“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.
Th
en 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.”
McFarlane's Perfect Bride Page 3
