Page 21 of Mother Clucker
“Yeah. Actually he is.”
Handsome and so sweet and kind. So why wasn’t I thinking constantly about Drew? Why was it David, the cocky Texas chicken killer, on my mind?
I had horrible taste in men. That’s why. I was like a magnet for the worst guys.
Cops should use me to pick out the criminal in a line-up because if there was a bad man in the vicinity, I’d find him.
I sighed. If I was going to be thinking about David at the nearby chicken farm anyway, I might as well get credit for it at work. “All right. Let’s do this. Let’s work up a pitch and submit it.”
“Yay!” Lucy clapped her hands, then began to look a bit devious. “I think you need to visit the hot chicken rancher again, with me this time, just to get the details right.”
I laughed. Lucy always was a little boy crazy. This time, we might get credit on a hit show because of it.
“Definitely,” I agreed, but only for the good of the show.
My agreement had nothing to do with seeing David Strickland again. Nope. Not at all.
Things moved fast. One day we were pitching a woefully under-developed idea for an unscripted show about sexy chicken ranchers and the next Lucy and I were driving out to the farm.
Our goal was to get a contract and a release signed by Drew so we could film a sizzle reel at his place to try to sell the show idea to a network. Of course that would be after we convinced him this was a good idea.
The head of production might have loved the concept, but the two hot but cocky chicken farmers we had in mind when crafting and pitching the show knew nothing about it.
“You think he’s going to go for it?” Lucy asked as I swung my car into the long dusty driveway for the second time that week.
I shot her—or rather her cleavage—a sideways glance. “That shirt you’re wearing should help convince him.”
“Good. That was the plan.” She reached into her bra and hiked each boob a bit higher.
I shook my head and concentrated on not bottoming out on the rutted drive. The executive producer had been so excited about our little idea, I’d take any help I could get to convince Drew to sign the paperwork.
Pulling around the corner of one of the buildings on the property, I got a glimpse of David’s truck parked by the house.
I drew in a sharp breath. That was another thing that had me on edge besides locking down this location for the show—seeing him again.
Why did I care? I disliked the man intensely. But apparently my body didn’t because I’d dreamed about him last night . . . and woke up throbbing. It had been that kind of dream.
Good thing I’d decided to stop by my apartment yesterday for all the stuff I’d forgotten to pack. I’d filled a bag but the main goal had been to grab my vibrator. I’d managed to restrain myself from using it before going to bed. But in the middle of the night after that dream, my resolve had weakened. And now I’d have to look him in the eye and not remember that dream or the following orgasm.
At least Lucy was here to provide a distraction. I sorely needed one.
By the time I’d parked the car next to David’s truck both men were standing on the ground in front of the house watching us.
I saw Drew’s interest perk up when Lucy slid out of the passenger seat.
The woman had the art of seduction down to a science, from the tip of her head, to the flip of her long dark hair, to the slide of her sunglasses. And it was all working. Drew couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Oh, yeah. This contract was as good as signed.
“Back so soon? Miss me?” David grinned as we walked toward the two men.
I raised a brow. “Actually, we’re here to see Drew.”
David’s forehead furrowed beneath his cowboy hat. “Why?”
“Business,” I answered simply and enjoyed that he didn’t like my answer.
“I’m Drew Bowman.” Drew had stepped up to Lucy and introduced himself before I had an opportunity to do it.
