Read Online The Last Cowboy Standing by Barbara Dunlop - Free Book Online Page A

returned his pool cue to the rack.
    “Nice meeting you,” he said to Sandy and Linda as he headed to sit down.
    Corey obviously picked up on Travis’s thinking. He also said goodbye, rather than asking the women to join them.
    They hesitated slightly, but then returned to their own table.
    “What the hell?” asked Corey as he swung into his chair across from Travis.
    “I just want to eat.” Travis stuffed a fry into his mouth then took another swallow of beer.
    Corey frowned as he lifted his high-stacked burger. “After I did such a great job of chatting them up for you.”
    “They weren’t really my type.”
    “Beautiful, friendly and built isn’t your type?”
    It was Travis’s turn to frown. “Charming,” he mocked.
    “I think you’d better tell me a little more about this Vegas woman trouble. It’s obviously cramping your style. Which wouldn’t bother me much, except that it’s blowing back on me.”
    “There’s nothing to tell.”
    “Uh-huh.” Corey’s tone was clearly skeptical.
    “She’s hot, but she’s off-limits.”
    “She’s married?”
    “Not married. There’s a professional relationship to maneuver around. Two of them, actually.”
    “Can you fix them?”
    “Nope.”
    “Then my advice to you is move on.”
    “That’s what I’m doing.”
    Well, he’d move on as soon as he opened Danielle’s eyes about Randal’s motives. Travis losing didn’t mean Randal got to win.
    * * *
    The conference’s windup golf tournament had finished, with Randal taking fourth place. Danielle suspected he could have done better, but he’d once confided in her that winning outright was a bad strategy for a young lawyer. In his estimation, it was better to be strongly competitive, but to let the senior people prevail, at least for a while.
    The final dinner was in full swing, a gourmet buffet set up in the gardens of the hotel, the aromas of sage and rosemary from the steamer trays mingling with vanilla and cinnamon at the dessert display. White linen covered tables were illuminated by floodlights and torches.
    At one of the many bars set up around the perimeter of the lawn, Danielle accepted another “superior court” drink. It was a special recipe invented by the hotel’s chief bartender for the conference. It was a surprisingly delicious concoction of fruit juices, crushed ice, tequila and liquors. It was the final night of the conference. She planned to take advantage of the pool deck in the morning while her colleagues all flew home, so a little indulgence in liquor tonight suited her just fine.
    “Thank you, Caleb,” she muttered under her breath, toasting him in absentia. If he hadn’t requested a meeting on Thursday, she wouldn’t be in line for an impromptu mini vacation tomorrow.
    Randal separated himself from the crowd, coming up beside her. “You didn’t golf?” he opened.
    He’d changed into suit and tie since the tournament ended, and now looked urbane and confident with a three-olive martini in one hand.
    “That’s because my golfing is not going to impress anyone.”
    “Nobody cares how well you golf at these things.”
    “Also,” she elaborated, “I don’t particularly like golf.”
    She sipped the frozen drink through a straw, while her lightweight dress rustled against her thighs in the night breeze.
    “It’s a great way to build relationships. Everybody who is anybody is out on the links at something like this.”
    “I was happier chatting with Astra.”
    Randal polished off the martini, exchanging the empty glass for a fresh drink as a waiter passed, taking an immediate sip. “Astra won’t get you a partnership. Besides, you can chat with Astra any old time.”
    “She lives in New York.” It wasn’t very often the two women got the chance to see each other in person.
    Randal frowned. “That’s not what these things are for.”
    “You do realize that you care more about schmoozing and corporate climbing than most people.”
    “I care more than you