Catch Me A Cowboy (7 page)

His eyes flickered to her again, because he was certain she couldn't possibly be as enthralling as he first thought. His heart beat harder and he stood a little taller. Emily was breath-stealing—a statuesque, curvaceous natural beauty. Dark hair fell long over her shoulders in gentle waves. But those eyes were like syrup, framed by long, dark lashes. They ignited a deep carnal desire he had forgotten he possessed. She gazed back at him and he was lost in her, wanting to know every nook and slope. Yes, he was being superficial, primal, but he didn't care. Then when her tongue darted out to lick her lip, he had to drag his gaze away before he embarrassed himself.

His brother was going to tease him so hard when this aired. All credibility he hoped to have was robbed right there in that moment.
Keep your head, Wil, you bloody idiot
. He was not one of those sleazebags who would molest these women with his eyes and thoughts. Yet he'd done exactly that, unwittingly.
Oh God and I've another two months of this.

The director sounded in his ear that it was his turn to speak. He took a deep breath, then subtly cleared his throat. With a smile, he said, ‘Good morning, ladies.'

‘Good morning,' they chorused back with mixtures of smiles and waves.

‘Welcome to the Parker farm,' he said gesturing his arms wide. ‘While you are here, I consider you my guests. And I hope that this will be a fantastic experience for you all. I look forward to getting to know each of you over the coming days, weeks and months.'

Missy addressed the contestants. ‘I don't know who's luckier, our cowboy or you ladies.' She grinned at Wil, then back to the women. ‘In a little while, you will each have a private introduction with Wil in his home. This is where you will get your chance to share a little about yourselves and ask those introductory questions I'm sure you all have. This evening you will join Wil for dinner under the stars. But, by the end of the night, ten of you will be going home.' She turned to Wil. ‘If you want to make your way up to the farmhouse, I'll send through the lovely ladies to meet with you.'

Wil smiled at the contestants again and nodded before walking up to the house.

When inside, Wil sat in his living room, which was now inundated with cameras and lights. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

‘You okay, Wil?' asked the director, Andrea.

Wil nodded. ‘Yep.'

‘Beautiful ladies out there waiting to meet you.'

He grinned. ‘Yes. Quite disconcerting, let me tell you.'

‘You're doing fantastically. Just keep on with what you're doing and today will fly by without a hitch.'

Wil sat back against the lounge as Andrea and the staging crew tweaked the cameras, lighting and décor items. The nerves in his stomach were unceasing. It was one thing to talk to beautiful women, but to do that in front of discerning onlookers was … daunting. And his brother kept coming to mind, or rather, the rib digging Alec was going to unleash once this aired. Wil gave the blokes, who had been in his position before him, more credit—this was tough.

‘Okay, we're ready to go,' said Andrea.

Wil rubbed a hand over his mouth and nodded.

A beautiful blonde strode in on the highest heels Wil had ever seen. He did his best to keep his expression neutral. She was dressed in a tight black dress that came to her mid-thigh, accentuating the tanned length of her long legs. Never, in a million years, would he ever get the opportunity to meet someone as glamorous as Tatiana.

Wil stood and went to her, kissing her cheek. ‘Tatiana?'

‘Yes. So lovely to meet you, Wil,' she said with a hint of a lingering Russian accent.

‘Pleasure to meet you too. Come take a seat with me,' he said gesturing towards the couch.

They sat together, Tatiana with her long legs crossed. She placed a hand high on his thigh. Wil's gaze dropped to her hand.

‘Can I just say, Wil, you have the most beautiful coloured eyes,' she said with a smile.

Wil focused on her face again and smiled. ‘Thank you. So tell me about yourself?'

Tatiana flicked her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. ‘I'm an international model though I'll be retiring at the end of this year.'

Wil's brow furrowed. ‘Retiring?'

She nodded. ‘Too old.'

He shook his head. ‘You don't look older than … twenty-five.'

She laughed then, a soft, sweet sound and squeezed her hand on his thigh. ‘You flatter me, Wil. No, I'll be thirty-three soon.'

