Dad's E-Mail Order Bride (6 page)

The way I would describe myself is being in total awe over everything you said about life in your introductory e-mail to me. You see, today happens to be my thirty-fifth birthday. And if anyone needs to get her whole life-act together, it’s moi.

I’m also one of those people who assumed by making everyone else happy, I’d eventually find happiness myself. Your e-mail has snapped me out of that delusion.

So, thank you, Graham.

You appear to be a wise and thoughtful man.

I hope we can become good friends.

Ditto.

He often felt as if his life had been a blank page until he moved to Alaska. Was it possible Courtney’s trip to Alaska represented the same for her? Had she hoped to start a new chapter in her life and fill some of those pages?

Graham could only wonder.

But thinking about Courtney reminded him he would soon be facing her again at dinner. And deciding he’d better see if he could still fit into his damn tux after five years, Graham got up from his chair and headed for his bedroom.

He took the folder with him. If he couldn’t sleep tonight, Courtney’s e-mails would keep him company.

Now they had just finished dinner and dessert and she could tell her dad had really enjoyed it. He’d even said the menu was worthy of being served at any classy restaurant in New York City, but he didn’t realize how true his statement was.

She’d searched the Web sites of fancy New York restaurants for hours putting her menu together. The melt-in-your-mouth roasted salmon with a mustard, tarragon and chive sauce was compliments of a restaurant called L’Appétit. She’d chosen the fish because during salmon season they had the stuff practically coming out of their ears. The vegetable and rice medley—veggie ribbons on ice—had been on the menu of a restaurant named Wellington’s, and she’d chosen the dish first because she loved the cute name of it and second, because they had squash and zucchini from the garden and her dad had always preferred rice to potatoes.

Her adopted grandmother Peg had made the apple cobbler for her, and Rachel was glad. Although the meal had been fairly easy to prepare with Courtney’s help, they never would have had time to make cobbler.

Yes, her meal had been a great success.

But right now Rachel was disappointed.

She’d also searched the Internet for ways to make a table setting intimate—God, but she loved the word
intimate.
She’d kept the overhead lighting off, and to “set the mood” she’d placed candles on half of their long dining table so her dad and Courtney would be forced to sit at one end. Her dad was in his usual place at the head, and Courtney was sitting right beside him—so close they could have held hands, which was looking more doubtful with every minute.

The
mood
she’d created wasn’t working.

Sure, her dad and Courtney had been talking to each other all through dinner about different places they’d been in Europe, about books they’d read recently, and other boring adult blah, blah, blah. But at this rate, if Rachel didn’t do something quick, all of her romantic candlelight was going to be wasted.

She had to get their focus back on each other—the way it had been when Courtney had first come downstairs for dinner. When her dad picked up his wineglass again and Courtney dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin, Rachel saw her chance.

“So?” Rachel said. “Do you think there’s a possibility you guys might hook up after all?”

Courtney laughed.

Her dad choked on his wine and sent her a stern look.

“What?” Rachel said. “It’s a simple question.”

“Well?” Rachel said now. “Since neither of you is going to answer me, can I take that as a yes?”

“It wasn’t an appropriate question to ask, and you know it,” Graham warned. “That’s why we didn’t bother to answer you.”

She looked across the table at Courtney, then back at him. “Well, at least admit you think Courtney looks beautiful tonight, Dad.”

“Rachel!” Courtney protested. “Don’t put your dad on the spot like that.”

But rather than have Courtney more embarrassed than she already was, Graham looked directly at her and said, “You look extremely beautiful tonight, Courtney. And so does my daughter, even if she is being a complete brat.”

“Why, thank you, Graham,” she said politely and picked up her wineglass. “I say we make a toast to your beautiful daughter, even though she is being a complete brat, for planning such an incredible meal for us tonight.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. But she got the message from both of them to back off.

“To Rachel,” Graham said, lifting his glass and touching it against Courtney’s, then against Rachel’s Sprite-filled wineglass.

But he hadn’t missed Courtney’s wink when their glasses touched, signaling she was pleased with the way they were handling the situation. That made Graham realize Courtney might be more of an ally than he thought.

Maybe Courtney would be a good friend for Rachel after all. He’d paused outside the kitchen on his way to dress for dinner and listened while Courtney patiently walked Rachel through making the sauce for the salmon. And as he’d entered his bedroom, he’d heard them laughing. He hadn’t heard Rachel laugh like that in a long time.

