muscles tense. For three years she had made airports a regular stop on her agenda. Her clothes had spent more time in her suitcase than her closet. Buying art for the gallery, arranging for showings, traveling cross country had all sounded glamorous to her at one point in her life.

Now she knew better. She was grateful she was no longer earning frequent flyer miles. There were no more long hours spent trying to convince a temperamental artist to agree to a showing, no more frustrating conversations with fussy patrons with outrageous demands, no more dates with men whose only goal in life is to get ahead in the business world.

Instead of worsted wool and linen, she could wear denim and leather. She was done trying to be a sophisticated city woman. In her heart she was a cowgirl and there was no point in pretending to be anything else.

Not that it mattered. Her days of doing what she was supposed to do were over…except of course when it came to the ranch. To keep the Triple J in the family, she would do anything, including cater to stuffy businessmen who didn’t have a clue what it really meant to be a rancher.

Knowing she couldn’t stay in the loading zone indefinitely, she drove into the parking lot. Before getting out, she buttoned up the slicker, cursing the fact that she had to get out in the pouring down rain to go find this guy. She grabbed the square Triple J placard and made a dash to the door.

It was nearly deserted inside the airport except for a couple of airline personnel. Kacy’s eyes scanned the small waiting room and saw a man leaning up against the wall, his back to her as he spoke on the telephone. He wore a suit and carried a briefcase. Kacy figured it had to be Austin Bennett, the CEO of Bennett Industries.

As she walked toward him she could hear the heels of her boots clack against the floor. She expected the sound would cause him to turn around and look to see who was walking toward him. It didn’t. He just kept on talking, loudly enough so that anyone in the area could have heard his end of the conversation. It didn’t take Dr. Ruth to figure out that he was having a lovers’ quarrel.

When she heard him say, “Of course I care about you, Daphne.” Kacy’s boots came to a halt.

Before she could take a step backward, she heard, “It’s not a question of my feelings for you…Please don’t cry. Daphne, stop. Do you think I want to spend a week with people who say yee-haw more than they do hello? Daphne?”

He pulled the receiver away from his ear and stared into the earpiece. “Damn,” he muttered, then hung the phone up.

Without even seeing the man’s face or speaking to him Kacy knew she wasn’t going to like him. In a few phrases he seemed to have confirmed her worst feelings about men in suits. She couldn’t help but wonder if Daphne was his girlfriend or his mistress.

She glanced at his hands. No rings on any of his fingers. A flash of gold showed beneath a crisp white cuff whenever he moved those hands. Probably a Rolex watch. It would go along with the Italian leather shoes and the Armani suit. And then there was his fragrance. Kacy had walked past the men’s counter in Macy’s department store enough times to know that it was not a cheap bottle of splash-on from the drugstore.

No, this man had money. And as much as she hated to admit it, he did smell good. Damn good. A man to avoid, Kacy thought pragmatically, although she didn’t think she needed to worry about Mr. Bennett tossing his charm her way. She didn’t exactly attract the corporate type nowadays.

Suddenly aware of her presence he turned and gave her an intense stare that told her he wasn’t the least embarrassed that she had overheard his conversation. If anything, that gaze accused her of invading his privacy. Some women might have blushed or looked away. Kacy might have, had she been in New York City or Chicago or some other corporate metropolis, but not here. Not on her own turf.

“Yee-haw.” She held up the placard with the Triple J logo on it.

His eyes—deep blue and penetrating—narrowed, making a very thorough appraisal of her figure, from her head covered by her felt cowboy hat down to her booted toes. As they traveled down the rain soaked slicker, she was grateful that he couldn’t see the open slit in her skirt, for she was certain those eyes would have lingered a moment on the expanse of leg it revealed. She hadn’t reached the age of twenty-six without learning how to recognize what was in a man’s eyes. As much as she’d like to give him an icy glare, she stepped toward him, hand outstretched.

“You must be Mr. Bennett. I’m Kacy Judd. Welcome to North Dakota.”

He took her hand, his blue eyes continuing to pierce hers with an intensity that made every red curl beneath her hat want to straighten. Just as quickly as he had clasped her hand, he dropped it, causing Kacy to wonder if he had experienced the same jolt as she had when their skin had touched.

“Where’s your luggage?” she asked.

He made a sound of derision. “It’s lost. Apparently it didn’t make the connecting flight in Minneapolis.”

“Oh.” Inwardly, Kacy smiled. It served him right. “No need to worry. I’m sure someone from the airlines will bring it to the ranch when it gets here. Until then, you can pick up a few things in the Triple J’s western wear shop.”

From the look on his face she doubted that he wanted to wear anything that had the word “western” connected to it. He didn’t look happy and as they passed the baggage claim area Kacy gave the clerk a sympathetic glance. No doubt Mr. Austin Bennett had made sure she understood his predicament.

Judging by the look on the CEO’s face, Kacy thought it would be wise for anyone to avoid talking to the man if possible. Not a friendly word had dropped from his lips yet. She could only imagine what the long ride back to the ranch was going to be like. Everything about his body language told her he didn’t want to be here.

When her father and brothers had announced they wanted to convert the ranch to a conference center for professionals, Kacy had laughed out loud. Despite the fact that one of her brothers had a business degree and the other had one in psychology, neither one excelled in the public relations department.

Which was why they needed her to be a part of the family business. When it came to smoothing ruffled feathers, Kacy was a pro. After three years in New York and encountering what she thought had to be the crankiest people on the face of the earth, working with professionals hoping to find better methods of communicating was a piece of cake.

Only this piece of cake looked as if someone could break a tooth if they tried to do anything but stay out of his way. He was going to be a challenge and although it would be easy to avoid Austin Bennett, Kacy was not one to run away from a job she was supposed to do. One way or another, she’d get this city slicker saying “yee-haw” before the week was over.

Chapter Two

“I don’t suppose you have an umbrella in that, do you?” Kacy pointed to his briefcase. “It’s coming down pretty good out there.”

Austin thought pretty good was an understatement. The road out front looked like a river. “It wasn’t raining when I left Chicago.”

“I take it that’s a no.”

“Considering the prices your facility charges, Ms. Judd, one would expect that umbrellas would be provided for guests by the Triple J.” Austin didn’t mean to snap at the woman, but he didn’t care for the censure in her tone. After his conversation with Daphne, he wasn’t in the mood to be defending himself to any woman.

And especially not this one. His gaze slid over her again, wondering just what kind of a place would send a woman wearing cowboy boots, a cowboy hat and a yellow rain slicker better suited to a two-hundred-pound firefighter.

“Oh, but we do provide umbrellas, Mr. Bennett. All of your employees who came on time were greeted with an umbrella escort. We carry them in the vans.”

“But you didn’t come in a van?”