KILLER COWBOY CHARM Read online

  Meg went blank. Was there a celebrity guest she'd forgotten about? The Hottest Cowboy thing was supposed to take up most of the show. They had booked a promising new country singer named Brad Daniels to tie in with the cowboy theme, but Sharon wouldn't get that worked up over him.

  "Your cowboy!" Sharon said. "The one who held your horse and kept you from getting killed that day!"

  Meg felt dizzy. "Clint?" But that couldn't be right. Clint wouldn't just show up. She squashed the sudden leap of joy she'd felt, because it was impossible to imagine Clint coming here unannounced. He didn't operate that way.

  She cleared her throat. "You know, when you're not around them all the time, cowboys tend to look alike. I'll bet you're mixing him up with one of the other guys."

  "No, I'm not!" Sharon looked as if she'd won the lottery. "We had seven states, three finalists each, so that's twenty-one cowboys. Number twenty-two is in the greenroom. And the audience will go crazy when they see him!"

  Suddenly Meg had trouble breathing. Clint was really here? Apparently so. And if Sharon thought the audience would go crazy, she had no idea how crazy the co-host was going right this minute. She put a hand to her chest and forced air into her lungs.

  "Meg?" Blythe leaned toward her. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah," Sharon said. "You look like you're having a heart attack or something."

  Meg gulped for air, and finally the light-headedness subsided. She smiled at Blythe and Sharon. "I'm fine."

  "Good." Sharon went back to her clipboard. "Here's what we'll do. We can't include him in the voting for Hottest Cowboy, because we have no time to explain him to the other contestants. But you and Mel can do a special interview with him later. We'll cut back on the band's time. Boy, I wonder if this guy realizes he's about to become a star."

  Meg barely heard her. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll pay a visit to the greenroom."

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  «^»

  The greenroom wasn't green. But it could have been purple for all Clint cared. He'd never been this scared in his life, not even when the Brahma bull had come bearing down on him. He'd rather face a herd of raging bulls than the cameras waiting for him out there.

  Most of the cowboys were sitting on chairs or lounging on the two sofas at the far end of the room, but not Clint. He felt better standing near the door, so he wouldn't get surprised by anything. Besides, he didn't feel entirely welcome in that group. Except for Denny, they all wondered how he fit into the scheme of things, considering he hadn't been an official part of the contest.

  Denny had stuck close to Clint, obviously giving moral support. "Relax, boss." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Nobody ever died from being on TV."

  Clint glanced over at him. "You can't tell me you're not scared. When you're scared your freckles stand out, and I can see them real plain."

  "You can? Maybe I should ask for some makeup."

  Carlos got up from his chair and wandered over. "Nobody's putting makeup on me, that's for sure."

  "I think Bill already put some on," Denny said.

  Carlos snorted. "He would. Notice he's not hanging out with us. He knows better."

  Although Clint still didn't have much respect for Bill, if it hadn't been for that worthless cowboy, Clint wouldn't be here. Sure, he was shaking in his boots, but he had a chance at making good money and working something out with Meg. She was somewhere in this building. The guys had all speculated on whether they'd see her before the show.

  Clint didn't think so. He remembered how much time she needed to get ready, and she couldn't afford to run around checking on her guests and possibly make herself late. She was the star of the show, or at least the co-star. Clint understood that Mel was the main guy, but privately Clint thought Meg provided more sparkle. Then again, he was prejudiced.

  "Did you know some of us already have fan clubs?" Carlos asked. "I just found that out from Hector over there, who heard it from one of the producers. After the show they'll give us the mail that's been coming in, and copies of the e-mails."

  "Whoa." Denny blinked. "How embarrassing if you guys have a fan club and I don't."

  "You can have mine," Clint said. "I don't want a—"

  "Yes, you do," said Denny. "You want all that stuff, because you can turn it into cash." He rubbed his fingers together right under Clint's nose. "Don't forget why you're here, boss. You're gonna save the Circle W."

  "Right." And try to save his relationship with Meg. He still wasn't sure what he'd say to her. He'd rehearsed several speeches, and none of them sounded right.

