As far as Chloe Garrison is concerned, Nick Westing was carved by the gods. Her one and only plan while visiting her best friend in Texas: get that sexy cowboy into her bed as often as possible until it’s time to return to New York.
After a whirlwind week she slips away, thinking it best to make a clean break. Except she can’t get Nick out of her head. And when he unexpectedly walks into her office, her first instinct is to find her defenses before she loses her panties.
Nick jumped at the chance to accompany his brother to New York for a photo shoot, but now that he’s here, he’s pissed. Seems Chloe is doing everything in her power to ignore him. The tender part of him understands her need for space.
The wilder side of him teases and torments her until she finally admits she’s missed him. Even though she walks away, in his book it’s a win. Because one way or another, he’s going to convince her they belong together.
She was a shark, carving a path through numerous workers and barking out orders that somehow brought the chaotic room into order.
“Last chance to offer suggestions, ladies and gentlemen.” She waited, every eye on her.
Nick couldn’t resist. She was so stiff and severe, he had to try to bring out a bit of the Chloe he met in Texas. “How ’bout a few more lights? Wouldn’t want the camera to miss a moment of my brother’s debut.”
She whipped around in his direction. So did most of the people in the room.
Chloe smiled, but it wasn’t anything close to the expression he was used to seeing. “Nick, you weren’t at the staff meeting where I pointed out that there is a difference between making helpful suggestions and creating time sucks that StyleU can’t afford.”
That was a bit snarky. She was in rare form today. He took a step forward. “I’m guessing my suggestion landed in the time-suck category?”
“Clever cowboy,” she countered sarcastically.
“Ya’ll figure talking is a waste of time?”
“Only when it doesn’t pertain to the shoot.” She waved to indicate the entire room. “Which is costing a bundle.”
“How much is a bundle exactly?” He kept his expression blank, eyes wide, waiting for her to either blow a gasket or laugh.
“Between the photographer, staff, Cash’s contract and odds and ends, we’re looking at close to five thousand an hour.”
“Holy horse shit.” He noticed a few chuckles. Good. The room was a damn morgue. City folks took things way too seriously.
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Candi Wall is probably the only person whose real name is more epic than any pseudonym she could have come up with – even as an author! She writes because the voices in her head have to come out somehow. Animal rescue-ess, mother of four, and soccer mom by day, she spends her free time writing – often on napkins at kids’ games because she never knows when a juicy story will reveal its delicious self. She once wrote a sex scene at a wrestling meet. Shhhhhh!
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