Collision

Cassandra Carr

Book two in the Buckin’ Bull Rider series.

Olympic medal winning figure skater Leah Fitzpatrick, dubbed
“The Ice Queen”, is on the downslope of her career when she finds herself roped
into a joint promo gig on the professional bull riders’ tour. She’s paired with
“The King of Rodeo”, Brady Parrish, and although his looks could stop traffic,
she’s got a future to worry about that doesn’t leave room for knocking boots
with the sexy rider. No matter how hot he is.

Brady is at the top of his profession. He’s living the good
life, and has no idea anything is missing until the cool Leah comes along. He
sees something in her that hints at an underlying fire, and sets out to prove
her nickname wrong. In the midst of their steamy affair, he falls hard.
Blindsided by the potent combination of Leah’s beauty and vulnerability, Brady
is determined to melt “The Ice Queen’s” heart.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Collision

ISBN 9781419939037

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Collision Copyright © 2012 Cassandra Carr

Edited by Grace Bradley

Cover design by Caitlin Fry

Photography by Ajay Shrivastya, Serov and Mark Hayes/Shutterstock.com

Electronic book publication April 2012

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Dedication

To my editor, Grace Bradley, for making me write a
better book.

“A world-famous fashion photographer works here?”

Professional figure skater Leah Fitzpatrick stared up at the
hulking, industrial-looking building, double-checking the number on the front
with the slip of paper in her hand. “Yeah, I guess this is the place…” Grasping
the door handle, she tugged, pulling hard on the heavy door. Holding it open
with her body, she pushed her Louis Vuitton suitcase through and then walked
around it, picking up the handle again to roll it along the hallway. She winced
as it bumped along through the divots left by missing or cracked tile and then
checked the faded building directory display. Sure enough, Landings Fashion
Photography was on the fourth floor.

There was an ancient elevator to her left, and she pushed
the up button, hoping it worked. She wasn’t about to drag her expensive
suitcase up four flights of stairs. She’d have to call someone to come get it.
After all, this wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. Leah hadn’t been given a clue
about what to wear for the photo shoot preceding the upcoming promotional tour
she’d gotten suckered into doing with, all of things, professional bull riders.
As a consequence she’d had to drag all her stuff with her.

The car service had fought traffic all the way to New York
City from her house in Stamford, Connecticut and she was already in a horrid
mood. The holiday parade into the city for shopping, skating at Rockefeller
Center and seeing the Rockettes had obviously already begun even though it was
only a few days after Thanksgiving.

James, her manager, had offered to come with her, of course,
but Leah had been doing press for so long she’d refused his offer. With her
blessing he’d recently picked up another skater to manage and the young man
needed James’ help far more than she did at this point in her career.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Pushing aside an
iron gate, she stepped in. Thankfully, it trundled upward, eventually reaching
the fourth floor. Leah stepped out into a cavernous space humming with a
surprising amount of activity; people bustling around adjusting lights, moving
props and setting out food and drinks. This wasn’t the first photo shoot Leah
had ever been to, not by a long shot, but she was surprised at the sheer number
of staff present. Even the photo shoot before the Olympics had been positively
demure compared to this.

David Nelson, the newly minted CEO of Nelson Motors and the
sponsor of this three-ring circus, spotted her and lumbered over, pulling his
suit pants up over his gut as he stopped in front of her. “I’m so glad you made
it. I hope the drive in was all right?”

“Fine,” Leah answered automatically, still taking in all the
activity around her.

“Here, let me take that for you.” He hefted her suitcase and
carryon bag and motioned for her to follow. “I’ve got you set up in a nice,
quiet corner over here.” Leah had to hold in a snort. There wasn’t a quiet area
in this whole place. “Would you like something to eat? A muffin? Sandwich? Or
would you prefer some water? I have wine as well.” He stood there beaming at
her.

She’d eaten before she’d started out from home, but she
didn’t want to be rude. “Some water would be nice.”

“Lovely. You just have a seat and I’ll be right back with
it.” He ushered her to a director’s chair and turned away. Leah shook her head.
He really was something. She’d never met a sponsor who was so solicitous. It
was almost embarrassing.

She didn’t see Brady Parrish, the bull rider who was
supposed to be doing the tour with her.
Great, the cowboy can’t even be
bothered to show up on time.
She ignored the niggling voice in her head
that reminded her
she’d
just arrived.

