Книга - McFarlane’s Perfect Bride / Taming the Montana Millionaire: McFarlane’s Perfect Bride

McFarlane's Perfect Bride / Taming the Montana Millionaire: McFarlane's Perfect Bride
Teresa Southwick

Christine Rimmer


McFarlane’s Perfect Bride Hotel magnateConnor is in Thunder Canyon to buy a ski resort. At first local girl Tori’s furious, but soon she realises Connor doesn’t deserve his corporate shark reputation. So when he asks her to pose as his fiancée, she’s quick to say I do!Taming the Montana Millionaire Thunder Canyon’s bad-boy-made-good is back. And there’s no way Haley is letting gorgeous billionaire playboy Marlon anywhere near her heart. But Marlon hasn’t forgotten their last kiss. And he’s determined to prove that he’s a changed man.










Mcfarlane’s Perfect Bride

Christine Rimmer



Taming the Montana Millionaire

Teresa Southwick


















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Mcfarlane’s Perfect Bride

Christine Rimmer


Dear Reader,

One thing in life is certain: change. Times are a little tougher in Thunder Canyon, Montana lately. The boom created by the gold rush a few years ago is over. And Thunder Canyon Resort, which once gave Vail and Aspen a run for the money, is struggling to stay afloat.

Corporate shark and East Coast power player Connor McFarlane has been going through a few changes himself lately. He’s in town for the summer to get to know his estranged fifteen-year-old son and make amends with his sister, Melanie. There’s also a rumour he’s engineering a takeover of Thunder Canyon Resort.

Connor intends to meet his goals for this Montana summer and go. Until he meets schoolteacher Tori Jones. A recent bitter divorce has left him wanting nothing to do with love. And he never plans to marry again.

But Tori Jones is a very special woman—just possibly the perfect woman for him.

Happy reading, everyone.

Yours,

Christine Rimmer




About the Author


CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a sales clerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com.


For all you teachers out there.

The work you do is the most important work there is.




Chapter One


The doorbell rang just as Tori Jones set the snack tray on the breakfast nook table. “Help yourselves.” She gave her star student, Jerilyn Doolin, a fond smile and sent a nod in the direction of Jerilyn’s new friend, CJ. “There’s juice in the fridge.”

Jerilyn pushed her chair back. “Thanks, Ms. Jones.”

The doorbell chimed again. “I’ll just see who that is.” Tori hurried to answer.

She’d made it halfway through her great room to the small foyer when the pounding started. Hard. On the door. The bell rang again, twice, fast. Followed by more pounding. Alarm jangled through her at the loud, frantic sounds. Was there a fire?

“All right, all right. I’m coming, I’m coming …” She yanked the door wide on a tall, hot-looking guy in designer jeans and high-dollar boots.

Before she could get out a yes-may-I-help-you, the guy growled, “That’s my son’s skateboard.” With a stabbing motion of his index finger, he pointed. Tori peered around the door frame at the skateboard that Jerilyn’s friend had left propped against the porch wall. “Do you have my son here?” the stranger demanded.

Have him? Like she’d kidnapped the boy or something? Tori felt her temper rise.

She tamped it down by reminding herself that the angry man in front of her was probably scared to death. And then she spotted the gorgeous, gas-guzzling SUV parked at the curb. Had he been driving up one street and down another looking for a sign of his lost child? Thunder Canyon, Montana, wasn’t a big city. But the streets would have to seem endless to a man frantically searching for his missing kid.

“I asked you a question.” The man raked his fingers back through thick, expertly cut auburn hair.

Tori schooled her voice to a calmness she didn’t feel. “Is your son’s name CJ?”

“That’s right.” The man seemed on the verge of grabbing her and shaking her until she produced the boy. “Is he here? “

“Yes, he is. He’s—” With a startled cry, she jumped back as the guy barged into her house.

“Where?” He snarled the word at her. “Take me to him. Now.”

“Wait a minute. You can’t—”

Oh, but he could. He was already past her, striding boldly into her great room, shouting, “CJ, damn it! CJ!”

Jerilyn and CJ appeared from the kitchen, both wide-eyed. But as soon as CJ caught sight of the furious man, he put on a scowl. “Sheesh, Dad. Chill.”

“What is the matter with you?” Mr. Hotshot stopped where he was and started lecturing his son. “I had no clue where you had gotten off to. You know you are not to leave the house without telling Gerda where you’re going.”

CJ’s face flamed. He stared down at the hardwood floor, his shaggy hair falling forward to cover his red cheeks. “Come on, Dad,” he muttered. “I was only—”

“And what about your phone? You promised me you wouldn’t go off without your phone.”

“Like it even works in the canyon.” The boy was still talking to the floor.

“Speak up,” his father demanded. “I can’t hear you.”

CJ, who had seemed a normal, reasonably friendly teenager before his dad showed up, clamped his mouth shut now. He refused to even look at his father.

Tori realized she’d been standing there speechless for too long. She needed to calm the father down and diffuse the considerable tension. “Listen, why don’t we all go into the kitchen and—”

“No, thanks.” CJ’s dad cut her off with an absent wave of his hand. “We’re going. Come on, CJ. Now.” He turned for the door. The boy followed him out, head low, feet dragging.

Tori longed to stop them, to get them to speak civilly to each other, at least, before they took off. But she knew that was only her inner schoolteacher talking. In the end, she had no right to interfere. CJ seemed embarrassed by his dad, but not the least afraid of him. And she couldn’t see herself getting between father and son unless there was real cause. Overbearing rudeness just wouldn’t cut it as a reason to intervene.

Trailing after his dad, the boy went out into the June sunshine, pulling the door shut behind him. Tori and Jerilyn hardly moved until they heard the engine of that pricey SUV start up outside and drive away.

Jerilyn broke the echoing silence first. “CJ hates his dad.” She spoke wistfully. “I don’t get that. Yeah, his dad was mad. But at least he cares …”

A low sound of sympathy escaped Tori. Jerilyn’s mom had died of cancer the year before. Since then, her father walked around in a daze, emotionally paralyzed with grief. Butch Doolin used to dote on his only child. But not since he lost his wife. Jerilyn had confided in Tori that lately she wondered if her dad even knew she existed anymore.

Tori went to her and smoothed her thick black hair. “How ‘bout some cheese, whole-wheat crackers and fresh fruit?”

Jerilyn’s wistful expression faded. She giggled. “Ms. Jones, did you ever serve a snack that wasn’t healthy?”

“Not a chance.” She took the girl by the shoulders and turned her toward the kitchen.

As they sipped organic cranberry juice and nibbled on sliced apples and rennet-free white cheddar, Jerilyn talked about CJ. “I’ve seen him a couple of times before in the past week, riding his skateboard around Heritage Park. I never thought he’d notice me. But today, he stopped and we started talking.” A dreamy look made her dark eyes shine. “It was so strange, the way we connected, you know? It seemed like we could instantly tell each other everything. I felt so … comfortable with him. And, yeah, he dresses like a skater and he wears his hair long and all, but he’s very smart. He’s fifteen, same as me. He skipped fourth grade, just like I did.”

It was good to hear a little about the boy. Tori’d had no time to ask the pertinent questions before the furious father arrived.

She sipped her juice. “You really like him.”

Jerilyn smiled shyly. “I hope maybe I’ll see him again. He’s going to some expensive boarding school back east in the fall. But even if he stayed here in Thunder Canyon for school, he’d probably end up hanging with the rich, popular kids …”

Tori slid her glass across the table and clinked it with Jerilyn’s. “Uh-uh. Don’t go there. You have no reason to start beating yourself up. You’re every bit as good— and twice as pretty—as any girl at Thunder Canyon High.”

Jerilyn wrinkled her nose. “You say that ‘cause I’m smart and I understand Moby Dick better than most college students.”

“I say it ‘cause it’s true. Your being smart is a bonus.” She ate a strawberry. “I have to admit, though. I can’t help but love a student who stays on top of the reading list and writes a better essay than I can—and though we didn’t have much chance to talk, it definitely seemed to me that CJ liked you.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Jerilyn.” Tori spoke sternly.

“Yes, Ms. Jones?”

“If I say it, I mean it.”

“Yes, Ms. Jones.” Jerilyn sighed. “You really think he likes me? “

“I do. I really do. And he seemed like a nice boy.”

“I’m so glad you liked him.” Jerilyn beamed.

Too bad his dad’s such a complete jerk,Tori thought, but didn’t say.

“Tall, good-looking, auburn-haired, buttoned-down. Obviously rich. Pushy. And rude?” asked Allaire Traub, who was Tori’s dearest friend.

Tori took the fruit and cheese tray from earlier that day out of the fridge and pulled off the plastic wrap. “That’s him.”

Allaire’s two-year-old, Alex, who sat on her lap, started chanting in a singsong. “Rude, rude, rude, rude …”

“Shh,” Allaire chided. She kissed his dark brown baby curls. Tori set the tray on the table and Allaire gave Alex a slice of apple.

“Apple. Yum,” said the little boy.

Tori slid into the chair opposite her friend. “So … you know him?”

“Well, I know of him.” Allaire rescued Alex’s sippy cup just as he was about to knock it to the floor. She kissed his cheek and commanded adoringly, “Eat your apple and sit still.”

“Apple, apple, apple, apple.” The little boy giggled. And then he stuck the slice of apple in his mouth. He was quiet. For the moment.

Tori prompted, “And his name is …?”

Allaire frowned. “Who?”

“Mr. Buttoned-down, Pushy and Rude?”

“Oh. Right. He’s Connor McFarlane, Melanie Chilton’s brother.”

Tori put her hands to her cheeks. “Of course. I should have known.” Melanie McFarlane had come to town three years ago determined to prove herself to her rich, snobby family. She’d ended up opening a guest ranch and marrying a local rancher, Russ Chilton. “Connor McFarlane. He runs the family empire, right?”

Allaire nodded. “McFarlane House Hotels.” She passed her son an orange wedge. “He’s here for the summer, with his son, Connor Jr.”

“Aka, CJ.”

“That’s right.” Allaire gave Alex his sippy cup—then took it away when he started to pound it on the edge of the table.

“I thought Melanie and her brother didn’t get along.”

“Rumor is they’re trying, you know? Connor’s been taken down a peg since the economy dipped. The way I heard it, McFarlane House had to pull back. A serious retrenchment. They closed a few hotels. The company is holding strong now, but not growing the way it was. And Connor’s personal fortune took a serious hit, though I understand he’s still a long way from the poorhouse. His wife dumped him. And CJ, formerly the perfect son, has been acting out. Melanie suggested that her brother and CJ come to Montana for the summer. Connor’s renting one of those big houses in New Town that all the newcomers built—and then tried to unload when the bottom fell out.”

In spite of herself, Tori felt sympathy rising. “His wife divorced him? “

Allaire nodded. “Pretty much out of nowhere, apparently. Story goes that she met someone richer.”

Tori shook her head. “How do you know all this stuff?”

Allaire lifted a delicate, gold-dusted eyebrow. “To many, I may seem merely a deceptively fragile-looking über-talented art teacher and loving wife and mother. But I also have my finger on the pulse of Thunder Canyon.”

“Because you’re married to DJ,” Tori said with a chuckle.

Allaire shrugged. “You know my husband. He makes it his business to keep an eye on the movers and shakers. Even if they’re supposedly only visiting for the summer.”

DJ Traub ran a successful chain of mid-priced restaurants with locations all over the western states. When he returned to town to stay a few years ago, he’d opened a DJ’s Rib Shack on-site at the sprawling, upscale Thunder Canyon Resort, which covered most of nearby Thunder Mountain. The resort gave Vail and Aspen a run for the money—or it had until the financial downturn. DJ knew everybody and what they were up to.

Alex waved his chewed orange rind. “DJ, DJ, that’s my daddy!”

“Oh, yes, he is.” Allaire hugged him close and said to Tori, “You are coming to the barbecue up at the resort Saturday, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. I thought I’d bring Jerilyn.”

“Great. She’ll like that. It’s really good of you to look out for her.”

“It’s no hardship. She’s a joy to have around.”

Allaire gazed at Tori fondly. “She reminds you of yourself.”

“A little, maybe.” Tori had lost her mom when she was thirteen. Her dad had been really out of it for a while, trying to deal with the loss.

“And your dad got better, eventually.”

“Yes, he did.” Now she had a stepmother she loved and three half brothers ages ten, six and three.

“So there’s hope that Butch Doolin will pull it together.”

Tori was trying to think of something positive to say about Jerilyn’s dad when Alex started pounding his little fist in the table. “More juice,” the toddler commanded. Allaire put the cup in his chubby hand. This time, he actually drank from it. “Here, Mommy.” He gave the cup back. “I tired.” He set his apple core on the table and snuggled back into his mother’s arms. In seconds, he was fast asleep.

“Amazing,” said Tori with a doting smile.

Allaire made a tender sound of agreement as she smoothed his springy curls. Softly, so as not to wake him, she spoke of the small family reunion she and DJ were hosting out at their ranch that weekend. A couple of Traub cousins, wealthy ones, were coming up from Texas for the event. They would all be at the Rib Shack for the barbecue Saturday.

Tori still had Connor McFarlane on her mind. She asked in a near-whisper, “What do you mean, Connor’s ‘supposedly’ only visiting for the summer?”

Allaire set the sippy cup on the table. “Well, DJ says Connor’s been at the resort a lot. Chatting people up, nosing around. And Grant told DJ that Connor’s had dinner with Caleb Douglas out at the Douglas Ranch.” Caleb Douglas was co-owner of the resort. Grant Clifton managed the place, with help from Riley Douglas, Caleb’s son.

Tori frowned. “A takeover? I knew the resort was struggling lately. But would Caleb do that? The resort is his pride and joy.”

“Money’s short. Even the Douglases need to tighten their belts.”

“But I mean, would Caleb really sell?”

Allaire made a noncommittal noise in her throat. “Can’t say for sure. But something’s going on.”

“You’re going,” Connor said flatly. “And we’re late.”

CJ didn’t spare him so much as a glance. He was busy manipulating the black controller of his Xbox 360 Elite, wearing a headset so he could talk to whomever he was playing with online—and also shut his father out. On the flatscreen that took up half a wall of his bedroom, soldiers in WWII Army gear battled the Germans somewhere in a burned-out city in France. A tank lurched over rubble and belched fire as a building exploded and a couple of hapless Germans went flying in the air, faces contorted with fear.

Connor stood by the bed. His blood pressure had to be spiking. He wanted to shout, What the hell have you done with my son? He hardly knew this shaggy-looking, angry, sulky kid. The CJ he knew gazed at him with worshipful eyes and only wanted a chance to spend a little time with his busy, successful dad.

I will not shout. I will not rip those headphones off of his head.

Connor fisted his hands and counted to ten. And then he grabbed the TV remote off the bed and pointed it at the flatscreen.

The screen went black.

CJ slanted him a venomous look. “Turn it back on. Now.”

Connor did nothing of the sort. With a calmness he didn’t feel, he reached out and gently pulled the headset from CJ’s ears. “I told you we were going to the big summer kickoff barbecue.” The barbecue, at DJ’s Rib Shack up at the resort, presented a useful opportunity to get more face time with people he needed to know better—family and otherwise. “Your Aunt Melanie and Uncle Russ are going. Ryan, too.” Ryan Chilton, Russ’s son from his first marriage, was thirteen.

