Collision Read online

  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

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Collision

  Cassandra Carr

  Dedication

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

  Chapter One

  “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, ye
s. 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.

  The cameraman gave them a break while he checked the pictures he’d taken thus far, and Leah took the opportunity to eat a sandwich and guzzle down a bottle of water. When the cameraman called them back, he said, “All right. We’ve got some good pictures so far, but I’d like to sex things up a little.”

  “Sex things up?” Leah echoed.

  “Yeah. Both of you are young and good-looking, let’s play that up. Now, Leah, if you could turn toward Brady. Great. Put your left arm around his waist and your right hand on his chest.” Rolling her eyes, Leah complied. As soon as her hand made contact with his muscular pecs it started to tingle and her breath caught. Luckily Brady was listening to the photographer and didn’t seem to notice her sudden discomfiture.

  “Brady, put your right arm around her shoulders and stick the thumb of your left hand in the belt loop of your jeans. Pull them down just a little. Perfect.” He took a few shots that way and then cocked his head as Leah fought to get her breathing under control. No man had ever caused a pure visceral reaction in her like Brady did, and she was stumped about what seemed to draw her to him like bees to honey. “Brady, would you mind unbuttoning your shirt?”