David returned with her water. “Brady should be here at any
moment. In the meantime, our wardrobe staff and hair and makeup people will get
started, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Leah murmured. The sooner she could get
this shoot over with, the better. She’d only agreed to do this tour because she
needed all the good PR she could get. If she couldn’t rehab her sprained ankle
to its former strength, she’d have to rely even more on the other parts of her
skating besides the technical elements, which weren’t her strong point to begin
with, considering the crazy jumps younger skaters were landing. Having fans on
her side would be more important than ever.

Tomorrow she and Brady were scheduled to go on one of the
big network morning talk shows to talk about the tour, and then had a full two
days of interviews lined up with newspapers, magazines and radio and television
stations. After that they’d be flying to Pueblo, Colorado, where a bull riding
event was slated to start on Saturday.

“Hello, Leah. My name is Sandy. I’m a wardrobe assistant
here. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you what we’ve picked out for today.”

Leah rose and followed Sandy over to a rack of clothes.
“This is skate wear.”

Sandy turned around, her eyebrows drawn into a frown. “Well,
yes. You’re a figure skater.”

“I assumed I would be wearing street clothes.”

“Why would you wear street clothes?”

Leah’s jaw clenched. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing
ninety-five percent of these dresses. Her skating costume for Worlds last year
had been a Vera Wang original and she hadn’t bought off the rack in years. “If
I had known you were going to be shooting me in skate wear I would’ve brought
my own.”

Biting her lip, Sandy looked at Leah. “Is this going to be a
problem?”

Taking a deep breath, Leah answered, “Let me take a look at
them.” She began to flip through the dresses. Each one was worse than the one
before. What were these people thinking? Had they never seen a picture of her
before? Her outfits were simple, understated. These monstrosities boasted feathers,
sequins, bright colors. Maybe these were what other figure skaters wore, but
Leah made a point not to. She relied on her skating, not her costumes, to make
an impression on the judges and the audience. Figure skating was already
considered a joke sport by so many, and the ridiculous outfits some of her
competitors wore didn’t help that image any. Grudgingly, she picked out two. “I
can try these on.”

Sandy visibly flinched. “They’d like five or six wardrobe
changes.”

Leah could feel her blood pressure going up already. “Let’s
just try these on and see how it goes.”

“All right, but I don’t think David’s going to be happy.”

“He’s going to have to be,” Leah muttered. “Where’s the
changing area?”

“Behind that curtain.” Sandy motioned to a curtained-off
area that had been set up along one wall.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute.” Heading that way, she
wondered what else would go wrong today. She hated acting like a bitch and
generally tried to be pleasant and easy to work with, but this tour was
supposed to help her gain more fans, not turn her into a laughingstock. Leah
took her career seriously and knew that at twenty-five years old she was on her
last legs, so to speak. She needed support right now from the public to make
her final push at a championship next year. The Olympic gold medal had been the
crowning glory of her career, but it had also been three years ago. Fans of
figure skating had notoriously short memories and the younger girls were
already overtaking her.

She was in the middle of changing when David’s booming voice
rang out. “Brady, so great to see you again. I hope the flight wasn’t too
bumpy.”

She peeked out and saw a man she supposed was Brady, but
couldn’t hear his answer. She multitasked, sneaking glances while shimmying
into the first skating dress. David and Brady continued to speak, their voices
too low for Leah to make out many words. Soon, though, Brady turned and Leah
ducked before he could see her checking him out. He walked to within feet of where
she was dressing and she couldn’t help but look again as he began to rifle
through a duffel bag that had been placed there. It was then that Leah realized
there was no way she could zip up the stupid dress by herself. Where was Sandy
when she needed her?

She held the dress’ side zipper closed as best she could
without dislocating a shoulder as the slippery material slid through her
fingers. Sandy was clear across the room brushing something off—were those
cherry-red chaps? Good God. How cheesy could this thing get?

Leah sighed. There was no way she would be able to get Sandy’s
attention without getting everyone else’s at the same time. There was no one
else within easy calling distance either. She uttered a few choice words to
herself, but apparently Brady caught them, as he whirled around, his gaze
scanning the parts of her body that weren’t hidden from his view. Leah’s eyes
widened and then closed in mortification. Finally she forced them open and
really looked at him. Her entire body sat up and took notice, which was
positively shameful. She felt a flush creep from her chest up through her neck
to her face.