The next woman was a beautiful redhead named Becky. Then after her, a gorgeous blonde called Daniella. And on they kept coming through to meet him. They were all unique and stunning, and Wil had no clue how he would choose which ten out of the twenty contestants would go home by the end of the night.

But there was one thing he was sure of, he was excitedly anticipating Emily.

Chapter 10

One by one, the women were to be paraded into the farmhouse. So far, Emily had been standing in line for nearly two hours, in her sinking heels, waiting for her turn. She was certain the directors were trying to break the contestants down, to sort out the wheat from the chaff.

Already, two of the ladies had to receive medical attention for blisters and many complained of swollen ankles. Hectic! Hand Emily a shovel and she may falter, but make her stand in heels … They were her territory and this stunt would not crush her.

Finally, her name was called. Emily pulled her shoulders back, straightened her clothes, smoothed any out-of-place strands of hair, and started towards the farmhouse. But she felt a tap on the back of her ankle. Her foot collided with her calf, the toe of her shoe getting stuck on the denim. She wobbled, threw her arms out, but couldn't prevent momentum from pushing her forwards where she landed belly down on the damp, muddy grass.

Busty Blonde, whose name she had learnt was Amber, had tripped her. She gasped and quickly picked herself up from the ground, ignoring the giggles from the remaining ladies. Mud was spread from knees to chest, ruining her good white blouse. What was it with her and white clothing lately? She made a quick note to stop wearing white if she wished to avoid foul play.

Emily sneered at Amber and pointed. ‘That was a low move.'

Amber contorted her face into an expression of virgin innocence, which anyone could tell just by looking at her that she most certainly wasn't.

A director with earphones in and an iPad in her hand gripped Emily's shoulder. ‘Come on, we're on a schedule. You're up.'

Emily shook her head. ‘I was tripped. I've mud everywhere. I need to get changed.'

‘There's no time, you're going to have to meet Wil as you are.'

‘As I am?' Emily shrieked, feeling the urge to suddenly wipe her muddied hands all over this pushy lady. ‘I couldn't possibly—'

‘Oh, yes, you can. And you are. Now go, we're losing daylight.'

If this was another stunt to break her, then it was working. Tears pricked her eyes and her throat tightened. Her feet were hurting. She had mud from head to toe and was bristling from the injustice of being tripped and now having to endure meeting Wil looking like this. And the camera was in her face, capturing every moment.

But, like a good cow, she allowed herself to be herded up to the farmhouse and inside.

Emily was not her determined, independent, sparkling self when she stepped into the room. In fact, she was wound so tight with resentment for this so-called cowboy with his base, barbaric desire to have a harem in his house that her nose was crinkled, eyes were narrowed, and she was breathing heavily.

She was so flustered and hot, she barely noticed how exquisite the formal living room was—all rustic timber flooring, copper-framed lighting and distressed leather lounges.

Then her eyes met Wil's and she forgot what she was fired up about. Wil Parker was even more delicious up close. He was much taller than she first thought, broader too. His jaw was strong and square. And with his hat no longer on, she saw that his short hair was a sandy blond.

Cameras were set up around the room to capture it all—his reaction, her reaction.

Wil's eyes narrowed as his attention was drawn to the mud over Emily's clothes. He rushed over. ‘What happened to you?' he asked in a deep, throaty voice that matched his sheer size and had her knees trembling despite her humiliation.

Emily shook her head and blinked back the tears that were desperate for release. It was a combination of shock over how another contestant had treated her, nerves, and anticipation. ‘I was tripped.' His eyebrows arched higher then. Her voice was shaky when she continued. ‘They didn't give me a chance to get cleaned up. I'm embarrassed—'

Wil shook his head. ‘Don't be.' He reached for her hand and didn't even falter when he noticed how dirty her palm was. This man was obviously used to a little bit of mud. He gripped her hand with his, which was, comparatively, enormous. His skin was warm, his fingers a little rough. Wil faced the director, who had ushered Emily inside, and frowned disapprovingly. ‘While these ladies are my guests, in my home, they will not be treated like this,' he barked.

The director nodded calmly.

