Meet Mr. Prince / Once a Cowboy...

No matter how much she might be tempted otherwise.

When Cornelia arrived home from the club, she smelled the flowers before she saw them: an enormous bouquet of hyacinths mixed with tiny white roses. She didn’t have to look at the accompanying card to know they’d been sent by Harry.

Darling Cornelia,

I know how much you love hyacinths. Every time you look at them, I hope you’ll think of me. All my love, Harry

Yesterday he’d sent her a nosegay of violets, the day before a huge spray of baby orchids, all with approximately the same message. All three selections were out of season and had probably cost the earth. And if she hadn’t been dealt a body blow today in the form of Greg’s news, courtesy of Harry Hunt, she’d probably be thrilled about the flowers. But she was still reeling a bit by the knowledge that Harry wouldn’t think twice about playing dirty, even when it came to her.

And why should he? Ruthless tactics had stood him well in business. Winning was all that counted. Take what you want by any means, fair or foul. That was Harry’s truth. It was the way he operated. Hadn’t he shown her just how merciless he could be when he’d threatened to disinherit his sons unless they married and gave him the grandchildren he coveted? He’d been deadly serious, too.

She was still thinking about him and trying to decide how she would deal with what he’d done about Greg when her cell phone rang. She wasn’t even surprised to see Harry’s name on the display.

“Hello, Harry,” she said.

“Hello, my dear. How are you this afternoon?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

“Did you have a nice lunch with Kit?”

“How did you know I was having lunch with Kit today?”

“I have my ways.”

She heard the smile in his voice, and it hardened her resolve. “Oh, yes, I know you do.” I know all about you, Harry. You’re not fooling me for a second. “And yes, it was a very nice lunch.”

“I’m glad. You deserve everything nice. And what about the flowers? Did they arrive?”

“They did, and they’re lovely. Thank you. But you really shouldn’t send flowers every day. It’s terribly wasteful.”

“It’s not the least bit wasteful. Not when they’re for you. You’re very important to me.”

“Really,” she said.

He laughed. “Oh, Corny, I can see I have a lot of work to do to get rid of that skepticism I hear in your voice.”

“You must admit, I do have reason to doubt you. Two blonde reasons, one brunette and one redhead, to be exact.” The redhead had particularly upset Cornelia, maybe because by that time she was thoroughly disgusted with Harry’s choices. And hurt. Don’t forget hurt.

“Touché. But it’s time for you to forget about the follies of my youth. I’m a grownup now, and I finally know what I want.” His voice lowered. “And what I want is you.”

A frisson of pleasure rippled through her, even as she reminded herself that Harry had more to answer for than the follies of his youth and that she shouldn’t forget it.

“I have a great idea,” he said.

“Oh?”

“How would you like to go away for the weekend?”

“Go away?”

“Yes, you know … the two of us … somewhere romantic. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Well,” she hedged.

“We could go to Paris …”

Paris. Her favorite city in the entire world. She almost said, If I do eventually agree to marry you, I’d rather save Paris for our honeymoon. But something held her back.

“What do you say, Corny? The Eiffel Tower all lit up at night. Montmartre. Maxim’s. We could even be naughty and go to the Folies Bergère, if you so desire. And if you don’t want to go to Paris, we could go somewhere closer to home. Montreal or Quebec City. What strikes your fancy?”

They all sounded wonderful. But then, when you were as rich as Harry, everything sounded wonderful.

“Let me think about it,” she finally said. She refused to allow him to rush her into anything.

“What is there to think about? Which city you prefer? Or whether you’re going to go at all?”

“Whether I’m going to go at all.”

He sighed heavily, the sound clearly audible over the phone. “All right, Corny. Have it your way. When do you think you might have an answer for me?”

“Why do you need to know? Are you planning to ask someone else if I say no?”

He laughed. “It would serve you right if I did. But no, I’ve learned my lesson. It’s you I want. You and you alone.”

She almost said yes right then, but she bit her tongue to keep from saying it. He could just wait a few days. It wasn’t as if he had to make plane reservations or anything. Harry’s private jet was always ready and available to him, even on an hour’s notice. And a few days would give her time to plan just what she was going to say to him about his role in the matter of Greg and his new job.

After telling her he would check in with her the following day, they said goodbye. Cornelia stood there afterward holding the phone and thinking. Was she being silly? Should she just forget all this courtship business and the way he had summarily gotten rid of Greg and tell Harry yes, she’d marry him? Neither she nor Harry were spring chickens. Who knew how many years they had left? Why was she wasting even one minute of them when they could be together?

You love him, faults and all. You know you do.

Yes, she did.

Then there’s no reason not to say yes.

But there was a reason. Harry had broken her heart once. How could she be sure he wouldn’t break it again?

Now why had he done that? Zach’d had no intention of inviting Georgie to dinner, yet he’d given in to the impulse. And he had to admit that he was looking forward to having her there. Truth was, he liked her. He hadn’t thought he was going to, but she’d quickly proven herself to be not only hardworking, with good judgment, but she was smart … and he could relate to her. It also didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes.

