The Millionaire's Proposal (4 page)

Sliding into the seat he offered, her gaze narrowed, the depths glowing golden from the candlelight on the table. “You led me to believe you were a stranger!”

Taking the chair across from her, he smiled, enjoying her fiery display of temper, which he knew stemmed more from frustration than anger. “Maybe, but I was being completely truthful when I said you were absolutely beautiful.”

That took the wind out of her sails, and she sat back in her chair. Her tongue swept across her bottom lip, and she appeared startled by her own provocative action. “I’m not beautiful,” she refuted, sounding prim. “Pretty, maybe, but hardly beautiful.”

He wanted to laugh at how guileless she still was about her appearance. “At eighteen, you were pretty, but you’ve grown into beautiful woman.” He could see the doubt in her expression, and found it difficult to believe another man hadn’t seen and appreciated all that she was. “And you still have the most sensual mouth I’ve ever seen, with full, soft, kissable lips.”

He could have sworn he saw her pulse flutter at the base of her throat. “Ford-”

“I couldn’t get enough of your mouth, your kisses,” he went on, making her remember exactly what they’d shared, and how good it was. “It’s hard to believe I was the first boy to teach you how to French kiss, but I do have to say that you were a quick learner, and a very receptive student.” The hours they’d spent perfecting those slow, deep kisses had nearly driven him out of his mind, but had taught him the true anticipation of waiting for something infinitely more special. Restraint had been his own lesson that lazy spring afternoon. “Do you remember that day, Grace?”

She blushed furiously in answer. “Yes,” she murmured, and reached for her flute of champagne, taking a gulp.

“I’ve relived that day, those kisses, a thousand times in my mind since leaving Whitaker Falls,” he said, his fingers stroking along the stem of his champagne glass, his gaze holding hers. “You were so incredibly generous, and sweet. Sweeter than anything I’ve ever had in my life, then or since.”

He watched her visibly swallow, saw her struggle to keep her composure. “That was a long time ago, Ford.”

“Yet it seems like yesterday,” he said, then let the trip down memory lane linger between them. Pressing the button on the intercom next to his place setting on the table, he let their waiter know they were ready to begin dinner.

Grace took another drink of her champagne, studying him over the rim. “So, what is this private room all about?”

“I wanted to see you, and talk with you, without prying eyes watching our every move, and eavesdroppers listening to our conversation.” An easy smile curved his mouth. “Is it so wrong to want this night alone with you?”

She seemed to consider that, then ducked her head sheepishly. “I have to admit that I’d be feeling quite uncomfortable right about now if we were in the main dining room.”

“Exactly,” he said drolly. “No sense stirring up unnecessary trouble.”

Her delicately arched brow shot upward at the word “trouble”. “Does anyone else know you’re in town, other than me?”

He caught the subtle drift of worry in her expression, and wondered if she was thinking about her father, and the possibility of
him
discovering Ford McCabe was back in town. While he’d been conducting his business in the bank he’d received a few speculative stares, as if those few people were trying to place him, but no one had confronted him. Through idle chit-chat he’d learned the young woman who’d helped him with his transaction had transferred from Richmond, Virginia, and was engaged to Eddie Logan, a local. She hadn’t been around during Ford’s scandalous years, so the business and personal residence information he’d divulged hadn’t made any difference to her. He hadn’t recognized the woman in Grace’s shop, and since he’d paid cash for all those roses, he hadn’t given her his name. Though he’d been careful about keeping his return low-key for now, it was inevitable that everyone learn the truth, sooner or later.

He just preferred later.

He shrugged lazily in answer to her question. “You’re the only person I’ve contacted since arriving in Whitaker Falls.”

She digested that as their waiter arrived with fresh salads and warm, crusty bread. Once the man had disappeared again, she slathered a slice of bread with butter, her eyes transferring from the task, to him.

“What brings you to Whitaker Falls?”

He winked playfully at her. “I was passing through on business, and thought I’d stop and see an old friend.” Another vague half-truth, but he wasn’t quite ready to reveal his true plans until he figured out where he stood with her.

She laughed, the light sound touching an empty part of his soul. “Well, this is certainly a surprise.”

He stabbed his salad with his fork. “A good or bad surprise?”

“An unexpected one,” she said prudently, as if she hadn’t decided what to make of his impromptu visit. “How long will you be in the area?”

“Until tomorrow.” He’d attended to his business in Whitaker Falls, but had to return to his company in Richmond for the week. From there, he’d play it by ear, depending on Grace, and his reception in Whitaker Falls. “I’m staying at the Hampton Inn for tonight.”

