Callie's Cowboy (27 page)

“Fantastic!” he signed, throwing both hands up, palms pulsing out twice, as if in wonder.

“I understood that!” she said excitedly, leaning forward in her chair. “That means wonderful, great … right?”

He nodded, smiling, his gaze playing lightly across her face.

“See? I
told
you I was perfect for this job. A girlfriend of mine in high school was deaf, and she taught me sign language. Look:
I know how to sign
,” she said in slow, rusty signs. “Not ‘fantastic.' ” She laughed, mimicking his earlier sign. “But a little … a start! Right?”

Grinning, Kevin nodded. What else could he do? She was so damned positive, and optimistic … and charming. She was irresistible.

The thought caused him a low stirring of discomfort. For just a second longer he let himself wonder what it would be like … Like magic? Like a dream? Then his grin faded and he crossed his arms firmly over his chest. Watch out. Ross, he told himself. Don't play with fire if you don't want to get burned!

“Mike,” he signed in sharp, blunt gestures. “Tell her what I say. Tell her thank you for coming, and we'll be sure to let her know. But tell her I—I had another look in mind. Something more ordinary. Ponytail and a T-shirt. Girl-next-door kind of thing—”

“But I
was
the girl next door!” Suzy interrupted, her temper rising with her disappointment. “Right next door to Harry Wilson. Right on Elm Street. Backyard swings and barbecues. Baseball games on the vacant lot on the corner. Lemonade stands. I can do it! Really. I'll be any look you want me to be.”

Kevin felt his resolve weaken. She was so spirited, so full of pluck and determination and honesty. Those were feelings
he
sure as hell could identify with, and yet—

But before he could say or do anything, a light flashed over the door. Saved by the bell! he thought.

The welcome interruption was the kind of problem he had
no
trouble dealing with: a jammed conveyor belt and an angry foreman. Mike followed Kevin out the door with a quick “Excuse us. Emergency—” and Suzy was left alone in the office.

She wasn't going to get the job. She knew it. She could always tell, just as she could always tell which pose a client would select, or which photographer would give her a bad time. Model's instinct. She was loaded with instinct for this business, born with it as surely as with her blaze of red hair and wide green eyes. That's what had made it all so easy, why it was
her
they picked and not the other two-year-olds, and ten-year-olds, and twelve-year-olds when her mother dragged her from agency to agency, from job to job. It was why her mother
did
the dragging, so sure Suzy would be a star. Another Suzy Parker, her mother believed with the unshakable faith of Moses.

But Suzy was
not
going to get this job.

“And I
want
this job,” she grumbled softly, setting her hands on her hips. She nibbled unhappily on her lower lip as she thought of the nationwide magazine campaign, the prime-time TV spots, the thousands, no … maybe
hundreds of thousands
of cookie boxes on hundreds of thousands of grocery store shelves.

Not to mention that man. If she didn't get the job, she'd never see him again.

“Hmmm …” She narrowed her eyes, thinking, warming to the problem. For a moment she had had him. For a moment she had perfectly matched the fantasy in his head. Or better, she had awoken a fantasy he hadn't even admitted to himself. She had seen it in those smoke-dark eyes: a gleam, a spark! She had seen the muscles jump along the hard lines of his jaw. Then good old reason, or caution, or guardedness had intervened.

And there went her chance at being the Kevin's Kookies girl.

Well, the show wasn't over until the curtain fell, she decided with a sudden flash of determination. Pacing the thickly carpeted floor, she did a quick run-through of the contents of the office. And there on a shelf was just what she was looking for. T-shirts. White, black, red, yellow, blue … all emblazoned with Kevin's logo. Without a moment's hesitation she slipped out of her dress, folded it across the back of his chair, then placed her slip on top of it. The air-conditioning made goose bumps rise along her arms and down the long, silky curve of her back. Her nipples puckered. Quickly she tugged a T-shirt off its pile, one as red as an apple for the teacher or a teenager's blush. If Kevin Ross wanted the girl next door, that's just what she'd give him! A ponytail? Fine! Dropping the T-shirt for the moment, she rummaged in her purse and found her hairbrush. A few vigorous strokes and her hair was waving happily in her hand, as perky a tail as anyone could wish for, the few loose ends curling at her neck with independent energy. Now, she thought, a rubber band …? There was one, holding snug a roll of papers on his desk. She set a paperweight on top of the curling sheets, snapped the rubber band into place, and fluffed her bangs. Then she picked up the T-shirt again and began to put it on. She was just pulling the lower edge down over her breasts when the door opened and Kevin stepped inside.

He saw the ripe curve of her breast, the golden plane of her abdomen, her baby blue bikini bottoms strung across perfect hips, and the lovely length of her legs. “Oh, Lord …” he breathed, and this time she read
his
lips.

Kevin slammed the door shut and leaned back against it, his broad chest rising and falling, his hands clenched.

Suzy didn't know if he was guarding the door in boyish shock or out of some gallant notion of chivalry. But it didn't matter. It tickled her, she who was so completely comfortable in her body, so used to its lines and shape and texture that she took it completely for granted. And the people she worked with also took it for granted, interested in her beauty only as far as it suited their shampoo, their clothes, their luggage.

“It's all right,” she said easily, smoothing the hem of the cotton T-shirt down across the tops of her thighs. “Please don't be embarrassed—”

“Embarrassed?” he signed, not caring if she understood or not. He strode forward, still signing. “This is my office, not a dressing room. I'm not embarrassed. I'm furious!”

That
she understood!

“But, Mr. Ross, I—”

“What?” he challenged her with infuriating coolness.

Suzy stepped right up to him, toe to toe, so close that her breasts almost touched his chest. Her bangs brushed his chin as she looked up at him.

“Mr. Ross, I want this job. I'd be the perfect Kevin's Kookies girl and I know it. And you know it! And you're not going to scare me away, and now you know that too! I apologize for changing in your office, but if I had asked,
if
I had explained, you would have told Mr. Pepper to tell me to get lost—”

“Now, wait—”

“Oh, not like that, of course.” She waved away his objection, ignoring the gathering thunder of his frown. “You would have been quite polite, but it would have ended up the same way. And it would be a mistake.
Your
mistake. So really …” She spaced her words out, letting her mischievous smile shine through. “I'm only looking out for your best interests.”

Humor flickered in the depths of his dark eyes. “Thank you very much,” he signed, taking a step back to open some space between them. But it was just a small step, a small space, close enough for him to smell the sweetness of her breath, her subtle perfume. “So, you think you're the one for this job?”

Her gaze flew from his hands to her face. “Yes!”

“
I
think you're going to be a lot of trouble, Ms. Keller.”

“But I am worth it, Mr. Ross!”

He lifted one dark brow in mock disbelief, but a small still voice in his heart told him she was right. The question was, was
he
prepared to pay the price?

For less than a second he glanced around his familiar office, but it was changed already. From now until forever he would see the image of her tugging his T-shirt down over her lithe, golden body, her clothes tossed over his chair. He didn't know if he was lucky … or damned.

“All right,” he said in surrender. “The job is yours. You will be my Kevin's Kookies girl.”

“Wonderful decision!” Suzy grinned, wishing she had a cap to fling in the air. Instead, she hugged herself tightly, feeling happiness bubble like champagne in her veins. “Oh, we'll be
great
together, wait and see!” She did a little dancing step toward her clothes, then turned back to Kevin. “I have just one more question: Why didn't you ask for a model who could sign?”

Kevin laughed. “And just how many do you think there are?”

“Just one!” She smiled. “And you've got her! Kismet!”