  Carlos looked at his watch. "Shouldn't be long now. Any minute they'll—" He stopped speaking at the same moment every man in the room silent and those who were seated leaped to their feet.

  Clint drew in a sharp breath. Meg. God, she looked beautiful. Much more beautiful than she did on TV, even more beautiful than he remembered from their time together. Her red hair shone in the light and her brown eyes sparkled. Her tailored green suit emphasized her incredible figure. Of course she had silly green shoes to match, shoes that showed off her pink toenail polish.

  He wondered what the hell he'd been thinking, imagining that she'd want to work out a relationship with him. She was so gorgeous and famous that she could have anybody. Sure, he might have looked good to her when he was the only option available back in Sonoita, but she was miles out of reach now that she was back in New York.

  Still, he was so glad to see her again, if only to say hello, if only to tell her that she'd been right and he was the biggest idiot the world had ever produced. The trip was worth it just for that. And he expected to get more for his effort, a chance to stockpile some money so eventually he could buy back the Circle W. By making that opportunity possible, she'd given him more than he deserved.

  Her gaze swept the room and her amazing smile touched on everyone equally as she greeted each cowboy by name. Then she came to Clint. "What a surprise!" she said.

  He wondered if he was the only one who noticed the slight quiver in her voice.

  "I … uh, changed my mind." Boy, didn't he sound smooth.

  "That's great! The audience is going to love this!"

  The guy named Hector stepped forward. "You know, Meg, any one of us could have settled your horse for you. But we didn't get the chance."

  "I know you could have, Hector. And that's why Clint won't be part of the contest. One of the original twenty-one will be voted Hottest Cowboy."

  Clint felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He wouldn't be able to compete? Had he made this trip for nothing? He glanced at Denny, who looked very upset.

  Meg smiled at everyone again. Then she turned to Clint. "Could I see you out in the hall for a minute?"

  Whistles and catcalls followed them out the door. She led the way down the hall and ducked into a small room that held a table, some chairs and a pop machine. A break room, most likely. This is where she'd read him the riot act about showing up unannounced. What a dumb idea that had been.

  She grabbed his arm and gazed up at him. "I can't believe you came to New York!"

  His cheeks burned. "I shouldn't have. I didn't realize I'd mess up the contest. I thought—"

  "You're messing up nothing! But we can't let you be voted on, because we had no chance to prepare the other guys."

  He felt like such a doofus. "You told me to let you know, but I didn't decide until the last minute. I wasn't thinking about how it would work with the other contestants." He'd only been thinking about seeing her again.

  "Really, it's no big deal. The audience will eat you up with a spoon. You should see the bags of mail we've collected for you."

  He stared at her, not understanding. "Bags of mail? You mean like the little plastic ones from the grocery store?"

  "I mean like twenty-gallon trash bags. At least six. We have them in a storeroom, tagged. Some other guys have maybe one bag, if that. And the calls won't stop! Every caller, and they're mostly female, wants to kno
w if we've booked you on the show yet. Quite a few asked if you're married."

  Clint's brain went on overload. "Six twenty-gallon trash bags?"

  "Yeah." She grinned. "Listen, I'm rushed for time, but I wanted you to know that Sharon, our executive producer, is already talking about bringing you back in a couple of weeks to find out all the ramifications for you. You're a celebrity." Her smile faltered. "Whether you want that or not."

  He took a long, shaky breath. "I do want that. I mean, I don't, but I do. You were right. I need to earn what I can and try to buy back the ranch." He didn't have the courage to say more.

  "Good. I'll help you through this, so don't worry. I'll set up a meeting with my agent if you want for later today."

  "I guess … I guess I need one."

  "Definitely. I'll see you after the show. And Clint … I'm so glad you decided to come." Then she stood on tiptoe, placed a quick kiss on his mouth, and hurried out of the room.

