McFarlane's Perfect Bride

by Christine Rimmer

  “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 backgr
ound 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.”