McFarlane's Perfect Bride / Taming the Montana Millionaire: McFarlane's Perfect Bride

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.”

“I don’t. I won’t.”

“I noticed.” He still wasn’t giving up. “You do believe I’m an okay guy—at least, essentially, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Forget the buts. Just go with that. After all, it’s only a second date. Being essentially a good guy should be enough to get me a second date with you—I mean, given the all-important presence of the spark.”

“You are incredibly persistent, you know that?”

“I can be, when I want something bad enough.”

She moistened her lips. “Um, how bad is bad enough?”

He thought again about another kiss. But he didn’t try for one. He only gazed down at her, steadily, trying his best to look both determined and hopeful.

She sighed. “You’re right, I suppose.”

“Of course I am,” he declared with firmness. And then he arched a brow at her. “Er, right about what?”

That soft mouth was trying really hard not to smile. “Well, that it’s only a second date. And there is the spark—”

“Exactly. Come with us on Sunday.”

She did smile then. For Connor, that smile was like the sun coming out on a rainy day. “Yes,” she said. “All right.”

Now he had what he wanted, he almost couldn’t believe it. He stared down at her, speechless.

“What are you thinking?” she demanded, when several seconds had passed without a single word from him.

“You said yes.”

“You’re surprised?” Her eyes sparkled.

“I guess I am.”

“Well, Connor, you were very convincing—but there is a condition.”

“Name it.”

“I’m inviting Jerilyn, too.”

Chapter Four

Connor drove home in a pleasant haze of satisfaction. In spite of her objections, Tori had agreed to a second date. He felt pleased all out of proportion.

And Sunday wouldn’t be the end of it. There would be a third date. And a fourth. And more after that. He was certain of it. The summer ahead was looking potentially brighter and more enjoyable than he ever would have imagined.

Until tonight, he’d seen this summer as a series of unpleasant but necessary steps, of things that he needed to do to get his life back on track: to try to get to know his son, to be a better brother to his sister. And to acquire a new property in tough times and make that property profitable in spite of everything.

Now, there was pleasure involved, too. Because of a certain strawberry-blonde schoolteacher with a cute smattering of freckles across her nose.

At home, Gerda, his live-in housekeeper, was already in bed. Light bled out from under the door of CJ’s room. Connor listened for the sounds of weapons firing and objects exploding.

Nothing. Just silence. CJ probably had his headphones on.

He looked at his watch. Almost one.

With a weary sigh, he tapped on the door. No answer. He tapped again, louder.

“What?” Muffled, annoyed, from inside.

Connor pushed the door open and went in.

As expected, CJ sat on the end of the bed, fully dressed, wearing headphones and working a controller. “What?” Eyes on the screen, thumbs flying.

Connor said nothing. He went over and sat next to his son on the bed. He watched the violence on the silent screen while CJ continued to play his game.