CJ groaned and tossed the controller aside. “I’m not babysitting Ryan.”

“No one said anything about babysitting. You will, however, behave in a civilized manner and treat your aunt and her family with respect.”

“I hate that kind of crap. ‘Big summer kickoff barbecue.’“ He chanted the words in an angry singsong. “Big whoop.”

Again, Connor reminded himself that shouting and threats had so far gotten him nowhere. He spoke with deadly mildness. “Fine. Stay home if you like. Stay home all summer. In this room. With no electronics.”

CJ blinked. “You would ground me forever for missing some dumb barbecue?”

“Try me.”

CJ glared at him. Connor stared steadily back.

And then, at last, CJ put down the remote. “Fine. Let’s go.” He jumped to his feet and headed for the door in his sloppy skater gear, which included ripped-out, sagging jeans, a wrinkled plaid shirt over a T-shirt that had seen better days. And dirty old-school tennis shoes with the laces undone.

Connor reminded himself that the barbecue was casual and he didn’t have time for a wardrobe battle.

CJ stopped in the doorway and turned with a glare. “Well? You coming or not?”

Connor straightened his sport jacket and gave a brisk nod. “Absolutely. I am right behind you.”

The resort was packed. People spilled out of the Rib Shack and filled up the huge central lobby of the main clubhouse.

Connor spotted Melanie, Russ and Ryan over by the lobby’s natural-stone fireplace, which was on a grand scale, like the rest of the clubhouse. Big enough to roast a couple of steers inside and still have room for an elk or three.

He hooked an arm around CJ’s shoulders to keep him from slipping off and worked his way through the crowd, spreading greetings as he went. Melanie saw him just before he reached her. She smiled and waved, her sleek red hair shining in the afternoon sun that beamed down from the skylights three stories overhead and flooded in the soaring wall of windows with its amazing view of the white-capped peak of Thunder Mountain.

She was a fine woman, his sister. And forgiving. All those years he’d looked down on her. And still, she’d welcomed him to her new hometown and seemed to want only to let bygones be bygones. She made him feel humble, an emotion with which he’d had no relationship until recently.

Russ gave him a cool nod. Ryan’s face split in a happy grin at the sight of his older cousin.

CJ squirmed a little under Connor’s firm grip and said loudly, “Well, we’re here. Can we eat?”

Ryan nodded eagerly. “In the Rib Shack. Come on, I’ll show you …”

Connor hesitated to let go of his son. “Stay in the building.”

“Sheesh, Dad. Awright, awright.”

“Stay with Ryan.”

“I will, I will.”

Melanie caught his eye. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Russ spoke to Ryan. “Get us a table if you can.”

“We will, Dad. Come on, CJ.” He bounded off through the crowd, headed for the Rib Shack. CJ followed, kind of shuffling along. Watching them go, Connor actually found himself envying Russ his happy, upbeat son.

Russ was watching the boys, too. “Job’s still open,” he said in that cryptic way he had.

The job in question was for CJ. Russ and Melanie had offered to hire him part-time for the summer, to work at Melanie’s guest ranch, the Hopping H. Russ thought a few hours a day mucking out stables or doing dishes in the ranch house would be good for him.

When Russ had made the initial offer, Connor had turned him down flat. The McFarlane offspring did not do dishes or clean up horse manure. Plus, at that point, Connor had still nurtured the fond hope that CJ might spend his summer catching up on his schoolwork. Just weeks before, the boy had almost been booted out of his expensive New York boarding school due to his suddenly plummeting grades.

However, in the eleven days they’d been in Thunder Canyon, Connor had not seen his son so much as pick up a book. CJ rode his skateboard around town, disappearing for hours at a time, worrying Connor half out of his mind. When he wasn’t vanishing into thin air, he sat in his room and played video games.

Connor had started to wonder if he should reconsider Russ’s job offer. He asked ruefully, “Mind if I think it over a little?”

Russ and Melanie shared a glance. And Russ answered in a neutral tone. “Take your time. The job will be there if you want him to have it.”

A big hand clapped Connor on the back. “Glad you came. Good to see you.”

He turned and greeted Caleb Douglas and his wife, Adele. Silver-haired with cool green eyes, Caleb had suffered poor health in recent years. He still had a booming voice and a hearty manner, but Connor could see the weariness in his face, the deep lines around his eyes. He was half owner of the resort, which meant he would feel duty-bound to show up for big events like this one.

But his heart wasn’t in it anymore. And times were tougher than they had been. Caleb could be convinced to sell. And Connor’s extensive research into the matter had led him to believe that Caleb’s silent partner would go along with whatever Caleb decided.

Yeah, Caleb would sell. Hopefully, before the summer was out.

And for a very reasonable price.

Caleb made small talk for a minute or two, then stepped in close to Connor while Adele chatted up Melanie and Russ.

The older man spoke low so only Connor could hear.

“Come on out to the ranch again. We’ll … talk some more.”

“I’d like that.” Connor smiled.

“Excellent—but next week’s no good. Adele’s dragging me to Hawaii.” Caleb grunted. “Lately Adele’s got some idea that we should travel more. But how about a week from Monday? Dinner, seven-thirty?”

“I’ll be there, thanks.”

A minute or two later, Caleb and his wife moved on.

Next, Grant Clifton appeared with his pretty wife, Stephanie, and a Clifton cousin, Beauregard, who was known as Bo.

Bo was good-looking and talkative, a rancher by trade—and a salesman by nature. “I think we need some fresh ideas in this old town. And that’s why I’m running for mayor.”

Grant laughed. “Come on, Bo. Against Arthur?”

“Arthur Swinton is a staunch conservative,” Melanie explained for Connor’s benefit.

Russ said, “Been in town politics for years.”

Grant added, “Arthur’s on the city council and he’s running for mayor. It’s pretty much a given he’s going to win.”

Bo laughed. “Nothing’s a given, cousin.”

Russ suggested dryly, “Don’t forget death and taxes.”

“You’re right,” agreed Bo. “And for the sales tax we pay around here, we should get more for our money.” Bo went on to explain in detail all the projects he planned to fight for when he won the election.

When Grant and Stephanie finally dragged Bo away, Melanie suggested they start moving in the general direction of the Rib Shack. Connor turned for the wide arch that led through to the restaurant and almost ran into the woman standing behind him.

Slim, with short, wispy, strawberry-blond hair, the woman wore a snug summer dress splashed with vivid pink flowers. He couldn’t see her face. She was turned the other way.

“Tori, hey,” said Melanie, who apparently knew her.

The woman turned to smile at his sister. But the smile faded when she saw him. She gazed up at him warily, through big, bright hazel eyes.

He stifled a groan of embarrassment as he remembered where he’d seen her before.




Chapter Two


Connor felt like a jerk.

Probably because he’d behaved like one the other day.

“Hello,” the woman named Tori said coolly.

Jones, he thought, scouring his brain for the information CJ had reluctantly given up when Connor had grilled him after he got the kid home on Thursday. Her name was Tori Jones and she taught English at the high school. “How are you?” he asked, for lack of anything more original to say.

“Just fine, thank you.” And then, finally, she did smile—over his shoulder, at Melanie. “Hey.” She even smiled at Russ. And she had that teenage girl with her, the one CJ liked, whose name was Jerilyn.

The girl said, “Hi, Mr. McFarlane.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh. Hi, Jerilyn.”

“Is, um, CJ here, too?” Her pretty face was open, guileless. And heartbreakingly hopeful.

His sister said, “Ah. So you’ve met my big brother?”

“Yes, we have,” Tori Jones said sweetly. “Just the other day, as a matter of fact.”

Connor told the dark-haired girl, “CJ’s in the restaurant, with Ryan.”

And Melanie said, “Why don’t you two join us? We were just going in to eat.”

Jerilyn turned her hopeful gaze on the English teacher.

After a moment, Tori nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

So they all went together, easing their way through the crowd toward the packed Rib Shack.

As it turned out, Ryan and CJ had actually managed to save three chairs. CJ jumped up at the sight of Jerilyn. “Jerilyn! Hi.” Suddenly he was only too eager to scout out a couple more seats for the dark-haired girl and her teacher.

They went through the serving line and loaded their plates with ribs, barbecued chicken, fat white rolls and coleslaw. Back at the table, CJ worked it so that Jerilyn sat next to him. The girl seemed to glow with pleasure at CJ’s attention. And CJ behaved almost like his old self, suddenly—smiling and happy, his face animated as he and the girl whispered together.

Connor ended up with Melanie on one side and Tori Jones on the other. Through the meal, his sister and Tori talked around him—about the barbecue and what a success it was, about the resort and how nice it was to see it packed full of people again.

Since Russ had bought the first beers for the four adults, Connor did his bit and went over to the bar to get a second round. He eased in next to a blonde woman, sitting alone, nursing a white wine.

She smiled and leaned close to him. “I’m Erin. Erin Castro.”

Was she coming on to him?

He decided she wasn’t. There was no breathless smile, no fluttering eyelashes. Probably just being friendly. He gave her offered hand a quick shake. “Connor McFarlane.”

She seemed to study his face intently. “No relation to the Traubs, the Cliftons or the Cateses?” She had named the town’s three major families.

He laughed. “No, but they’re thick on the ground around here.”

“So I’ve been told.”

He paid the bartender, gathered up the four beers by their necks and headed back to the table, forgetting about the woman named Erin as soon as he turned away from her. Mostly, he was thinking about Tori Jones.

Thinking that he liked the cute spray of freckles across her nose and those big hazel eyes. Thinking that he owed her an apology for his behavior on Thursday. After all, he was trying to be a better man. And one of the things a better man did was to say he was sorry when an apology was called for.

Sometimes trying to be a better man could be a real pain in the ass.

At the table, he took the chair next to her again and set one of the beers in front of her. “Here you go.”

She met his eyes. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Holding her gaze, he tried a smile. She didn’t smile back. And yet somehow that look they shared went on far too long.

She glanced away first.

He passed fresh ones down the table to Melanie and Russ and tried to think of how he could smoothly suggest that the schoolteacher give him a moment alone.

Smoothly. That was the key. But for some reason, he didn’t feel especially smooth. And that really bugged him. He ran a hotel chain, for pity’s sake. It was part of his job to be smooth when a situation required it.

After the meal, which included red velvet cake and coffee for dessert, DJ Traub got up with a microphone and thanked everyone for coming to his annual summer kickoff barbecue. He introduced his visiting Texas cousins, Dillon and Corey, after which he announced there would be dancing out on the patio. Everyone applauded as DJ left the mike.

CJ stood and pulled back Jerilyn’s chair for her.

Connor snapped to attention. “What’s up?”

His son stiffened. But then Jerilyn gave CJ a gentle look. That was all it took. CJ actually spoke in civil tone. “We were just going to hang around out in the lobby area.”

“If that’s all right,” Jerilyn added, stars in her dark eyes.

“Just the lobby,” Connor warned.

CJ nodded.

Jerilyn promised, “Just the lobby, Mr. McFarlane. By the big fireplace.”

“All right.”

The girl turned her warm smile on Ryan. “Come with us,” she offered softly. CJ looked a little sulky about that, but he didn’t object.

“Sure.” Ryan, his face lit up like a Christmas tree, jumped to his feet and bounced off in the wake of the two older kids.

“She’s a lovely girl,” said Melanie.

On his other side, Tori made a soft noise of agreement.

Out on the patio, the band DJ had hired struck up a country song. Russ took Melanie’s hand and got up. “‘Scuse me while I dance with my beautiful wife.”

Melanie rose. “We’ll be back.” Russ put his arm around her.

Connor watched them make their way through the thicket of tables to the open patio doors, leaving him alone with the cute schoolteacher and his chance to make amends.

How to begin?

He had no clue. He felt awkward, tongue-tied as a kid with his first crush. Which was pretty ridiculous, really. He did not have a crush on Tori Jones. He’d just been put through the wringer with the divorce and the last thing he needed was another relationship.

Deeply annoyed with himself for feeling nervous, and for finding the schoolteacher much too attractive, he stared out through the open doors at the patio and the couples dancing there and started thinking about CJ.

And the girl, Jerilyn.

Jerilyn seemed like a kind-hearted person. And she was certainly polite and respectful of adults. But still, he’d better ask around, find out for certain she was really okay.

Being a full-time father was a challenge. You couldn’t just tell a kid to get with the program or get out, like you could an employee. The cold fact was that Connor’s life had been a damn sight simpler before the divorce, when CJ had been Jennifer’s responsibility and Connor was free to wheel and deal around the clock.

It had been Jennifer’s idea that he should take the boy to live with him for the summer, leaving her free to float around the Mediterranean on a luxury yacht with her new shipping magnate boyfriend. Connor might have refused. But he had felt obligated to spend some time with his son. Yes, it was probably too little too late. But CJ really needed guidance now and Connor was determined to try to provide it.

Beside him, the schoolteacher shifted in her chair. The movement reminded him that he couldn’t avoid facing her forever—and that to keep staring off into space while she was sitting right next to him was borderline rude.

He turned to her.

Those hazel eyes were waiting. A slight, knowing smile tipped the corners of her mouth and he realized she’d been watching him.

“What?” he demanded, knowing he sounded as surly as CJ did most of the time.

She only shrugged, a delicate movement of one slim shoulder.

“All right,” he said. “It’s like this. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you I’m sorry for my behavior Thursday afternoon. I wanted to be smooth about it, you know?”

Damn. What was the matter with him? Had he actually just said out loud that he wanted to be smooth?

Apparently, he had, because she repeated, “Smooth, huh?”

“You’re grinning,” he accused.

She tipped her head to the side. “You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re embarrassed.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “A McFarlane is never cute and very rarely embarrassed.”

She laughed then, a full-throated, musical sound.

He heard himself say, “You’ve got a great laugh.”

Her laughter faded as quickly as it had come. She tipped her strawberry-blond head the other way and said softly, “Your apology is accepted. I know you must have been worried sick.”

He answered honestly, “Yeah. I was.” And then he actually confessed, “Sometimes, lately, I wonder where my son went—and I don’t only mean when he disappears on his skateboard and I don’t know where to find him.”

“Teenagers can be a challenge.”

“It’s more than that. You should have known him before …” He let the sentence die unfinished. This woman did not need to hear about his broken marriage.

“It will work out,” she said. “Just give it time.”

He chuckled low. “Is that a promise?”

“Let’s call it a professional assessment. I deal with kids his age nine months out of the year and I can spot the ones who are just going through a tough phase. CJ’s one of those.”

“You think so?”

“I do. And it’s good that you’re spending time with him.”

“I hope you’re right. He mostly behaves like he wishes I would get lost and stay that way.”

“Don’t believe that. He needs you. Maybe he can’t— or doesn’t know how to—show you. But it matters to him, that you’re around and you care.”

Another long moment passed. He looked into those big eyes and she gazed back at him. Finally, he said, “Thanks. I appreciate a little reassurance.”

“Anytime.”

