McFarlane's Perfect Bride (2 page)

Connor stood by the bed. His blood pressure had to be spiking. He wanted to shout,
What the hell have you done with my son?
He hardly knew this shaggy-looking, angry, sulky kid. The CJ he knew gazed at him with worshipful eyes and only wanted a chance to spend a little time with his busy, successful dad.

I will not shout. I will not rip those headphones off of his head.

Connor fisted his hands and counted to ten. And then he grabbed the TV remote off the bed and pointed it at the flatscreen.

The screen went black.

CJ slanted him a venomous look. “Turn it back on. Now.”

Connor did nothing of the sort. With a calmness he didn't feel, he reached out and gently pulled the headset from CJ's ears. “I told you we were going to the big summer kickoff barbecue.” The barbecue, at DJ's Rib Shack up at the resort, presented a useful opportunity to get more face time with people he needed to know better—family and otherwise. “Your Aunt Melanie and Uncle Russ are going. Ryan, too.” Ryan Chilton, Russ's son from his first marriage, was thirteen.

CJ groaned and tossed the controller aside. “I'm not babysitting Ryan.”

“No one said anything about babysitting. You will, however, behave in a civilized manner and treat your aunt and her family with respect.”

“I hate that kind of crap. ‘Big summer kickoff barbecue.'” He chanted the words in an angry singsong. “Big whoop.”

Again, Connor reminded himself that shouting and threats had so far gotten him nowhere. He spoke with deadly mildness. “Fine. Stay home if you like. Stay home all summer. In this room. With no electronics.”

CJ blinked. “You would
ground
me forever for missing some dumb barbecue?”

“Try me.”

CJ glared at him. Connor stared steadily back.

And then, at last, CJ put down the remote. “Fine. Let's go.” He jumped to his feet and headed for the door in his sloppy skater gear, which included ripped-out, sagging jeans, a wrinkled plaid shirt over a T-shirt that had seen better days. And dirty old-school tennis shoes with the laces undone.

Connor reminded himself that the barbecue was casual and he didn't have time for a wardrobe battle.

CJ stopped in the doorway and turned with a glare. “Well? You coming or not?”

Connor straightened his sport jacket and gave a brisk nod. “Absolutely. I am right behind you.”

 

The resort was packed. People spilled out of the Rib Shack and filled up the huge central lobby of the main clubhouse.

Connor spotted Melanie, Russ and Ryan over by the lobby's natural-stone fireplace, which was on a grand scale, like the rest of the clubhouse. Big enough to roast a couple of steers inside and still have room for an elk or three.

He hooked an arm around CJ's shoulders to keep him from slipping off and worked his way through the crowd, spreading greetings as he went. Melanie saw him just before he reached her. She smiled and waved, her sleek red hair shining in the afternoon sun that beamed down from the skylights three stories overhead and flooded in the soaring wall of windows with its amazing view of the white-capped peak of Thunder Mountain.

She was a fine woman, his sister. And forgiving. All those years he'd looked down on her. And still, she'd welcomed him to her new hometown and seemed to want only to let bygones be bygones. She made him feel humble, an emotion with which he'd had no relationship until recently.

Russ gave him a cool nod. Ryan's face split in a happy grin at the sight of his older cousin.

CJ squirmed a little under Connor's firm grip and said loudly, “Well, we're here. Can we eat?”

Ryan nodded eagerly. “In the Rib Shack. Come on, I'll show you…”

Connor hesitated to let go of his son. “Stay in the building.”

“Sheesh, Dad. Awright, awright.”

“Stay with Ryan.”

“I will, I will.”

Melanie caught his eye. “I'm sure they'll be fine.”

Russ spoke to Ryan. “Get us a table if you can.”

“We will, Dad. Come on, CJ.” He bounded off through the crowd, headed for the Rib Shack. CJ followed, kind of shuffling along. Watching them go, Connor actually found himself envying Russ his happy, upbeat son.

Russ was watching the boys, too. “Job's still open,” he said in that cryptic way he had.

The job in question was for CJ. Russ and Melanie had offered to hire him part-time for the summer, to work at Melanie's guest ranch, the Hopping H. Russ thought a few hours a day mucking out stables or doing dishes in the ranch house would be good for him.

When Russ had made the initial offer, Connor had turned him down flat. The McFarlane offspring did not do dishes or clean up horse manure. Plus, at that point, Connor had still nurtured the fond hope that CJ might spend his summer catching up on his schoolwork. Just weeks before, the boy had almost been booted out of his expensive New York boarding school due to his suddenly plummeting grades.

However, in the eleven days they'd been in Thunder Canyon, Connor had not seen his son so much as pick up a book. CJ rode his skateboard around town, disappearing for hours at a time, worrying Connor half out
of his mind. When he wasn't vanishing into thin air, he sat in his room and played video games.