His jeans had been poured on over muscular thighs, and as
her gaze rose higher she saw that his shoulders were broad, but not overly
muscled, as if he’d gotten those muscles from manual labor, not from lifting
weights at a gym. Being an athlete herself, she could appreciate a well-toned
body, and she couldn’t help but watch as his muscles bunched and shifted when
he moved. He was about three or four inches taller than her own five foot
seven, but he took full advantage of every inch. His face was anchored by a
perfect mouth, dimples and light-brown eyes. As if he’d sneaked into the diary
she’d kept as a teenager where she’d described her perfect man, he even had
dark-blond, wavy hair.

Kill me now.

As she continued to stare, a smile played at the corners of
his full lips. “Can I help you with something, darlin’? Need a hand back
there?” Then he turned on the full force of his smile and she cursed her weak
knees. As soon as she was able to recover, she berated herself. Here she was, a
grown woman, practically falling at the feet of this cowboy who was
so
not her type.

“No,” she bit out, but then rolled her eyes and relented.
“Well, yes. I need someone to help me into my dress.”

He winked and the phrase “bad boy” flashed through her
brain. Yeah, this Brady was no Boy Scout. “Helping women
into
their
dresses isn’t my specialty, but I’ll give it a shot. You must be Leah.”

She held up a hand to shake his, but snatched it back when
the dress began to fall, briefly revealing the side of her breast before she
was able to conceal it once more. “Yes, I’m Leah. And I need the wardrobe
assistant’s help. She’s over there, brushing off some chaps from what it looks
like, if you can believe it.”

Brady laughed. “Yeah, I wore them last night, they’re
probably pretty dusty.”

Leah’s mouth fell open. She’d been making a joke about the
chaps, hoping Brady would agree with her about the apparent cheese factor. “You
wore
them? In public?”

“Yes ma’am. But I’d be happy to oblige you if you need help—”

“No! Just get Sandy,” she commanded, adding, “Please,” when
he didn’t move immediately.

Giving her another smile, as well as a smoldering look that
had her nipples tightening and her thighs clenching involuntarily, he loped
away. Sandy came to zip up her dress and then her hair and makeup were done.
She was wearing twice as much makeup as she usually did, which was saying
something, considering by necessity she wore entire vats of it to perform. Not
only that, but the makeup they used were colors she thought were better suited
to a burlesque dancer than a figure skater, but she was so eager to get the
show on the road she sat there and let them do whatever they wanted without
protest.

Through it all, she watched as other assistants fussed over
Brady, helping him dress in his chaps, which she was quite sure he was
perfectly capable of putting on himself, and smoothing their hands over his
Western-style shirt on the ridiculous premise of making sure it wasn’t
wrinkled. All the while Brady smiled and laughed and flirted, and Leah fumed.
He was acting totally unprofessionally, like a country bumpkin on his first
trip to the big city. And of course the girls were eating it up. It was
disgusting to watch, and yet Leah couldn’t take her eyes off him. She didn’t stop
to consider why it bothered her so much.

When they were both ready, David brought them together. “All
right, now we’re going to take a whole bunch of pictures. All you two have to
do is stand there and look good. We’re gonna play off your nicknames. Leah, did
you know Brady’s is ‘the Rodeo King’? Isn’t that perfect?”

“Perfect,” Leah grumbled, not happy they were going to use
her dreaded nickname.

As they were being positioned, Brady spoke to her out of the
side of his mouth. “Come on, sweetheart. This whole thing’ll be a lot more fun
if you loosen up a little.”

“I’m plenty loose,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

“You’re about as loose as a calf I’m tying up on the ranch.”
He paused and then gave her another long, thorough perusal. “Though I like tying
up women a lot more.” Despite the heat that flooded her in parts she’d rather
not think about at the moment, she managed to throw him another glare which he
laughed off. Did he take nothing seriously? Her career was hanging in the
balance and he acted as if he didn’t have a care in the world. It would be nice
if she wasn’t the only one with a stake in this.

Turning away from him, she concentrated on the cameraman.
Through the next few hours, she simply shut down and gave them whatever they
wanted, put on each ugly skating dress without complaint, even while knowing
the pictures were only going to give more fuel to those who hated her for
whatever reason. She posed however they put her, and smiled through it all.
Brady continued to laugh and joke with the crew as if this was the most fun
he’d had in months.