It was kind of a shock that he had noticed. And, if he was being honest, that he’d responded to her. Until now, he’d been attracted to women who were more like Jenny: small, dark, girl-next-door types. No doubt about it. Georgie Fairchild was at the opposite end of the spectrum: tall, blonde and … sexy. Very sexy, because the sexiness wasn’t flagrant. But it was there. It certainly was there.

Still thinking about her, he walked into the kitchen to tell Fanny he was having a guest for dinner. He wondered what Fanny thought. She didn’t reveal anything of her inner thoughts when he told her, simply smiled and said, “I’ll use the good china, then.” After a moment, she added, “Will you still be joining the children for their dinner?”

“Until Miss Fairchild arrives.” Zach usually ate his dinner early, with the children, but tonight they would be fed first so he could enjoy a more relaxed evening with Georgie.

After he’d freshened up with a shower and changed into jeans, well-worn loafers and his favorite blue sweater—a shade Jenny had always teased him about, saying it matched his eyes—he went back to the family room to check on Katie and Jeremy. He found Katie there alone.

“Where’s your brother?” he asked, looking around.

She shrugged. “He got bored. I think he’s in his room.”

“What’re you doing, honey?” The television was dark, and Katie just seemed to be sitting there.

She shrugged again. “Nothing.”

He gave her a quizzical smile. “Nothing? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Is your throat hurting again?”

She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Well, then …”

For a long moment, Katie stared down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. When she looked up, her eyes met his almost defiantly. “Fanny said that woman is coming for dinner.”

“By ‘that woman,’ do you mean Miss Fairchild?”

“Yes. Her.”

Zach suppressed a sigh. Before Jenny died, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d sighed. Now that’s all he seemed to do.

“I don’t like her.”

“Katie, you don’t even know Miss Fairchild. How can you not like her?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I just don’t.”

“But why not, honey? You must have a reason.”

Katie didn’t answer, just kept looking down and avoiding his eyes.

“Katie?”

Finally she looked up. Zach was alarmed to see tears. “Katie,” he said gently. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Are you gonna marry her?”

Zach’s mouth dropped open. “Marry who? Miss Fairchild?”

She nodded miserably.

“Of course I’m not going to marry her. She’s just a friend. Someone who is working for me.” And yet, even as he said this, he knew it wasn’t the whole truth. He and Georgie weren’t really friends. They hadn’t known each other long enough to be friends. And he was attracted to her. Too much so, in fact. Maybe Katie had sensed that.

“I don’t want you to marry somebody else.” Now the tears had spilled down her face. “I want Mommy.”

“Oh, sweetheart …” Zach knelt by the bed. He felt like crying himself. “I know you do. I—I do, too.”

“Why’d she have to die?” Katie sobbed.

At times like this, Zach felt so helpless. He knew the pat answers to these questions, but he also knew how unsatisfying they were. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said honestly, putting his arms around her. “Sometimes things happen that have no explanation.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair.”

“I miss her.”

“Me, too,” he whispered.

After a few minutes, Katie seemed to gather herself together, and her tears stopped. “You know, honey,” he said, reaching for a tissue so she could wipe her eyes, “Mommy’s always with us. I know you can’t see her, but she’s here. She’s probably watching us right now, and maybe, if you close your eyes, you can feel her giving you a hug.”

Katie’s eyes met his, and he could see she wasn’t buying it. She didn’t want her mother’s spirit. She wanted a real, live mother. And not just any mother. Her mother. Zach sighed again. What could he say to his sweet child to make her feel better? That he would never marry anyone else? Never bring another woman into their lives? How could he promise that? He was only thirty-seven years old. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life as a widower. And he knew Jenny wouldn’t have wanted him to, either. In fact, one of the last things she’d said to him before she died was that she hoped he’d meet someone someday.

Finally, not knowing what else to say to his daughter, he whispered, “I love you, Katie. That will never change. You know that, don’t you?”

She nodded.

Zach hugged her again, then in a brighter voice said, “Fanny’s got macaroni and cheese and tomato soup for you and Jeremy. Do you feel like eating tonight?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, let’s go then. I’ll sit with you until Miss Fairchild gets here, okay?”

“Okay.”

It hurt Zach to hear the resignation in her voice. Poor kid. She’d barely had time to be a kid before Jenny got sick. Then there’d been the year of treatment, the chemo, the hair loss, the weight loss—all taking place in front of Katie’s eyes. She’d had to grow up too soon, experience things no kid should have to experience.

In that moment, Zach knew he could not add to the burden Katie carried. No, he couldn’t promise his daughter he’d never marry again, because he hoped someday he would. But he could promise himself that he would never do anything to make Katie feel she came second in his life. And if that meant he would have to be alone for longer than he’d like to be, well, that was the way it was. Unless and until he met a woman his children could wholeheartedly love and accept, he’d just have to accept his own burden of loneliness.

Because his kids came first.

And always would.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.