McFarlane's Perfect Bride (12 page)

She scolded, “Why are you telling me this? Didn't I say I wanted nothing to do with your takeover plans?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You
have
nothing to do with them. This is just pillow talk.”

“You'd better watch yourself, Mr. Corporate Shark. I'll sell all your secrets to the highest bidder.”

He chuckled. “Oh, come on. Corporate spying is not your style.”

She pointed at her nose. “These freckles? This schoolteacher act? All designed to lull you into trusting me so I can ferret out all of it, learn every trick you have up your sleeve—and pass it on to people who will pay well to know what you're up to.”

He bent close, blew in her ear. And then he caught her earlobe between his teeth and bit it just hard enough to make her moan. “I'm in control here.”

“Ha. So you think.”

He kissed her. Long and deeply.

“Okay,” she said when they came up for air. “I see your point.”

He kissed her again.

“I forgot.” She put on a dazed expression. “What were we talking about?”

And he kissed her a third time.

After that, Tori forgot everything—except the feel of his hands on her body and the touch of his lips to hers.

 

The next night was Friday, the second of July—and the date of their engagement party.

Melanie and Allaire had managed somehow, on extremely short notice, to get the upstairs ballroom in the town hall on Main Street for the party. This was quite a feat, as it was the weekend of the Fourth with all kinds of community events in the works.

From what Tori heard, practically everybody in town pitched in on the party. They wouldn't let her help. But all day Friday, the ballroom was full of Tori's friends and students—including Jerilyn and CJ, who had gotten a day off from his lessons with Tori so he could help with the party.

Jerilyn came by Tori's house in the late afternoon and reported that they'd spent the day setting up tables and chairs. And decorating. Jerilyn was really proud of the way the decorations had turned out. But she refused to tell Tori anything specific about them.

“Because you should be surprised, Ms. Jones. That's part of the fun.”

Tori did know that they were having potluck, with everyone bringing something, to be served buffet-style. And DJ was not only providing condiments and a few side dishes from the Rib Shack, he'd also hired the same six-piece band that would be playing at the Independence Day dance Saturday night. The band didn't mind picking up an extra gig, as long they were in town.

Tori and Connor were given instructions to be there at eight. Not before, not after. Melanie and Russ picked up CJ at six and Jerilyn was getting there with her dad.

Connor, dressed for the occasion in jeans, tooled boots and a gorgeous Western shirt, showed up at Tori's door at seven forty-five. “My sister ordered me to cowboy up for this thing.” He didn't look happy. But he
sure did look good. Not like a real cowboy—more like a movie star
playing
a cowboy.

She said, “Hey. Works for me.”

He came inside and shut the door. “I like that dress. What color is that?”

“Teal blue.”

“It matches your eyes.”

“My eyes are hazel.”

“And right now they look blue-green.” The dress was sleeveless, perfect for a summer evening. With a lazy finger, he traced the low, square neckline. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you—and why do I get the feeling it's not my dress that interests you?”

Dark eyes gleamed. “Maybe because I'm thinking about what's underneath.”

“Don't get ideas. We have to be there at eight sharp.”

“I can be quick when I have to.”

She gently slapped his hand away. “Uh-uh. I just got ready. You are not messing up my hair—or my makeup.”

“I can be careful.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“So I've been told.”

“It's going to be great,” she told him. “You'll see.” She turned to grab her purse from the entry table. “Now, let's get going.”

He scowled. “I think there's some kind of surprise brewing. I don't like surprises.”

“Relax. Let all your control issues go, just for one evening. It's going to be fun.”

“Control issues?” He arched a dark brow. “I have no control issues.”

She wisely refrained from arguing the point.

 

CJ was waiting on the front steps of the town hall. “I'm supposed to take you up,” he said. Clearly there
was
some kind of surprise brewing.

Connor narrowed his eyes. “What are they plotting?”

CJ wasn't telling. He was trying not to grin. “Come on, Dad. You'll see.”

