tion>
Snowbound with Mr Right
Judy Christenberry
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
Or simply visit
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
SALLY ROGERS was standing in the window of the Bailey General Store, trying to attain a more attractive display. She was beginning to think it was a lost cause when an idea suddenly struck her. As she began to change the window, she was interrupted by a gentleman she had noticed entering the store earlier.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for the owner of the store.”
She looked over her shoulder to see a tall, dignified man, younger than she expected, waiting for her attention.
“Why?” she asked, feeling a little bothered at being interrupted.
“Because I have business to discuss with him.”
“Sorry, not right now. The store owner is very busy at the moment,” she said. It had been a long day and Sally was tired. She had a lot on her plate with the business, not to mention that she was still coming to terms with the devastating deaths of her parents. Suddenly the store had been left in her hands and she was finding all the decisions to be made to be almost too much.
“I’m sorry, miss, but I don’t think that’s your decision,” the man said sternly.
Sally stepped down from the window, pushing a long strand of blond hair behind an ear. “Actually, yes, it is, and you’re interrupting. I just figured out what to do with the window and I really don’t have time to stop and talk to you now.”
“You?” the man asked in shock. “You’re the owner?”
“Yes, I’m the owner.” Sally started across the store looking for the item that she knew would work in the window.
To her surprise, the man followed her. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m getting the stepladder. It’s going in the window.”
“The stepladder? Why?” the man questioned.
Sally gave him a wry smile; she obviously wasn’t going to get rid of him that easily. “Well, if you must know, I’m going to use it to display some shirts in the window. It needs some vertical lift.” She reached for the ladder, but before she could pick it up the man lifted it out of Sally’s hands.
“Allow me to carry it for you. And I agree, by the way, this will display the shirts well.”
Sally was now getting very annoyed by this man and stood staring at him. “Thank you for offering, but I can carry it myself.”
The man smiled at her, obviously not planning on letting Sally win. “Look, I need to talk to you and you are very busy. I’m here, I might as well help out.”
Sighing, Sally led the way back across the store to the front window display. She stepped up into the window and then reached for the ladder as he held it up to her. Spreading the legs of the ladder apart she began to hang the shirts on different levels, until she was at last happy with the display.
When she had finished, Sally went outside to see how her efforts looked from the customers’ point of view. To her surprise, she found the stranger right beside her as she evaluated the window.
“Nice job. Um, how long have you owned the store?”
“Not long, just since the deaths of my parents.”
The man looked at the ground. “No wonder my ownership information wasn’t accurate.”
Sally said quietly, “Did your ownership information list Bob Rogers as the owner?”
“Yes, that’s right. I take it that was your dad?”
“I inherited it when my parents died.”
The man stared at Sally. She shrugged. “Sorry, I should’ve said it more politely, but it’s still hard for me to—to go into detail with people. Both my parents were killed in a car crash, along with my aunt and uncle. I’ve been owner of Bailey’s General Store ever since.”
“Then what I have to say—I mean, of course you may not want to hold to the agreement. I guess we can talk about it, but I think—”
“Look, I’m tired and I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sally said with a sigh.
“Your father didn’t tell you I’d be coming here?”
Sally turned to stare at the man. He looked like he belonged in a GQ ad, not standing in her country store. “My father? How would my father have known that you were coming?”
The man shifted, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “He and my grandfather struck up a deal.”
“Your grandfather? Who is your grandfather?”
“Wilbur Hunt, of the Hunt Corporation out of Denver.” The young man looked as if he expected Sally to be impressed.
“I don’t believe I found any letters from the Hunt Corporation for any reason when I went through my
