Bet on a Cowboy. Julie Benson

show. How could she leave her son for ten weeks? How could she put her love life or fifteen minutes of fame above her child? Sign her up for mother of the year. “I’d rather not say.”

      Maggie picked up the photo and scanned the back. “If you tell me what the problem is I will avoid finding a woman with a similar issue.”

      “I can’t respect any woman who leaves her kid for ten weeks to go on TV.”

      Maggie’s eyes widened and her brows knit together, as if she couldn’t believe the thought occurred to him. “I agree. There’s no way to explain leaving like that to a four-year-old.”

      “Something tells me the boy isn’t going to have a Brady Bunch childhood.”

      Maggie nodded. “Once I get back to Los Angeles, I’ll find a replacement.” She placed the bios and contract inside her briefcase beside the desk. “We need you in Las Vegas immediately. Is that a problem?”

      The sooner he started working, the sooner he could pay his mom’s medical bills. “I need to find someone to fill in at the ranch, but that shouldn’t be hard.”

      “Is there any way I can help? What do you do?”

      The innocent question hit Griffin like a hard gut punch, because to tell the truth, he really didn’t know how he fit in at the ranch. He frowned. With the lousy economy a lot of folks needed extra income. Hell, a high school kid could do what he did. Toting hay bales, watering the horses, and fixing busted fences took brawn, not brains. Basically, he was a glorified ranch hand. Jack of all trades, but master of none.

      “Let’s get outta here.” He walked across the room to the door. “A friend of mine’s band is playing at Halligan’s tonight. You up for some dancing?”

      Maggie tilted her head and studied him, making him wonder if she’d let his sidestepping her question slide.

      “I love listening to bands, but dancing isn’t my thing. I tend to step on my partner’s toes more than I do the dance floor.”

      “Maybe you need a better partner.”

       Chapter Three

       Maybe you need a better partner.

      Maggie knew Griffin hadn’t meant anything by his comment, but his words made her stomach do cartwheels. Charmers like him tossed out phrases like that the way other people fed birds—liberally, and to any bird that showed up.

      Everything told her going out to dinner with Griffin wasn’t a good idea, but then he’d also said the words that killed a woman’s dreams. The ones that no matter how many times she heard them still left bruises.

       That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.

      The simple phrase told her everything she needed to know. Griffin saw her like every other man she’d met did. She was a great gal pal, but lacked the necessary girlfriend qualities, which was exactly why she needed in vitro fertilization to have a child.

      Maggie’s head knew that, but her heart kept hearing his silky voice wrap around her when he’d said she needed a better partner. His sparkling gaze had peered into her soul, as if she were truly special.

       Get over it. You’re seeing things like the time you had a high fever and saw purple giraffes.

      She couldn’t afford to let her romantic nature run amok. Her brothers always chided her for expecting life to be like a romance novel, where the hero swept into a woman’s life, recognized her for how wonderful she was on the inside, and declared he couldn’t live without her.

      So what if Griffin thought of her as a friend? No one had enough of those.

       Keep telling yourself that. Maybe eventually you’ll believe it, and his words won’t hurt as much.

      Despite that, when she and Griffin stepped inside Halligan’s Saloon, she vowed to enjoy the night. The down-to-earth restaurant hummed with activity. People sat on industrial-style, padded metal chairs, clustered around simple Formica tables. Laughter rang throughout the room, bouncing off the walls. The smell of French fries and burgers wafted through the air, making her mouth water. “This is great.”

      “I’d have thought a California city girl would be more comfortable somewhere more upscale.”

      “I’ve only lived in Los Angeles a few years. Sometimes things there feel so artificial. I prefer places where I can be myself.”

      “No one puts on airs here, because if he did, someone would kick his ass.”

      As they walked toward a table, Maggie glanced at the room to her right. “They have pool tables. Will we have time for a game before the band starts playing?”

      Griffin held her chair for her. “You might not want to play with me.”

      “Is that a challenge? If it is, you’re on.”

      A mischievous gleam in his eyes, he said, “Eight ball, for five bucks a game?”

      “I hope you’re a good loser.” Maggie smiled. Beating her brothers and their friends at pool had earned her more money than her childhood lemonade stand. At least until the guys wised up and quit playing her for cash.

      Before Griffin could respond, a slender waitress with dusty blond hair sprinkled with gray strolled to their table. “Good to see you, Griffin. Who’s this you brought with you?”

      “Cathy, meet Maggie Sullivan. She came here to talk business with Rory. I figured she couldn’t leave town without a night at Halligan’s.”

      If Maggie didn’t know better, she’d never suspect he’d just told a little white lie. He was good, but she was onto him.

      He turned to her. “This is Cathy. She’s a regular institution around here.”

      The woman frowned and swatted Griffin’s arm. “You make me sound like I’m two steps away from the grave.”

      He flashed the waitress a brilliant smile, the wattage nearly blinding Maggie. Then he placed his large hand over the older woman’s. “Don’t be mad at me, Cathy, honey. Haven’t I always said a man couldn’t find a woman better than you?”

      She shook her head. “If only I were ten years younger, Griffin McAlister. I’d give the girls around here a run for their money chasing you.”

      “They wouldn’t stand a chance. Course, I don’t think John would like the idea much.”

      Maggie smiled. Griffin should wear a sign like they posted on dangerous roads, because a woman could certainly spin out of control when his charm zeroed in on her.

      “You’re right. John’s a good man, but he’s not that understanding.” Cathy tossed Maggie a motherly glance and hooked her thumb toward Griffin. “You watch out for this one.”

      No kidding. “I have been since the moment we met.”

      “Good for you. You keep him honest.”

      When Griffin opened his mouth to protest, Cathy hushed him. “I need to take your orders. I can’t stand here talking all night.”

      After she departed, an awkward silence stretched, baffling Maggie. She was the type of person who met people and within five minutes knew their life stories. How come Griffin left her tongue-tied?

      Sure he was good-looking and charming, but all the bachelors had been. This did not bode well for the next few months.

      “How long have you been a director?” Griffin finally asked.

      “This is my first season, but I’ve been with the show from the start.”

      Cathy returned, a tray of drinks in her hand, placed a glass of beer in front of each of them and moved on.

      “What made you choose a career in television?”