but he’d been adamant. She glanced back through the windows to the conference room. He had his head down and was talking low to one of the suits.
When she remembered how good he’d looked in his jeans, boots and button-up shirt while he was playing hardball with them earlier, she had to swallow back the lump of awareness that caught at her throat each time she was around the man. Clint Griffin was bad news. She couldn’t wait to get that on tape so women everywhere would agree with her.
Or fall in love with him.
Samuel’s snort of disdain brought her out of her gossamer-revenge-tinged daydream. Her boss wasn’t ready to concede anything just yet, but he still wanted Clint. Even with charity events and a hands-off family.
“Yeah, right. So far, he’s managed to keep his relatives out of the limelight but we’ve found ’em now. I get his need to protect his womenfolk, but the world wants to see the interaction you described to me. We like people pushing at tables and breaking bottles. We need people shouting at each other and making scenes in public places. It’s the kind of stuff that makes or breaks a reality television show. We know that, but we don’t have to tell them that. Meantime, you can work on loosening his stubborn stance.”
Victoria wasn’t so hot on that idea, so she decided to stall Samuel’s own stubborn stance. “Then in the meantime, we need more cowboys and less family. Just until I can figure something out. We can create more outings, more bar scenes, a party atmosphere.”
Sam thought that over. “He does like to party, right?”
“Right. That’s why we went after him.”
“Then we’ll start there. Take him out to a bar and have at it.”
Victoria always managed to let Samuel think things were his idea. Maybe that was why he thought she was so good at her job. But hey, it worked. And she had to make this work.
Clint Griffin in a bar. Worse than any bull in a china shop. What could go wrong with that? Only about a million things.
Victoria waded through her warring thoughts and remembered she needed and liked a paycheck. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Good. Promos for the first episode go out in two weeks. We’ll use that bit you did when you found him the other day—the bathrobe scene. Get a release on that one right away.”
Nothing like a little pressure to get her going.
“You haven’t even signed the contracts.”
“We will.” Samuel glanced back toward the men gathered in the other room and gave her that special smile that meant his wheels were turning. “We get him in, get him going, and I’m thinking the fans will be so excited, the family will want in on this eventually. And soon our Cowboy Clint will want to stay with us for a long time to come.”
“He won’t like us trying to entice his family.”
“He’ll like the money and the notoriety, though. You just watch. I bet he’d sell out his mother for this.”
“He hasn’t so far.”
“Money brings out the mean and greedy in people, V.C.,” Samuel reminded her. “And in this case, Clint Griffin might be the man to save us. I can predict a lot of mean and greedy in his future once the numbers come in and that will allow a lot of mean and greedy for leverage to save our show.”
Victoria went back to her office to wait for Clint’s final adjustments and thought about her conversation with Samuel. A sliver of regret nudged at her, making her want to run into the conference room and tear up that contract. Was it worth disrupting a man’s life just to save a reality show? Just to get a little bit of satisfaction that amounted to mean and greedy revenge?
Yes, if you also want to save your job.
Since she didn’t have a choice in the matter, she gathered her notes and equipment and decided she’d order in and spend the rest of the day and evening preparing for the weeks ahead. She planned to find all the ammo she could to push at Clint Griffin so she could get to the real man underneath all that testosterone and bravado. The man she’d witnessed kissing that blonde and inviting Victoria in to be next in line. Was he trying to put on a good front because of his family? Or was he up to something else entirely?
What did she care anyway? Her job was to get in, get the shots and do the edits that would play up the drama. After all, reality television was all about the drama. She could cut and paste and get the worst that this man had to offer and people would still love watching. She just hoped his family didn’t form a revolt.
* * *
CLINT WANDERED DOWN the wide hallway of the Reality Network production rooms, fascinated with the whole studio thing. He’d had a little experience in studios, mostly cutting demos or sitting with some artist who wanted to record one of his songs, but nothing all that big or exciting. He’d been trying to get back into songwriting again lately, so this might give him the push he needed. If he could write a song and sing it on the show he might get a few nibbles from Nashville. Not for the money, but because he enjoyed writing songs. His daddy hadn’t agreed with Clint having a creative side so he’d gone back and forth between writing songs and riding broncs.
“You need to get those notions out of your head, son,” his father had advised. “You’re a Griffin. We work the land, tend our herds. Rodeoing will give you an outlet for all that pent-up frustration. That and a good woman.” But not a good song. No, sir.
Yeah, his daddy knew a thing or two about horses and...women. Too many women.
“Guess I inherited that from you at least,” Clint mumbled to himself now.
He noticed the framed posters on the walls, most of them showcasing some poor celebrity who’d just signed an agreement like the one he’d inked minutes ago. Had he sold his soul again?
When he came to an open door down the way, he glanced in and saw Victoria sitting at her desk jotting notes to beat the band. Her hair was down around her shoulders today, tangled and tempting. She wasn’t all painted up like a lot of the women he knew. She looked natural and girl-next-door. Innocent in some strange sweet way. Flowered shirts and soft-washed jeans, nice sturdy boots. One silver thread of a necklace dangling against the V of her shirt. A necklace with some sort of intricate token weighing it down.
“Wanna go to lunch?” he asked before he had time to think. To ease his eagerness, he added, “You can start picking me apart today. Film at eleven or something like that.”
She looked shocked and kind of cute. She’d obviously been deep into plotting out his future. Now she lifted her hand through all that twirling hair and asked, “You want me to go to lunch with you? Right now?”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Lunch, dinner, whatever you want to call it. I’m hungry.”
Her green eyes darkened at the quiet that followed that comment. And suddenly Clint was hungry for one thing. Her mouth.
That tempting mouth spoke. “I...uh...sure, I could eat.”
And he could kiss. Her. Right. Now.
Clint blinked and laughed to cover the shock of attraction moving like
