Plain Jane's Texan

“Oh, you did” A dozen thoughts sizzled through her brain, each more ominous than the other. Please, dear God don’t let it be one of Kyle’s cousins. Eve didn’t think she could stand it if she’d gotten this terrific new job only because she was Irish’s sister. “I meant... who will I be dealing with from the compan?”

“The owner himself. Great guy. We were fraternity brothers at the University of Texas, and I’ve been twisting his arm for that account since Gene Walker and I started the agency. He finally relented.” Bart grinned and winked. “I usually leave the hustling to Gene, but I’m a helluva salesman when I put my mind to it.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get cracking. We’re set to meet our new client for lunch.”

When Bart strode to the door and motioned for her to precede him, she balked, every muscle in her body tense. “Who is this great guy who owns Crow Airlines? It wouldn’t by any chance be...Jackson Crow, would it?”

“Jackson? Nah, not him.”

Her muscles began to relax.

“It’s his younger brother, Matt.”

She knotted up again, and her stomach turned over. “Matt? Matt Crow?”

“Yeah. He’s a great guy. You’ll like him.”

“I—I already know Matt.”

Bart’s eyebrows went up. “You do? Hey, that’s fantastic!”

“He’s my brother-in-law’s cousin,” she said, carefully watching her boss’s reaction.

“His cousin?” Bart hooted and slapped his fist into his open palm. “No joke? Hot damn! This is great. Super. Wait till Gene hears this. Man, I can’t believe our luck. Come on. Let’s go tell him the news.”

“Wait, Bart, I have to ask. Did you know that my sister’s husband was related to Matt Crow? Is that why I got this job?”

“Related?” He frowned. “Absolutely not I didn’t know that you were related to anybody, and it wouldn’t have mattered if you were. Having connections won’t get the job done. Eve, you got this CD spot because you’re a talented lady and the best person for the position. Don’t doubt that for a minute. Who is your sister anyway? I don’t know if I’ve met her.”

“Irish Ellison, the model. Or she used to be a model. She’s married to Dr. Kyle Rutledge now, and living in Dallas. Kyle and Matt are cousins.”

“Irish is your sister? I’ve never met her, but I remember seeing her ad work. Beautiful woman.” He cocked his head and studied Eve’s face. “Now that you mention it, I can see the family resemblance. Why didn’t you go into modeling?”

“Me?” Eve snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding. Irish got the looks.” She grinned. “I got the brains.”

“I’d say you got plenty of both. Let’s go meet our client. Boy, have I got a surprise for him.”

Matt was nervous. He’d plucked all the petals off the daisies in the little table vase, built a fort of sugar packets, and drunk two cactus margaritas. He was about to order a third when he saw her.

God, she was gorgeous.

He was doubly thankful for the miracle of his vision now. A few years ago, before his surgery, she would have been a blur coming toward him instead of an angel on earth. He couldn’t have appreciated the exquisite color of her eyes or the sensuous curve of her lips without his Coke-bottle lenses.

He didn’t know if it was the tequila or something else, but when he stood, his legs felt rubbery. Craziest damned thing. His heart kicked into overdrive and his palms went damp. He hadn’t felt such a staggering reaction to a female since he was fourteen and kissing Miranda Toney behind the gym. Only this was worse.

Be cool, Crow, Matt told himself. Play this cool. “Bart. Gene,” he said, shaking hands with the men. “And this lovely lady is—Eve?”

“Eve Ellison is the new creative director for your account,” Bart said. “She tells me that her sister is married to your cousin.”

“Right,” Matt said, taking her hand. “We met at the wedding. What a pleasant surprise to see you here. I didn’t realize that you had moved to Dallas. I thought you lived in...was it Pittsburgh?”

“Cleveland.”

“How’s George?”

“George?”

“Your fella.”

“My—? Oh, you mean Charlie?”

“Right. Charhe.”

“He’s fine.”

“Did he move to Dallas, too?”

She nodded.

Matt clenched his teeth against the expletive that almost popped out of his mouth. Instead he said, “What will you have to drink? I can recommend the cactus margaritas. In fact, I think I’ll have another one.” He motioned for the waiter.

Damn that Charlie’s sorry hide! Matt was hoping the man wouldn’t move to Dallas with her, but no matter. Matt was determined to have Eve—Charlie or no Charlie. And when he set his mind to something, he always got what he went after.

Always.

Grandpa Pete often said that Matt was like a snapping turtle: when he got his teeth in something, he wouldn’t let go. Grandpa Pete was right. All his life, Matt had been fascinated with airplanes and flying. He’d ached to learn to fly, but he couldn’t pass the vision test. The first thing he’d done when he got his million from his grandfather was have laser surgery. He hadn’t told a soul his plans—especially his mother—but he was determined to learn to fly. And, despite the odds against it, he had.

Somehow Matt managed to keep his mind on business during the rest of lunch—switching to coffee instead of guzzling that third margarita helped—but he wasn’t able to keep his eyes off Eve. Once, when she glanced up from eating and caught him staring at her, he winked. She turned as red as the spiced tomato on her fork and quickly turned her attention back to her salad.

He grinned. Charlie or no Charlie, the chemistry was still there.

Watch out, sugar. Here I come.

The food was probably delicious—was indeed outstanding, according to Bart and Gene—but everything Eve tried to swallow seemed to get stuck in her throat. And she was suddenly painfully aware of her appearance.

Had she combed her hair? Was she wearing lipstick? She couldn’t remember. She had worn a purple jacket that Irish said was a ghastly color for her and totally out of style, but since it was still serviceable, Eve hadn’t tossed it as her sister had suggested. And she was painfully aware that one of the dogs—Gomez, she suspected—had chewed on the toe of her left black pump. She’d covered the teeth marks reasonably well with a felt marker, and, besides, she could keep her feet under the table. But there was nothing she could do about the jacket. She couldn’t take it off because while she was chasing Gomez through the pasture that morning, she’d ripped the underarm seam of her blouse and gotten a grass stain on her elbow. She hadn’t had time to change.

Anyhow, Matt Crow really wasn’t interested in her. He hadn’t even recognized her at first. So much for lasting impressions. Hers on him, not vice versa. His face, his voice, his touch had lingered in her mind and her heart. Now, seeing him in person again, she realized that her memories hadn’t done him justice. His charisma enveloped her with its power and sent tendrils deep into hidden nooks of her awareness.

She felt almost naked before him.

When he’d winked at her, she knew that he knew, and she’d felt her face flame. How could she work with this man feeling as she did? Heaven only knew how long she could keep from throwing herself into his arms and saying, “Take me. I’m yours.”

Thankfully Matt Crow was the president of a busy company, and naturally he wouldn’t have time to be personally involved with every phase of the ad campaign. Eve would be working with one of his associates, she was sure. That would be her salvation—or else she would probably make a complete fool of herself and embarrass the entire family as well.

After Matt signed the check, he turned to Eve, smiled and said, “I intend to clear my calendar as much as possible so that I can be personally involved with every phase of the ad campaign. In fact, I’d like to take you to dinner tonight and discuss some of your plans.”

Panic shot through her. “Dinner? Tonight?”

She glanced back and forth between Bart and Gene. Bart was smiling expectantly. Gene was smiling expectantly. She glanced at Matt.