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