The Determined Groom

Connor’s tone was smooth and businesslike. He caught her gaze and held it.

Laurel stood in shock, staring back at him.

“Marry you? Are you mad?”

“I’ve never felt saner in my life.” Connor took a step toward her, and Laurel actually felt her knees shake.

“Why?” she demanded. “Why in heaven’s name do you want to marry me? The whole idea is just…insane, Connor.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders; his sensuous mouth lifted in a small, private smile. “Because I know now I should have married you seven years ago.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she countered.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Laurel,” Connor stated, smiling. “If I ever had any doubt, that kiss just convinced me otherwise.”

Dear Reader,

Silhouette is celebrating its 20th anniversary throughout 2000! So, to usher in the first summer of the millennium, why not indulge yourself with six powerful, passionate, provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire?

Jackie Merritt returns to Desire with a MAN OF THE MONTH who’s Tough To Tame. Enjoy the sparks that fly between a rugged ranch manager and the feisty lady who turns his world upside down! Another wonderful romance from RITA Award winner Caroline Cross is in store for you this month with The Rancher and the Nanny, in which a rags-to-riches hero learns trust and love from the riches-to-rags woman who cares for his secret child.

Watch for Meagan McKinney’s The Cowboy Meets His Match—an octogenarian matchmaker sets up an ice-princess heiress with a virile rodeo star. The Desire theme promotion THE BABY BANK, about sperm-bank client heroines who find love unexpectedly, concludes with Susan Crosby’s The Baby Gift. Wonderful newcomer Sheri WhiteFeather offers another irresistible Native American hero with Cheyenne Dad. And Kate Little’s hero reunites with his lost love in a marriage of convenience to save her from financial ruin in The Determined Groom.

So come join in the celebration and start your summer off on the supersensual side—by reading all six of these tantalizing Desire books!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Determined Groom

Kate Little

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KATE LITTLE

claims to have lots of experience with romance—“the fictional kind, that is,” she is quick to clarify. She has been both an author and an editor of romance fiction for over fifteen years. She believes that a good romance will make the reader experience all the tension, thrills and agony of falling madly, deeply and wildly in love. She enjoys watching the characters in her books go crazy for each other, but hates to see the blissful couple disappear when it’s time for them to live happily ever after. In addition to writing romance novels, Kate also writes fiction and nonfiction for young adults. She lives on Long Island, New York, with her husband and daughter.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

One

He couldn’t say why he had returned.

A premonition perhaps. A need to touch home base before flying on to greater heights, a new job and a new life in New York City. His first position out of college, the first step in a career that looked bright and full of possibilities. He was due to start on Monday morning, his graduate degree in business in hand, the ink barely dry. He’d already moved his few possessions into a new apartment in Chelsea that he would share with a friend. Everything was set. But for some strange reason, Connor had felt the need to set foot on the Cape for a few days. To breathe the salty ocean-fresh air all day, and at night, linger on the porch of the old cottage that had barely changed since his boyhood.

Since his mother’s death years ago, his father had kept everything in their small home the same. Connor often wished his mother had lived to see his graduation. She would have been so proud. Unlike his father, she had believed he could do anything with his life that he wanted to.

Once she was gone, Connor had not come home very often. He and his father didn’t get along. Never had. Few questions were asked about Connor’s absence, no excuses necessary. There was nothing left for him here anymore, Connor thought as he drove along the winding road that led to the entrance of the Sutherland estate. Nothing but memories.

He didn’t really know why he’d come home for the weekend. Or why he had accepted Charles Sutherland’s impromptu invitation to attend the party at the main house that night. Perhaps he’d accepted simply out of a feeling of obligation to Charles, who had been so generous to him in so many ways. That debt could never truly be repaid.

The imposing sight of the Sutherland mansion at the end of the long curved driveway cut into his reverie and captured his full attention. The house was lit up like Grand Central Station, the portico bustling with guests as valets helped them emerge from shining luxury cars and long black limousines. He’d parked his own car at the end of the driveway, just in case the party became too tedious and he resorted to a quick getaway.