He leaned a little closer to her, got a whiff of her fresh, citrusy perfume. And it suddenly occurred to him that she would be the one to tell him all about Jerilyn. And he did need to know more about the girl, since CJ seemed so gone on her. “I’ve got a great idea.”

The hazel eyes widened. “You do?”

“Yeah. Dinner. You and me. This coming Friday.”

She seemed to realize she’d let him get too close and sat back away from him. “Oh. No, really—”

“Yeah. Really. I promise not to yell or say rude things.”

“Bad idea. Seriously. Bad.”

“What’s bad about it?”

She considered for a moment. “Okay, bad isn’t the right word. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Call it … instinct.”

He laughed. “Your instincts tell you not to go out with me? “

“Yeah. They do.”

Should he have been discouraged? He wasn’t. He saw the flush of color on her smooth cheeks and knew he could change her mind. “Come on. Take a chance. Friday night, the Gallatin Room right here at the resort. I’ve heard the food’s pretty good.”

She laughed again, a softer laugh than the one before, but no less warm, no less musical. “You high-powered types don’t take no for an answer.”

“So say yes.”

Her gaze slid away—and then came back to meet his.

He pressed the advantage. “It’s only dinner. What can it hurt?”

Something happened in her eyes. A decision. In his favor. “Good point.” She gave him a nod.

“A yes,” he said, and felt absurdly triumphant. “You just said yes.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth and then shifted up again, to his eyes. “You remember where I live?”

“I’ll never forget.”

“Seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You’re going out with Connor McFarlane?” Allaire asked in complete disbelief. “Tell me you’re joking.” She leaned close across the lacy tablecloth. It was Monday at noon. They were having their regular girls-only lunch at the Tottering Teapot on Main Street. DJ was home with Alex so Allaire could have a little time for herself.

The Teapot was famous for really good vegetarian sandwiches and an endless variety of teas, both caffeinated and herbal. All the tables had lace cloths and the food was served on mismatched thrift-store china. Not many men in town ate at the Teapot, but the women loved it.

“Not joking. I’m having dinner with him Friday night.” Tori kept her voice low. No reason everyone and their sister needed to hear this conversation.

Allaire demanded, “Why ask for trouble?”

“Because I kind of like him. He can be really charming when he’s not terrified something’s happened to his son.”

“He’s a shark. He’s trying to take over the resort.”

“It’s just a rumor. You said so yourself.”

“Watch. Wait. You’ll see it’s more that a rumor.”

“Doesn’t matter. I like him and I’m going out with him—and will you stop? It’s only a date. Not a lifetime commitment.”

Allaire pursed her lips in an expression of serious distaste. “You like him a lot. I can see it in your eyes.”

“In my eyes? Oh, please.”

Allaire leaned even closer. “Yep. Right there.” She aimed her index and middle fingers directly at Tori and sighted down them. “I can see it. You’ve got a thing for Mr. Bigshot McFarlane.”

Tori waved a hand. “Stop worrying. I’ll have a nice dinner and some good conversation. That’s all, nothing more.”

Allaire made a scoffing sound, but had to quell the rest of the lecture because Haley Anderson came in. In her mid-twenties, Haley went to college part-time and worked at the Hitching Post down the street, a local bar and also a town landmark. She spotted them and Tori waved her over.

“Good news.” Haley was beaming. As a rule, she wasn’t the beaming type. She’d had a rough time of it, raising her two younger siblings after their parents died. But today, her smile lit up the whole restaurant.

Allaire guessed, “You found a place.”

Haley beamed wider. “The price is right and it’s just down the street.”

Tori thought she knew where. “That vacant storefront down the block from the Hitching Post? “

“That’s the one. I met with the property manager, made an offer that’s a little lower than what they’re asking.”

“And?”

“The owner’s not in town. The property manager will consult with him and I should get my answer in the next few weeks.” Haley hugged herself. “I can just feel it, you know? This is it.”

Haley Anderson had a dream. Her dream was called ROOTS. It was to be a sort of Outward Bound/Big Brother organization to help troubled teens. Getting the storefront would mean she had a home base from which to launch the program.

She asked Allaire, “Did you talk with the principal?” She meant at the high school.

Allaire nodded. “He said to bring him a proposal when you’re all set up. He really can’t do much until then. You should definitely be able to put up flyers around the school, though. I mean, once you’re up and running and can show what you’re offering.”

“Of course. I understand.” Haley gave a nervous laugh. “I guess I’m kind of getting ahead of myself.”

Tori reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s good to think ahead. And it’s a fine project, an important one.”

“We’ll help all we can,” Allaire promised.

Haley went on beaming. “I knew I could count on you two.”

The little bell over the door chimed again. It was Melanie Chilton. Ignoring Tori’s warning look, Allaire waved her over.

“Join us.” Allaire gave Connor’s sister a big, sweet smile.

“Only for a minute.” Melanie slid in next to Tori. “I’ve got to get back to the Hopping H.” The waitress appeared. They all ordered, with Melanie asking for hers to go. When the waitress left, Melanie asked Allaire, “So how was the weekend reunion?”

“The mini reunion,” Allaire corrected. “Just the local Traubs and Corey and Dillon. It went great. Both of DJ’s cousins say they’ll be back in town soon.”

“Tell DJ we loved the barbecue. We had a wonderful time.”

“So I heard,” said Allaire, sending a meaningful look Tori’s way.

Melanie glanced at Tori and then back at Allaire. “Okay. What am I not picking up on here?”

Allaire gave an airy wave of her hand. “Oh, nothing.”

Tori glared at her, mostly in fun. “You are impossible.”

Now Allaire was grinning. “So I’ve been told.”

“What’s going on?” Haley demanded. Tori realized it was kind of silly to try to keep the date with Connor to herself. Everyone in town would know anyway, after she showed up at the resort with him on Friday night. “Connor asked me out to dinner. I said yes. It’s not a big deal, but Allaire is trying to make it one.”

Melanie blinked. And then she grinned. “I thought there was something going on with you two.”

Tori frowned. Everyone seemed to know something she didn’t. “You did?”

Haley asked Melanie, “Connor. That’s your brother, right?”

Melanie nodded and told Haley what Tori and Allaire already knew. “He’s in town for the summer.” And then she lowered her voice so only their table could hear. “He’s always been … difficult to get along with, at least, for me. He and my father looked down on me. No matter how hard I worked, I was never good enough, never man enough, to be an equal partner in McFarlane House Hotels. But Connor’s been surprising me lately. He’s different, since his divorce, since he and our father had to sell a couple of failing locations, including the new Atlanta hotel, just to stay afloat.”

“You’re saying you believe Connor’s changed?” asked Allaire, sounding annoyingly doubtful.

“I do,” said Melanie. “Or at least, he’s not nearly as overbearing as he used to be. Now and then, in the past few days, I even get the feeling he’s actually listening to me. And to Russ.” And then she chuckled wryly. “My father, though. Donovan McFarlane is a man who’ll never change.”

“Thunder Canyon, Montana,” Donovan McFarlane growled in disgust. “It’s a black hole, Connor, and you know it.”

Connor reminded himself to breathe slowly and evenly. He ordered his fingers to hold the phone more loosely. “I can get a good deal on the resort. But I need a little time to work on Caleb Douglas, to show him how the best decision for him is to sell.”

“McFarlane House does not need a resort in some tiny Montana town. I’ve seen the numbers on that location. They’re not good, trending down.”

“Everything’s trending down lately.” Even McFarlane House, Connor thought. “Once we’re in charge, we’ll start making the necessary changes to get the resort in the black again. We’ll cut back, at first, focus on the strongest services, get rid of any staff that isn’t ready to—”

“Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but I don’t like it. First your sister, and now you. Throwing over your life work, your heritage.”

“Dad. I’m not throwing anything over.”

As usual, Donovan wasn’t listening “—your sister with her ridiculous dude ranch, you with your sudden burning need to buy that failing resort.”

“The Hopping H is doing very well, thanks, Dad. And we agreed that the resort could work for us.”

“I agreed to no such thing. I do not care in the least about that resort. I want you back here in Philadelphia right away. I need you here.” It was a bald-faced lie. Donovan McFarlane could run the McFarlane House corporate office with one hand tied behind his back and a bag over his head.

“I’ll be there next week for the monthly—”

“Not next week. Now. You’re welcome to stay with us until you can find another house. Your mother would be only too happy to have you nearby again. Why you had to give Jennifer your house is beyond me.”

“It was her house, too, Dad.”

“What about the prenup? We both know what that prenup said. She had no right to that house. And then she went and sold it, anyway.”

“Dad, let’s not rehash all this again.”

“All right. Come home. You could have at least kept that condo.”

“Dad. We discussed this. I sold the condo because when I come back in the fall, I’m going to find another house.”

“I’ve reevaluated and I want—”

“Well, I haven’t. Except for the specific meetings and catch-up visits we agreed on two weeks ago, I’m here in Thunder Canyon for the summer with my son.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line. A deadly one. Finally, Donovan said, “You could just send Connor Jr. back to school. A summer without distractions, time to focus on his studies. Do the boy a world of good.”

“Dad.”

“Ahem. What is it?”

“I’m spending the summer here in Thunder Canyon and so is CJ. End of discussion.”

“You’re very stubborn. You don’t get that from me.”

Connor almost laughed. It would have been a sound with zero humor in it. “I have to go now, Dad. See you next week.” Connor disconnected the call before his father could start issuing more orders.

And then he just stood there, in the study of his rented house, staring blindly out the window at the snowcapped peak of Thunder Mountain in the distance. There had been a time, not that long ago, when he and his dad saw eye to eye on just about every issue.

But now, whenever he talked to Donovan, he hung up wanting to put his fist through a wall. Donovan just didn’t get it. Times were changing and a man either swam with the tide or drowned.

Sometimes Connor thought he was a survivor, that he really was changing, working his way toward a better life for himself and the son he’d neglected for too long.

And sometimes he knew he was kidding himself, that he was actually drowning, going under for the third time and still telling himself he had both feet firmly planted on solid ground.




Chapter Three


“Roses.” The schoolteacher looked up at him through those amazing hazel eyes. “You actually brought flowers.”

He blinked. “What? That’s bad?”

“No, of course not. It’s lovely.”

He handed them over.

“Thank you.” She said it softly. She seemed to mean it. “I should put them in water, huh?”

“Good idea.”

She stepped back from the doorway. “Come on in.”

So he followed her, admiring the view of her trim backside in a slim-fitting red dress as she led the way through a comfortable-looking great room, back to an open kitchen with turquoise-blue walls and old-fashioned counters of white ceramic tile.

She opened a cupboard by the sink and pointed at the top shelf. “See that square vase? Could you reach it for me?”

He got it down and she filled it with water and put the roses in it, tugging at them this way and that until she had them arranged to her satisfaction. “So pretty …”

He completely agreed, though it wasn’t precisely the flowers he was looking at.

She slanted him a look. “Want a drink? I have a variety of organic juices. And I think I have an old bottle of vodka around here somewhere … a screwdriver. I could make you one of those.” She looked so pleased with herself, he almost said yes, just to stand in her turquoise kitchen and watch her bustling around, mixing the drink for him.

Then again … “I’m not really a screwdriver kind of guy.”

“Well, okay.” She carried the vase over to the breakfast nook and put it in the center of the table. “Ta-da. Looks beautiful.”

“Yes, it does.”

“You ready?”

“After you.”

Tori loved the Gallatin Room. She’d only been there a few times, once before on a date and also for a couple of parties. It was the best restaurant at the resort—really, in all of Thunder Canyon—and had a beautiful view of tall, majestic evergreens and the top of Thunder Mountain. It also had a massive stone fireplace, one that wasn’t quite as large as the one in the main lobby. But impressive, nonetheless.

The host led them to a really good table, by the fireplace, with a view of the mountain and the spectacular sky, shot now with orange and gold as the sun set. A waiter came to take their drink orders. Connor ordered Scotch, the really good kind that was older than Tori. She asked for a glass of white wine.

The drinks appeared instantly. They sat and sipped and watched the sunset.

She said what she was thinking. “I love this restaurant.”

His dark eyes made a quick scan of the beautiful room. “It’s slow for a Friday evening, don’t you think?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“The Scotch is perfect. And the service so far is excellent. It’ll be interesting to see how good the food is. As a rule, it’s the first thing to slip.”

“Uh, slip?”

He sipped his Scotch slowly. “When traffic declines.”

She knew what he meant, but still she teased, “Traffic?”

He set down his glass and regarded her lazily. “When business slows down.”

She stared at his fingers, which were still wrapped around the crystal glass. They were very nice fingers. Long. Lean. Strong-looking. “Hotelier to the core, huh?”

He didn’t deny it. On the contrary, he gave her a rueful smile as he turned his crystal glass and stared down at the amber liquid inside. “I think it’s in the blood. My father would certainly say it is.”

She suddenly craved total honesty—no matter how unwise. “Your sister says your father’s overbearing. And that he’ll never change.”

“Melanie’s become way too frank in the past couple of years.”

“I really like frankness in a person. I also heard you’re in town to buy out this resort, after which you’ll change everything around and fire half the staff.”

“Who said that?” His voice was flat.

“It doesn’t matter. Is it true?”

“Don’t believe every rumor you hear.” He studied her—a long, considering look.

“You’re not going to answer my question, are you?” She sipped her wine again, set the glass down. “Never mind. I think you are in town to buy this resort. Feel free to tell me I’m wrong.”

He staunchly refused to confirm or deny her suspicions. “I’m here to spend time getting to know my sister and her family. And above all, for my son. I’ve neglected CJ for much too long. I’m hoping it’s not too late to heal the breach between us.”

She believed he was telling the truth about his son. “It’s not too late,” she said softly. “It’s never too late.”

Those dark eyes went soft—but only for a split second. And then they were cool and watchful again. “You’re an optimist.”

“And proud of it.” She picked up the leather-bound menu and set it back down without opening it. “It matters, Connor. That you care about your son, that you show him you care. And I admire you for figuring out that you need to spend time with him, no matter how long it took you to realize that.”

His gaze was locked hard on hers. “I didn’t figure it out. Not by myself, anyway. If my ex-wife hadn’t demanded that I take him for the summer, I wouldn’t have.”

“But you did take him. You could have simply refused.”

He almost smiled. “You insist on making me seem a better man than I am.”

“Hey.” She raised her glass to him. “Gives you something to live up to.”

He did smile then. And he picked up his menu and opened it to study the offerings within. She opened hers, too.

The waiter appeared when they set their menus down again. They ordered. Connor asked for a bottle of cabernet to go with the meal.

The wine steward hustled over to confer with Connor. Once the choice was made, the wine had to be tasted. Connor nodded his approval. The waiter served them each a glass. He left the bottle, wrapped in a white cloth, within easy reach.

The food came—appetizers, salads and then the main course. Connor had prime rib, she had the trout. Tori found it all delicious, every last bite. If the quality was going downhill, she couldn’t tell.

He asked her about her childhood. She told him of her mother’s early death and her father’s extended depression following the loss.

“Must have been a hard time.”

“It was. But we got through it.” She spoke of her half brothers and her stepmother. “My dad’s happy now. It all worked out.”