  By some miracle Clint found his way back to the greenroom, which was a good thing because someone had arrived there to escort them onto the set. Clint walked along like a zombie as he tried to make sense of what Meg had told him. The good news was that money should start rolling in as a result of this. The bad news was that his old way of life might be gone, at least for a while.

  Then there was the confusing part. Did Meg still want him, or not? He couldn't tell. She was happy that he'd decided to appear on the show, because it seemed like that would be good for ratings. High ratings would mean she'd keep the job that meant so much to her.

  But he had no idea how she felt about a future relationship with him. After the show, he'd have to dredge up enough courage to ask her. Right now, he needed all the bravery he had for the ordeal ahead.

  "What did she say?" Denny asked as they headed down a hallway.

  "That it was okay for me to be on the show, and I'll probably need an agent." He didn't think mentioning the six twenty-gallon trash bags of mail would be tactful.

  "So she thinks you'll get offers from this! That's awesome! I knew it was the right thing, you coming here."

  "Guess so." He had to keep from passing out, though. That might tarnish his cowboy-hero image. Right now he was about fifty percent sure he could stay upright.

  They arrived at a curtained-off area where several people ran around with headphones on and constantly put their fingers to their lips when they looked at the guys gathering there. From beyond the curtain came the sound of Meg and Mel giving their opening remarks interspersed with laughter and clapping from the studio audience.

  Clint couldn't hear what they were saying because his ears were buzzing. Some young woman in jeans and a T-shirt came over with one of the microphone thingamajigs for him. She clipped part of it to the back of his belt and asked him to feed the tiny microphone up under his shirt and clip it on his collar. He was shaking so much he had trouble doing it, so Denny helped him.

  Then another woman lined them up, with Clint last. One by one, she sent them through the curtain and out onto the stage. Clint had never parachuted from a plane, but he pictured it being like this—waiting your turn to leap and hoping you wouldn't freeze when your time came.

  The crowd went crazy with each new cowboy introduced. Then they were down to three, then two, then one. And it was Clint's turn. His stomach rolled, but he went through the curtain and plastered a smile on his face.

  The audience was closer than he'd thought, and when he appeared, the noise was deafening. Women stood up and shouted his name. Others threw things onto the stage. Coins bounced and rolled on the floor, and a pair of women's panties sailed onto the set.

  Mel got up, strolled to the edge of the stage and held up both hands. "Control yourselves, ladies! This poor man lives out in the middle of nowhere and doesn't see more than five people in a week! You're going to traumatize the guy! And by the way, how come you don't throw money and underwear at me when I come out?"

  Amid much laughter and shouted comments, everyone sat down again.

  "Okay, everyone!" Meg walked forward. "Now that you've had a peek at Clint Walker, I'm going to ask him to leave the stage. He's not an official Hottest Cowboy in the West contestant, but—"

  She was interrupted by groans and shouts of dissent.

  "But we'll bring him back for a special interview later! Don't worry—you'll be seeing a lot of Clint in the future!"

  More cheers erupted, and a blonde who looked like a runway model came out to lead Clint back behind the curtain.

  "I must have watched the tape of that thing you did with Meg's horse about a zillion times," she said in a low voice as they made their way offstage.

  "It was really nothing special." Clint couldn't believe people were making such a big deal of that.

  "Spoken like a true hero." She smiled at him. "Now stand right here, and someone will let you know when to go back out."

  Clint nodded and took a deep breath. Well, he'd survived his first experience, and during the time he was out there he'd discovered two things. The longer he was on the set, the easier it was, and he was so fascinated watching Meg in action that he'd almost forgotten to be scared.

  Any fool could tell she was a natural when it came to performing. She'd be involved in this kind of career for the rest of her life, whereas he'd be a temporary celebrity. No matter how he looked at it, he and Meg didn't have a very good chance of building a life together.

  That depressed him so much that the buzzing in his ears let up and he was able to hear Meg interviewing each of the cowboys. Clint thought Denny did well, not sounding nervous or anything, but from the audience reaction, Hector had the contest won. Still, Denny would have something to tell his grandchildren.