But the moment he spotted Laurel Sutherland, he knew with utter certainty why he had come home.

The instant her turquoise gaze met his—her expression, first shocked, then so very pleased—he understood. Her warm easy smile went right to his heart, like an arrow flying straight and true, striking its mark with bittersweet precision.

She was surrounded by her guests, friends and family, the men in white dinner jackets, the women glittering with jewels and silken finery. Lauren herself, a vision in a summer gown of some filmy azure blue fabric, her tanned smooth shoulders bare, her skin flawless, her long golden hair pulled to one side with a jeweled clip, the rest floating over her shoulders as she moved across the softly lit patio to greet him.

In her graceful form and the delicate lines of her face he saw a glimmer of the girl he had known so long ago. The brave comrade who had raced beside him on sunny beaches and through the dark, cool woods all summer long. His playmate, his friend, his kindred spirit.

And yet, she was a woman now. A beautiful young woman in all her glory.

The promise of her girlhood features fulfilled in a most exquisite way, he thought. Transformed from sweet innocence to alluring mystery, the high cheekbones, full lips and straight, delicate nose as perfectly formed as any famous face on the cover of a magazine. Yet, Laurel’s face glowed with something more, Connor thought. Her radiant spirit—the daring, stubborn streak of that spunky tomboy shining through, like a light from within.

She held out her hand to him, the look in her eyes bright, excited and also relieved. As if, all this time, she had been waiting for him. Worried he wouldn’t arrive. But now he had come.

And she felt contented. Completed.

As he too felt, moving toward her.

In a blinding bolt, the realization struck. This is why he had come. For Laurel. Of course. It seemed suddenly so obvious now. So right.

As his large hand enfolded hers, he felt the soft skin, the delicate bones. He bent to kiss her cheek and inhaled the flowery scent of her hair. He drew away and gazed down at her to find a tender smile on her lips and a knowing look in her eyes that caused his heart to shudder with awareness. He did not release her hand, nor did she make any move to break contact.

“My father told me he met you in town. He said you might come,” she said. “But I wasn’t sure you would. I remembered how much you hated fancy parties.”

Her voice sounded different, deeper, richer, and the music of it worked a special magic on him.

“Still hate parties,” he replied, flashing a grin. “But I wanted to see you.”

Maybe seeing Laurel hadn’t been Connor’s conscious reason for coming. But as he said the words aloud, he knew it was true.

When he’d met Charles Sutherland in town that day, he’d asked about Laurel, tried to picture how she’d turned out since he’d last seen her. How long had it been? Five years, since her mother had died when she was sixteen. He had attended the funeral, offered his comfort and condolences as best as he could, but had barely spoken to her after that day.

After Madeleine Sutherland’s death, there were no more summers on the Cape for Laurel and her family. His father said that Charles Sutherland found it too painful to return to the place that held so many memories for him. Connor could understand, but regretted the way Charles’s grief kept Laurel away. After that time, Laurel and her older brother, Phillip, attended boarding schools during the fall and winter and spent their summers abroad, on organized trips for wealthy teenagers. Yes, they’d lost touch completely after Mrs. Sutherland had died.

Charles had spoken proudly of his daughter’s accomplishments, how well she’d done at the Ivy League college she’d attended, her acceptance to a prestigious law school. Adding, almost as an afterthought, the news that she’d soon be married. A very nice boy she’d met in college, Charles explained. The wedding was less than a month away, in fact. Charles was hosting a party for the happy couple that very night.

“Won’t you drop by, Connor?” Charles had urged him. “I know Laurel would love to see you.”

Connor had agreed to come. He owed Charles Sutherland so much. All the opportunity and advantages in his life that now granted him such a promising future. A debt he’d vowed to someday repay. Of course he’d come to the party. It was generous, as always, of Charles to invite him. To treat Connor as a friend of the family, an equal, when in fact they both knew that Connor was no more than the caretaker’s son.

