The Millionaire's Proposal (3 page)

She was certain her father hadn’t meant a stranger, but had more in mind one of the respectable, eligible bachelors in town—none of which appealed to Grace.

Taking a deep breath filled with the sensual, delicious scent of roses filling her office, Grace made the spontaneous decision to do something for herself, without her father’s approval, and without worrying about what other people might think.

She turned to Darcy with a smile that wiped away any lingering uncertainties. “I’m going to meet my mystery man and find out exactly who he is.”

“Great!” Darcy’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Now we just need to find something for you to wear other than one of your conservative dresses or button-up business suits.”

Before Grace could take offense to that, Darcy eyed her with a sly smile of a woman confident in her ability in attracting men. “I saw the perfect dress for you in the window of Shalimar’s. I’m going to call Andrea right now and let her know that we’ll be there as soon as we close up shop for the day.”

As Darcy exited the small office, Grace was overwhelmed with the notion that for the first time in a very long time she was actually excited about something other than the joy her business brought her.

She was excited about seeing a man.

N
ervous butterflies fluttered in Grace’s belly as she entered the Whitaker Country Club at precisely 7 PM and walked up to the maître d’s podium. Alfred, the astute man who’d served as host to the country club for as long as Grace could remember, smiled amicably when he saw her.

“Good evening, Ms. Holbrook,” he greeted, his tone as warm and polite as his kind blue eyes. “You look positively lovely tonight.”

The enthusiastic compliment caused her cheeks to warm, especially since the deep purple fitted dress, complete with black hued stockings and black heels, was a far cry from the more conservative outfits she wore while dining at the country club with her father. Though the sleeves were long, the soft velvet material hugged her curves to her knees.

“Thank you, Alfred.” Feeling a bit self-conscious, she refrained from tugging at the hem of her dress, or touching the soft curls cascading from the clip securing her thick hair atop her head. The few strands that had escaped her attempt at a sophisticated style tickled the side of her neck.

She clutched her little black purse tighter in her hand. “I’m meeting with someone at seven. Has he arrived?”

Alfred acknowledged her question with a curt nod. “Yes, right this way, Ms. Holbrook.”

Instead of heading toward the main dining room, he guided her down a wide corridor that led to a wing of small, private rooms normally reserved for intimate gatherings, which rented out at an additional fee.

Realizing she would be completely alone with this stranger, instead of surrounded by familiar faces in the main dining room as she’d originally thought, she caught Alfred’s jacketed arm when he reached for the door knob of the “Crystal Room”.

He lifted a bushy, salt and pepper brow in inquiry.

“Did the gentleman give you his name?” she asked quietly.

That earned her an odd look from Alfred, as if she should have known who she was meeting. “No, Ms. Holbrook, and he reserved the room under your name. Would you like me to find out his name for you?”

Feeling foolish under Alfred’s concerned scrutiny, she quickly shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

“Very well.” He opened the door and waited until she stepped into the room, which she did, very tentatively. “If you need anything you can use the intercom on the wall, or the one on your table. Enjoy your evening.” He executed a curt bow, then was gone, closing the door behind him.

Standing at the back of the room, Grace waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the overhead chandelier. Gradually, the furnishings came into focus, revealing a small, intimate room. A dining table sat in the middle of the area, just beneath the chandelier, set for two with linen, crystal, gold-rimmed china, gleaming silverware, and one of her floral arrangements. Two tapered candles glowed cozily in the middle of the table, adding to the romantic atmosphere. Moonlight shimmered from outside the open sliding glass door, which led to a balcony overlooking the golf course.

And that’s when she saw him, standing at the black rod-iron railing enclosing the balcony, his back to her. He wore a navy blue jacket that stretched across his broad shoulders and tapered to a trim waist, and gave way to matching trousers. His dark hair gleamed with moonlight, and she had the sudden giddy thought that she’d finally get to see his face, his eyes.

Slowly, she set her purse on the edge of the table, summoning the nerve to break the silence that was making her more anxious by the minute.

“Hello,” she said softly.

She saw his body tense ever-so-slightly, then after a hesitant second he turned around. Her gaze remained on his face, and though the light from inside the room cast a silhouette over him, his features, unobstructed by the sunglasses he’d worn earlier, were unmistakable.

Her breath caught painfully in her chest. Her heart seemed to stop beating, then resumed at a maddening pace. She took a step back, feeling as though she’d seen an apparition from her past—one who’d grown into an exceptionally good looking man, and had the grace and manners of a polished gentleman.

Ford McCabe.

The last time she’d seen him had been at her brother’s funeral, eleven years ago. She’d been all of eighteen, Ford twenty. Once the services were over, he’d left Whitaker Falls without saying good-bye or ever contacting her.

He’d broken her heart. According to her father, Ford McCabe had shattered their lives.

“Ford?” she whispered, hope mingling with the heartache she’d carried around for so long.

Gradually, he closed the distance between them, leaving the evening shadows behind. Stunned, she could only watch, until finally he stood an arm’s length away and looked down at her with rich, violet colored eyes, and the tentative beginnings of a dimple creasing his lean cheek.

“Hello, Grace.”