“What does your dad do?”

“He’s a psychiatrist in Denver. Nowadays he does a lot of pro bono work, helping people deal with grief after the loss of a loved one.”

“He would be the one to understand what they’re going through, huh?”

“Yes. He understands.”

“You admire him.”

“I do. Very much.”

“You were raised in …?”

“Denver, mostly. I moved here about three years ago.”

“And you love it.”

“Yep. I plan to live in Thunder Canyon till I’m old and gray.”

Eventually, the talk got back around to CJ. He said, “My brother-in-law wants CJ to go to work part-time at the Hopping H.”

“Doing …?”

“Whatever’s needed. Dishes. Clearing tables after meals, feeding livestock.”

“You sound reluctant.”

“I have been, yeah. But lately I’m thinking maybe a job would be a good thing, a way to make sure CJ has a little structure, you know?”

“I think it’s a great idea. Teaches him responsibility, gives him a schedule he has to keep. And a little extra pocket change. What’s not to like?”

“Well, when you put it that way …” His eyes were soft again. Was that admiration she saw in them? Maybe so, because then he said, “I like the way you dress. In bright colors. Kind of … fun.” The way he said fun made her absolutely certain that there hadn’t been a lot of that in his life.

“I like things bright,” she said. “And cheerful.”

“And optimistic.”

“Yep. That, too.” She wondered about his ex-wife, about what had happened between them that it didn’t work out.

But no way was she asking about the ex on a first date. She’d been out with enough men to know the red flags, and a guy talking too much about his ex when a woman hardly knew him was definitely a bad sign. Usually that meant he wasn’t over the other woman yet.

He said, “You’re looking much too thoughtful.”

“Just considering the various conversational booby traps.”

“Such as?”

“If I told you, you’d probably only wish I hadn’t— and if you didn’t wish I hadn’t, that would be a total red flag.”

“I think I’m confused.”

“I think I’ve been on too many first dates.”

He laughed. “What? Things never work out for you romantically? I have a hard time believing that.”

“Was that compliment?”

“Only the truth as I see it.”

She felt absurdly flattered. And her cheeks were warm. And she could sit there forever, looking across the table into Connor McFarlane’s sexy, dark eyes, letting the sound of his deep, warm voice pour over her. She said, “It’s not that things don’t work out for me. It’s just, I rarely say no to a first date. So I go on quite a few.”

“And second dates?”

“I look at it this way. A first date is one thing. But why say yes to a second when the spark isn’t there?”

His gaze remained locked with hers. “I completely agree.”

The waiter came and whisked away their plates. He offered dessert. They both passed, but he had coffee and she took hot tea.

Connor said, “So tell me about Jerilyn. What’s her background?”

Something in the way he said that, What’s her background? had Tori snapping to wary attention. “Jerilyn’s a terrific person. Brilliant. Loving. Thoughtful. A straight-A student.”

He sipped his coffee. “You sound defensive.”

“And you sound like a snob trying to find out if Jerilyn’s background measures up.”

“Tori.” His voice was gentle, understanding, even. “She seems like a fine girl.”

“She is a fine girl.”

“And yes, I was wondering about her background.”

She poured Earl Grey from the small china teapot into an eggshell-thin cup. “Similar to mine, actually. Her mom died a year ago and her father’s having trouble coping.”

“What does her father do?”

She looked into his eyes again. And she did not smile. “Butch Doolin is the maintenance engineer at the high school.”

“The janitor, you mean.”

“It’s honest work, Connor.”

“Did I say it wasn’t?”

Instead of answering him, she sipped her tea. When she gently set the cup back in the saucer, she said, “CJ likes Jerilyn, a lot.”

“I noticed.”

“And she likes him.”

“He’s too young for a girlfriend.” His voice was gruff.

She argued, “He’s old enough to be interested in a girl—in Jerilyn, specifically—which means he’s not too young.”

“I just don’t want him getting into anything serious. Not at his age.”

“And especially not with a janitor’s daughter.” She didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

He sat very still, watching her face. Finally he said, “You’re angry.”

“Yes. I just saw a side of you I don’t like. The elitist side.”

“A person’s background does matter.” His voice was coaxing and kind. She wished she could agree with him, because she really did like him, was seriously attracted to him.

Talk about sparks …

But she couldn’t pretend to agree when she didn’t. “Background matters up to a point, yes. I wish it didn’t, but I’m at least something of a realist. However, what matters most is who that person is. And Jerilyn Doolin is everything I just said she was and more. She’s a special girl. It says a lot about your son that he would show the good taste and judgment to have his first big crush on someone like her.”

He sat back in his chair and put up both hands. “Okay. I give up. You’ve convinced me. Jerilyn Doolin is a wonderful girl. CJ is lucky she’s interested in him.”

Most of her defensive tension drained away. She hid a triumphant smile. “About time you realized that.”

“Maybe so.” He still looked doubtful.

“But?”

“I’m just not happy about it. CJ can’t afford the distraction.”

“Distraction? Boys have been falling for girls since the beginning of time. That’s not going to change just because you’re not happy about it.”

“The last thing CJ needs right now is to get too involved with a girl—any girl.”

“Connor, he likes her. She likes him. You can’t make that go away. In fact, in my experience, which is reasonably extensive given that I work with teenagers for a living, the more the parents try to come between a young couple, the more the attraction grows.” Tori spoke with intensity. With passion, even.

He was staring at her, frowning.

Was she becoming a little too emotional over this? Maybe. But she really believed what she was saying and she wanted to get through to the hardheaded man across from her, to get him to understand. She feared if he didn’t, he would only be making things worse for CJ.

“Romeo and Juliet,” she declared vehemently. “Wuthering Heights, Titanic. Think of all the books and plays and movies about passionate, thwarted young love. It only leads to heartbreak when the grown-ups decide to interfere.”

He leaned toward her again. “So, Tori.”

“What?” she demanded hotly.

“Tell me what you really think.”

She blinked. And then she laughed. He laughed, too. “Okay,” she admitted. “I try to be open-minded, but when I really believe something, I advocate for it, you know?”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

She qualified wryly, “Up to a point, you mean.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He was watching her mouth again. “Up to a point.” The words trailed off. A few seconds of silence elapsed—a silence filled with sparks. Finally, he confessed, “Sometimes I’m at a loss, you know? I have no idea how to get through to my own son.”

“Are you asking for my advice?”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Okay, then. Here’s what I think you should do. Take Russ up on his offer to put CJ to work at the Hopping H. And then tell CJ to invite Jerilyn over to your house.”

“Over to the house for what?”

“To visit, to hang out. You know, play video games or watch a movie. Make your son feel that his new friends are welcome at home. Let him know that you’re on his side. Start changing the equation from you versus him to you supporting him and really taking into account what he wants and needs.”

“Seems to me I already support him.”

She let her exasperation show. “You mean by buying him every electronic gadget under the sun and then being frustrated because all he does is play video games?”

“What?” Rueful humor shone in his eyes. “I should take away his Xbox?”

“I can’t answer that question. You might just widen the rift at this point by denying him something you gave him in the first place.”

“Actually, I think that was Jennifer—my ex-wife—who gave him the Xbox.”

“Ah. Blaming the ex, huh?”

He shook his head. “Does nothing get by you?”

“Hey, I teach high-school English. Without a sharply honed sense of what’s bull and what’s not, I wouldn’t make it through the first week of a new semester.”

He gave in. “Okay, okay. I’ll ask CJ to have Jerilyn over and I’ll take Russ up on his offer, get CJ working at Melanie’s guest ranch. Anything else?”

Tori laughed. “I’ll be in touch with further suggestions.”

Entranced. Captivated. Enchanted.

They were words straight out of some women’s novel.

But as Connor sat across that table from Tori Jones, he couldn’t help thinking that those words exactly described what the small-town schoolteacher did to him. He might as well stop trying to tell himself he wasn’t interested. He was powerfully drawn to her.

Clearly, he should have dated more when he was younger.

He’d married Jennifer while they were both in college. Because she was from the right family and she was gorgeous and ready to get married to the right kind of man. A man with money and good breeding equal to her own. It had seemed a very suitable match. The perfect match.

Plus, with the marrying and the settling down out of the way early, he’d been free to concentrate on his career in the family company. He’d never looked at another woman during his marriage. He had a wife and a son, a beautiful home—and his ambitions for McFarlane House, which were considerable. What else was there?

Just possibly, a whole lot more, he was discovering.

There had been a couple of other women, since Jennifer walked out on him. The sex had been good with them, which it never really had been with Jennifer. But he had never been entranced. Or captivated. Or enchanted.

Until now.

He wanted her—her, Tori Jones, in particular. Not just someone suitably attractive and well-bred, as Jennifer had been. Not just someone sophisticated, sexually exciting and discreet, which pretty much described the two women he’d dated after his marriage had crashed and burned.

It came to him that he … he liked this woman. And that feeling was new to him. He liked her quick wit, her wisdom and her big heart. He liked the passion in her voice when she talked about things she believed in.

He liked her. And suddenly it mattered all out of proportion that she might like him, too.

Was he losing it? He couldn’t help but wonder. Was he cracking under the strain—of the soured economy, the McFarlane House setbacks, his divorce, the scary changes in his son? Of the changes he’d decided he needed to make in his life and himself?

Strangely, right then, on his first date with Tori Jones, he didn’t care if he just might be going over the edge. He was having a great time—having fun, of all things—and he didn’t want it to end.

They lingered at the table for over an hour after the meal was finished, talking and laughing, sharing glances that said a lot more than their words did. Finally, reluctantly, he took her home.

At her house, hating to let her go, he walked her up to the door.

She turned to him and said what he’d been praying she might. “Want to come in for a minute?”

He held her gaze, nodded. They shared a warm smile.

Inside, she offered coffee. He accepted, more as a matter of form than because he needed any extra caffeine.

She made more tea for herself and they went out to her comfortable great room and sat on the sofa. He drank the coffee he didn’t really want and thought about kissing her, about holding her in his arms.

About how, once he did that, he would have a hard time letting go.

“I should say goodbye,” he finally admitted aloud. “It’s almost midnight.”

“You sure you don’t want another cup of coffee?” Those hazel eyes teased him.

“I’m sure.” He rose and held down his hand to her. “And it wasn’t the coffee I came in for, anyway.”

She put her fingers in his. The contact was electric. He had to remind himself forcefully that he was not going to grab her against him and crush her mouth with his. “I’m glad,” she said softly as she stood.

He couldn’t resist. He lowered his head. She tilted her mouth upward, the sweetest kind of offering.

And, at last, he brushed her lips with his own. Her fresh scent surrounded him and her mouth was soft as rose petals.

She was the one who kept him from deepening that first, too-short kiss. She did that by lowering her head slightly, and taking a step back.

He didn’t know whether to applaud her good sense— or reach out and haul her near again. And then she was turning, leading him to the door. He followed.

Out on her front porch, the night was dark velvet.

She touched his arm. The light caress seemed to burn all the way to his soul. “Thank you,” she said. “I had a really good time tonight.”

“Sunday,” he said, his voice lower, rougher than he should have allowed it to be.

“What about it?” She gazed up at him. In her eyes, he saw that if he tried to kiss her again, she would let him.

He didn’t try. A little restraint never hurt—or so he told himself. “Melanie’s having us out to the Hopping H for a picnic Sunday. CJ and me.”

“Great,” she said approvingly. “That’s what I’m talking about. Make opportunities to spend quality time with him.”

“Come with us.”

A slight frown tightened her brow and she tipped her head to the side, studying him. “Are you sure? It sounds more like a family thing.”

“I’m sure. Come with us. You can keep an eye on me, see how I’m doing, interacting with CJ. Then later, you can give me more advice.”

She laughed, the sound like a song in the night. “Oh, so that’s it. You want me around to help you improve your relationship with to CJ.”

“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Come with us.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re after more than parenting advice from me? “

“Wait.”

“For what?”

“For this.” He dared to take her gently by the arms and pull her against him. And then he kissed her a second time. A longer kiss. Deeper, too. He wanted to go on like that, kissing her forever in the cool almost-summer darkness. But then he remembered that he was exercising restraint and carefully put her away from him. “I would call that a spark. A definite spark.”

“Yeah,” she answered breathlessly, her eyes bright as stars. “Guess so.”

“So, then. I get a second date, right?”

Her expression turned a little bit sad. “Connor. It’s problematic. You know it is.”

He told her the straight-ahead truth. “I want to see you again—and not so you can help me out with CJ.”

Her eyes widened. But then her soft mouth twisted. “It’s only—”

“Say it. Tell me. I can’t overcome your objections if you don’t tell me what they are.”

“Oh, Connor. You’re here for the summer and then you’ll be gone.”

“Just like CJ, with Jerilyn. Why is that okay for them, but not for us?”

“Well, because they’re kids and we’re not.”

“And because we’re not kids, we have to live for the future. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“No, not exactly. I’m just saying that a summer romance is one thing for two fifteen-year-olds. For adults, it’s—”

“What? You won’t let yourself live in the moment just because you’re all grown up?”

She laughed. “You know, Connor. You can be incredibly persuasive when you put your mind to it.”

Triumph flared within him, a sudden bright heat. He was sure he had her. “So that means you’ll come with us?”

She glanced out toward the velvety night beyond the porch, and then met his eyes again. “There’s something else.”

The flare of triumph died. But he refused to give up. “Tell me.”

“I … get a sense that you’re a good man deep down. But, well, you’re still one of those guys who think they own the world, someone who doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as he gets what he wants.”

Apparently one of her friends had been saying harsh things about him. Probably whichever friend had told her he was trying to buy out the resort. He wasn’t particularly surprised. “Ouch,” he said lightly. “Don’t feel you have to pull any punches.”

“I don’t. I won’t.”

“I noticed.” He still wasn’t giving up. “You do believe I’m an okay guy—at least, essentially, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Forget the buts. Just go with that. After all, it’s only a second date. Being essentially a good guy should be enough to get me a second date with you—I mean, given the all-important presence of the spark.”

“You are incredibly persistent, you know that?”

“I can be, when I want something bad enough.”

She moistened her lips. “Um, how bad is bad enough?”

He thought again about another kiss. But he didn’t try for one. He only gazed down at her, steadily, trying his best to look both determined and hopeful.

She sighed. “You’re right, I suppose.”

“Of course I am,” he declared with firmness. And then he arched a brow at her. “Er, right about what?”

That soft mouth was trying really hard not to smile. “Well, that it’s only a second date. And there is the spark—”

“Exactly. Come with us on Sunday.”

She did smile then. For Connor, that smile was like the sun coming out on a rainy day. “Yes,” she said. “All right.”

Now he had what he wanted, he almost couldn’t believe it. He stared down at her, speechless.

“What are you thinking?” she demanded, when several seconds had passed without a single word from him.

“You said yes.”

“You’re surprised?” Her eyes sparkled.

“I guess I am.”

“Well, Connor, you were very convincing—but there is a condition.”

“Name it.”

“I’m inviting Jerilyn, too.”




Chapter Four


Connor drove home in a pleasant haze of satisfaction. In spite of her objections, Tori had agreed to a second date. He felt pleased all out of proportion.

