THE CORPORATE COWBOY

By

Kathryn Anne Dubois

© copyright November 2005, Kathryn Anne Dubois

Cover art by Amber Moon, © copyright November 2005

ISBN 1-58608-763-0

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

CHAPTER ONE

C.J. Wilson pushed through the brass turnstile of the headquarters of Dutton Industries International and stepped into the gleaming lobby with a mission: to kidnap its President and Chief Executive Officer.

He left her no recourse.

He had ignored her phone messages and dismissed the veiled threats she sent through lawyers--or at least on letters she’d written on fancy letterhead made to look like it came from a law firm. He even discounted the negative publicity she threatened to send his way, pitiful though it was. It was his own fault that she was reduced to drastic measures.

But she could not let him vote at that board meeting this morning, could not let him thwart her last chance to get back her stolen inheritance from the clutches of her rattlesnake of a stepfather.

She glanced in all directions. The same guards as yesterday stood at their posts. It didn’t matter; she wouldn’t pass this way again. She hadn’t come this far to back down now.

* * * *

Luke Dutton pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and keyed in a figure. When his PC calculated a result considerably more than he expected, he was unable to rouse any enthusiasm, so with a bored shrug, the reluctant CEO pushed his chair around and propped his feet on the marble windowsill of his high-rise office overlooking downtown Dallas. Without hope, he searched for a scrap of greenery beyond the hanging potted plants his assistant, Ruth Daniels, had hung in an effort to make him feel more at home.

An impossible task, unless she arranged to ship in a few mountain ranges and an abundance of sagebrush. He laced his fingers behind his neck and tilted back his chair. Even she had her limits.

As if to refute his claim, Ruth burst into his office with more energy than a thirty-year-old and she was more than twice that. She tapped the watch face on her slim wrist and frowned when she saw him tipping back his chair on its perch.

“One of these days you’ll break the legs and land on your backside.” She whipped his tie off the corner coat rack and headed toward him. “If you don’t get moving, you’ll be late for the meeting again.” She gave his entwined feet a sound kick, landing them flat on the carpet.

He gave a grunt. “They can’t start without me, so what’s the difference?” But nevertheless, he stood obediently and let her wrap his neck in the raw-silk chokehold. “Hey, too tight.” He tried to loosen the knot but she gave him a cuff on the wrist.

“This is the tie Serena gave you, isn’t it?” she said. “The girl has lovely taste. Brings out the blue of your eyes.” She gave his tie a fond pat, smoothing it in place. “Your mother used to say your eyes were mined from the Yogo Gulch. The only mine in Montana--in the world--that yields sapphire the color of cornflower blue.”

“So you’ve said.” Luke grinned. “About a thousand times.”

“Well,” she said, standing on her tip-toes and running a quick hand through his dark blond hair. “It’s worth repeating. And you need a haircut.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you even shave this morning?”

“I shaved,” he defended himself as she turned him around and headed him toward the suit jacket he had flung carelessly on the leather sofa.

“I almost forgot,” she said, snatching the jacket up and smoothing away the creases. “Serena called. The designer who’s making her gown for that Tyler dinner that you’re going to in two weeks scheduled an urgent fitting.”

“I never said I was going to that dinner with her.”

“I think she just assumed you’d be taking her--”

“She assumes too much.”

Ruth gave him a withering look. “Oh, does she? You spend nights with her, don’t you? The entire night.”

He sighed. “Ruth,”--he gave her his most indulgent smile--“I’m not sixteen anymore. And this is 2005. We’re adults--”

“Spare me the details. The rest of her message was that she’ll be meeting you a little late tonight.”

He eased his broad shoulders into the custom-fit jacket. “Call her back and tell her we’ll just cancel until another night.”

Ruth raised a brow.

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m just saving her the trouble of trying--”

“Uh-huh,” Ruth said, handing him a brush. “Use this.”

Thankful for the distraction, he walked to the sheets of glass along the wall and looked at the reflection of the black silky fabric that draped his legs and chest. Armani. He looked like one of those models from GQ that Serena liked. Even the tie she gave him had a few small flowers hidden in the design. All he’d need now was to cut his hair, too.

Ruth came up beside him. “For heaven’s sake, what could be wrong this time? Is she too beautiful? A mite too intelligent?”

“Maybe.” He gave her a grin before he jerked the brush through his hair.

She might have stood a full head shorter than him but she was long on persistence. He could see her loading her ammunition.

“Too rich, is she?”

It looked like she planned on firing both barrels.

“Or maybe too cultured for the likes of you?”

“Too perfect.” Luke winked, handing her back the brush. He smiled at the frown creasing her forehead.

