Cowboy for Keeps

by Cathy McDavid

  “What?” She drew back, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

  “It’s Clay’s car. He lent it to me.”

  “That was sweet of him.”

  Conner studied her. “You look...” He swallowed. “Incredible.”

  She studied him in turn. “You look incredible, too. Very handsome.”

  He was glad she approved. He’d wanted to do right by her, knowing how important this dinner was to her career. “You ready?”

  She fetched her wrap and a tiny purse that couldn’t possibly contain more than her cell phone, driver’s license and a house key.

  At the car, Conner held the door open for her. Whatever Clay’s real motives were, he’d been right about Dallas. Slipping into the sedan was far easier than crawling into a truck.

  They talked easily on the drive to the resort. As the valet drove off with the car, Conner took her arm and led her along the lit walkway to the main entrance. Greeters stationed just inside pointed them in the direction of the ballroom.

  They were only a few minutes late, but the room was almost completely full. Locating two empty seats at a table along the far wall, Dallas deposited her wrap.

  “I think I’m hungry,” she said, eyeing the lengthy buffet loaded with every kind of food imaginable.

  It wasn’t like Conner to keep a lady waiting. “I could eat a bite.”

  They navigated the room, with Dallas stopping frequently to say hello to someone and chat briefly. Conner responded cordially when she introduced him as her “friend.” By the time they reached the buffet line, he’d forgotten more names than he remembered.

  “Champagne?”

  Waiters crisscrossed the room carrying heavily laden drink trays.

  Dallas patted her stomach. “I think I’m going to stick with water. But you have some.”

  “I’m good with water, too.” He had a one-drink-when-driving rule. He amended that to a no-drink-when-driving-a-pregnant-woman-home rule.

  They met more people Dallas knew while returning to their table with their plates. Conner admired her poise and confidence. Those individuals she hadn’t worked with quickly learned about her photography business when she seamlessly slipped in a reference.

  According to Conner’s estimation, she’d made five new contacts in the thirty minutes since their arrival.

  Maybe he should ask her for lessons. His networking skills were clearly lacking or he’d have found a new job by now.

  He’d become complacent at Triad, assuming he’d be there for life. Researching potential jobs was easy, registering with headhunters a necessary evil. His letters of introduction and résumé were evidently written well enough that he was regularly called in for interviews. When it came to closing the deal, however, he continually missed the mark.

  The woman sitting on Conner’s right dabbed her mouth with a white linen napkin. “The dressing on this endive salad is divine.”

  To him, salad was salad. But he didn’t want to be impolite. “It is good.” He took a bite to show his sincerity.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met. Have you attended any AAWA events before?”

  Because Dallas was deep in conversation with the elderly couple beside her, Conner turned his full attention to the woman. “My first time.”

  “They put on a lovely affair. And the money they raise benefits so many worthy causes. If you’re here, you must be an animal lover.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She extended a hand. The diamond ring on her finger, though large, was tasteful. “I’m Sunday Givens. Nice to meet you.”

  Something about her short-cropped silver hair and unusual name rang a bell with Conner, but he couldn’t quite place her. “Conner Durham.”

  “You strike me as a dog person. Am I right?”

  Conner and his ex-girlfriend had owned an Australian shepherd mix that she got custody of when they split. Much as he’d liked that dog, he hadn’t objected. Her daughter was quite attached to “Zero,” and he hated to separate them.

  “You’re correct. Had a lot of good ones in my life. Mostly herding dogs. Dad believed even the family pets should earn their keep.”

  “You grew up on a ranch?” Sunday took tiny spoonfuls of her lobster bisque.

  Conner tried not to wolf his down. “In Mustang Valley.”

  “And now?”

  “Still there.”

  “That’s horse country. How many do you own?”

  “None, technically.” Another reminder of his circumstances he chose not to dwell on. He’d sold his two quarter horses a few months back, even though Gavin had offered to board them for free. The extra money had come in handy and enabled him to make a few payments on his house. “I’m a trainer. I work for the Powells.”

  Sunday’s attractively crinkled face lit up. “I’m familiar with their mustang sanctuary. Anyone involved with the AAWA is, naturally. They’ve done some tremendously good things for wild mustangs.” She looked at Conner with renewed interest and something he hadn’t seen much lately. Respect. “Tell me all about it.”

  “I’d hate to bore you.”

  “You won’t. I adore cowboys and their way of life. In my opinion, it’s becoming a lost art.”

  Talking with her wasn’t hard at all. She asked a lot of questions and encouraged Conner to go into detail when he would have skimmed.

  At some point, Dallas must have become aware of them, and joined in on the discussion. “He’s been helping me with the book.”

  “What book is that?”

  Dallas explained.

  “I’m impressed.” Again, Sunday’s eyes shone with respect.

  “I haven’t done that much,” Conner insisted.

