The Last Cowboy Standing. Barbara Dunlop
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The waiter returned with an open bottle of Mountain Red and a chilled pilsner glass. Travis handed him a tip, and Danielle realized she was the one who lacked class.
“How’s it going?” Travis asked her as he tipped the glass and poured in the amber liquid. It foamed slightly at the top of the flared glass.
“They seem serious,” she answered, gazing at the bubbles in her own drink. “They know a lot about me.”
“Yeah? All good?”
She smiled to herself. “They think it’s good. They know what I did for Active Equipment and a few others, and they want me to head up a South American division.”
She couldn’t help replaying the conversations in her mind. If Claude Hedley was to be believed, she’d be on the cutting edge of a global wave of interest. The earning potential would be massive, and she’d be in a position to set her own priorities and parameters.
“You going to take it?” asked Travis.
“I’m thinking about it,” she answered honestly. Then it suddenly occurred to her she was talking to a close friend of Caleb’s.
She quickly turned to take in his expression. “But...uh...”
He caught on quick. “You don’t want me to tell Caleb.”
Her hand went reflexively to his forearm. “I’d never ask you to lie. But it would be better for me if you didn’t mention it to him right away.”
He took a reflective drink of his beer. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to put you in that position.”
“I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I really didn’t think this through.” Where had her common sense been yesterday when she’d mentioned this to Travis.
“Unusual for you?” he asked.
“Very.”
“He’s coming over.”
“Who?”
“Randal. Who else.” Travis’s gaze went down. “You’re touching me, and he feels threatened. He’s about to stake his territory.”
She immediately realized she hadn’t taken her hand from Travis’s arm. Then she realized his arm was warm, hot actually under her fingertips. He was solid, strong and alive. She didn’t want to pull away.
“Don’t panic,” Travis muttered in an undertone. “But I’m going to touch your hair.”
“Wha—”
Before she could finish the word, he gently brushed the back of his knuckles along her cheek, smoothing her hair back over her ear.
She froze, every nerve ending in her body focusing on the gentle touch. Pings of awareness and desire shot out, sending signals of desire to every corner of her body.
“Dani,” boomed Randal’s voice. He wrapped a hearty arm around her shoulders and gave her a pat. “It looked like things went well?”
Travis’s hand fell away. “Hello, Randal.”
“Oh, Travis.” Randal pretended he’d just noticed him. “How’re you holding up here?”
“Managing just fine,” Travis responded.
Randal turned his attention back to Danielle. “What did they say? More importantly, what did you say?”
“She hasn’t made up her mind yet,” Travis put in.
Randal sent him a glare. “I asked Dani.”
“Well, Dani told me first.”
“Travis,” Danielle warned.
He was entitled to whatever theory he concocted, but that didn’t give him the right to pick a fight.
Randal drew back his shoulders, lifting his chin. “She did, did she?”
“They offered me a South American division,” she quickly told Randal.
“That’s great.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’m going to head up Europe, starting in September. We’d be at exactly the same level, on the partners’ floor. I don’t have to tell you, that’s an impressive way to enter the firm.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Danielle agreed.
“The expense account is unlimited. The benefits are top-drawer, and the work is some of the most intellectually stimulating—”
“Randal?” she interrupted.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been listening to the sales pitch all night.”
Travis stifled a chuckle.
Randal’s attention immediately flew to him. “You got something to add here?”
“Not a thing,” said Travis, polishing off his beer. “You’re doing just fine all by yourself.”
Randal glared a moment longer, but then something caught his attention across the room. “There’s old man Nester.” He squeezed Danielle’s shoulder, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial level. “Give me three minutes to break into the conversation, then come over and join us.”
He walked away.
Travis looked at Danielle, and she stared back.
“Well?” he asked.
She was all schmoozed out. Her feet were swelling. Her makeup was about to crack. And the last thing she wanted to do was humor the wheezy, narcissistic Edger Nester through what she’d heard tended to be half-hour-long discourses on the flaws in judicial procedure. If she took the job, she’d have to put up with it. But she wasn’t there yet.
“I’m out of here,” she told Travis.
His hand went immediately to her elbow, helping her down from the high stool, before turning them to a nearby side exit.
They came out into the gardens, quiet in the late hour. The breeze had picked up, cooling the air, and Travis quickly shrugged out of his suit jacket, draping it around her shoulders. They started down a winding flagstone walkway.
“That was a quick decision,” he noted.
“I’ve only met Mr. Nester once, but I’ve heard tales of his boring orations, and I’m tired.” She reached down and peeled off her sandals, moving to the soft grass at the side of the path. “My feet are killing me.”
“You want me to carry you?” he offered.