And Sunday wouldn’t be the end of it. There would be a third date. And a fourth. And more after that. He was certain of it. The summer ahead was looking potentially brighter and more enjoyable than he ever would have imagined.

Until tonight, he’d seen this summer as a series of unpleasant but necessary steps, of things that he needed to do to get his life back on track: to try to get to know his son, to be a better brother to his sister. And to acquire a new property in tough times and make that property profitable in spite of everything.

Now, there was pleasure involved, too. Because of a certain strawberry-blonde schoolteacher with a cute smattering of freckles across her nose.

At home, Gerda, his live-in housekeeper, was already in bed. Light bled out from under the door of CJ’s room. Connor listened for the sounds of weapons firing and objects exploding.

Nothing. Just silence. CJ probably had his headphones on.

He looked at his watch. Almost one.

With a weary sigh, he tapped on the door. No answer. He tapped again, louder.

“What?” Muffled, annoyed, from inside.

Connor pushed the door open and went in.

As expected, CJ sat on the end of the bed, fully dressed, wearing headphones and working a controller. “What?” Eyes on the screen, thumbs flying.

Connor said nothing. He went over and sat next to his son on the bed. He watched the violence on the silent screen while CJ continued to play his game.

Several minutes passed. Connor felt his own impatience rise. He ignored it. He breathed slowly and evenly and he stared at the screen, sitting absolutely still.

Finally, CJ paused the game, took off his headphones, and glared at him. “I asked you, what?”

Connor spoke in a friendly tone. “I had a date with Tori Jones tonight. Had a really good time, too.”

CJ gaped. For some reason, Connor found his son’s surprise inordinately satisfying. “Ms. Jones? She went out with you?”

Connor played it cool. “That’s right. And she’s coming with us to the picnic Sunday.”

“What picnic?” CJ pretended not to remember, though Connor had told him more than once that they were going.

“Out at the Hopping H.”

“Oh, great.” Meaning it wasn’t. “Forget it, okay? I’m not going to any picnic out at Aunt Melanie’s ranch.”

“Suit yourself.”

CJ slanted him a suspicious look; Connor usually didn’t give in that easily.

Connor got up and crossed to the door, turning back to deliver the zinger. “I’m sure Jerilyn will be sorry you couldn’t make it.” He stepped over the threshold.

CJ stopped him before he shut the door behind him. “Okay, wait.”

Connor faced the room again. “It’s late. Turn off the game and go to sleep.”

“You’re serious.” CJ squinted at him, as though trying to see inside his head. “Jerilyn will be there.”

If she accepts Tori’s invitation.“I’m serious.”

“Okay, fine. I guess I don’t mind going.”

Connor remembered Tori’s advice. “Another thing.”

“What?” CJ asked in a guarded mumble.

“You should ask Jerilyn to come over to the house. And any other new friends you’ve made in town.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know, just to … hang out. Plus, I’d like to get to know your friends a little.”

CJ frowned as he turned Connor’s suggestion over in his mind, no doubt looking for the catch. He found it. “Get to know them? Why? So you can ask them all kinds of questions?”

Connor suppressed a sigh. “No. Because they’re your friends, that’s all. I would like to meet your friends.”

CJ thought about that for a minute. Apparently, he found Connor’s reasoning acceptable. He gave out a grudging, “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. And go to bed.”

“Oh, all right.” CJ grabbed the remote and turned off the flatscreen.

“Good night,” said Connor, as he pulled the door shut after him.

Faintly, he heard his son mutter, “Night.”

In the morning, after breakfast, Connor shut the door to his study and called his sister. One of the college girls she had helping out at the ranch for the summer answered the phone.

“Hi, Mr. McFarlane. She’s in the dining room, visiting with the guests.”

“Have her call me when she gets a moment.”

“Hold on. She just came into the kitchen …”

Then Melanie was on the line. “Connor. Hi.”

“You sound breathless.”

“We’ve got a full house.” Even in the lagging economy, she was making the Hopping H pay. “And it’s Saturday breakfast, which is always hectic.”

“Just called to give you a heads-up. About tomorrow? I invited two more people. I hope that’s okay.”

“No problem. The more the merrier. Who? Do I know them?”

“Tori Jones and Jerilyn Doolin.”

“Ah,” Melanie said. It was a very knowing kind of sound.

“What does ah mean?”

“Not a thing.”

“Liar.”

“Well, if you must know, I ran into Tori at the Tottering Teapot last Monday.”

“The Tottering Teapot. Is that a restaurant?”

“That’s right. On Main. We all love it.”

“We?”

“It’s more of a woman’s kind of place, actually,” she explained. That news didn’t surprise him in the least. “Lots of fresh salads. About a thousand different varieties of tea.”

“I get the picture,” he said without a lot of enthusiasm. “So you talked with Tori …”

“I did. She mentioned she was going out with you. And Grant dropped by early this morning. You two were spotted in the Gallatin Room last night.”

He shook his head, though his sister couldn’t see. “News travels at the speed of light around this town.”

“It does, absolutely.” Melanie lowered her voice. “Did you enjoy the evening? Isn’t Tori great? I’m glad to see you dating again. It’s about time.”

“I did. She is. And come on. It’s only been a year since the divorce. For your information, I have dated before last night, though the two other women I spent time with were nothing like Tori Jones.”

“You never told me.” She faked a hurt tone.

And suddenly, he could see her as she was at seven or eight years old. A skinny little red-headed thing, wanting attention from her big brother. And never getting it.

He swallowed down the sudden lump of guilt in his throat and kidded her, “Melanie, no matter how well we get along now, I’m not telling you everything.”

“And just when I thought I knew all your secrets.” Her joking tone turned distracted. “Hold on a minute …” He heard her giving instructions to someone. Then she came back on the line. “Where were we?”

“I’m not going to keep you. But I did want to ask …”

“What? Name it.”

“About that job offer Russ made, for CJ?”

“Still open. Just say the word.”

“Great. But I’m thinking CJ’s more likely to agree to the idea if it comes straight from you—or from anyone but me. Somehow, whatever I say to him nowadays, he thinks it’s an order. An order he’s honor-bound to reject out of hand.”

“All right, then. Sunday, when the time is right, I’ll offer him a job.”

Tori called Jerilyn at nine Saturday morning to invite her to the Sunday picnic at Melanie’s guest ranch.

The teenager answered the phone in tears. “Oh, Ms. Jones, I don’t know what to do …”

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Can I … would it be all right if I came over?”

“Yes. Right now. Do you want me to come and get you?”

“Oh, no. It’s okay.” The girl paused to stifle a sob. “I can ride my bike. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ll be right over.”

When Jerilyn appeared, pedaling fast down the street, Tori was waiting for her, out on the porch.

“Oh, Ms. Jones.” Jerilyn dropped her bike on the front walk. Fresh tears welled. She ran up the steps and into Tori’s waiting arms.

Tori pulled the girl inside and shut the door. “Shh … shh. There now. Okay …”

When the sobbing settled down a little, Tori led her to the sofa, passed the tissues, and got the story out of her.

“My dad got a warning Thursday. From his supervisor. My dad hasn’t been getting the summer maintenance done. And if his work doesn’t improve in the next two weeks, he’s going to get fired.”

“Oh, Jerilyn.” Tori hugged her again. “Did your dad tell you this?”

Jerilyn blew her nose. “No way. He doesn’t tell me anything. I found the warning notice on the kitchen table, wadded up in a ball. And he started drinking Thursday night. He called in sick yesterday. He drank all day, late into last night. He was still at it when I finally went to bed. This morning, he won’t get up. I made breakfast. Just what he likes, scrambled eggs and home fries, sausage and English muffins. I tried to get him up to eat. He just growled at me to leave him alone.”

“Has he … hit you?” Tori hated to ask, but she knew that she had to. “Or hurt you in any way?”

Jerilyn sobbed and shook her head. “Oh, no. He just sits at the kitchen table and drinks and doesn’t say anything. Sometimes … he cries.”

Tori grabbed her close again. “Aw, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.” As she gave out the familiar litany of reassurances, she knew that in reality, it wasn’t okay. Not okay in the least.

“He would never hurt me.” Jerilyn swallowed more sobs. “Except that when he loses his job and we can’t pay the bills and… well, that will hurt me. That will hurt me really bad.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Jerilyn sagged against Tori with a long, sad sigh. “Yeah. It is. It is going to happen.”

Tori took her by the shoulders. “Look at me. Do you trust me?”

“You know I do. Totally.”

“I’m going to call someone who can help, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to bring your dad back to you, to make sure he doesn’t lose his job.”

Jerilyn blinked away the tears. “Who are you going to call?”

“Someone who’s been through exactly what your dad’s going through. Someone who managed to survive. Someone who will know what to do.”

Tori’s father, Dr. Sherwood Jones, caught a one-o’clock flight to Bozeman and rented a car. By four that afternoon, he was sitting in Tori’s living room.

“I can’t promise anything,” he warned a pale-faced Jerilyn, who looked at him through red, puffy eyes. “And I can’t even talk to him unless he’s sober.”

“He should be, by now. Unless he’s started in drinking again.”

“You say he’s never hit you or been in any way violent with you? “

“No. He wouldn’t. He … hasn’t. Not ever. He’s just so sad and lonely for my mom. They were always so close. She was his very best friend in the world. Without her … it’s killing him, Dr. Jones. It’s hurting him so deep.”

“I understand.” He glanced over at Tori, who sat across the coffee table from him and Jerilyn. Tori gulped down the sudden lump in her throat. Her dad did understand. They both did. He told Jerilyn. “Tori and I lost her mother when Tori was a couple of years younger than you are.”

Jerilyn’s eyes filled with tears again. She turned her gaze to Tori and tried a wobbly smile. “I know. Ms. Jones told me that, right after my mom died.”

Sherwood clasped Jerilyn’s shoulder. “I think we should go to your house now, see if maybe your dad is sober, and willing to talk with me. Are you okay with doing that?”

Jerilyn’s dark eyes were wide—and determined. “Yes. I think we should. We should go now.”

“Well, all right then,” Sherwood said, with that gentle smile that always warmed Tori’s heart.

They were at the front door when the phone rang. Tori told them, “I’ll just get that and be out in a sec.”

Her dad and Jerilyn headed for the car as Tori answered the phone on the side table in the great room.

It was Connor. “I just called to tell you I really hope Jerilyn said yes about tomorrow. I told CJ she would be there and suddenly he can’t wait to go to a picnic at the Hopping H.”

His voice, so warm, threaded with wry humor, made her wish he was there, right then, at her side. She would lean into him and he would put his strong arms around her and she would feel she could handle anything, even the rough family problems of her star student—and what was she thinking?

He was never going to be the kind of man she could lean on. She really had to remember that. He was leaving when summer was over—and in the meantime, he was going to cause trouble in the town that she loved.

“Tori? You there?”

“Right here. I … haven’t invited her yet.”

“What is it? What’s happened?”

“It’s a long story, one I just don’t have time to go into right now.”

“What can I do? Anything.”

She almost smiled. When he talked like that, so ready to rush to her side if she needed him, she could almost forget that in his real life, he was a ruthless corporate shark determined to buy out the Thunder Canyon Resort and throw a bunch of people out of work. “No, really. Thank you.”

“Are you in trouble? “

“No. Don’t worry, please. It’s not about me. I’m perfectly okay. And I’ll explain it all later. Right now, I have to go.”

“Call me. As soon as you can. I mean it.”

“Yes. All right. I’ll call this evening. I promise.” She said a hurried goodbye and then rushed out to join and Jerilyn and Sherwood in his rental car.

Jerilyn lived in a small, run-down house in a South New Town neighborhood that had seen better days. The siding needed fresh paint and the porch boards creaked.

Inside, they found Butch Doolin sitting at the cluttered kitchen table in a T-shirt and a ragged pair of sweatpants. His bloodshot eyes were puffy from too much alcohol the day before and he sported a couple of days’ worth of dark beard.

But he had a cup of coffee in front of him—no liquor in sight. He looked hungover, but sober.

And more than a little surprised to see Jerilyn, her teacher and some man he’d never met before standing in the doorway to his living room. “Jerilyn? What’s going on? “

Tori’s dad stepped right up. “I’m Sherwood Jones, Mr. Doolin. We’re here to see if we can help.”

Butch frowned. “Help?” And then he slowly shook his head. He turned to Jerilyn and spoke with weary resignation. “Sweet girl, what have you been up to?”

Jerilyn put her hand over her mouth, swallowed hard, and then let her hand drop. “Daddy. I saw that warning letter. You’re going to lose your job. I had to do something. You can’t keep on like this.”

Tori had never seen a man so shamed as Butch Doolin was right then. He hung his head. “Sweet girl, I’m so sorry. So damn sorry. I don’t know what to do, how to keep going. Without your mother, it all seems so pointless.” His big shoulders shook.

Jerilyn would have gone to him. But Tori’s dad stopped her. He tipped his head back the way they had come. “You two go ahead,” he said low. “Let me talk to him for a while.” He tossed Tori the keys to the rental car. “I’ll call you …”

Tori took Jerilyn’s hand and led her back out through the small, dim living room. They returned to Tori’s house to wait. Time crawled by. Tori offered dinner, but Jerilyn only shook her head.

Finally, at a little after seven, Tori’s dad called for them to come and get him. Sherwood Jones was waiting for them out in front when they got to Jerilyn’s again.

Jerilyn jumped out. “My dad? Is he …?”

Tori got out, too, and came around to join them on the cracked sidewalk.

“Your dad is okay. And I think he’s going to be a lot better, Jerilyn,” Tori’s dad said. “I think he’s ready to get help. We talked for a long time. He poured out all the booze in the house and he’ll be going to regular AA meetings. Plus I’ve given him the names of a few good counselors he can choose from, as well as a local grief recovery group. And he has my number. I’m always available to him if he needs me.” He gave Jerilyn a card. “And I’m available for you, as well. You can call me here, directly, if there’s anything you want to ask me. And especially if you find yourself worried about him again.”

“You really think he’s going to get better?”

“I do. Sincerely. It’s not going to be easy, but I think you’ll see a definite improvement now.”

Jerilyn let out a low cry and grabbed Tori’s father in a hug. “Thank you, oh, thank you.”

He hugged her back. “Call me if you need help. I mean that.”

Then Tori offered Jerilyn that dinner she hadn’t accepted before, but she was eager to go in, to talk to her dad. She grabbed Tori close, quickly let her go and turned for the house.

Tori remembered the picnic tomorrow. “Wait. I almost forgot. You’re invited to a picnic at the Hopping H tomorrow.”

“Will CJ be there?” The sad dark eyes were suddenly brighter.

“Yeah. But I’m sure he’ll understand, if you’d rather—”

Jerilyn put up a hand. “Please. I want to go. My bike’s at your house. Can you pick me up?”

Tori named a time and Jerilyn said she would be ready.

As Tori and her dad got back in the rental, she offered, “Hungry?”

Her dad shook his head. “Butch gave me a sandwich. And I need to get to Bozeman. There’s a flight to Denver at ten to nine.”

They drove back to Tori’s house.