As he returned to his father’s modest cottage and prepared to visit the Sutherland estate, Connor refused to acknowledge the way his heart had clenched when Laurel’s father had told him about her engagement. But he could not push away the many images of Laurel that had drifted through his mind all day—memories of the adventures they’d shared, their squabbles and reconciliations, the secrets they had entrusted to each other. He was eager to see her. And curious to meet the man she had decided to marry.

His thoughts and feelings about her all day gave no hint to the impact he now felt, standing beside her. The flood of emotions was staggering, like a giant wave crashing down over him. It took all his self-control to keep up a polite front.

All he knew now was that he did not want to let go of her hand. Not soon. Not ever. If anything, he wanted to pull her closer, draw her slender form to his side and bury his face in her silky hair.

Could she guess? Was she feeling anything like this for him?

When he met her gaze, she appeared to have been studying him. Connor wasn’t vain about his looks, but he knew by now that women found him attractive—and told him so. They liked his thick dark hair and deep brown eyes, the cleft in his strong chin and the flash of his even white teeth when he smiled. Connor never gave much thought to his looks, but as Laurel’s appraising gaze swept over him, he hoped that she liked what she saw.

With a slight, sly smile on her lips, she craned her head back and stared up to take in his entire six foot two inches.

“My word, you got tall,” she observed lightly. “Remember how you worried that you wouldn’t?”

He laughed. It seemed a hundred years ago that he’d wasted so much time worrying needlessly about that boyhood concern. He’d forgotten he’d confided that fear to anyone. But he must have told Laurel.

“You turned out pretty well yourself,” he observed, his gaze sweeping down to take in every lovely inch of her.

She was tall. But not too tall. Just right, he thought. Long arms and legs, like a model. But without that starved-greyhound look he hated. She still looked as if she worked out, but now she had curves in all the right places.

“Well, thanks. How nice of you to notice.” The corner of her mouth twisted up in a playful grin Connor found amazingly sexy and appealing. “Is that the line you use on the girls in New York?”

“I don’t date very much,” he answered with a laugh. “Maybe I should work on my technique.” It was the truth, too. For the past six years he’d been too busy keeping up his grades and working at the part-time jobs that supplemented his scholarships.

“Maybe,” she replied quietly. She paused, looked out at the crowd then back at him, her expression dreamy, wistful. “It’s good to see you again, Connor,” she added softly.

“It’s great to see you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

A jazz ensemble at the far end of the patio started to play a torchy ballad Connor had always liked, but at that moment, the familiar song seemed to take on a special meaning.

“Dance with me?”

She smiled her assent and he led her out to the dance floor, then took her in his arms. She willingly moved closer to him, her long smooth arms looped around his neck, her head turned to the side so that her cheek nearly brushed his shoulder. He took a deep breath, inhaled her perfume and the special, unique scent of her warm skin. He felt intoxicated, drugged, cast under a powerful spell. As he tilted his head to look down at her, it was with willful effort that he suppressed an urge to dip his head just a few inches lower to drop a soft kiss on her full, berry-red mouth.

How wonderful that would feel, he thought as she swayed seductively against him. How amazingly wonderful.

But once he got started, how would he stop? It was hard enough to control himself, holding her like this. Her slender body fit perfectly next to his own, he thought. His bare palm made contact with the silky skin on her back, exposed by the low back-line of her gown, and Connor felt his heartbeat race. He had the immediate urge to run his hand up and down her bare back, to caress and explore every inch of smooth skin. To slide his hands down the curve of her hip and cup her adorable bottom.

In short, to create a scandalizing scene, right here on the patio of the Sutherland summer mansion. A scene that would be talked about in certain circles for years to come.