Ruth exhaled. “Oh yes, that would be a hardship now, wouldn’t it?” She strode to his desk and began stuffing his briefcase. “Your father approves of her.” She snapped the case shut. “I do, too. She has all the necessary requirements.”

Luke chuckled. “Is that what this is about?” He pushed back his jacket and braced his hands on his hips. “Isn’t it enough that I’m dragged down here to help my father?” He bent down eye level with her. “And I’ll remind you, we’ve turned this division around in just three short quarters and will have it running in the black by the fourth.”

Ruth lifted her chin. “And it’s a wonderful thing you did, too, diverting your cash profits into his company. Although you should have just told your father to retire.” She shook her head. “Why he wants to go and start up another new division is beyond me.”

“He likes the challenge. He surprised me though by not balking when I insisted he make me acting CEO. I only did that thinking he’d refuse and then I’d have an excuse to book it back to my thoroughbreds.”

“Did you just change the subject?”

“You did.” He smiled.

She huffed. “Getting married wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to you. You could produce a few grandchildren before your poor dear father--”

“The ol’ man is in perfect health.”

“You’re thirty-four. What are you waiting for? A few small children shouldn’t be too hard to manage.”

Luke grinned. “How about if I skip the marriage part and just go right to the little ones? That wouldn’t be half bad.”

Ruth tisked. “Don’t start.”

Luke laughed and leaned across the desk to give her a quick peck on the cheek, but before he could she turned aside and looked over his shoulder in the direction of the door. He turned to see what had caught her attention and saw the tiny female frame with a buckskin fringed jacket hanging off small shoulders. He let his eyes drop down to her snug-fitting, faded Levis. He stopped at the scuffed cowboy boots with heels worn down at irregular angles and the threading so tattered it broke in places. His eyes wandered back up again.

Ruth came from behind his desk and drew up beside him while he stared at the doorway to his office suite. “Can I help you, Miss?” Ruth asked.

She tipped back the wide brim of her cowhide hat to reveal cat-like eyes, amber marbles flecked with gold. Sharp eyes that narrowed in on him so that her winged brows slanted in a V and the outer corners of her eyes tilted as though she were a bobcat ready to pounce. For a half minute he stood mesmerized, watching her eyes dart around the room before returning to him.

“I’m looking for William L. Dutton.” Her voice was a husky purr that sent his blood pumping warm

and heavy in places that would surely cause Ruth to blush. He nearly let out a low whistle of approval as she continued to wait, her gaze steady, demanding an answer.

Ruth glanced up at him a minute before responding. “Do you have an appointment, Miss . . .?”

“No.” She shifted the weight of the small backpack she had slung over one shoulder, then gave Luke a quick once-over before taking an impatient scan of the large office. “Are you Mr. Dutton?” She arched a brow.

“William Lucas Dutton the Third, at your service.” He gave a mock bow.

She frowned. “CEO of Dutton Industries?”

“That’s right.”

She cast him a suspicious look and her frown deepened. “I need to see you. Now.” She braced a hand on her hip.

Ruth attempted a protest, but Luke held up a hand. “It’s all right,” he said, reluctant to take his gaze from the little wildcat. He leaned back and perched on his desk, sprawling his legs out before him. He watched her sexy mouth form into a subtle smirk as she took in the sight of his prissy suit.

He inclined his head and studied her. Her eyes were set wide alongside a straight nose and a mouth almost too full for her small face. He had known prettier women. He glanced at her petite frame. Sexier ones. Hadn’t he? He wished he could see her hair. It must be dark, like her brows.

That was another thing about her. She actually had eyebrows. Not the skinny lines of color the women here thought passed for eyebrows. He’d bet her hair was long, too.

As if to confound him, she crammed her hat down farther on her head and adjusted the brim. “Well?”

He cleared his throat and turned to Ruth. “You go along, Ruth. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The older woman paused in surprise. “Very well, then.” She acknowledged the girl with a brief nod before sweeping past her and out the door.

The girl followed swiftly behind and closed the door. He heard the faint click of the lock. This could get interesting. He couldn’t help but notice how nicely her cute little bottom filled out her jeans.

“You’re coming with me.”

He looked up from the small curvy form he was admiring and blinked.

“Just cooperate,” she said in that sexy voice, “and no one will get hurt.”

Hurt? Even with her jacket and boots he’d be surprised if she tipped the scale at much more than a hundred, and she was easily half his height. Who did she think would get hurt?

He smiled and rubbed his chin. “Well now, darlin’, that’s more than a pleasant thought. And I’d be happy to oblige . . .”

She took a few steps closer and then stopped. Her hand slipped inside her jacket. With lightening speed, she whipped out a shiny 38 Smith & Wesson revolver and aimed it directly at him.