  “Don’t listen to him.” Dallas laid her hand on his arm and leaned in closer. “There’s no way I would have gotten all the photographs I did without him.”

  “Rest assured, I’m not listening.” Sunday’s smile alighted on Conner. “Anyone can see he’s very unassuming.”

  “Did he tell you about the wounded mare and colt we found in the mountains?”

  “I heard about it on the news. That was you?”

  While the waitstaff swooped in to remove empty plates and bowls, Dallas recounted the story, including Conner’s encounter with the cholla, and ending with their ongoing efforts to locate the owner.

  From the way she told it, she made Conner out to be some kind of hero, which he wasn’t. He should warn her to stop laying it on so thick.

  “How fortunate you came along when you did,” Sunday gushed.

  “I really hope they find the person who shot her,” Dallas said, “but there’s not much chance of it.”

  “Tell me, Conner, where did you learn to train horses?”

  It took him a moment to realize Sunday was speaking to him. “I started out rodeoing.”

  “A man of many talents.”

  “He’s actually a systems analyst.”

  He sent Dallas a look meant to silence her. She didn’t take the hint.

  “He used to work for Triad Energy Systems. Ran their production department.”

  “I heard they had a major layoff last spring.” Sunday’s expression was sympathetic. “Were you by chance one of their casualties?”

  Conner hesitated before answering. He preferred not advertising his unemployment to strangers. But Sunday impressed him as being nonjudgmental. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “A shame. I’m sure you found another job straight away.”

/>   “Actually, I’m still looking.”

  “And training mustangs while you’re at it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Interesting.” She pushed her half-eaten cheesecake aside. “As it so happens, we’re looking for a good systems analyst at the plant.”

  “Plant?”

  “Sonoran Bottling.”

  All at once the pieces flew together, and he remembered where he’d seen her—on the cover of countless local business magazines and journals. She was the Sunday Givens, president of the most successful independently owned bottling plant in the entire Southwest.

  “Call me Monday morning,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t just changed Conner’s entire life, “and we’ll set up an interview. If you have a pen and paper, I’ll give you my number.”

  He slapped the front of his jacket, beneath which his heart beat like a piston. “Somewhere here—”

  Beside him, Dallas magically produced a pen from her tiny purse.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He scribbled Sunday’s number on the back of the program agenda. “I really appreciate the opportunity.”

  She smiled warmly. “No need to be so formal. I consider every employee at Sonoran to be a part of my family.”

  * * *

  “SHE’S GOING TO GIVE YOU the job!” Dallas beamed at Conner as they danced to a slow number.

  “We’ll see.”

  This was the first opportunity they’d have to talk privately, and she was bursting with excitement.

  “She said, and I quote, ‘I consider every employee at Sonoran to be a part of my family.’” Dallas pinched his chin between her thumb and finger as if to shake some sense into him. “Have faith.”

  “She did say ‘every.’” He finally let his guard down and smiled. “I liked her.”

  “And she liked you. See? It’s kismet.”

  “Guess I have you to thank.” He gazed at Dallas, his expression intimate. Personal.

  Chills danced up her spine. “Nonsense.”

  “If you hadn’t dragged me here, I wouldn’t have met Sunday.”

  “All it takes is a connection. I’ve learned when courting new clients that they’re more likely to sign with me if we share an interest. With you and Sunday, it’s your mutual love of animals.”

  They floated across the floor to the music of the string quartet. She reveled in the new and exciting sensation of his strong hand resting on the small of her back and the breadth of his muscled shoulders beneath her arm.

  Then again, she’d felt all that before, and more, when he’d kissed her on her front porch.

  “I don’t want her giving me the job just because she admires my work with the mustang sanctuary.”

  “Why not?”

  “I want the job because I’m the most qualified candidate.”

  “Conner, you are the most qualified. You and ten or twenty other applicants. There’s always that one thing that makes a person stand out from the rest. It doesn’t have to be professional—it can be personal. She thinks it’s cool that you train wild mustangs. Take advantage of it. I guarantee you, the other applicants won’t hesitate to do the same.”

  “How’d you get so smart?” He twirled her in a circle. “They teach you that at photography school?”

  “I think I picked it up from years of living with Hank.”

  “I guess growing up with him for a stepdad wasn’t all bad.”

  Something shifted inside her. “No, I guess it wasn’t.” After another turn on the dance floor, she said, “Call me right away after you talk to Sunday. And take the job when she offers it to you.”

  “If she offers it.”

  “When,” Dallas reiterated.

  “Whatever you say.” He dipped her, then pulled her up hard against him.

  Dallas’s heart cartwheeled. Any reminders about not becoming involved with him were ignored. She was falling fast and with no net in sight.

  “Excuse me,” Conner said when they bumped into another couple just as the song was ending.