Laurel asked him questions, eager to catch up on the years since they’d been apart. She listened with genuine interest as he told her about his college years, his studies and the many part-time jobs he’d worked to get through school. He told her all about the new apartment in New York and his new job. He asked her questions, too, carefully sidestepping the subject of her upcoming marriage. Yet, all the while they spoke, his pulse pounded furiously, a distant part of his mind was spinning out of control with rapturous images and emotions.

Had he ever danced with Laurel before? Really danced, not just playing around with music on the radio? He could only remember one time, at a Labor Day barbecue; she was sixteen and he was twenty. They were both at an awkward stage, Connor reflected, if Laurel had ever gone through such a phase. She had the requisite braces and unruly hair, the gawky angles to her figure and a touching shyness. Some stuck-up prep-school boy she had a crush on had treated her heartlessly all night long. He’d even gone so far as to tease her when she asked him to dance. Connor had watched as the tears welled up in her eyes, and did the only thing he could do—short of socking the other kid in the nose—tug Laurel out on the dance floor himself. He wasn’t much of a dancer at the time and had looked and felt ridiculous. But seeing Laurel’s tears turn to laughter had been worth it.

That night he had kissed her, hadn’t he? Connor had all but forgotten that moment, until now. A soft, fleeting kiss squarely on her lips, which had brought the color rushing up to her cheeks, and left her wide-eyed and stunned. The kiss had been half-friendly…half something else. But it had ended right there, with Connor realizing that, no matter what was simmering between them, Laurel was far too young for them to be romantically involved.

It wasn’t much different this time, was it? Connor reflected. Laurel was a beautiful, elegant, charming woman and, holding her in his arms, he felt the envy of every man in the place. Inexplicable feelings still simmered between them. And he still yearned to kiss her. Not an innocent peck either, but a kiss that would lead to much more.

And Laurel was still out of reach. Off limits. Tonight, even more than before.

How had that happened? And how had he lived all this time without her?

The unbidden thought flashed through his mind. Connor considered it, feeling at first totally crazy and then utterly sane. Saner and more content than he had in a long time.

As he continued to make polite small talk, another part of his mind repeated the same refrain: This is Laurel. My Laurel. We’re together again.

Holding her in his arms, looking into her eyes, every loose end in his life had suddenly fallen into place.

Then their conversation stopped and they slowly moved closer, their bodies moving in rhythm to the music as if one. Did she feel it too? he wondered. He believed that she must be feeling something…extraordinary, as he did. He simply could not be experiencing this amazing revelation alone.

“Connor.” She said his name slowly, as if savoring the sound as it rolled off her tongue. “I’ve thought about you a lot these past years, wondered how you were doing…” Her voice trailed off. “I missed you,” she confessed. She looked up at him, with clear blue eyes that conveyed so much more than words could ever say.

Her simple admission went right through him, touched his heart, his very soul, ringing within, loud and true. And he knew he was right. She felt it, too.

“I’ve thought about you too, Laurel,” he replied. He tilted his head back and looked down at her. “I’ve missed you, too. Very much.”

He watched as the impact of his words registered in her expression. She looked surprised at first, then happy, and finally, her gaze was sweet and tender. She turned away, a slight smile on her lips, and he tucked her close again. She had always been so open and honest with her emotions. So trusting. He could never hurt her. He could never betray that trust.

I have missed you, Laurel, he added silently. But until tonight, I didn’t know how much. Something in my life making me feel restless, driven, unsatisfied. Some elusive need, pushing me on. Wanting to achieve, to excel. To measure up in someone’s eyes. Not for my family. Not even for myself. For someone. Who? For you, Laurel. It was all for you. And of all the women I’ve met, one or two came close to feeling right, and yet, still fell short. That was it, of course, all those years. I’d been comparing them to you.

And never even realized it.