“That’s one shiny SUV,” her dad said when he pulled to a stop behind the expensive vehicle. “And there’s a man on your porch.”

Tori glanced over and saw Connor sitting on her top step, wearing pricey jeans, expensive boots and a dark-colored knit shirt. The sight of him caused her heart to do a happy somersault inside her chest. Which was ridiculous. And physically impossible. “It’s Connor. He’s … a friend,” she said, sounding absurdly breathless. Connor rose and came down the steps. She added, “I’ll introduce you to him, Dad.”

Connor was already at her side door. She rolled her window down. He was smiling. But his eyes were cool. Maybe he wasn’t all that happy about watching her drive up with a strange man.

“Hey,” he said. “I got worried about you.”

“Connor, this is my father, Dr. Sherwood Jones.”

Suddenly, his dark eyes had warmth in them again. “Dr. Jones. Hello.”

Her dad stuck his arm across the seat. “Good to meet you, Connor.” Connor put out his hand, too. Tori leaned out of the way so they could shake.

Then Sherwood gunned the engine. “I hate to run off. But I have to get a move on or I’ll miss that last flight. And while your stepmother is a very understanding woman, she insists I save Sundays for her and the boys.”

Tori leaned across the console and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime.”

“Kiss Lucille and hug my brothers for me.”

“Will do.”

Connor opened her door for her and she got out. With a final wave, Tori’s dad drove off.

She felt Connor’s hand settle at her waist. A little thrill went through her at the contact. She chided him, “I said I would call.”

“I should be more patient, I know.”

“Yes, you should. Especially considering that we’ve only had one date.”

“Two, if you count tomorrow.”

She laughed. “It’s not tomorrow yet.” And then she confessed, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.” He pulled her closer to his side. “What was that all about?”

She looked up into those beautiful eyes of his and wanted to trust him—even if he was a shark. “I’m starving.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened today?”

“Probably. But right now, I want to eat.”

“You want to go out?”

“You know, you’re sneaking in a third date on me and we haven’t even gotten through the second one yet.”

“It’s true. That’s exactly what I’m doing. We could go to—”

She didn’t let him finish. “No. I’ve got some stuffed shells in the fridge. And I’ll make a salad. You want pasta?”

“I ate with CJ. But if you twisted my arm, I’d have a little something.”

“Jerilyn will be coming with us tomorrow.”

“Terrific. I wasn’t looking forward to telling CJ otherwise.”

They went up the walk together, circling Jerilyn’s bike when they got to it. Tori made a mental note to take it up to the porch before she went to bed.

Inside, Connor pushed the front door shut behind them and caught her hand when she would have headed straight for the kitchen.

“Wait a minute …” His warm, strong arms came around her.

“Oh, Connor …”

“Shh.” He lowered his mouth to hers.

It was a beautiful kiss. Slow, lazy, gradually deepening. His arms felt so good around her and her body seemed to hum in response to him, as if she were somehow tuned to him—to his touch, to his strong body pressed so close to hers, to his lips that were doing magical things to hers. Even to the scent of him, which was clean and so manly. He tasted of mint. And of heat. She never wanted to pull away.

But she did. “Dinner. I mean it.”

In the kitchen, she warmed up the giant herb-and-cheese stuffed pasta shells and put a salad together. He ate two shells and two pieces of garlic bread. She sat across from him at her breakfast nook table and couldn’t believe how comfortable it felt having him there.

Comfortable. And kind of thrilling. Both at the same time.

Was that good?

Or just plain dangerous? The last thing she needed was to fall for Connor McFarlane, who would wreak havoc up at the resort, cause people to lose their livelihoods—and then go back east before the first snow.

“Does Melanie know you’re planning to take over the resort?”

He set down his fork. “The shells were really good. And who says I’m planning to take over the resort?”

“Well, if you were—and she didn’t know—that might not be such a great thing for your relationship with her, that you might be doing something that affects her community and you haven’t even bothered to tell her. I mean, if you’re not going tell me, you at least should tell her what you’re up to, don’t you think?”

He had picked up his water glass. But he set it down without taking a drink. “Yes,” he said blandly. “I suppose, if I were planning a buyout of the resort, that maybe I ought to tell my sister what I have in mind.”

“Will you, then? Will you tell her?”

He only gazed at her, his face a mask, unreadable.

Suddenly, she was furious with him. But why?

Self-preservation, maybe. She could still feel the warm, exciting pressure of his lips on hers, still remember the thrill of his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Really, she was much too attracted for her own peace of mind.

She said, too softly, “You want me to tell you what happened this afternoon, to trust you with something that’s private to someone I care about, but you won’t even tell me honestly whether you’re thinking of buying out the resort or not.”

He took his napkin from his lap, wiped his mouth, and slid it in beside his plate. “All right, Tori.”

“All right, what?”

“I can see this is an ultimatum.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s all over your face, clear in your voice.”

“Look. The word is out that you’re sniffing around the resort. People aren’t blind around here. And if I’m going to be spending more time with you, I want to know the truth. I can live with this thing between us ending when the fall comes. But I can’t live with you lying to me.”

“I haven’t lied to you.”

“By omission, yes. You have. I want to know for certain. I need to know—at least, I do if we’re going to keep dating.”

“Why do you need to know? What possible good will the information do? “

She considered his question. And she answered truthfully. “It’s about honesty, Connor. It’s about basic trust. Are you hoping to buy out the resort, yes or no?”

A silence. A long one. And then, finally, “I would need to know ahead of time that you would keep what I tell you to yourself.”

“Uh-uh. No way. Is there some reason it has to be a secret—especially considering that everybody already knows anyway? I mean, come on. You talk about how you want to change things in your life, with your son. With your sister. Maybe being straight in your business dealings wouldn’t be such a bad idea, either. I’m not saying you have to tell me all the diabolical details of your takeover plan. I’m just saying why deny what you’re after when everyone knows your denial is a big, fat lie anyway?”

He arched a brow. “Diabolical?”

She waved a hand. “Sorry. That was a little over the top. But still, you know what I mean.”

He refused to give in. “As a rule, it’s not a good idea to show your hand, even if the player across from you already knows you have aces.”

“We’re talking about people’s lives, Connor, not a card game.”

He pushed back his chair and stood. “This conversation is going nowhere.”

She knew he was right. They were arguing in circles. She said gently, “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Good night.” His voice was soft, his eyes troubled.

“Good night, Connor.”

He went out through the great room. She heard the front door open and close. And a minute or two after that, she heard the SUV start up and drive away.

She sat there at the table for a long time after he left her, feeling sad and weepy—but refusing to cry. Connor McFarlane was not the man for her. She had to accept that. It was better that he had left, that his thing between them went no further. Getting into it with him would only lead to hurt and heartbreak.

Alone at the table, she nodded to herself and swallowed down the lump of tears that clogged her throat. Yes. Really. It was better that he was gone.




Chapter Five


Connor was halfway back to his rented house, feeling like crap, trying to come to grips with the fact that his enjoyable summer with Tori Jones was over before it had even begun, when he realized that he’d left her without canceling their plans for tomorrow.

At the house, after spending a few minutes in CJ’s room, watching him play his endless video game, he went to his own room. He took a shower and sat in front of the television, channel-surfing with the sound down, paying very little attention to the images that flashed in front of his eyes.

He kept reliving what it felt like to hold her in his arms. He’d been really looking forward to doing that again, and frequently. And he’d done some serious fantasizing over what it was going to be like the first time they made love. It would probably be really good, if the chemistry between them was any indication.

Maybe she would call and tell him formally that she wouldn’t be coming to the picnic tomorrow. Maybe he ought to call her.

But the phone didn’t ring. And he decided it would be easier just to go ahead and proceed as planned tomorrow. At worst, she would call it off when he and CJ came to pick her and Jerilyn up. He could live with that.

And if she decided to go through with it, well, he could stand that, too. It would be awkward, yes, but at least CJ would be happy to have some time with the girl he liked.

In the morning, Connor had breakfast with CJ and then went to his study to look over some paperwork from the main office. The phone rang at eleven. He jumped at the sound.

But it was only his father, making the usual demands, that he come back to Philly immediately, to stay. That, if he insisted on doing the resort deal, he get on it and get it over with.

Connor made noncommittal noises and told his dad to give his mother his love.

An hour later, he and CJ left the house.

“You okay, Dad?” CJ asked him as they drove the quiet Sunday streets on the way to Tori’s house.

Connor almost ran a red light. It was the first time in the past year or so that his son had expressed the slightest interest in him or anything he might be doing or thinking.

It was a clear sign that he was actually making progress with the boy. He should have been ecstatic.

And he was. But the thrill was muted by the knowledge that whatever progress he was making with CJ was mostly due to the excellent advice of a certain strawberry-blonde schoolteacher. And then there was also the possibility that whatever gains he’d made would be lost if Jerilyn was not at Tori’s house when they got there, if Tori had decided to call the afternoon off.

Really, he should have discussed the picnic with her before he walked out on her last night. Or called her later.

But he hadn’t. And now he was stuck with having no clue what would happen when they got to her house.

Bright move, McFarlane.

He pushed his dark thoughts away and sent his son a warm glance. “Thanks, I’m okay.”

“You’re really quiet.”

“Just … thoughtful, I guess.”

At Tori’s house, the bicycle that had been on the front walk the evening before was propped up on the porch. But other than that, everything looked just as it had last night. He still had no clue whether Tori and Jerilyn were coming with them, or not.

CJ jumped out of the car and was halfway up the walk before Connor got out and followed him. It was CJ who rang the doorbell. Connor was just climbing the steps when the door opened.

Tori, in jeans, boots and a cute, snug Western shirt, grinned at CJ. “Right on time.”

Relief, sweet as cool water on a hot day, poured through Connor. They were going. He’d never been so pleased about anything in his life.

Jerilyn, also in jeans, peered over Tori’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey,” CJ replied, his voice cracking on the single syllable. He cleared his throat and said it again. “Hey.”

Tori’s gaze shifted to meet Connor’s. She gave him a careful smile and a nod. He did the same.

“I packed a basket,” she said. “Some cheese and fruit, some whole-wheat crackers. Some juice …”

Jerilyn pulled a face. “All totally healthy,” she added. And she and CJ groaned in unison.

“Ready to go?” Connor asked.

“Yes, we are,” Tori replied, her gaze sliding away from his. “I’ll get the basket and we can be on our way.”

His relief that she wasn’t backing out on him faded. He could see the day stretching endlessly out ahead of them. A day of careful smiles and sliding glances, of unacknowledged tension.

But there was nothing else to do but gut it up and get through it. The muscles in his shoulders knotting, he turned and went back down the steps toward the waiting SUV.

It was a good day, the sky clear and blue, with only a few fluffy white clouds gliding slowly toward the west.

Russ had horses picked out and tacked up for each of them. Connor, who had learned to ride six years before when he opened McFarlane House Louisville at a former horse ranch, got a big palomino mare. Tori got a handsome bay gelding. CJ’s gray seemed calm and steady-natured, as did Jerilyn’s blue roan. Russ, Melanie and Ryan all rode the horses they favored for everyday riding at the Hopping H and at Russ’s original ranch, the Flying J, which abutted the H.

Melanie had pack saddles full of food and drinks. She tucked the stuff Tori had brought in with the rest, and they rode out.

In a wide, rolling pasture dotted with wildflowers, they spread a couple of blankets. Melanie and Tori put out the food. They ate as the hobbled horses cropped the grass nearby.

The kids were finished with lunch in no time. They wandered off to explore, CJ and Jerilyn side by side, Ryan happily trailing along behind.

The grown-ups chatted about casual stuff. Melanie said she and Russ were turning a nice profit with the guest ranch. Russ talked about buying more land. Connor dared to kid him that if he didn’t watch out, he’d become a land baron. Russ laughed and said maybe he would. His easy response pleased Connor. He was making progress healing the early breach with his cowboy brother-in-law.

Tori mentioned some Outward Bound–type program, ROOTS, that a local woman, Haley Anderson, was trying to start up in a storefront in town. Melanie said she was so happy for Haley, to have found the right place for ROOTS at last.

And then Melanie wanted to know if Tori had met Erin Castro, who was new in town and apparently going around asking questions about the Cateses, the Cliftons and the Traubs.

Tori frowned. “No. I haven’t met her.”

Russ said, “Grant told me that woman started in on him at the Hitching Post. She had a thousand and one questions.”

Connor remembered the blonde woman he’d spoken to at the bar at DJ’s. “I met her at the summer kickoff barbecue. She introduced herself.” He described their brief conversation.

Russ grunted. “She’s up to something …”

“But what?” Melanie wondered aloud.

Russ added, “Grant said she has this tattered yellowed newspaper clipping, a picture of some old-time gathering of—”

“Let me guess.” Connor predicted, “The Cateses, the Cliftons and the Traubs.”

“You got it.”

“Maybe she’s writing a tell-all,” Tori suggested lightly. “The secrets of Thunder Canyon, Montana, revealed.”

“She better watch herself,” Russ muttered darkly. “Folks around here don’t like strangers poking in their private business.”

And the conversation moved on.

Connor didn’t say much to Tori. She returned the favor. He didn’t think his sister or her husband even noticed that they kept their distance from each other and avoided eye contact.

He couldn’t help glancing Tori’s way, though, when he thought no one was looking. She was so pretty, strawberry-blond hair shining in the sun, her skin like cream. There was something about her, even beyond her fresh good looks, something that drew him. He couldn’t explain it, and he certainly didn’t understand it. It just was, like the blue sky above, the wide, rolling pasture below.

And it’s going nowhere, so get over it,the voice of wisdom within advised.

The kids wandered in and out of their view, sometimes disappearing into a small stand of pines on a ridge to the northeast, sometimes coming near, but then turning to head off in a different direction before they got too close to the adults. Their laughter and chatter rang out across the rolling field.

Once, when they were all three in sight, near a weathered fence that separated the pasture from the next one over, Melanie got up. “Time to talk a little business.” She set off toward the three by the fence.

“Business?” Tori glanced at Connor—and then apparently caught herself actually looking at him. Her gaze slid away.

Russ, stretched out on his back, with his hat over his eyes, said lazily, “Connor’s decided it’s not a bad idea if CJ does a little honest work this summer.”

Tori sent Connor another swift glance. What? She was surprised that he’d taken her advice.

He gave a curt nod and looked away.

Russ, still with his hat over his eyes, continued, “He and Red agreed that she should make the offer.” According to Melanie, Russ had always called her Red. Even back when she didn’t like it in the least. Now, though, it was his pet name for her.

Melanie had reached the three teenagers. Connor— and Tori, too, he noticed out of the corner of his eye—watched as the scene played out. Melanie spoke.

CJ instantly started shaking his head, backing away. It looked like a no-go.

But then Jerilyn said something. Melanie nodded and offered her hand. The girl took it.

And then CJ spoke up again. Melanie turned to him and said something. He nodded. And Melanie shook his hand.

Ryan shot a fist in the air and they heard him exclaim, “Yes!”

Russ lifted his hat enough to glance toward the scene by the old fence. “Mission accomplished, if you ask me.”

“Looks that way,” Connor agreed. “Your wife is amazing.”