  “Conner Durham?” Recognition illuminated the woman eyes. “It’s Anita. From Signatures Studio.”

  “Anita!” He gave the elegantly dressed, middle-aged woman a brief hug. “Good to see you.”

  “This is my husband.” She took the arm of the man beside her.

  Names were exchanged as they left the dance floor. At the edge, out of the way of other dancers, they stopped to chat.

  “Anita is a friend of Leeza’s,” Conner explained to Dallas.

  “A coworker, actually,” Anita amended. “I’m the office manager at the modeling agency where Leeza’s registered.”

  “Oh, okay.” A banal reply, but Dallas didn’t know how to respond. Conner rarely mentioned his former girlfriend.

  Was that because she’d hurt him? Or did he still care?

  “Leeza’s one of our most requested models.” Anita glanced at Dallas and quickly changed the subject. “Where are you working now, Conner?”

  He told them about the mustang sanctuary and his work with Dallas. They must have been impressed, because they couldn’t take their eyes off him.

  Dallas fumed just a tiny bit. She had no reason whatsoever to be jealous. None at all. Just because Leeza was a statuesque model with a runway-worthy figure. After having a child, no less. And was the agency’s most requested model.

  “Well, we’d best get back to our table,” Anita said when a couple brushed by them. “Before we cause an accident.”

  She and Conner hugged again. He acknowledged her husband with a friendly nod before they parted.

  At their table, Dallas grabbed her bag. “If you don’t mind, I need to freshen up a bit.”

  “Can I get you anything while you’re gone? Coffee? More water?”

  Was the prospect of a job with Sonoran Bottling responsible for the smile on his face? Or was he thinking of Leeza?

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Just as Dallas finished washing her hands at the restroom sink, Anita entered.

  “Guess we had the same idea,” she exclaimed warmly, her gaze traveling to Dallas’s waistline. “When are you due?”

  The question threw her. She had only just started to show, was at that stage where she could easily be mistaken for carrying a few extra pounds. This was the first time a stranger had noticed her pregnancy.

  She felt herself glowing.

  “How did you know?” Her hand went automatically to her stomach.

  “That,” Anita said, smiling sentimentally. “It’s something pregnant mothers can’t help doing.”

  Dallas liked being referred to as a pregnant mother. “I’m not due till April 4. Seems like a long way away.”

  “The weeks will fly by.” Anita removed her lipstick from her purse and applied a fresh coat, gazing into the mirror. “Conner’s going to be a great dad.”

  “H-he’s not the father.” At Anita’s confused look, she clarified, “We’re just friends. He escorted me here as a favor. I thought it would be a good opportunity for him to make some contacts.”

  “My mistake.” The other woman appeared flustered. “When I saw the two of you dancing...I just assumed.”

  “There’s nothing romantic between us.”

  “Too bad.”

  “No, it’s good, actually. We’ve been friends a long time. I wouldn’t want to complicate things.”

  “I meant too bad he’s not going to be a father. Conner loves children. He treated Leez
a’s daughter like his own.”

  “He did?” Dallas was more than interested; she was fascinated.

  “Absolutely. The poor darling was devastated when her mother and Conner broke up. Still is, from what Leeza has said.” Anita shook her head. “I tell you, that woman didn’t know what she gave up when she walked out. Men like him don’t come around often.”

  “I’ve seen Conner with his niece. His best friend’s stepdaughter, actually.”

  What sort of father would Richard be? He wanted to marry her and was more than willing to provide for their baby. But he generally avoided the company of children and had wanted to wait to start a family.

  She would ask him how he really felt if she wasn’t convinced he’d say what he thought she wanted to hear.

  “What a dolt I am.” Anita flushed. “Here I am, going on and on about Conner. I’m sure your husband is every bit as wonderful with kids.”

  “I’m not married.”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “Your baby’s father. He must be thrilled.”

  “We’re not together.” As nice as Anita was being, Dallas was starting to feel uncomfortable. She would have made an excuse to leave, but Anita had other ideas.

  “I know you said you and Conner aren’t dating, but you might reconsider it.” When another woman entered the restroom, Anita lowered her vice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He likes you. I can tell by the way he said your name when he introduced us. Like it melted on his tongue.”

  Had he really?

  “Think about it.”

  “I...I can’t.”

  Anita smiled saucily. “Sure you can.”

  Dallas sought Conner out the moment she returned to the banquet room.

  Maybe she’d been wrong all along about blended families. Maybe some did work. Gavin and Sage’s obviously did. As had Conner and Leeza’s. For a while. Her own blended family might have meshed better if Dallas and her brother had given Hank half a chance.

  When she reached the table, Conner was wearing an ear-to-ear grin.

  “Did something happen while I was gone?”

  “Sunday left. She reminded me she’ll be waiting for my call Monday morning.”