Connor felt the music wash over him, cherishing the feeling of Laurel in his arms. The singer’s soulful voice did full justice to the song’s romantic lyrics, describing the magical moment when love is first discovered, first realized. Suddenly Connor wanted to laugh out loud at his own foolishness, his own blindness. He felt lighthearted. Released of some crushing burden he wasn’t even aware he’d been carrying. But now he knew. And the entire world looked different to him, bright, fresh, new, as if washed clean by a summer storm.

On impulse, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. He saw her eyes flutter shut for a moment and heard her sigh. The sound, no louder than a breath, drove him wild. He imagined sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her down to the beach, making love to her all night long just to elicit more of those soft seductive sighs. He gently squeezed her hand and then felt something cold and sharp bite into his skin. He knew without looking. Her engagement ring. Of course. The classic, square-cut diamond—large enough to impress but one that could never be called ostentatious.

Then, as if magically summoned by Connor’s thoughts, the fiancé appeared, emerging from the crowd to stand beside them on the dance floor. Connor recognized him instantly from the peeved expression on his smooth face.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he asked Laurel. He brushed her hair off her shoulder in a gesture that seemed to Connor both blatantly intimate and somehow, mildly disapproving.

“Todd.” Laurel’s voice sounded husky and slow, as if she had just been rudely awakened from a pleasant dream, Connor thought. Or was that simply his own feeling? Laurel stopped dancing and Connor had no choice but to release her.

“This is my old friend, Connor Northrup,” Laurel said, starting the introductions. “You must have heard me talk about Connor. We go way back.”

“Of course. Good old Connor. Boy hero, a friend to all. I remember,” Todd assured both of them.

Connor knew that if Todd recalled anything about his relationship with Laurel it would most likely be that Connor was the son of the family servants, the caretaker—and sometimes chauffeur—and the housekeeper. From the cool, condescending way Todd looked him over and the curt nod of greeting, Connor felt certain that this was the case.

“Connor, this is my fiancé, Todd Parson.”

“Congratulations on your engagement,” Connor offered politely. “You’re a lucky man.”

“Thanks, Connor.” Todd slipped his arm around Laurel’s waist and pulled her toward him. “Guess I chased her until she caught me,” he joked.

Connor laughed politely along with Laurel, but he could see how Todd’s little joke had stung her. He didn’t like Todd Parson. He supposed that most women would find the guy good-looking, but Connor didn’t like the man’s small dark eyes, his slicked-back hair, his cocky attitude. His entire demeanor screamed of the right family name, the right schools and connections. But Connor felt, deep in the marrow of his very bones, that this arrogant young man, who came equipped with all the advantages of wealth and class, was not nearly good enough for Laurel.

“Stan and Louise just arrived. They’ve been asking for you,” Todd mentioned privately to Laurel. “I really think you ought to say hello to them. Especially since Stan sent me that new client last week.”

“Oh, yes. I guess I’d better,” Laurel agreed, scanning the crowd. Then she glanced up at Connor, her turquoise eyes shimmering with some private message for him alone. Clearly, she seemed sorry to leave him. But there was something more. What was it exactly? Connor wondered as he tried to understand. Telegraphing her reluctance to leave him? Her sense of being torn suddenly between her promise to Todd and the feelings ignited by their reunion?

“I’ll see you later, Connor. We’ll catch up some more, okay?” Laurel said as Todd began to sweep her back into the crowd.

“Sure thing,” Connor replied easily, though he felt anything but.

Laurel nodded, then turned to respond to some request from Todd that Connor could not hear. Todd’s face looked a bit flushed, as if he’d had too much to drink or was simply irritated, annoyed at Laurel for some reason.

Jealous maybe, Connor thought. Had he been in Todd’s place and found his fiancé in the arms of another man with that dreamy expression on her face, he would have felt the same.

Connor watched as the couple disappeared into the laughing, milling crowd and then walked off in search of a drink. His head pounded and a bitter knot twisted in his gut. He was jealous of Todd Parson. Out of his head with jealousy. And what right did he have to feel this way? Absolutely no right at all.