He needed to do some research to see if he could work a deal to get more money up front. “Are you interested?”
“Yes.” He forced the word past the lump in his throat.
“Email me a photograph of yourself as soon as we get off the phone. My address is on my card.”
“I don’t have anything taken by a professional photographer.” Nor would he, if he had to pay for them.
“I don’t care. Send me what you’ve got, even if it’s family photos. If you have ones showing your face clearly, that would be great.”
“I’ll send what I can find.”
“Have you gotten an agent yet?”
Forget that. An agent would take a percentage of what he made. No way would he give anyone a part of his money, when he needed every penny so desperately. Surely with an MBA he could negotiate the deal. “I’m representing myself.”
“I want you on the first available flight to New York.”
“You expecting me to pay for the flight?”
“We’ll reimburse you. Put the ticket on your credit card and turn in your receipt to me. I’ll send it on to Accounting, and they’ll cut you a check within two weeks.”
“I can’t do that.” He’d hit his credit limit paying for the two plane tickets to Portland.
“If that’s a problem, I’ll contact our travel person to book your flight.”
“You do that.”
“I’ll email you the details.”
“What about a hotel? I’m not paying for that, either.”
She paused, and he imagined her sitting at a clean desk in an efficiently organized office, trying to decide if he’d be this big a pain about everything. He made a mental note not to push her too much on anything but money. That issue was nonnegotiable. He had to pinch pennies.
“I’ll book you at a hotel near our office. I’ll email you the details. Is that to your satisfaction?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
For better or worse, his life was about to change.
ELIZABETHHUNGUPHERPHONE, jumped out of her chair, took two quick steps across her office, then stopped. A management supervisor who planned on becoming a vice president did not dash into the hallway because she was excited. She sucked in a calming breath, smoothing the front of her black pencil skirt, and headed for her friend Chloe Walsh’s office.
Reaching it, Elizabeth shuddered at the clutter surrounding her. Piles of paper dotted the room. She couldn’t even see the top of Chloe’s desk because of the stacks of portfolios and pictures on it. Elizabeth shook her head. How did her best friend find anything or get any work done? This office would drive her past the brink of insanity.
“I heard from cowboy hottie,” Elizabeth said as she sank into the chair in front of Chloe’s desk—once she’d transferred a stack of photos from the seat to the floor.
“The gorgeous ranch hand from Colorado?” Chloe pointed to the picture Janice had taken of Rory during the week of a million bridesmaid events.
“That’s our guy,” Elizabeth said. “A real-life cowboy dream, if you liked the rough outdoorsman type. He called me back.”
Chloe swiveled her chair around and glanced out her tenth-floor Madison Avenue window.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m checking for pigs. I swore they’d be flying if that cowboy ever called you back.”
“Me, too. Thankfully, we were both wrong.” Elizabeth plucked a piece of lint off her skirt. “We’ve got to get moving full blast on finalizing the idea. We need to finish storyboards, ideas for TV commercials, print ad mock-ups, billboard ideas, and have everything ready ASAP. Then when we do Rory’s photo shoot we’ll be set to present everything to Micah Devlin.”
“What’ll we do if Devlin doesn’t go for this idea?”
“Don’t even think it. Be positive. We have to believe in this campaign and sell him on it.”
“Got it, Chief. I’ll be Little Miss Sunshine.”
“Let’s not go overboard. The guy’s smart. Devlin won’t buy a snow job. We’ll believe in the campaign because it’s going to be wonderful.”
“I’ll make a note of that.” Chloe grabbed a scrap of paper and pen off the nearest pile and started writing. “Be positive, but not delusional.”
Elizabeth smiled. What would she do without Chloe? Her friend always made her laugh when she needed to most. “It’s scary how much rides on this idea.”
“You didn’t tell our cowboy that, did you?”
“Do I look stupid? If he knew how important this campaign is, and how central he is to pulling it off, who knows how much he’d want to get paid.”
Chloe held up her hands in mock defeat. “Excuse me for losing my mind and forgetting you’re all business no matter what the situation or how gorgeous the guy. Surely if he wanted too much money we could find another cowboy.”
Elizabeth took another calming breath, needing to channel her nervousness. “I’ve tried. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Believe it or not, most cowboys just want to spend time on their horses riding the range, or whatever it is they do. Plus there’s something about this guy.”
“Other than good looks?”
“There’s something about the way he moves. He exudes confidence.”
“If he’s a real cowboy, and all they want to do is ride the range, why’s this guy willing to model?”
Elizabeth had asked herself the same question since Rory’s call. “I don’t care, as long as he is.”
When she’d given him her card he’d been polite, but she’d seen the you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look in his eyes. She’d suspected modeling was the last thing he would do, right after moving away from Colorado.
So why the major about-face?
Well, there was no reason to borrow trouble when what had changed his mind wasn’t important. All that mattered was that she got what she needed for the campaign.
“We better hope he doesn’t change his mind,” Chloe said.
“Again, I say, don’t even think it. Think positive, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be on the unemployment line.”
“You think Devlin’s that close to pulling his business?”
“He made it quite clear when I talked to him yesterday that his patience has run out. He’s given me to the end of the week to find a spokesman, so we’re doing whatever we have to in order to get this done. We’ve got to finalize this campaign fast or we’ll all be out of a job.”
ELIZABETHSTAREDAT Rory’s face displayed on her computer monitor. No doubt about it, he was a natural. Despite the amateur photos, the camera loved him. His maleness oozed through the screen. He would be the perfect spokesman.
Women would take one look at Rory in Devlin’s designer jeans and buy a pair for their guy. Men would wear the jeans hoping they’d look like Rory, and have women falling at their feet. Exactly what the client wanted. Their jeans sold well in New York and Los Angeles, but hadn’t broken into other major markets. Devlin wanted to get the guys who wore Levi’s and Wranglers to spend their hard-earned cash on his expensive product. Rory could pry open those wallets.
She spun around in her desk chair, giddy over how things were coming together. She couldn’t wait