The Cowgirl Ropes a Billionaire Read Online Free

therefore. No—all Evan had to do was find a woman whose time he could purchase for one year, or better yet, win for free. Betty Bumpkin might not know it at the moment, but she was doomed to be Mrs. Evan Mortimer for at least twelve months, right after he beat the pants off her on this stupid reality TV show.
    “Yes, Amanda—I’m going to marry her.”
    “Thank God for prenups.”
    He’d made sure Hammer Communications, the parent company of the network that ran Can You Beat a Billionaire , knew there was no way he would expose half of Mortimer Innovations assets to some TV contestant. They’d fallen over themselves to agree—thrilled they’d managed to catch one of the West Coast’s richest bachelors.
    “Amen to that,” Evan said, leaning back in his chair.
    “Why don’t you just buy some prostitute? They’re a dime a dozen.”
    Evan rolled his eyes. They’d been over this before, too. “And let the newspapers have a field day when they figure it out? Nope—not into it.”
    The TV show gave him a bizarre, yet legitimate, excuse to get a wife no one had ever heard of before—someone his competition couldn’t possibly have tainted beforehand—and dump her a year later. The network assured him no one would care what actually happened to the couple once the show was off the air.
    “What if she refuses to divorce you?”
    “First of all, no court will make a couple stay married these days if one person wants out. Second, look at her résumé—the one time she left Montana it was for school, after which she made a beeline back home. She’ll hate it out here in California. The minute I let her go, she’ll be gone!”
    “If you say so—not many women will walk away from a lifestyle like yours.”
    “I’ll give her a nice donation to start her clinic back up again. I’ll give her some business tips, too.”
    “Like—you can’t save all the kittens in the world?” Amanda said dryly.
    “Something like that. What’s she look like, anyway?”
    “I told you about the hat, right?” Amanda laughed. “I’m sending over her photo right now.” She hung up on him and he turned to his computer and clicked the refresh button on his email. He clicked again on the image Amanda attached to her message and stared at Bella Chatham.
    Hello .
    A golden-haired beauty stared back at him. Well, maybe beauty was too strong a word. She was fresh, wholesome, wore little makeup that he could see. She stood in a yard filled with large enclosures, surrounded by dogs, cats, rabbits and other animals. She held a puppy in her arms that was obviously squirming and she was laughing—all bright eyes, thick, wavy hair, legs that went on for a mile, and a cowboy hat perched atop her head. She could be the poster child for middle-America—a healthy, happy, well-adjusted country girl.
    His total opposite.
    He’d never dated anyone like her, not that he’d dated much. When your family was worth billions a certain amount of suspicion crept into your personality. His mother, especially, thought they were surrounded by vultures ready to rip them apart at the slightest sign of weakness. She’d practically hand-picked Nate’s wife from the children of her small circle of friends. While Nate and Brenda seemed happy enough, Evan had no interest in marriage to a woman like that.
    His own attempts at dating had been disastrous. A few girls back in college who made it clear they expected a steady stream of expensive gifts, and called him cheap when they weren’t forthcoming. Several more women in his twenties who didn’t mention money at all, but talked frequently of their friends’ impending weddings, all the while shooting him furtive looks from gleaming eyes that he swore held the reflection of dollar signs.
    He never got past a few weeks of dinners, dancing and trips to museums or concerts before he broke it off. A constricting feeling would build in his chest until the idea of seeing them again made him physically ill. He was