Inside, with CJ in the lead, they mounted the wide, slightly creaky wooden steps that led to a large landing. Wide-open double doors gave way into the hall itself. The lights were off in there—and it seemed much too quiet.

“Come on, you guys.” CJ, several steps ahead of them, turned back to signal them onward as he made the landing. But he didn't wait for them. He went on through the doors, vanishing into the large shadowed room beyond.

“I don't like this,” Connor muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

She took his hand. “Be brave,” she teased.

He grunted but said no more. They reached the landing. Beyond was darkness, punctuated only by the random sparkle of what looked like Mylar streamers hanging from the ceiling. Connor held back.

Tori couldn't suppress a giggle. “This is so exciting.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Coward,” she teased.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Let's get it over with.”

Side by side, they stepped into the shadows beyond the doorway.

The lights popped on, blindingly bright, as shouts, applause and catcalls erupted. Simultaneously, the band started playing “Here Comes the Bride,” only flat, with a horrible-sounding horn.

And suddenly, an enormous clump of glittery confetti fell from above. For a moment, as the horn played on, they were engulfed in a snowfall of shiny foil and bits of bright paper.

Then everyone came rushing forward to shout congratulations and grab them in bear hugs. That went on for at least five minutes. Tori lost sight of her confetti-covered fake fiancé as each of them was hugged, passed down the line, and hugged again.

Finally, they all seemed to settle down. The band stopped mid-note.

Tori glanced toward the stage at the far end of the hall. Allaire was up there, at the mike, wearing a pretty pink dress, her hair shining like spun gold under the lights, looking like a fairy princess.

“Connor McFarlane,” she said. “Congratulations. You are a very fortunate man.”

Tori blushed. And everyone started clapping and whistling again.

Allaire raised her hand. “And, Tori, we love you. May you find all the happiness you so richly deserve.”

The guests clapped even louder.

Tori shouted, “Thank you. What a great party. Thank you, everyone!”

Tears filled her eyes and guilt tried to creep up on her. All these people, people she cared about, wishing her and Connor well, not knowing it was a lie.

The band struck up a lively tune. The guests dispersed from clogging the doorway, pausing only to clasp Tori's shoulder again, to offer more good wishes. Some coupled up and danced. Others grabbed plates and got in line at the buffet tables.

Connor appeared. “There you are. Lost you there for a minute or two.”

She swallowed her tears of guilt and whispered in his ear, “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He grunted. “Okay, I admit it. It could have been worse.”

Laughing, they brushed at each other's shoulders and hair, thinning out the confetti snowfall a little.

CJ and Jerilyn came toward them. Both were grinning wide. CJ called, “Sweet, huh, Dad?”

“Yeah,” said Connor dryly. “Sweet.”

It seemed to Tori that the whole town was there. The kids from her classes, everyone from school, every Traub and Clifton, every Cates and every Douglas, too.

She and Connor found a table with a couple of free seats. She admired the decorations, which involved flags and Uncle Sam hats and patriotic bunting, everything doused with glitter, in red, white and blue. And the ceiling? A sea of shining Mylar streamers.

Connor went and got them soft drinks—no liquor allowed in the hall. Later, they went through the buffet line, loading up their plates with more than they would ever be able to eat.

They danced. He was an excellent dancer. She filed that information away in her growing store of knowledge about him. Funny, how she felt she could never know enough about him. She could spend the rest of her life learning his ways. His likes. His dislikes. His numerous
and considerable abilities. His failings, of which there were more than a few.

There would never be enough time, not even in a whole lifetime, to know everything about him, every secret dream, every favorite thing. And they didn't have a lifetime.

They had only right now.

He brushed his lips to her temple, then tipped up her chin with a finger so that she met his eyes as they swayed through a slow song. “You look…almost sad.” His voice was low, for her ears alone.

She made her lips tip up in a smile. “I'm not, really. Not sad—or if I am, it's only a little. Mostly, I'm happy. Happier than I've ever been.”