Ford stared into Grace’s luminous brown eyes brimming with shock and disbelief, and waited anxiously for a response. A deep, vital part of him feared the possibility of her rejecting him, and that emotion had him all tangled up in knots.

He’d known when he’d made the decision to return to Whitaker Falls that the young girl he’d loved and left behind might have grown to hate him, and in some ways, he couldn’t blame her if she had. He’d been a wild, selfish kid, consumed with his own hatred and bitterness, and torn between believing he deserved someone as sweet and unassuming as her and knowing he had nothing to offer in return. She’d been the only gentle, kind thing in a life surrounded by the disgrace of his uncaring, drunk of a mother. His character had been tainted as white trash right from the cradle, and he hadn’t stood a chance to redeem himself, not when everyone automatically thought and expected the worst from “that wild McCabe boy”. Living up to the reckless reputation the town had labeled him with had been easier to do than struggling for the respect and acceptance he’d always craved.

He’d returned to his home town to gain that respect and acceptance, and it all started here and now, with Grace.

He tilted his head, and attempted to lighten the moment. “I suppose you have every reason to be shocked. After all, this is a first.”

Her expression clouded over with confusion, and much to his disheartenment, her demeanor turned cool and distant.

“What’s a first?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

He spread his hands wide, presenting the wealthy man he’d become. “Seeing Ford McCabe within the walls of the Whitaker Country Club.” His voice was low and teasing, meant to cajole a smile from her.

Her rigid posture relaxed a fraction, but no smile. “I suppose it is,” she agreed, her gaze flicking over him, absorbing the changes from skinny, rebellious boy to a distinguished grown man. “It looks like you’ve come a long way since leaving Whitaker Falls.”

“I have.” Seeing the barrage of questions leap to her gaze that he wasn’t ready to answer, he decided to cut them off at the pass. His gaze encompassed the expensively furnished room. “I have to admit that the accommodations here are outstanding. Better than I ever imagined. Will you stay and have dinner with me?”

He held his breath while she thought over his question, and let it out in a quiet rush when she finally made her decision.

“Yes, I’ll stay.”

Relief washed over him. “I’m glad.”

An awkward silence settled between them. Shifting on her feet, she smoothed a slender hand down the front of her dress in a nervous gesture. His gaze followed the movement, entranced by the lush, womanly curves she’d developed over the years. She was still petite and slender, but her breasts were fuller than before, her hips more gently rounded. Her legs looked as gorgeous as ever, lithe and toned, and graceful as a dancer’s.

Heat curled through him—as a teenage boy, he’d spent hours fascinating about those limbs, that lissome body, and he wasn’t surprised to realize she affected him just as powerfully as she had in his youth.

He lifted his eyes to hers, and for the first time their gazes connected, spiraling him back in time, then fast-forwarding him to the present again. All the lonely years in between crashed in on him, and before he could stop himself, words were spilling from his mouth.

“I’ve missed you, Grace,” he said huskily, the sentiment honest and straight from a part of himself he’d kept sealed off to anyone who tried to get close to him. “More than you could ever know. For eleven years, you’re all I ever thought about.”

Her eyes widened, and he saw her tightly woven emotions unraveling, softening—banishing the last of her reserve. “I missed you, too, Ford.”

A smile tipped his mouth, and immense pleasure washed over him at her admission, which bolstered his confidence and gave him hope for what lay ahead. Giving into temptation to touch her, he wound his finger around one of the silken curls escaping her upswept hair, and was gratified when she didn’t pull away.

Caught up in the notion that he might have consumed her thoughts as much as she had his, he couldn’t resist prompting her for more. “Yeah?”

She nodded, and shivered delicately when the pad of his finger strummed gently along the side of her neck. He expected her to say more about missing him, but those trusting eyes of hers he’d never forgotten locked on his, shimmering with a more painful accusation. “You left without saying good-bye.”

His hand stilled at her collarbone. Fell away. The injured note in her voice struck him right in the mid-section, making him realize she still harbored a wealth of hurt from his past actions. His reasons for leaving Whitaker Falls so abruptly had come on an overwhelming revelation that had left little room for good-byes. As long as he remained in the small town where he’d grown up and made a disreputable name for himself, he’d never amount to anything—no would give him the chance to prove that he
could
change, that beneath all his recalcitrant behavior there were redeeming qualities crying to be recognized and nurtured.

He’d attempted to modify his rebellious ways and wild habits, all in the hopes of being respectable enough for Grace Holbrook. But one fateful night had destroyed all his own personal hopes and dreams, forcing him to escape the condemnation that had spread through the community of Whitaker Falls. He could only hope eleven years was enough time to heal the wounds of the past.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, knowing the apology was little compensation for what he’d done to her.

She graciously let that go, but if he expected a relaxing evening with her, she had other things in mind. She circled around the table, putting it between them. “Why didn’t you tell me that it was you outside of the bank today? You acted as though we didn’t know one another.”

Figuring they both could use a glass of champagne, he withdrew the chilled bottle from the silver ice bucket next to the table, and popped the cork. “The incident caught me by surprise, and I wasn’t ready to reveal who I was just then.” Pouring two flutes of the bubbly liquid, he set a glass at each of the place settings. Then he pulled out one of the cushioned chairs and motioned for her to sit.