“She certainly is.” Russ spoke with deep satisfaction. Then he put his hat back over his eyes and let his head drop to the blanket again.

Melanie returned to them. Connor thought she looked sort of bemused. “CJ starts tomorrow,” she told him. “Nine to one, Monday through Thursday. I guess we’ll have to take turns driving him out here—Jerilyn, too.”

“Either Gerda or I will do it, no problem.” Connor would slip his housekeeper a little extra for the inconvenience. “So you’ve got two new employees, then?”

“Oh, yes, I do. CJ turned me down flat. But then Jerilyn spoke up and said how she’d love to work at the Hopping H. So I offered her the job.”

Connor could guess the rest. “And then CJ suddenly changed his mind.”

“And it’s great. I can put them both to work, and Ryan will love having them around.” She added, sounding bemused again, “I really do like that girl.”

Connor almost turned to share a glance with Tori, to give her a nod of acknowledgment, since what had just happened was all at her urging. But then he remembered that he and Tori were finished sharing glances.

They were finished, period.

As the day went by, Tori became only more certain that there really was no hope for her and Connor. The picnic at the ranch was just one of those final obligations they both felt duty-bound to fulfill.

By Sunday evening, when Connor pulled the SUV to a stop in front of her house, she was beyond positive. It was done between them, finished. All without ever really getting started.

She tried to remind herself yet again that it was for the best. But somehow it didn’t feel that way in the least.

CJ and Jerilyn jumped out first, but only to load Jerilyn’s bike in the back. They would take it to her house when they dropped her off.

That left Tori and Connor momentarily alone.

She said, each word falsely bright, “Well, thank you. It was a beautiful day.”

“Yeah,” he replied without looking at her. “Great weather.”

“I’ll be seeing you, then.” She leaned on the door.

He turned as the door swung wide and he looked at her. A look that burned her right down to the core. She had the impossible, overwhelming urge to leap across the console and kiss him so hard.

Uh-uh. No way. Not going to happen.

She tore her gaze free of his and got the heck out of there, somehow managing to wave goodbye to Jerilyn and CJ as they put the bike in the back of the SUV.

In the house, feeling totally bereft and hating that she felt that way, she called Allaire. But no one was home. They were probably off at some Traub family Sunday dinner. Tori hung up without leaving a message.

About then, she realized that she’d left her picnic basket in the back of Connor’s SUV. It wasn’t a big deal. She could get it later. Much, much later.

Or maybe he would have CJ drop it by.

It was all just too sad and depressing. She’d finally found a guy who made her heart turn somersaults, and he was a ruthless corporate shark unwilling to be straight with her.

She took a long bath and turned in early.

And at midnight she was still lying there, wide awake, telling herself that she hardly knew Connor. They’d only spent a total of maybe fifteen hours together—if you counted the picnic just that day, when they’d each been doing their level best to pretend the other didn’t exist.

Really, she needed to get over this and move on. She needed to shut her eyes and get some sleep.

But sleep was not in the offing. She kept seeing his face at that last moment before she got out of the SUV, seeing the hunger there, the stark longing for what was never going to happen between them. She kept thinking that maybe she had been too uncompromising.

After all, she knew darn well he was trying to buy out the resort. His confessing the fact in so many words wouldn’t make much difference in the end.

Except that, well, what kind of relationship would they have, if he couldn’t even be honest with her about his real intentions? It all had to start with honesty, and with trust, too. If they didn’t have honesty and trust, they had nothing.

Time crawled by. She tried not to look at her bedside clock. It only reminded her how miserable she was—and how little sleep she was getting.

And then, out of nowhere, at ten after one, the doorbell rang.

At the unexpected sound, her pulse started booming in her ears. And her chest felt so tight, it hurt to breathe. Either it was Connor, unable to wait to tell her he wanted to work it out with her. Or it was some awful disaster that couldn’t be put off till daylight: a fire; Jerilyn with bad news about her dad.

Terrible dread and impossible hope warring for prominence in her heart, Tori yanked on her robe and ran to answer. Breathless, frantic, she pulled the door wide—and when she saw who was on the other side, her pulse thudded all the louder.

Connor.

He stood there on her doorstep in the same jeans and fancy boots he’d worn that afternoon, her picnic basket in his hand, looking exhausted—but determined, too. She realized as she gaped at him that he was the handsomest man she’d ever known.

“You left this in my SUV.” He held out the basket. “And yes, I’m planning to buy the resort.”

Connor waited, his stomach in a knot and his throat locked up tight. He had no idea what would happen next. She just might grab the basket and shut the door in his face.

But no. Those amazing hazel eyes had gone misty. That had to be a good sign, right?

And then she stepped back and tipped her head toward the great room, inviting him in.

He cleared his throat. He felt he owed her … something. A more thorough confession.

What the hell was happening to him? He wished he knew.

He found his voice. “I’ve been walking the floor half the night, thinking about you—” And then it was like a damn bursting. The words came tumbling out of him. “Thinking about how I’ve never met anyone like you and I can’t stand to think it’s over with us when it never even got started. I decided at least fifty times that I would come over here—after which I decided not to, that in the end, I would be leaving when the summer is over, so what was the point, since I know you want more than a summer romance?”

She gazed up at him, her eyes so soft. “Connor.”

“Yeah?”

“Will you please come in so that I can shut the door?”

He frowned, wanting—needing—her to be certain about letting him into her house. It was insane. Where had these silly scruples come from? He’d never been troubled by them before. “You’re, uh, sure?”

She only looked at him, still misty-eyed, and slowly nodded her red-gold head.

So he stepped over the threshold. She shut the door behind him and turned the lock. And then she took the picnic basket from him and set it on the narrow entry-area table.

“Come on.” She turned. He followed her through the great room to her cozy kitchen at the back of the house. “Sit down.” She gestured at the table.

He sat, hardly daring to believe he was actually here in her kitchen again, that not only had he come here in the middle of the night, she had answered the door. She had let him in.

Maybe it wasn’t over, after all.

He watched, dumbfounded, as she put water on for the tea she liked and loaded up the coffeemaker for him. She looked more beautiful than ever, he thought, with her hair a little wild, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, wearing a lightweight yellow robe that revealed a lot of sleek bare leg and adorable bare feet with toenails painted the color of a ripe plum.

She pushed the brew button on the coffeemaker and took the chair across from him. “What else?”

“Uh. Excuse me?”

“It seemed as though you had more to say.”

“I did. I do.”

She folded her hands on the tabletop. “I’m listening.”

He raked his fingers back through his hair. “It’s only … I’m sorry, but I can’t give you more than this summer. This, right now, that’s all I’m ready for. I’m not … cut out for anything more.”

Her red-kissed brows drew together and he knew he wasn’t making much sense.

He confessed, “I, well, I was a lousy husband, you know?”

“No. I didn’t know.”

“I was. Just lousy. All that really mattered to me was my work. I wanted to take what my father and grandfather had started and make it more. New, exciting locations, each one-of-a-kind, each a luxury boutique hotel with stylish rooms, signature restaurants, bars and destination spas. I considered marriage and children as no more than something that was expected of me, something I needed to get out of the way so I could focus on my work, on growing the McFarlane House brand. So I fulfilled what I saw as my obligation to acquire a spouse, to procreate. I found a beautiful woman with the right pedigree and I married her.”

“You … you didn’t care for her at all?”

He shrugged. “Looking back, I think I told myself I cared. But really, being brutally honest now, I didn’t care enough. Yes, I told my ex-wife I loved her, but it was just because I knew it was something I was supposed to say. And it’s only by necessity that I’m trying to figure out how to be a halfway decent dad for CJ.”

“But, Connor, you are trying. That’s what matters.”

“No. I’m doing what I have to do, fulfilling my responsibility to my son. Period. I live for my work, and I’m not husband material. I can’t see that changing. I’m just not a family man.”

She caught her lower lip between her even white teeth—and then let it go. “Clearly, it’s not going to do any good to tell you that you’re a better man than you think you are.”

He stuck with the truth, painful as it was to reveal. “I think you want me to be a better man.”

She gazed at him for a long time. And then, finally, she conceded, “Yes. That may be true, to an extent. I would like you to be the best you can be. Tonight, though, I see that you already are a good man. A man capable of honesty. Of trust. And I understand what you’re telling me. I already knew—or at least, I knew the part about how you’re not up for anything long-lasting. We talked about it before, remember?”

“Of course I remember. I remember everything. Every look. Every smile. Every word we said.” He swore low. “I sound like an idiot, some hopeless fool …”

“No. You don’t.” She reached out her hand to him. He met her halfway, in the middle of the table. Palm to palm, they wove their fingers together. “You don’t sound like a fool, not in the least.” Her soft mouth trembled on a smile. “I’m so glad that you’re here. That it’s not over, after all.”

He shoved back his chair and stood. She stood with him. And then, hands still joined, in unison they stepped toward each other around the table. Once she was close enough, he reeled her in. She felt like heaven in his arms.

“No, it’s not over,” he said, staring down into those beautiful misty eyes. “Not yet …”

“Not yet …” she echoed, lifting her mouth to him. He took it. Wrapping her tighter, closer, he kissed her deeply, learning all the sweet, wet surfaces behind her parted lips.

When he lifted his head, it was only to slant it the other way and claim her lips again. He could have stood there in her kitchen, holding her, kissing her, until the sun came up.

But then the kettle whistled and the coffeemaker beeped. He let her go so she could brew her tea and pour his coffee.

They sat across from each other again.

He stared at his untouched mug, at the fragrant curl of steam rising from it. “Jerilyn told CJ what happened Saturday, the crisis with Jerilyn’s father. He said your dad flew in from Denver to help. Jerilyn says she has hope now, that things will be all right.”

“CJ told you what Jerilyn told him?”

“He did.”

“I think I would call that actual communication—and the beginnings of trust, as well.”

“So would I. Due in large part to you, Tori. I’m trying, I really am, to take your advice, to let him know I’m on his side, that he can count on me. I think it just may be working—at least a little.”

“I’m so glad.”

“You haven’t touched your tea.”

She tipped her head to the side the way she always did when she was studying him. “And you aren’t drinking your coffee.”

He confessed, “I’m thinking about holding you in my arms again. And I’m also thinking that if I start kissing you, I won’t want to stop.”

“Would that be … so bad?” Her voice was shy, hesitant. Her eyes were anything but.

“Uh-uh. Not bad at all. It would be really, really good. But I don’t want to rush you into anything you might regret.”

Her smile was full of feminine intent. “How long do you plan to stay here in town?”

“I have to leave Wednesday, for meetings in Philadelphia. But I’ll be back by Friday afternoon.”

Steadily, she held his gaze. “I meant, how long are you planning to be living in town? When will you be leaving for good? “

“If the resort deal works out, I’ll be here into the winter, at least. But after CJ returns to school, I’ll make my home base back east, and only be in Thunder Canyon on and off.”

“And CJ starts school …?”

“At the end of August.”

“A little over two months from now.”

“That’s right. Is that somehow significant?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Because?”

She pushed her chair back again, leaving her tea still untouched. “Because two months will go by too fast. And it seems to me that we shouldn’t waste a day, an hour, another minute of the time we have together.”

He stared at her. And then, slowly, he rose to his feet. They faced each other, with only the round kitchen table between them. He asked, rough and low, “What are telling me, Tori?”

She approached him slowly, untying the sash of her robe as she came. When she reached him, she dropped the sash to the floor and eased the robe from her shoulders. It fell away without a sound. Underneath she wore a short summer nightgown with tiny satin straps that tied in charming little bows at her shoulders. That nightgown revealed a lot more than it covered.

His desire, carefully banked until then, flared high. “You are so beautiful.”

“Take me in your arms, Connor,” she whispered, lifting on tiptoe, her breasts brushing his chest, making the flare of desire burn all the hotter. “Take me in your arms and hold me all night long.”




Chapter Six


Connor’s newfound conscience urged him to argue with her, to tell her she ought to think twice about this, to grab her by the shoulders and put her firmly away from him, to speak reasonably about taking their time, to remind her again about not rushing into anything she might regret later.

But she had it right, after all. They didn’t have a lot of time. Just one short summer.

And wasting a minute of it, now they were both on the same page about where they were going?

Uh-uh. No way.

He wrapped his arms around her, good and tight. And he kissed her, deeply. Endlessly. His mouth locked to hers, drinking her in, he bent to scoop her up high in his arms.

She pulled her soft lips from his just long enough to fling out a hand in the general direction of the great room and to whisper, “That way …”

He claimed her mouth again and started walking, carrying her out of the kitchen, across the great room, to her bedroom not far from the entryway. The door was wide open. He went in.

At the side of the bed, he lowered her feet to the rug. Dizzy with the scent of her, with the taste of her, and the soft, arousing feel of her body so close to him, somehow he still managed to break the incredible kiss.

He knew that they had to be at least a little bit responsible. “I should have thought of this.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t have condoms …”

She surged up, caught his mouth in a swift, hot kiss, and then sank back to her heels again. “It’s okay.” She rested her small hands, palms flat, against his chest. “I have them.” Her dreamy gaze turned rueful. “I always wanted to be ready, in case it ever felt right with someone. It never did—not in the whole time I’ve lived in Thunder Canyon. Not until tonight …”

“Well.” He ran his palms down the silky skin of her arms. So smooth. And she smelled so good. Like fresh, ripe strawberries and sugared lemons, both at the same time. “Okay, then.”

“Just okay?” she teased him.

He chuckled. “Better than okay. Way, way better.”

“Then kiss me, Connor.” Her eyes were mossy green at that moment, and shining so bright. “Kiss me again …”

He didn’t have to be told a third time. He caught her sweet lips and she opened for him, letting his tongue in to play with hers. And as he kissed her, she turned slightly, moving them both around, until the backs of his legs touched the side of the bed.

She guided him, gently pushing him back, until he lay across the tangled white sheets. And she came down with him, soft and sighing, her mouth so wet and sweet. He couldn’t get enough of her kisses, couldn’t get enough of her.

But then she pulled away and rose up on an elbow. She gazed down at him, her lips soft and swollen, her eyes making tempting erotic promises as she tugged on his shirttail, sliding her fingers beneath the knit fabric to caress him.

He groaned at her touch, at the way her soft fingers glided over his flesh, tenderly, teasingly. And he wanted to feel her, all of her, skin to skin. So he sat up, kissed her once, hard and fast, and ripped his shirt up and over his head. Swiftly, he yanked off his boots and got rid of his socks. He undid the button at the top of his fly, and tugged the zipper down. Lifting his hips, he shoved the jeans and his boxer briefs halfway down his thighs.

She helped him, getting hold of the jeans and the briefs, sliding them off the rest of the way, tossing them over the edge of the bed.

At last, he was naked. He felt her gaze on him, sweeping upward over his body to meet his waiting eyes.

She breathed his name on a long sigh. “Connor.” And she swayed against him.

Magic, the feel of her smooth skin pressed to his. He caught her, pulling her close, tucking her tightly to his bare chest, reveling in the silky feel of her hair against his flesh, in the delicacy of her body, the way it curved into his, in the scent of her, so fresh and clean and sweet.