Graham glanced over at his daughter again.

Seeing Rachel all dressed up made him wonder when his baby girl had grown into such a lovely young woman. But the dress she wore only reinforced Graham’s belief that he was doing the right thing refusing to move to New York. Rachel had a lifetime ahead of her for party dresses and fancy restaurants. A lifetime where he would only be an afterthought, the father she might decide to visit now and then.

He’d wasted the first ten years of her life. He didn’t intend to squander the short time they still had left together. And if that made him a selfish father, so be it.

Fathers were selfish when it came to their daughters.

Always had been.

Always would be.

“I want to make a toast to you, Graham,” Courtney said, jarring Graham from his thoughts. “To you, for being a good sport and wearing your tux tonight.”

Graham swallowed past his collar and bow tie again. The same way he seemed to every time she looked at him.

“You do look good, Dad,” Rachel chimed in. “Even if you are forty.”

“Hey, I’m not forty yet,” Graham reminded her.

“But you’ll be forty tomorrow,” Rachel said. “And there’s something we need to talk about before the party. I told everyone we’d invited a friend of yours from New York, but only Tiki and Gil know the truth.”

“I knew Gil was in on it!” Graham complained.

“Not really, Dad,” Rachel said. “I just made him promise he wouldn’t let Courtney get back on the plane.”

Courtney laughed. “And Gil sure kept his promise.”

“So, let’s just stick to my story, okay?” Rachel begged. “No one needs to know the truth. I don’t want Courtney to be embarrassed when she meets everyone.”

It was Graham’s turn to laugh. “And you being embarrassed over what you did has nothing to do with it. Right, Rachel?”

Rachel blushed. “Okay. I don’t want
any
of us embarrassed. Agreed?”

Graham nodded and reached for his wineglass again. Besides, what choice did he have? At least they could get through the party and Courtney would be gone before Gil had the opportunity to tell everyone the truth of the matter. And Gil would make sure everyone knew the truth—the stunt Rachel had pulled was too sensational for Gil to keep quiet about it.

“Since I’ll be so busy with your party tomorrow,” Rachel spoke up again, “I want to give you your birthday present from me tonight.”

And why doesn’t that surprise me?
Graham thought.

Rachel always knew exactly how to play him. Give the old man a present, and how can he stay angry?

His daughter was still smiling when she reached under the table and produced a small black gift bag with Over the Hill written across the front. “Happy Birthday, Dad.”

Rachel slid the bag in his direction.

“You’ll notice I’m ignoring the
over the hill
part,” Graham grumbled as he unwrapped the present and pulled out a CD.

“It’s a mix I made of your favorite Sinatra songs that you’ve bored me with my whole life,” Rachel teased.

In spite of his irritation with her, Graham leaned over and kissed his daughter on the cheek. “Thank you, pumpkin. You couldn’t have gotten me anything I’ll enjoy more.”

It crossed Graham’s mind he hadn’t used his pet name for Rachel in a long time. He was still wondering why when Rachel looked at Courtney.

“Dad’s a closet romantic, Courtney. So don’t let him fool you. He does have a sensitive side.”

And then Graham remembered. His
pumpkin
could be downright
rotten
sometimes.

“Courtney’s a big Sinatra fan, too,” Rachel said.

Graham looked over at Courtney. “Really?”

Courtney shrugged. “What can I say? You can’t grow up in New York and not be a Sinatra fan.”

Rachel was out of her chair in a flash. She pointed a finger at both of them as she said, “You two stay right here until I get back. I’ll only be gone a minute.”

“I have no idea,” Courtney said, and it was true.

“Then maybe we should run for our lives,” he said.

Courtney laughed. “Don’t worry. Between the two of us, I think we can take her.”

He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of wine, and all Courtney could think was how gorgeous he looked in a tux. And that led her to thoughts of how good Graham would look
out
of his tux.

Finally, she’d met a man who held her interest. And not just physically.

Courtney was attracted to everything about Graham. His intelligence. His wit. His quiet confidence. The love she saw in his eyes every time he looked at his daughter—even when Rachel was being a total pain. If she could place an order for everything she wanted in a man, Graham would be the man UPS delivered on her doorstep.

How tragic there was nothing she could do about it.

Not in three short days.

Graham hadn’t even known she existed until seven hours ago. Yet, he’d been on her mind for three long months. It wasn’t fair to expect Graham to treat her like anything other than what she was—a total stranger.

