she breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to venture out of the city on her own. Turning into the gravel parking lot of a small bar and grill, she smiled when she parked next to a white pickup truck with Big Blue Ranch painted on the driver’s door. Chance was leaning against the front fender with his arms folded across his wide chest and his booted feet crossed casually at the ankles.
Lord have mercy, the man looked good! If she’d thought he looked like a cowboy the night before in his white shirt, black sport jacket and black hat, it couldn’t compare to the way he looked today. Wearing a blue chambray shirt, jeans and a wide-brimmed black cowboy hat, he was the perfect example of a man who made his living working the land. The type of man men could relate to and women would drool over.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” she said when he pushed away from the truck to come around the car and open her door.
“I’ve only been here a couple of minutes,” he said, smiling as he offered his hand to help her out of the car.
Her breath caught. Chance Lassiter was extremely handsome at any time, but when he smiled he was downright devastating. She had noticed that about him the night before, but attributed her assessment to the excitement she’d felt at finding the perfect spokesman to represent his family. But now?
She frowned as she chided herself for her foolishness. Her only interest in the man or his looks was for the purpose of improving his family’s image. Nothing more.
But when she placed her hand in his, a delightful tingling sensation zinged up her arm and Fee knew her reaction to his smile had nothing whatsoever to do with being anxious to start her ad campaign and everything to do with Chance’s raw sexuality. He wasn’t as refined as the men she knew in Los Angeles, but something told her that he was more of a man than any of them ever dreamed of being. She took a deep breath and ignored the realization. Her interest in him was strictly business and that’s the way it was going to stay. Maybe if she reminded herself of that fact enough, she would remember it.
“I have some of the mock-ups of the print ads I’d like to run,” she said, reaching for her electronic tablet in the backseat.
“Let’s have lunch and talk before we get into any of that,” he said, guiding her toward the entrance to the restaurant.
“I suppose you’re right,” she agreed as they walked inside. “I’m just excited about starting this project.”
His deep chuckle sent a warmth coursing throughout her body. “Your enthusiasm shows.”
When they reached a booth at the back of the establishment, he asked, “Will this be all right? It’s a little more private and we should be able to talk without interruption.”
“It’s fine,” she answered, sliding onto the red vinyl seat. Looking around, Fee noticed that although the bar and grill was older and a little outdated, it was clean and very neat. “What’s the special here?” she asked when Chance took his hat off and slid into the booth on the opposite side of the table.
“They have a hamburger that’s better than any you’ve ever tasted,” he said, grinning as he placed his hat on the bench seat beside him. “But I’m betting you would prefer the chef’s salad like most women.”
His smile and the sound of his deep baritone sent a shiver coursing through her. The man’s voice alone would charm the birds out of the trees, but when he smiled, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he could send the pulse racing on every female from one to one hundred.
Deciding to concentrate on the fact that he had correctly guessed her lunch choice, she frowned. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she didn’t like him thinking that she was predictable or anything like other women.
“What makes you think I’ll be ordering the salad?” she asked.
“I just thought—”
“I can think for myself,” she said, smiling to take the sting out of her words. “And for the record, yes, I do like salads. Just not all the time.”
“My mistake,” he said, smiling.
“Since it’s your recommendation, I’ll have the hamburger,” she said decisively.
He raised one dark eyebrow. “Are you sure?” he asked, his smile widening. “I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to influence your decision.”
“Yes, I’m positive.” She shrugged. “Unless you’re afraid it won’t live up to expectations.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “You’re really something, Felicity Sinclair. You would rather eat something you don’t want than admit that I was right. Do you even eat meat?”
“Occasionally,” she admitted. For the most part she lived on salads in L.A. But that was more a matter of convenience than anything else.
When the waitress came over to their booth, Chance gave the woman their order. “I can guarantee this will be the best hamburger you’ve ever had,” he said confidently when the woman left to get their drinks.
Curiosity got the better of her. “What makes you say that?”
“They serve Big Blue beef here,” he answered. “It’s the best in Wyoming, and several restaurants in Cheyenne buy from our distributor. In fact, my cousin Dylan and I made a deal when he decided to open a Lassiter Grill here to serve nothing but our beef in all of his restaurants.”
“Really? It’s that special?”
Chance nodded. “We raise free-range Black Angus cattle. No growth hormones, no supplements. Nothing but grass-fed, lean beef.”
Fee didn’t know a lot about the beef industry, except that free-range meat was supposed to be healthier for the consumer. But she did know something about Dylan Lassiter and the Lassiter Grill Group.
A premier chef, Dylan had started the chain with J.D.’s encouragement and had inherited full control of that part of the family business when J.D. died. Dylan was well-known for serving nothing but the finest steaks and prime rib in his restaurants, and Fee was certain that was why every one of them bore the coveted five-star rating from food critics and cuisine magazines. If he was confident enough to serve Big Blue beef exclusively in his restaurants, it had to be the best. And that gave her an idea.
“This is perfect,” she said, her mind racing with the possibilities. “I’ll have to give it a little more thought, but I’m sure we can use that for future Lassiter Grill advertisements, as well as the spots about the Lassiter family.”
“Yeah, about that,” Chance said slowly as he ran a hand through his short, light brown hair. “I don’t think I’m right for what you have in mind for your ad campaign.”
Her heart stalled. “Why do you say that?”
He shook his head. “I’m not a polished corporate type. I’m a rancher and more times than not I’m covered in dust or scraping something off my boots that most people consider extremely disgusting.”
“That’s why you’re the perfect choice,” she insisted.
“Because I’ve stepped in a pile of...barnyard atmosphere?” he asked, looking skeptical.
Laughing
