him is in his file.”
“Everything sounds simple enough.”
“Stick to the budget.” Rory flipped to another section in the binder.
“Thank goodness for cell phones. You’re only a call away if I have questions,” Griffin murmured.
“I may have to call you back, since I’ll be working.”
“How are you going to stand being away from here? You break out in a cold sweat when you have to go to Denver. Being in a big city like New York will drive you crazy.”
That’s exactly what worried Rory the most.
WHEN RORYWALKEDINTO Rayzor Sharp Media’s reception area, the first thing that hit him was how sterile the place felt. The desk was a sleek chrome-and-glass contraption with lines and angles and no warmth. A big black sign with the company name hung above it. The white walls added to the lifeless environment. He suddenly found himself missing the warm wood and earthy colors he saw everywhere at home.
A pretty little brunette dressed in black, who looked as if she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a month, glanced up and flashed him a perfect, blinding-white smile. “Hello…” She stretched out the word and looked him up and down, making him feel like a bright red apple held out to a horse. “What can I do for you?”
Man, he was out of his element. Fingering the brim of his Sunday Stetson, which he held in his hands, he said, “I’m here to see Ms. Harrington-Smyth.”
“Lucky Elizabeth. Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Bottled water? My phone number?”
For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Strong women didn’t scare him, but he wanted a woman to at least give him a chance to show interest before she made an all-out play for him, and he wasn’t used to being pounced on the minute he walked into a place of business.
“I’m good.”
“You sure are.” The receptionist pointed to a cluster of ridiculously flimsy metal chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll let Elizabeth know you’re here.”
As he sat, he hoped the chair would hold his weight. He didn’t belong here. Elizabeth’s client would take one look at him, laugh and ask her if she was crazy to put this cowboy in an ad campaign to sell clothes.
Now if the client was Ford or Chevy, that he could see. Man, he wished she wanted him to sell trucks instead of jeans. That wouldn’t be a bad deal. He could chuck a saddle and some grain sacks in the back of a flatbed, crawl in the cab and drive off into the sunset. Yup, that would be a sweet deal.
But he hadn’t gotten that lucky.
A minute later Elizabeth walked into the reception area. She was tinier than he remembered. Heck, she couldn’t be more than five-two, because she barely reached the middle of his chest, even wearing high heels. He grinned. Those spiky shoes sure made her calves look fantastic. How could such a little thing have legs that were longer than an Alaskan night?
“I’m glad you’re here. I hope your flight was pleasant.” She held out her hand.
He shook it, surprised at the softness of her skin. “The flight was fine.”
“Thanks for getting here on such short notice. Today we’re going to take some photos. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow with the client. You and I both work for him. Unfortunately, until we have professional shots he’s unwilling to sign a contract with you or the agency.”
“I can’t sign the contract and have him cut me a check today?”
“Mr. Devlin insists on seeing the professional photographs first.”
Rory nodded, trying to shove aside his nervousness and unease. The sooner he got to work, the sooner he’d get paid. “Then we’d best get started.”
“Follow me.” Elizabeth started walking. “Let me tell you a couple of things about today’s shoot. We’re doing this one in-house since the photos are to show the client how wonderful you’ll be to showcase his jeans. When he signs the contract, we’ll do the commercial and print shoots elsewhere.”
She glanced at Rory as if she expected him to say something, so he replied, “Makes sense.”
“I coordinate the shoot. It’s my job to make sure everyone else is doing his or hers, and that we have everything we need. We’ve got a small set, and once you change, our photographer will take pictures of you there. But the first thing we need to do is get you into our client’s designer jeans.”
Designer jeans. Probably uncomfortable, tight and way too fancy. Rory followed Elizabeth down a series of hallways to a big open room, where she picked up a pair of dark blue jeans off a table.
When she held them out to him, he realized this job was going to be worse than he’d expected. Way worse.
Chapter Three
“No real man would be caught dead in these.”
“Excuse me?” Elizabeth couldn’t believe what Rory had just said about the client’s jeans.
“I didn’t mean to say that loud enough for anyone to hear.”
Not an ounce of remorse showed in his clear, coffee-colored eyes, annoying her further. Her campaign rested on this cowboy, and he needed to take this job seriously. She’d fix that problem right now. “The first rule of being a spokesperson for a product, which is what we intend for you to be, is to always sing the product’s praises. Never, in public or private, make any negative comments about the company, its employees or their products.”
“Do I have to check with you before I say anything to anyone?”
“That might not be a bad idea until you get the hang of this business.”
“I was joking.”
She stared at him, not quite sure how to respond. “I know a lot of people don’t value advertising, but this is a serious, competitive business.”
“Lighten up. It isn’t brain surgery.”
Bullheaded man. Elizabeth pinched her lips together and counted to ten. If she didn’t need him so desperately, she’d fire him, because obviously her words weren’t hitting home.
“No, it’s not brain surgery or rocket science, but that doesn’t mean what we do here isn’t important. We’re a crucial part of the economy. If we create an ineffective campaign, company sales go down, which means people get laid off. It also means a possible fall in stock prices and less dividends for stockholders. That creates other repercussions in the economy, which I won’t go into here.” Mainly because Rory probably wouldn’t grasp the fine nuances. “Mistakes like criticizing the company’s product can cause a lot of people, you included, to lose their jobs. Are we clear on that?”
“Where do I change?”
She ignored his question for a minute, trying to determine if she’d made her point. Finally deciding the man would have to be a complete idiot not to have understood her, she pointed to a door