He held her gaze, searched her face. But only for a moment. And then he pulled her close again and they danced on through the rest of that song and the next one, too.

Later, when the band took a break, they returned to their table. Russ and Melanie joined them and a few minutes later, Grant Clifton and his wife, Stephanie, came by. Steph said how happy she was for Connor and Tori. And Grant, looking very proud, announced that they were having their first baby in February.

Russ got up and clapped his lifelong friend on the back. “Now that's good news. Boy or girl?”

“Not a clue,” said Grant.

Russ raised his Pepsi. “Here's to baby Clifton.”

“To baby Clifton,” everyone at the table echoed in unison.

Stephanie laughed and patted her still-flat tummy. “Grant's already trying to get me to take it easy. I tell him to back off. I've got a ranch to run.”

Grant wrapped an arm around his wife and pulled her close for a quick kiss. And then Melanie was up and reaching for a hug from Steph. Tori got up, too, to congratulate Steph with a hug of her own.

When Tori took her chair again, Grant was leaning close to Connor, saying something in his ear that the rest of the table couldn't hear.

“Sure,” said Connor. “Monday at ten.”

Grant nodded. Tori thought he looked way too serious. And worried, as well. “Thanks.”

The band started up again. Grant took Steph's hand and led her out onto the floor.

Tori leaned closer to Connor. “What was that about?”

He put his lips to her ear. “Long story. Later.”

Tori shrugged and let it go. She sat back and enjoyed the rest of the evening, which went by in a warm blur of good company, music and laughter.

At the end, CJ went back to the ranch with the Chiltons. He seemed happy to go and looking forward to visiting the foals at the Flying J. That left Tori and Connor with a whole night to themselves.

At her house, they agreed that the party had been terrific. And they also agreed that they refused to feel guilty that the whole town had just celebrated an engagement that would never get all the way to the altar. It had been a town event at minimal cost to all involved and everyone had seemed to have a good time.

They made unhurried love.

Later, as they lay side by side in her darkened room, slowly drifting toward sleep, she remembered that strange moment at the table, with Grant. “So…”

“Um?”

“What was that about with Grant tonight?”

He touched her, smoothing a hand down the curve of her thigh. “Do we really need to talk about Grant?”

“Come on.” She caught that wandering hand of his, brought it to her lips and then twined her fingers with his. “I do want to know.”

He pulled his hand away. “Tori…”

“Come on.” She nudged him in the arm with her elbow.

And finally, he gave in and told her. “Grant wants to meet with me. At his office, one-to-one, up at the resort. Monday morning. I'm not looking forward to it.”

“Why not?”

“Last time I met with him, he called me a vulture.”

“Not Grant.”

“Yeah. Grant.”

“When was that?”

“Before I left for the trip to Philadelphia.”

“You never mentioned that.”

“You didn't want to hear about it then, remember?” Tenderly, he guided a strand of hair off her cheek. “That was before you decided to seduce me and steal all my corporate secrets.”

“But what happened? Fill me in.”

“Not much. He'd been in denial, I guess. And he finally had to admit to himself that I really was likely to end up buying the resort. He didn't like it. And let me know that in no uncertain terms.”

“Poor Grant. He loves that resort so much.” She canted up on an elbow and peered down at Connor's face through the dimness. “I'm sure he wants to meet with you in order to work things out with you.”

“There's nothing to work out.”

“Of course there is, if he was out of line.”

Connor was silent.

She asked softly, “You'll keep him on, won't you, when you take over?”

His shadowed eyes gave nothing away. “It's still if, not when.”

“Oh, please. You can't fool me. And you didn't answer my question. Will you keep Grant on?”

Again, he didn't reply for the longest time. Then, finally, “It's doubtful. For a number of reasons.”

“What reasons?” She asked the question a little too heatedly.

“Tori. Look.” Suddenly his voice was weary. “Can we not get into a fight over this?”