Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(56)

“You buzzed me?” she inquired with fake sweetness.


“Yes. Do you have that number for the PR department? There are four different

extensions.”


“Sure. No problem. Be right back.” Jenny’s small, perfectly pear-shaped ass didn’t

bounce in the skintight pink leopard print skirt.


Ainsley sighed and swore she’d eat like a bird tonight.


Jenny handed over a slip of paper. “Here you go. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything

between you and Ben.”


“No, we were just finishing up. But as long as you asked, what can you tell me about

him?”


“Besides he’s as hot as fire? Mama, those blue eyes of his just like…look right into

you, know what I mean?”


Yes, she’d been on the receiving end of those soul-pondering looks.


“He’s pretty quiet compared to the rest of his family. But like the rest of them, he

’s involved in the McKay ranching operation. He’s not much into the bar scene around

here. He probably gets sick of women hanging all over him, but he’s too polite and

gentlemanly to say anything, know what I mean?”


No, that didn’t ring true. Ainsley clearly remembered Bennett telling her exactly what

he wanted her to do.


“He doesn’t really date, definitely not like his cousins do. Because of that, some

nasty people around here whisper he’s gay, but I don’t believe that for a second.”


That man was far, far from gay.


Evidently Jenny realized that Ainsley hadn’t responded to anything she’d said. Her

baby blues widened. “You aren’t involved with him or something? Because aren’t you,

like, a lot older than him?”


Ainsley let the snarky comment slide. “We were just talking about his cousin’s art.

He had a couple of general questions about the bank and I convinced him to open an

account.”


“It’d be a big deal if you could get all the McKays to switch their banking business

here. I’ll bet you can be very persuasive.”


Not nearly as persuasive as Bennett could be


And that scared the bejeezus out of her.


Chapter Ten


Ben’s charming, rustic house looked nothing like Ainsley had pictured a big, bad Dom’

s swinging bachelor pad.


Cradling the bottle of wine, she tiptoed up the flagstone walkway, cursing her high

heels, wishing she’d changed clothes after work.


Soon as she neared the door, she heard barking. Snarling barks. And thumps. Like the

dogs were throwing themselves at the door to get to her.


Ben’s voice boomed. “Dammit, shut up. What the hell is wrong with you guys?”


The dogs whimpered.


“Hang on a sec while I put the dogs out back.”


She adjusted the shoulder strap on her purse, watching through the screen door as Ben

dragged the dogs by their collars.


He trotted back, swinging the door inward. “Sorry about that. Don’t know what got

into them. They’re usually so friendly they slobber all over ya.”


She handed him the wine. “They probably smelled my cats.” And my fear.


“Can I take your coat?” He set the wine bottle on a beautifully crafted side table.