  Then Meg announced the voting and soon after Mel broke away for a commercial. A woman in headphones came over to Clint. "After the Hottest Cowboy is announced, and he's been congratulated and given his trophy and cash award, then all those guys will come off. You'll go back out and walk over to the living-room set on the far side of the stage. Sit in the chair on the right as you're facing the audience."

  "Okay."

  The woman smiled at him. "You're doing great."

  "Thanks." He didn't think so. Compared to the relaxed way Meg behaved in front of the camera, he must look like a robot.

  As the drum roll started for the announcement of the winner, he leaned forward, hoping against hope that Denny would get it. But Hector did, and the audience seemed really happy about it. Meg asked Hector what he planned to do with the money, and Hector said he'd buy a new pickup and a better horse.

  Clint figured Hector would be able to buy more than that with the fame that would come his way, but maybe Hector hadn't thought that far ahead. Then Clint had no more time to think about Hector, because the guys were filing back through the curtain. Clint caught Denny's eye and gave him a thumbs-up.

  Denny grinned back. Obviously, losing to Hector hadn't ruined his day.

  "You're on," murmured the woman in the headphones, and gave Clint a gentle nudge.

  His heart pounded as he returned to the set, but at least the feeling was slightly familiar, now. The audience clapped and cheered, but apparently they'd been warned not to throw things, because nothing came flying at him this time. As instructed, he walked over to where Meg and Mel stood next to a group of three chairs. He shook hands with Mel, but Meg gave him a kiss on the cheek, which everyone seemed to love.

  "So tell us about this ranch in Arizona," Mel said as he settled into his chair.

  "Uh … well, it's … beautiful." Clint heard himself and cringed inside.

  "Yes, it is," Meg said. "And so peaceful. You should see the view from the porch, Mel. Clint, hasn't this ranch been in your family for generations?"

  Then Clint understood what he was supposed to say. Focusing on Meg, he described the historic nature of the ranch. He talked about the changes that had taken place and even mentioned his dream of quarterhorse racing.

  "Sounds idyllic," Mel said. "I know M
eg can't talk enough about what a great time she had there. I think you're hoping to pay another visit, right, Meg?"

  "I would love to."

  Clint wished he could tell if she meant that or not. "You're always welcome," he said.

  "From the way she raved," Mel said, "I couldn't tell if it was the ranch or the rancher that had her so enthralled."

  Clint had no idea how to respond to that. He glanced at Meg, whose smile seemed frozen in place.

  "They go together." Meg met Clint's gaze. "I wouldn't be able to separate one from the other."

  So maybe she had given up on him. But he couldn't leave New York without knowing for sure.

  Mel waggled his eyebrows at Clint. "She's single, you know. Extremely single."

  Meg's cheeks turned pink. "Why don't you put it in lights in Tunes Square

  ?"

  "I'm sure she's single because she wants to be," Clint said. "If she ever decides to get married, she could have her pick."

  "My sentiments, exactly," Mel said. "But we're all getting impatient, waiting for her to do that!" Then he announced another commercial break.

  Meg hurried over to Clint. "That was terrific."

  "Thanks." Clint didn't think he had a snowball's chance in hell of seeing her again after today, but he'd decided not to leave without saying his piece. "Listen, can we have a minute to—"

  "Yes. I've asked Julie, she's the blonde who escorted you offstage before, to take you back to my dressing room. Wait there. We'll get the musical part of the show out of the way, and then I'll be finished."

  So he'd have some time alone with her. He'd have to make the most of it.

  * * *

  Meg could have strangled Mel for his broad matchmaking efforts. But it was done, now. As she hurried back to her dressing room after the show, she wondered if Clint was sitting in there thinking about whether this was some sort of marriage trap. She'd have to put his mind at ease right away.

  After opening the door, she walked in and found Clint leaning against the wall of the tiny room. He looked too big, too masculine, and very uncomfortable. Of course he wouldn't want to use the girly chair in front of her dressing table, and that was the only place to sit. But she'd been so flustered by having him show up this morning that she hadn't been able to think straight about where to stash him until she could see him again.