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big plans. You know, always think big. This is Texas and I plan to give the masses what they want, but the money will mostly go for a cause dear to my heart and maybe a few other things.”

      Not sure what her boss would think, she let out a sigh. “Well, okay. I’ll tell Samuel and he’ll have our lawyers get with you to draw up the contract.”

      “With stipulations,” he replied again, his tone as clear and precise as the silence that followed. “Highlight my nonprofit, Griffin Horse Therapy Ranch—better known as the Galloping Griffin—and don’t tape anyone in my family who is off-limits.”

      “Got it.” She needed coffee to continue this conversation. “Is that all?”

      “Like I said, I want to showcase a couple of organizations I’ve been involved with and...I want to secure my niece’s future. Nothing so underhanded and horrible, see?” He went silent and then said, “It’s not like I’m going to use the money to start that harem you mentioned. Or open a bar or hold a toga party at my house. Although, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a toga, understand.”

      His bad-boy attitude obviously came out during the wee hours of the night. That image got her fully awake and back to business.

      “It depends on how the stipulations can be highlighted as part of the show. But I’ll leave that up to you and the lawyers. Samuel will want to sit in on the meeting, too.”

      “And you. I want you there.”

      “I don’t usually—”

      “I want you there.”

      His husky request in her ear singed the skin on her neck and left it all tingly and warm. “Okay. I’ll let you know the time and place.”

      “Good enough. See you then.”

      Victoria tapped her phone and ended the call. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, she got up and padded to the kitchen for coffee. Samuel would be happy but she didn’t have that sense of joy she usually felt when they were about to work with a new subject. In fact, she felt something new and disturbing and difficult to accept.

      She was still attracted to Clint Griffin.

      That would never do, she decided. Never. Slamming down a hammer of self-control on her carried-away imagination, she stomped to the coffee pot and hit the on button. On that distant night, she’d enjoyed kissing the man, but she’d chalked that up to being young and naive. She had not come looking for him to become the next reality star because, honestly, one kiss long ago had not shaped her whole adult life. She’d been attracted to him that night, attracted to the tension and intensity of the man and to the notion that he’d even noticed her. But what he’d really noticed was the nearest female and the chance to flirt with her and maybe take her home.

      When Victoria, still bruised from being left at the altar, had turned him down flat, he’d walked away without so much as a backward glance.

      Victoria had been hurt, yes, but she’d gotten over that and made a life for herself. Even after her groom had left her at the altar, she’d managed to brush herself off and get on with life. After a while, she’d been glad she hadn’t married so young and she’d sure been glad she hadn’t had a one-night stand with Clint Griffin. Now she was happy to be independent and free.

      Or she had been until Samuel had come to her with the notion of trying to get Clint for the show. Of all the cowboys in all of Texas, why had Samuel stumbled on this one and decided he’d be perfect? Seeing Clint again after such a long time had brought out all of her anxieties and self-doubts. So she was using the old revenge tactic to get back at him. But would it be revenge if he became a ratings winner?

      “This is such a bad idea,” she mumbled to her wilted red geranium plant. It sat on the wide kitchen window with a lonely sideways tilt. Why her mother always brought her plants to kill was beyond Victoria. But she watered it anyway and begged it to stay alive. “Plant, what do you think about Clint Griffin?”

      The plant’s one wrinkled flower took that moment to shed a few limp petals.

      “That’s what I thought, too.”

      Victoria turned back to her coffee and grabbed a Pop-Tart and stuck it in the toaster. She’d get a shower and get into the office so she could warn Samuel about the few noble requests their bad boy wanted in the contract.

      And she’d certainly have to brace herself to get through the next few weeks. Life with a self-centered cowboy wouldn’t be easy. Even if this one looked as if he hadn’t been back on the horse in a while.

      * * *

      “HE WANTS EVERYONE in on this except his immediate family?”

      Samuel stared at Victoria, his eyes bulging with disbelief. “We need those women to spice things up, V.C. Now what do we do?”

      Victoria had been in the same meeting but she and Samuel had stepped outside to let Clint talk things over with his people. Clint had announced in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want his sisters or his niece to be a part of the show. At all. And she wasn’t sure if this was coming from him, or his mother and sisters. She wondered how Susie with the stars in her eyes felt about this.

      “You heard the man,” she replied to Samuel. “He’s trying to protect his family.”

      Surprising, 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

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