‘I mean it. This isn't right. Emily should've been allowed to clean up. I wouldn't treat my cattle like this.'

How ironic, he chose that word, Emily thought. She also didn't miss that he already knew her name.

Again the director nodded, but this time, added, ‘I understand. We'll take measures to see that it doesn't happen again.'

This was not what she had been anticipating from this man at all. He gently tugged on her hand and led her through the living room, up a long hallway and into a bathroom. The beauty of the room wasn't lost on Emily this time. Though only a bathroom, it was exquisite, with a rustic metal sink and raw timber vanity. There was a double shower with a big copper shower rose. This farmhouse was more breathtaking than many of the million dollar homes she sold throughout Melbourne.

All her expectations were being surpassed—the beauty of the location, the grandness of the farmhouse, and not to mention the integrity of the cowboy.

After letting go of her hand, he grabbed a face washer from a small cupboard and handed it to her. ‘Please, take some time to clean up. I'll wait for you in the living room.'

Emily smiled more genuinely now. He didn't need to be so attentive, he could easily play along with the angle the directors were taking. He hadn't needed to give the director a piece of his mind, but he had and she was impressed and grateful.

Or was this all part of the game? In the end, there were television ratings at stake here.

After cleaning up as much as she could, though her shirt would be ruined, she met with Wil in the living room. Wil's smile was wide and warm and had a hint of cheekiness. She smiled back, her heart melting more so. He met her in the middle of the room with a kiss on her cheek. Though brief, the light brush of his warm lips, the prickle of his stubble, and the scent of pure man was enough to overload her senses. And the size of him, the presence he had, did crazy things with her hormones. Without permission, her eyelids closed for a moment longer than usual.

When Wil stepped back and set his blue gaze on hers, her heart stuttered and her breath caught. This man was doing wickedly wonderful things with her biology. Emily had never been
this
physically attracted to a man before. Ever. It was distracting and titillating. She was losing her train of thought … whatever she had been thinking was important, wasn't.

‘Feeling better?' he asked.

She nodded, smiled, and forced her mind to remember how to speak. ‘Yes. I appreciate your help in the matter.' There was an incriminating tone in her voice, intended for the director standing at the back of the room.

Wil pressed a hand to her shoulder and Emily hid the shudder that surged through her to feel his big hand so comfortable on her body. He gestured towards the lounge with the other.

They took a seat side by side with a polite distance between them.

‘Welcome to the Parker farm, Emily,' he said.

‘Thank you for having me here. It's absolutely stunning, more so than I could have ever imagined.'

‘I'm extremely proud of it,' he said. ‘So tell me a little about yourself?'

She took a deep breath in and folded her hands on her lap. ‘I'm from Melbourne. I've lived there my entire life. I'm a real estate agent.'

He rested his elbows on his knees and leant closer. ‘Now that would be an interesting job.'

She giggled. ‘Extremely.'

‘Both rewarding and trying, I'd assume?'

She nodded. ‘A bit like farming, I'm sure.'

He sat straighter then and laughed. ‘It's not without its challenges. So tell me, what are you interested in outside of your career?'

Emily opened her mouth, only to close it. She didn't have a pat answer for that question. Nor did she have many interests outside of real estate—aside from her cat and finding herself a husband, but she was not going to tell him that. ‘To be honest, I've invested a lot of my time into my career, unfortunately at the expense of outside interests. I hadn't realised …' she finished with a quiet voice and focused on her lap rather than those eyes of his.

‘There are no wrong answers here, Emily.'

She lifted her gaze to meet his. His expression was serious but gentle and kind.

‘We are what we are,' he said. ‘I'm happy you were truthful about that because I've been known to invest too much energy in this farm.'

Her shoulders settled more naturally. ‘So, tell me about you? How old are you, Wil?'

‘I'm twenty-nine.'

‘And has farming always been what you wanted to do?'

He nodded. ‘Since I was a kid, I knew this was going to be my life. I took a short hiatus with a gap-year after high school, then went, ironically, to the city to study Agricultural Science at university.' He sat up straighter again and leant back against the couch. ‘What made you come on this show?'