Connor had started to wonder if he should reconsider Russ's job offer. He asked ruefully, “Mind if I think it over a little?”

Russ and Melanie shared a glance. And Russ answered in a neutral tone. “Take your time. The job will be there if you want him to have it.”

A big hand clapped Connor on the back. “Glad you came. Good to see you.”

He turned and greeted Caleb Douglas and his wife, Adele. Silver-haired with cool green eyes, Caleb had suffered poor health in recent years. He still had a booming voice and a hearty manner, but Connor could see the weariness in his face, the deep lines around his eyes. He was half owner of the resort, which meant he would feel duty-bound to show up for big events like this one.

But his heart wasn't in it anymore. And times were tougher than they had been. Caleb could be convinced to sell. And Connor's extensive research into the matter had led him to believe that Caleb's silent partner would go along with whatever Caleb decided.

Yeah, Caleb would sell. Hopefully, before the summer was out.

And for a very reasonable price.

Caleb made small talk for a minute or two, then stepped in close to Connor while Adele chatted up Melanie and Russ.

The older man spoke low so only Connor could hear.

“Come on out to the ranch again. We'll…talk some more.”

“I'd like that.” Connor smiled.

“Excellent—but next week's no good. Adele's dragging me to Hawaii.” Caleb grunted. “Lately Adele's got some idea that we should travel more. But how about a week from Monday? Dinner, seven-thirty?”

“I'll be there, thanks.”

A minute or two later, Caleb and his wife moved on.

Next, Grant Clifton appeared with his pretty wife, Stephanie, and a Clifton cousin, Beauregard, who was known as Bo.

Bo was good-looking and talkative, a rancher by trade—and a salesman by nature. “I think we need some fresh ideas in this old town. And that's why I'm running for mayor.”

Grant laughed. “Come on, Bo. Against Arthur?”

“Arthur Swinton is a staunch conservative,” Melanie explained for Connor's benefit.

Russ said, “Been in town politics for years.”

Grant added, “Arthur's on the city council and he's running for mayor. It's pretty much a given he's going to win.”

Bo laughed. “Nothing's a given, cousin.”

Russ suggested dryly, “Don't forget death and taxes.”

“You're right,” agreed Bo. “And for the sales tax we pay around here, we should get more for our money.” Bo went on to explain in detail all the projects he planned to fight for when he won the election.

When Grant and Stephanie finally dragged Bo away, Melanie suggested they start moving in the general direction of the Rib Shack. Connor turned for the wide arch that led through to the restaurant and almost ran into the woman standing behind him.

Slim, with short, wispy, strawberry-blond hair, the woman wore a snug summer dress splashed with vivid pink flowers. He couldn't see her face. She was turned the other way.

“Tori, hey,” said Melanie, who apparently knew her.

The woman turned to smile at his sister. But the smile faded when she saw him. She gazed up at him warily, through big, bright hazel eyes.

He stifled a groan of embarrassment as he remembered where he'd seen her before.

C
onnor felt like a jerk.

Probably because he'd behaved like one the other day.

“Hello,” the woman named Tori said coolly.

Jones,
he thought, scouring his brain for the information CJ had reluctantly given up when Connor had grilled him after he got the kid home on Thursday. Her name was Tori Jones and she taught English at the high school. “How are you?” he asked, for lack of anything more original to say.

“Just fine, thank you.” And then, finally, she did smile—over his shoulder, at Melanie. “Hey.” She even smiled at Russ. And she had that teenage girl with her, the one CJ liked, whose name was Jerilyn.

The girl said, “Hi, Mr. McFarlane.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh. Hi, Jerilyn.”

“Is, um, CJ here, too?” Her pretty face was open, guileless. And heartbreakingly hopeful.

His sister said, “Ah. So you've met my big brother?”

“Yes, we have,” Tori Jones said sweetly. “Just the other day, as a matter of fact.”

Connor told the dark-haired girl, “CJ's in the restaurant, with Ryan.”

And Melanie said, “Why don't you two join us? We were just going in to eat.”

Jerilyn turned her hopeful gaze on the English teacher.

After a moment, Tori nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

So they all went together, easing their way through the crowd toward the packed Rib Shack.

As it turned out, Ryan and CJ had actually managed to save three chairs. CJ jumped up at the sight of Jerilyn. “Jerilyn! Hi.” Suddenly he was only too eager to scout out a couple more seats for the dark-haired girl and her teacher.

They went through the serving line and loaded their plates with ribs, barbecued chicken, fat white rolls and coleslaw. Back at the table, CJ worked it so that Jerilyn sat next to him. The girl seemed to glow with pleasure at CJ's attention. And CJ behaved almost like his old self, suddenly—smiling and happy, his face animated as he and the girl whispered together.