A weekend wouldn’t be long enough to change that.

But Courtney did hope one thing. She hoped Graham would at least think about her now and then after she was gone.

Rachel rushed back into the room holding a portable CD player, and two seconds later Old Blue Eyes was singing about strangers in the night exchanging glances.

“See,” Rachel said brightly. “Even Frank is trying to tell you guys something. So be a gentleman, Dad, and ask Courtney to dance.”

Courtney could tell from Graham’s expression he hadn’t seen that one coming. Neither had she. She was going to have a serious talk with Rachel about her constantly trying to push them together.

Courtney didn’t want Graham to be forced into dancing with her, or
hooking up
with her, or anything else. She was still trying to think of some way to rescue both of them when Graham stood and held out his hand.

“May I have this dance, Courtney?” he asked politely.

The next thing Courtney knew, she was in Graham’s arms. And her head wasn’t reeling from just the fancy turns he was making as he twirled her around the great room of the lodge.

It barely registered when Rachel called out she was going to her room to call her friend Tiki. But the second Rachel left, Graham pulled Courtney even tighter against him.

She gasped, barely able to breathe.

He threw in a few more fancy dance steps as Sinatra sang “Under My Skin.” Graham whispered against her ear, “Maybe Frank really is in on Rachel’s conspiracy.”

“Or maybe Frank’s observing we can’t dance much closer?” Courtney teased.

“Great comeback.”

But he didn’t loosen his grip.

That was just fine with Courtney. She hadn’t been expecting this opportunity to be in Graham’s arms. And even if it was only an innocent dance, at this point Courtney was willing to take whatever she could get.

When Graham curled her hand into his chest, Courtney rested her head on his shoulder. By the time the music track changed again, the song “Fly Me to the Moon” seemed exactly where Courtney was headed.

“I started reading your e-mails,” he said.

Courtney pushed back to look at him. “I’m glad. I wanted you to see for yourself my only agenda in coming to your party was to meet you and Rachel in person.”

He turned her into a spin. When they faced each other again, he said, “You mentioned you hoped we could become good friends. If you haven’t changed your mind, I’d like that, too.”

Courtney smiled. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.”

Graham pulled her to him again and continued to glide her around the room as if they were dancing in the grand ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria instead of a wooden-plank floor. When the song ended, Graham even leaned Courtney backward for a final dramatic dip. And he pulled her back up just as Sinatra sang about having a crush.

“Thanks for the dance.”

“Likewise,” Courtney told him.

He leaned forward and Courtney held her breath. His mouth kept inching closer and closer. Courtney was so sure he was going to kiss her, she closed her eyes.

“You know we have an audience, right?” he whispered.

Courtney’s eyes popped open. “Of course we do.”

They stepped away from each other.

“I really appreciate you helping Rachel with dinner.”

“It was my pleasure,” Courtney said.

He looked down at his watch, then at her. “You have to be exhausted,” he said. “You’re still on New York time. So why don’t you call it a night?”

“I’ll help Rachel clean up first.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pull cleanup duty. Just as soon as I get out of this blasted tux.” He grinned as he unfastened his bow tie.

It was obvious Graham needed his space—without her in it. And Courtney understood that completely. She’d flown in from out of nowhere and landed right in the middle of his life. And though he couldn’t have been any nicer under the circumstances, Graham had politely let her know this day was over.

“You’ll say good-night to Rachel for me?”

“Of course,” he said.

“Then I’ll see you both in the morning.”

But as she headed up the stairs, she took the words
good
friends
along with her. Graham had politely let her know not to expect anything more than friendship from him.

Too bad. Because she could still smell him on her skin.

Still feel his arm around her waist.

And yes, damn him, she was still aroused from the feel of his rock-hard body pressed against hers.

For Courtney, that was a first. Usually, men bored her. Usually, all she had to do was look in their direction to have men falling all over her. Was that also part of her overwhelming attraction to Graham—his failure to immediately fawn over her?

Sighing, Courtney closed her bedroom door, unzipped her dress and walked toward the bathroom. She really was exhausted. With any luck once she hit the bed, she’d fall into a sleep so deep she wouldn’t have bad dreams about those blank pages of her life that Graham was never going to fill.

She had a
friend’s
birthday party to attend tomorrow.

A
friend,
nothing more.