The Cowgirl's CEO

Thumper finally decided to walk, so Caro loosened the reins. Her horse dropped his head, his sides expanding and contracting as he fought to catch his breath. She breathed heavily, too, the adrenaline of running barrels a high that never ceased.

And there he was.

She stiffened in the saddle. The man blocked her path. How had he got into the competitors’ area?

“Caroline Sheppard?” he asked.

Green. His eyes were green, not black, after all. A soul-piercing, breath-stealing green. The guy looked up at her as if he owned her—and in a way he did. Tyler Harrison, she realized. Owner of Harrison’s Boots. The Harrison name was synonymous with quality boots, recognized the world over. The name was also on every piece of equipment she owned: her saddle pad, her horse trailer, her truck. Harrison’s was her sponsor, and she could tell by those eyes that Tyler Harrison was seriously displeased.

Maybe she should have returned his calls—all ten of them.

She was stunning.

Ty had known that. When his PR department had shown him pictures of her all those months ago, he’d realized immediately what a gold mine they’d have if she made it to the Wranglers National Finals Rodeo—the NFR. And here she was, just a few weeks away from doing that very thing.

But what the photographs hadn’t told him was that in person her hair was as gold as summer wheat. And that her grayish-blue eyes glowed with passion. Sitting on her horse earlier, the black-and-white gelding doing his best to unseat her, she’d looked magnificent. Like something out of the Old West: fearless, proud, determined. Ty had been unable to keep from staring at her as she’d rode her pattern, flawlessly guiding her horse around all three barrels.

She excited him.

He hadn’t expected that, wondered if it might be a problem. But, no, he quickly reassured himself. It wouldn’t be. He was good at keeping his head on straight when it came to business matters, and he definitely had business with Ms. Sheppard.

“Mr. Harrison,” she said, with a smile that could only be called impatient. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to New York?”

She’d recognized him. Surprising. They’d never met, although he supposed his picture had appeared in enough western magazines that she might have seen his photo a time or two.

“You know why I didn’t tell you I’d be here.”

She looked guilty, then contrite and finally amused. “You going to arrest me then?” she asked. “Am I in trouble for failure to return a sponsor’s calls?”

“Your horse looks as if he needs cooling down,” he answered brusquely, unwilling to play along. He was still peeved. They’d spent thousands of dollars supporting her rodeo career this year. The least she could have done was call them back. But they’d been trying to track her down for weeks. Rodeo performers, he’d learned, were as fickle as the wind. They could enter two, three, sometimes five rodeos a weekend—but they didn’t always show up at them. Figuring out which ones Caroline Sheppard had entered had been like throwing darts at a board.

“Let me slide off,” she said, dropping her reins before swinging her right leg over the saddle and slipping to the ground.

She was tiny. When he’d seen her out in the arena, her lithe body clinging to her horse, blond hair streaming behind her like the tail of the horse she rode, she’d looked tall. But clearly that had been an illusion. Standing beside him, she barely came to Ty’s shoulder.

“Look,” she said, “I’ve been busy. Making it to the NFR is the most important thing in the world to me.”

“More important than your sponsor?”

She winced, patting her horse’s neck as they went through an opening in the pipe panels. “I don’t really have time to go off and film a commercial or talk to reporters or whatever else you have planned for me.”

“It’s part of the contract,” he said, resisting the urge to add that she was currently in breach of that contract.

“I know that,” she said, pausing for a second along the rail. “But can’t we do it later?”

“No, we need you to film the commercial now. Before you make it to the NFR.”

“If I make it.”

“You will.”

“Not if I’m off filming a commercial.”

She stumbled on a clod of dirt. He steadied her.

Mistake.

“Thank you,” she said.

He released her, clenching his hands afterward.

“The dirt they truck in for a rodeo is never any good,” she said. “It clumps together like kitty litter.”

“I see that,” he murmured.

He’d wanted to meet her face to face he suddenly realized. Had been fascinated by her photo. After watching her ride, he found his interest had only grown.

“We’ll do everything we can to make this easy on you,” he said. “We’re not asking you to fly off and film the commercial at a different location. We’ll come to you. We just need a few hours of your time.”

She watched a horse and rider walk by. Ty followed suit, their gazes meeting again as she said, “Just a few hours.” Her shoulder brushed her horse’s neck.

She was beyond pretty, he thought. Gorgeous was a more apt word. And as he stared down at her, the idea popped into his head that perhaps his interest in her was bordering on personal.

“Will you commit to that?” he asked.

“Sounds like I don’t have a choice.”

They’d made it to the warm-up arena he’d been watching her in earlier. She stopped outside the gate.

“You’re right. You don’t,” he said, out of patience. “The NFR is in less than a month. We need to get the commercial in the can well before then.”

She didn’t say anything, just continued to appear irritated.

“When do you have to leave for your next rodeo?” he asked, pulling out his Blackberry.

She let loose a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll be in Louisiana on Saturday.”

He checked his schedule. “Then I guess Louisiana it is.”

She shook her head, fiddling with the reins. “Saturday morning. That would be the best time. Before the rodeo starts.”

“Saturday,” he said. “I’ll see you there.”

Chapter Two

I’ll see you there.

Caro replayed the words during the long drive to Louisiana. She kept hoping the damn man would call to cancel. Instead, all she’d received was a message from his director informing her that they’d be on location by Friday so they could “get the commercial in the can” on Saturday.