Page 11 of My Cowboy Valentine

“You’ll have it by end of day,” Pharrell replies with a nasal laugh.

“Okay.” No two-syllable word has ever made me feel more like a villainess. But there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save The Red Brand and make it mine once more. Losing ownership of the company has obliterated my creativity, pushing the enterprise to the brink of destruction.

My eyes dart up, and I see a tall blonde with a bob frozen in her tracks next to my car.Is the bitch eavesdropping on me?I remember seeing her in the boardroom when I barged in, standing next to Rowdy as if they were an item. I unceremoniously flip her off, motioning with my other hand for her to move along.

Still unmoving, she stares open-mouthed like a fool. Reaching for the car door to roll down the window, I prepare to holler at her New York-style, asking what the hell she’s looking at and telling her to move on. But thankfully, the dumb blondetakes a hint. I watch in the rearview mirror as she putters away. What a pathetic woman. But then, what would I expect from any woman tied up with Rowdy?

After finishing the call, I stride into Jameson & Cash like I own the place because…you know, I technically do. My eyes tick towards Ned, the ungainly security guard who escorted me outside yesterday.

“Ma’am, I want to apologize. I was obeying orders.”

“Well, those orders now involve Mr. Jamesonandme. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He looks me solemnly in the face, scratching his head.

“That was your first and last chance. Pull a stunt like that again, and you’re fired.”

He nods, his face darkening. “For my life, I don’t understand why Rowdy had you escorted from the property in handcuffs… I mean, you two are engaged, after all.”

“Foreplay,” I reply flatly, striding past him into the room I barged into yesterday.

Rowdy’s head raises, and he stares at me harshly, his far-too-kissable lips drawn into a thin line. I hate how breathtaking this guy has to be. From his white Stetson to his pale-blue, plaid button-down shirt and tight-fitting jeans that hug his muscles in all the right places, animal magnetism radiates from him. As I draw closer, I catch notes of a spicy, woodsy cologne daring me to invade his space.

Rowdy puts his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes and curling his upper lip like he’s either about to light into me or snarl. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and desire tightens my lower core with a painful, needy throb.

“Thisis a shit show,” he laments.

I nod, unable to deny the tiny sliver of empathy I feel for him. Two days ago, I stood in the same shoes. “Yes, it is. But with alittle time to reflect, I think you’ll see things like I do. I hate to say this, but my brother’s right about something for once.”

He grimaces, shaking his head.

I shrug. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Up to you, dipshit. I’ve spent the last twenty-two years in the dog-eat-dog fashion world. I know how to play with the big boys and girls, so think twice before crossing me.”

“If you think for one moment I’m going to willingly resign myself to whatever’s going on, you have another thing coming,” Rowdy grumbles, covering the distance between us and wagging his finger a few inches from my face.

“Look,” I answer, staring up into his cloudless sky-blue eyes and working hard not to lose myself. “Billy’s told me how hard you’ve worked on this brand and how much it means to you. Whether you care to admit it, I can help you bring your vision to life…or…”

“Or?”

“Or I can do everything in my power to sink the Jameson & Cash brand into the ground. Don’t think for one moment I’ll hesitate when the time comes.”

“For a little girl, you sure like throwing around big threats,” he observes, drawing closer and emphasizing how he towers over me. Standing mere inches from him, my body sparkles and sizzles. But his words light me up, hot as a firebrand.

“Don’t underestimate me,” I hiss out my last warning.

His eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare. But instead of speaking, his jaw muscles strain, emphasizing his sexy, square-cut face.

I take a deep breath, adding, “Nothing fully prepares a new designer for their first fit testing except practice. And I have immense amounts of that under my belt. Let me help you.” Judas couldn’t give a better speech. I sound downright charitable.

“Do the fit testing again? Absolutely not.”

I raise my eyebrows, inching closer to him and pounding my pointer finger into his chest. “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

He grabs my hand, holding it tightly against his chest to stop me. His eyes flash towards mine, and he swallows loudly.

I sigh sharply, my eyes drinking in his stunning cerulean gaze as flames lick up my fingers and down my arm, radiating out from his right hand, which presses my fingers and palm firmly against his rock-hard chest. No wonder women throw themselves at this man.

“Maybe bossing me around worked when I was a kid, Red. But I’m all man now, and I won’t put up with it. No matter how intimidating you try to act.”

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