“The Journey To Your Heart, And Your Bed, Is A Difficult One.”
“Do you always have to come straight to the point?” Rose asked. Leaning against the front-porch post, his cotton shirt unbuttoned above his crossed arms and wearing jeans like any other Waterville male, Stefan took her breath away.
Rose forced herself back to the garden of reason, picking out the weeds of temptation. She’d known him for only two weeks; he came from a different world. He would be leaving, once boredom hit him—or summer ended.
“Yes, I do always come to the point.”
She stared meaningfully at Stefan. He looked more like lover material than a husband. Rose didn’t want to dip into dreams safely tucked away. “I think you’d better leave.”
“Very well. But I want you to think about this—I have waited too long for a woman like you. The single women of Waterville have started hunting me, and I want you to call them off. I cannot oblige the not-so-subtle invitations to their beds, because I intend to be in yours.”
A Loving Man
Cait London
CAIT LONDON
lives in the Missouri Ozarks but loves to travel the Northwest’s gold rush/cattle drive trails every summer. She enjoys research trips, meeting people and going to Native American dances. Ms. London is an avid reader who loves to paint, play with computers and grow herbs (particularly scented geraniums right now). She’s a national bestselling and award-winning author, and she has also written historical romances under another pseudonym. Three is her lucky number; she has three daughters, and the events in her life have always been in threes. “I love writing for Silhouette,” Cait says. “One of the best perks about all this hard work is the thrilling reader response and the warm, snug sense that I have given readers an enjoyable, entertaining gift.”
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
One
“You’re old-fashioned and don’t know what it is to be young.” His daughter’s words raked Stefan Donatien; their argument of the early morning still scalded him. “You can’t keep me as a child forever,” Estelle had said furiously.
Brooding about her temper, a match to his own, Stefan had escaped the farmhouse he had just purchased. His mission into Waterville, a small Midwestern town, provided a time in which to recover and reshape his defenses. His mother, Yvette, often agreed with Estelle. A man alone against a volatile, twenty-year-old daughter, and his French mother, Stefan often had to find “caves” into which to retreat. They loved him, and he returned that love, but his women could be difficult at times, united against him.
Though he was born in the United States, his daughter and French-born mother, Yvette, often accused him of being “old-world.” “Perhaps if you had a lover, you would not be so obsessed with keeping Estelle a child,” his mother had stated. “You may have buried your heart with your wife, Claire, but you did not bury your life. At your age, I was already a grandmère and I did not stop living when your father passed on. You are only forty-two, and yet you are old before your time. See there? A gray hair.”
Stefan inhaled the early May air and tried to settle his raw nerves, raked by the formidable women he loved deeply. They might see him as an overbearing tyrant, but every instinct he possessed told him to protect them.
He listened to the rumbling of the old pickup’s engine as he cruised into Waterville. The ancient farm pickup suited the rural Missouri town much better than the luxury car he’d used in Chicago. The small community, wedged amid the surrounding farms and rolling green mountains, was the perfect place in which to protect his daughter from Louie, alias The Freeloader.
Stefan scowled at the truck’s rearview mirror and at his right temple; his single gray hair gleamed, mocking him. In many ways, he felt as battered as the pickup that came with the Smith’s farm. It was only a matter of time before Louie took Estelle as a lover. To avoid that, Stefan had decided to give his daughter the one thing she’d always wanted—the experience of living in a small, Midwestern American town.
Stefan’s old pickup prowled by Waterville’s vegetable gardens lined with new green plants. Heavy with morning dew, pink and white peonies leaned against the picket fences and shade trees bordered the streets. A yellow school bus stopped to pick up children clustered on the sidewalk. Seated on their porch swings, women with curlers in their gray hair whispered about the new owner of the Smith farm as he passed. A widower with a slight accent, a beautiful twenty-year-old daughter and an enchanting, happy French mother was certain to be noticed.
It was only the third day since Stefan had moved his family to the rural community. With the exception of clashing with him over Estelle’s adult status, they seemed happy. It wasn’t easy uprooting his family and moving them to the safety of the small town. But then Stefan was a powerful businessman who knew how to make decisions, especially when his daughter was endangered. As soon as Estelle’s college finals were over, Stefan had put his plan to protect his daughter into motion. A trusted friend and employee now managed the restaurant line that Stefan’s father had begun, Donatien’s French Cuisine Restaurants.
His father, Guy, would have dealt harshly with Estelle, just as he had with his boy, Stefan, demanding perfection and obedience.
Stefan smiled tightly, remembering his father and better understanding the fear that sometimes ruled a parent. Guy had wanted the best for Stefan, just as Stefan wanted the best for Estelle.
He inhaled abruptly. Though he loved his father, he did not favor Guy’s strict parental control and too high standards. Stefan had promised himself not to be so exacting and controlling with his daughter. He wasn’t happy that his protective-father-mode sometimes erupted into just that—“I forbid you” sounded exactly like his father. His headache started to throb in rhythm to the rumble of the old vehicle’s engine.
A horde of young boys on bicycles soared past him, and Stefan braked slowly. Beneath the ball caps turned backward on their heads, their expressions were wary and curious of the new stranger. Even the dog, running at their side, noted Stefan’s presence with excited barking.
At least Estelle was safe for the moment, her insolent, lazy boyfriend in Chicago.
Stefan’s hands tightened on the old steering wheel as he heard his snarl. With long dirty hair and baggy pants, Louie had already started asking for handouts from Stefan. Louie had made it clear that he would not lower himself to work in the renowned Donatien