“Tori.” Her name sounded so good on his tongue.

She tipped her head back to him with a questioning sound.

“Tori …” He kissed her. And that time, while he kissed her, he touched her, clasping her slim upper arm, palming the firm curve of her shoulder.

Such soft, tempting skin, and all of it his to caress. He traced a finger inward, skimming the bows that held her nightgown in place. And then up, along the velvety skin of her neck, until he reached the heated flutter of her pulse, waiting there for him, in the vulnerable cove at the side of her throat.

He laid his whole hand, flat, against the satiny warmth of her upper chest. Lower still, he curved his fingers around a high, firm breast. She moaned when he did that, and moaned again as he found her nipple through the thin cloth of her nightgown and teased it, rolling it tenderly between his thumb and forefinger.

Those sweet little bows at her shoulders? By then he couldn’t resist them. He made short work of them, pulling the end of one and then the other. They fell apart, taking the top of her flimsy little gown down with them.

Her breasts were revealed to him, round and firm, compact, the skin so fine, the delicate blue veins showing faintly beneath. He eased her to her back, bent his head and took her pretty pink nipple into his mouth. She groaned deep in her chest when he did that, and pulled him close to her. He drew on her breast, strongly, and she bowed her slim torso toward him, lifting her breasts, offering him more of her.

The hem of her short gown rode high on her smooth thighs. He reached down, guided it higher.

She wore nothing beneath. He touched her belly, stroking, loving the feel of her, enjoying the eager way she gave herself, so openly, without holding anything of herself away from him. She groaned and clutched his head even tighter to her breast.

And he let his hand wander lower, over the warm silk of her lower belly, to the place where the soft curls were waiting. She lifted toward him, urging him on.

He touched her, dipping a finger into the feminine heart of her. She was wet. Hot. He explored the silky folds and she encouraged him with tender little moans and sighs, as she lifted her hips, opening her thighs to him, so eager. Hungry for more.

So he gave her more. He kissed his way down her body, sliding her gown even higher, until it was no more than a tangled, satin band around her waist. He kissed her belly, dipped his tongue into her navel, and breathed in the musky, sweet scent of her excitement.

He had to taste her. Now. Immediately. He kissed the silky red-gold curls and lower, putting his mouth where his wet fingers had been.

She was writhing by then, her hands clutching his head, fingers speared in his hair, urging him onward. He ran his tongue along the slick wetness, drinking in the taste of her, driving her higher, finding that it aroused him beyond all reason to be giving her pleasure, to know that she liked it, that she wanted him to kiss her in this most intimate way.

And then, all at once, she was crying out his name. She broke, shuddering. He tasted her completion, felt it pulse against his tongue.

Her satisfaction drove him higher, gave him something so good, so right. Something he had never known he craved, something hot and bright and beautiful. Something good and true.

Who knew it could be like this?

Not Connor.

He had never been what anyone would call an attentive lover. With his wife, the sex didn’t matter anyway, except for the necessity of producing his son. And with the women he’d dated in the past year, he’d been utterly selfish. He saw that now. They gave him pleasure in the form of sexual release. And he took them out to the best restaurants, showered then with pricey gifts.

But with Tori …

Everything was different.

He got pleasure from her pleasure, took satisfaction from knowing she was satisfied.

She sighed, and a little laugh escaped her. “Oh, Connor.” Her fingers, now, were gentle in his hair. “Who knew?” Good question. He certainly hadn’t. She whispered, “Come up here, up here to me …”

One last press of his lips against those wet red-gold curls and he obeyed her, kissing his way up the middle of her body, over her soft, tempting belly, between her small, perfect breasts. He paused to dip his tongue into the groove at the base of her throat. Never would he get enough of the taste of her, sweet and slightly salty now, with the sweat of their lovemaking.

He kissed her throat, her chin, and finally, with a sigh, he settled his mouth over hers and tasted her more deeply. He was aching, aching in a good way, hard and ready, needing her so bad.

She caught his face in her two soft hands. “The drawer, in the nightstand …”

He reached for it, his mouth still locked with hers. Finding the knob, he pulled it open, felt around inside, his fingers closing over a pen, a notepad, a small flashlight. But nothing that felt like the condom he was groping for.

She pushed gently at his shoulders. “Let me,” she suggested.

Reluctantly, he let her up, and sank back against the pillows. He admired the gorgeous curve of her slim back as she got up on her folded knees and slid the drawer all the way open.

“Got it.” She pulled out a box from way in back and swiftly peeled the lid wide, taking out a single sealed pouch. She held it up.

He reached for it.

But she only laughed and snatched it away and looked at him from under her thick lashes. “Let me. Please.”

He settled back against the pillow again and folded his hands behind his head. “Absolutely. Be my guest.” He spoke teasingly, though he wanted only to grab her, roll her under him and bury himself deep in her waiting softness.

She was kind. She didn’t fool around. She had the pouch open and the condom sliding down over him within seconds. The touch of her hand as she guided it into place, snugging it neatly, evenly, at the base, almost undid him.

But not quite. She bent over him, so her lips were no more than a breath away from his. “Good?”

He refused to move. If she wanted to take control, so be it. “Excellent.”

She slid a leg over him and went up on her knees astride him, but away from him. Her eyes weren’t so teasing anymore. They were hungry. Ready.

He resisted the powerful urge to grab her hips and surge up into her.

She bent close, though she didn’t lower herself down onto his waiting hardness. She whispered, “You’re gritting your teeth.”

“And you’re driving me wild.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” She kissed him, slowly, a brushing kiss that turned deeper—and then deeper still.

“Come down to me, Tori. Now …”

Impossibly, miraculously, she actually obeyed him. He felt her against him—there, where he needed her— and then he slipped inside.

She was wet and hot and, oh, so welcoming. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her then. He took her hips and pulled her down onto him.

She moaned then. So did he.

And she rode him, kissing him, her hips working in a rhythm that shattered him, that broke him into a thousand tiny pieces—and then somehow put him back together again.

At the last minute, as he knew he was losing it, he grabbed her more firmly by the round curves of her bottom and he rolled her, so he was on top. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him, holding him, rocking him, murmuring his name.

He muttered, “Tori,” and then again, “Tori,” as the world spun away. He saw utter darkness behind his eyes. And then, at the last possible moment, as she turned him inside out, the darkness turned to shimmering light.

They must have slept.

When he woke, the bedside clock said it was almost five. Tori lay beside him, her face so innocent and sweet in the light of the lamp they’d left on, her strawberry hair bright as sunshine spilled across the pillow.

He tried to slide his arm out from under her head without waking her. But her eyes drifted open.

“Connor …”

“Um?”

“What time …?”

“Five to five.”

“You have to go? “

“Unfortunately.” He bent close, brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Tonight I’m going out to the Douglas Ranch. Caleb invited me to dinner.”

She made a low, knowing sound. “More hush-hush negotiating, huh? “

“We aren’t quite at that point yet. Want to come with me?”

She shook her head. “I think I’ll just stay out of that, if you don’t mind.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Tuesday, then? I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I have a better idea.”

“What could be better than you, me and dinner?”

“You, me, CJ, Ryan, Jerilyn … and dinner.”

He groaned. “Dinner with the kids. Not exactly the romantic evening I had in mind.”

She chided him, “You know it’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” He planted a kiss on her sweet mouth and slid his arm out from under her. “Okay. Tuesday. Dinner with the kids—and I have to go.” He jumped from the bed and grabbed his briefs and his jeans. When he was fully dressed, he bent close to her for a final kiss. “Every summer should start this way.”

She twined her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to his. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

“You didn’t.” Allaire wore an expression of total disbelief. She sent a quick glance around the Tottering Teapot, clearly worried that someone might have heard what Tori had just said.

“Yeah,” Tori answered, after savoring a slow bite of her avocado and swiss sandwich with sprouts. “I did. We did. And it was wonderful.”

Allaire leaned closer across the lace tablecloth and pitched her voice barely above a whisper. “But you said yourself he admitted he’s buying out the resort—and then leaving town.”

“I like him. I like him a lot. I want to be with him, for as long as it lasts.”

A look of concern crossed Allaire’s face. “I just don’t want to see you hurt, Tori.”

“I know you don’t. And I realize that I might be hurt.”

“Might?” Allaire demanded.

Tori busted to the truth. “Okay. I guess it’s likely, in the end. But I want to be with him more than I want to protect myself against heartbreak. Sometimes you just have to go for it, you know? Go for it and not count the cost.”

Connor couldn’t stay away from Tori.

She drew him like a bee to a flower, a kid to a cookie jar. He stopped by her house that afternoon and confessed that he couldn’t bear to keep away. Tori said she understood completely, that she felt the same.

That night, he went out to the Douglas Ranch, as planned. Riley Douglas, who was Caleb and Adele’s son and Grant Clifton’s partner in running the resort, showed up, too. Riley was silent through most of the meal—silent and watchful. When Caleb and Connor discussed the resort, Riley said that he was sure he and Grant could turn things around, given time.

Caleb looked at his son and said in a weary tone, “Money’s tight. You know that. And time is the one thing I don’t have a lot of.”

“Just don’t rush into anything,” Riley warned.

“I’m not rushing,” Caleb replied, sending Connor a telling glance. “I’m considering the options, son. Considering them fully.”

When he left the Douglas Ranch, Connor went straight to Tori’s. She didn’t ask if Caleb had offered to sell him the resort—or anything about what had happened during his visit with the Douglases. He knew she didn’t want to know.

And he was more than content to say nothing of his meeting with Caleb. He only wanted to take her in his arms, to feel her soft body pressed close to his.

Tuesday morning after he took CJ and Jerilyn out to Melanie’s, he got a call from Grant Clifton. Grant wanted to speak with him alone.

Connor drove up toward the resort, stopping off at the office complex down the mountain from the main lodge. Grant led him to his private office and shut the door.

Grant was furious, Connor could see that in the tightness of his square jaw. He said he’d talked to Riley Douglas that morning.

“Riley clued me in. I get the picture now, and I don’t much like what I see. You want the resort and when you get it, people who matter to me, people who have worked hard here, are going to be without their jobs.”

“Grant, come on. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I liked you,” Grant said with deadly softness. “I heard you were here to be with your son, to smooth over past differences with your sister. I admired that. Yeah, I also heard the rumors that you were interested in the resort. I didn’t listen to what they said.”

“Grant, there’s no reason for—”

“You’re right.” Clifton cut him off. “Getting you here in my office and reaming you a new one isn’t a very smart thing for me to do. But I’m just pissed off enough that I don’t give a damn what’s smart. I just want you to know that I know now you’re not who I thought you were. You’re no better than a vulture, McFarlane. And I wanted to say that to your face.”

Connor said nothing. With a curt nod, he turned for the door. Grant made no move to stop him.

As he drove down the mountain, Connor tried to remind himself that he’d been called worse things than a vulture. In the past, he’d never cared. He went after what he wanted and he got it and what people said didn’t mean a thing.

Now, strangely, Grant Clifton’s harsh words rankled. And he found himself worrying about Melanie and Russ, about their reaction when they learned he had plans for the resort. Tori had warned him he’d better tell Melanie what he was up to.

So he detoured to the Hopping H. He found Melanie in the kitchen, baking cookies. The kids, she said, were out in the barn with Russ.

She took a sheet of great-smelling snickerdoodles from the oven and set them on top of the stove. And she turned to him. She frowned when she saw his face. “What? You look like somebody stole your dog.”

“I never had a dog.”

She chuckled. “Mother never would have allowed that. ‘They are so filthy, darlings.’“ She imitated their mother’s cool, aristocratic tones. “‘And the shedding.’“ She faked a delicate shudder. “‘No. Impossible.’“

He laughed—and then instantly grew serious. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Now she looked worried. Really worried. “What? Is it about CJ? I think he’s doing much better.”

“He is. It’s not about him.”

“Well?”

He laid it on her. “I came here this summer for him. And to spend some time with you.”

“I know that, Connor. And I’m pleased that you’re here.”

“And also to buy the Thunder Canyon Resort.”

“Yes,” she replied. “What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?” he demanded grimly. “That’s it.”

“That you want to buy the resort?”

“Yes. I want to buy the resort and I thought you should know.”

She took off the fat oven mitt and waved her hand airily. “Oh, that. I knew that.”

He groped for a chair and lowered himself into it. “You did?”

“You’re my brother, Connor. I know you. I know how your mind works. The resort is a different type of property than McFarlane House usually takes on. That makes it a challenge and you love a challenge. Plus, you can probably get it for an excellent price. Of course, you’ll go after it.”

His mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut. “You knew all along.”

“I did. And I knew that you’d tell me about it eventually, when you were ready to discuss it.”

He confessed bleakly, “Grant Clifton just called me a vulture.”

Her eyes grew sad. “Yes, well. Grant found his calling, managing the resort. It’s killing him to watch it fail. I’m sorry to hear he lashed out at you. Please don’t take his cruel words to heart. He’ll settle down in time. And my guess is that when he does, you’ll get an apology.”

“But … he and Russ are best friends, aren’t they?”

Now her expression was tender. “You’re worried about Russ being angry with you?”

“Think about it. Russ and I didn’t exactly get off to a great start. I’ve felt like we’re slowly getting on a better footing. But I’m afraid if he gets an earful from Grant, I’ll lose all the progress I’ve made with him.”

She sat down at the table with him and put her hand over his. “A girl could do a lot worse than to have a brother like you.”

Her words pleased him. Very much. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

“It’s only the truth.”

“Well, lately, at least.”

“At least.” She chuckled. “And don’t worry about Russ. He never liked the resort, thought it brought a lot more growth and questionable ‘progress’ than Thunder Canyon ever needed. And he always believed that Grant was meant to be a rancher like his father and his father before him. Russ is not going to resent you because Grant might have to consider a career change.”

That night, as planned, Tori had Connor and the kids over to her house for dinner. She thought it went well. And she couldn’t help but notice that CJ actually looked at his father when he spoke to him.

Plus, there was a new contentment about Jerilyn. She said she liked the job at the Hopping H. And her dad seemed better. The day before, Butch had found a therapist from the list Tori’s dad had provided. Insurance would pay the therapist’s bill.

“It’s a start, I think,” Jerilyn told them.

At a little after nine, Connor left with the kids. He would take Jerilyn home. Ryan would come with him and CJ to their house to spend the night. Gerda would take the boys out to the ranch in the morning, stopping to pick up Jerilyn along the way.

Tori stood out on the porch and waved as they drove away, and wished that he would be coming back later to see her alone. But Connor would be leaving first thing in the morning for Philadelphia, gone until Friday evening. She missed him already and wished they’d had a little privacy to enjoy a more intimate farewell.

But then she chuckled to herself. If she’d wanted to be alone with him tonight, she shouldn’t have engineered dinner with the kids. She went inside, took a long, hot bath, watched some TV—and wasn’t all that surprised when her doorbell rang at ten past twelve.

She didn’t say a word. Just held out her eager arms to him.

Connor headed for Bozeman at five the next morning to catch his flight. The trip took longer than it would have in the past. In an effort to cut costs, he flew commercial rather than enjoy the pricey comfort and privacy of a McFarlane House jet.





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