Connor ended up with Melanie on one side and Tori Jones on the other. Through the meal, his sister and Tori talked around him—about the barbecue and what a success it was, about the resort and how nice it was to see it packed full of people again.

Since Russ had bought the first beers for the four
adults, Connor did his bit and went over to the bar to get a second round. He eased in next to a blonde woman, sitting alone, nursing a white wine.

She smiled and leaned close to him. “I'm Erin. Erin Castro.”

Was she coming on to him?

He decided she wasn't. There was no breathless smile, no fluttering eyelashes. Probably just being friendly. He gave her offered hand a quick shake. “Connor McFarlane.”

She seemed to study his face intently. “No relation to the Traubs, the Cliftons or the Cateses?” She had named the town's three major families.

He laughed. “No, but they're thick on the ground around here.”

“So I've been told.”

He paid the bartender, gathered up the four beers by their necks and headed back to the table, forgetting about the woman named Erin as soon as he turned away from her. Mostly, he was thinking about Tori Jones.

Thinking that he liked the cute spray of freckles across her nose and those big hazel eyes. Thinking that he owed her an apology for his behavior on Thursday. After all, he
was
trying to be a better man. And one of the things a better man did was to say he was sorry when an apology was called for.

Sometimes trying to be a better man could be a real pain in the ass.

At the table, he took the chair next to her again and set one of the beers in front of her. “Here you go.”

She met his eyes. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Holding her gaze, he tried a smile.
She didn't smile back. And yet somehow that look they shared went on far too long.

She glanced away first.

He passed fresh ones down the table to Melanie and Russ and tried to think of how he could smoothly suggest that the schoolteacher give him a moment alone.

Smoothly. That was the key. But for some reason, he didn't feel especially smooth. And that really bugged him. He ran a hotel chain, for pity's sake. It was part of his job to be smooth when a situation required it.

After the meal, which included red velvet cake and coffee for dessert, DJ Traub got up with a microphone and thanked everyone for coming to his annual summer kickoff barbecue. He introduced his visiting Texas cousins, Dillon and Corey, after which he announced there would be dancing out on the patio. Everyone applauded as DJ left the mike.

CJ stood and pulled back Jerilyn's chair for her.

Connor snapped to attention. “What's up?”

His son stiffened. But then Jerilyn gave CJ a gentle look. That was all it took. CJ actually spoke in civil tone. “We were just going to hang around out in the lobby area.”

“If that's all right,” Jerilyn added, stars in her dark eyes.

“Just the lobby,” Connor warned.

CJ nodded.

Jerilyn promised, “Just the lobby, Mr. McFarlane. By the big fireplace.”

“All right.”

The girl turned her warm smile on Ryan. “Come with us,” she offered softly. CJ looked a little sulky about that, but he didn't object.

“Sure.” Ryan, his face lit up like a Christmas tree, jumped to his feet and bounced off in the wake of the two older kids.

“She's a lovely girl,” said Melanie.

On his other side, Tori made a soft noise of agreement.

Out on the patio, the band DJ had hired struck up a country song. Russ took Melanie's hand and got up. “'Scuse me while I dance with my beautiful wife.”

Melanie rose. “We'll be back.” Russ put his arm around her.

Connor watched them make their way through the thicket of tables to the open patio doors, leaving him alone with the cute schoolteacher and his chance to make amends.

How to begin?

He had no clue. He felt awkward, tongue-tied as a kid with his first crush. Which was pretty ridiculous, really. He did not have a crush on Tori Jones. He'd just been put through the wringer with the divorce and the last thing he needed was another relationship.

Deeply annoyed with himself for feeling nervous, and for finding the schoolteacher much too attractive, he stared out through the open doors at the patio and the couples dancing there and started thinking about CJ.

And the girl, Jerilyn.

Jerilyn seemed like a kind-hearted person. And she was certainly polite and respectful of adults. But still, he'd better ask around, find out for certain she was really okay.

Being a full-time father was a challenge. You couldn't just tell a kid to get with the program or get out, like you could an employee. The cold fact was that Connor's life
had been a damn sight simpler before the divorce, when CJ had been Jennifer's responsibility and Connor was free to wheel and deal around the clock.

It had been Jennifer's idea that he should take the boy to live with him for the summer, leaving her free to float around the Mediterranean on a luxury yacht with her new shipping magnate boyfriend. Connor might have refused. But he had felt obligated to spend some time with his son. Yes, it was probably too little too late. But CJ really needed guidance now and Connor was determined to try to provide it.

Beside him, the schoolteacher shifted in her chair. The movement reminded him that he couldn't avoid facing her forever—and that to keep staring off into space while she was sitting right next to him was borderline rude.

He turned to her.

Those hazel eyes were waiting. A slight, knowing smile tipped the corners of her mouth and he realized she'd been watching him.

“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 charm
ing 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.