The waiter returned, this time with their main course of rack of lamb, buttered potatoes, and seasoned vegetables. Neither one spoke as the young man served them, and the silence gave Grace time to observe Ford from across the table.

Now that the initial shock of seeing him had worn off, she had a hundred questions for him, which he was answering—though there was no mistaking that he was selecting his responses very carefully. She supposed he had every right to be discreet, considering his past and the reputation he’d left behind, but she wanted more than the superficial information he offered. His obscure line about “passing through on business” certainly sparked her interest, but she wasn’t one to push what he wasn’t ready to willingly volunteer. Just as she had her reservations about his arrival in town, she was sure he had his reasons for being here. But it did make her wonder about his motives—was he driven by curiosity, or the “business” he spoke of? And what kind of “business” could he possibly have in Whitaker Falls?

She swallowed a bite of tender lamb, and chased it down with a sip of champagne. The bubbles tickled the back of her throat and warmed her belly, relaxing her. “So, what have you been up to all these years? They’ve certainly been good to you.”

Something flashed in his eyes, pride mingling with caution. “It didn’t begin that way, as you could well imagine. When I left Whitaker Falls I went to Richmond and took a job with a development firm. I started out as a laborer, doing grunt jobs on construction sites, and gradually worked my way up in the company to project manager.”

She waited, but he offered no more than that morsel of information. “I’m happy for you, that you’re doing so well.”

Finished with his meal, he set his fork and knife on his plate. “And what about you? You’ve got your own flower shop now. Nice place, by the way.” He grinned, producing that sensual dimple of his, making her stomach dip with awareness.

She smiled back though she got the distinct impression he was turning the tables on her, making her the focus of their conversation, instead of him. “Grace and Charm certainly keeps me busy.”

He refilled both of their glasses with more champagne. “And your father, how is he doing?”

Grace paused before answering. Under normal circumstances, she would have accepted his query about her father as an ordinary one—but the question seemed so incongruous, considering the fact that her father despised Ford, and the man across from her knew that, too. But as she looked into Ford’s deep, dark violet eyes, she saw no signs of harbored ill feelings toward Ellis Holbrook, just sincere interest.

Dabbing her mouth with her napkin, she set the cloth on her plate and pushed the dish aside. “My dad is doing well. He’s still working as a family practitioner, part-time mostly. You remember Dr. Chase, my father’s partner, don’t you?” At Ford’s nod, she continued. “He’ll probably take over the practice when dad retires, which will hopefully be soon.”

“And your mother?”

A pang of sadness struck Grace, and she wondered if missing her mother would ever go away. Apparently, Ford didn’t know that Felice Holbrook had passed away within a year of her son’s death, or that her father blamed Ford for that incident as well. “She’s been dead over ten years now,” she said quietly, keeping her explanation short and precise and skimming the more devastating details of her mother’s passing. “She died of a severe strain of pneumonia.”

“Ahhh, Grace, I’m so sorry.” Genuine regret deepened his voice. Standing, he came around to her side of the table and offered her his hand. “Come on, I think we could both use some fresh air.” He nodded toward the open slider leading to the balcony.

She agreed, and settled her small hand in his much larger, warmer one, engulfing her, physically and emotionally. Odd, she thought, that he could return after eleven years and slip under her skin so easily again. For as much as he’d hurt her with his abrupt departure, for as much as they’d both changed in the time he’d been gone, she still felt that crazy infinity with him—as if he was “the one”.

A foolish notion, she knew, obviously leftover from her youth when she’d believed in happy endings, white knights, and happily-ever-after’s. Now, she was a grown woman—experience having taught her to be practical in her expectations about men, romance, and forever promises.

Out on the balcony it was dark, illuminated only by the glow of the moon. Letting go of Ford’s hand, Grace curled her fingers around the railing and took a deep breath of fresh, chilled April air, clearing her head and lungs. Though they could hear the sounds of people talking and laughing from the dining room a few balconys down, she and Ford seemed to be cocooned in their own solitary world. Grace preferred it that way—not only was she enjoying their privacy, but she had no wish to deal with curious stares and whispers behind her back. There was no need for anyone to know her business, or that she’d spent the evening with Ford McCabe.

Especially her father.

“Things sure have changed since I’ve been gone,” Ford commented idly, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets. “And then some things haven’t changed at all.”

She regarded him curiously. “You mean the people?”

“The whole entire town. Whitaker Towne Square is new, and a much needed, modern addition to the town, if you ask me. Yet Frankie and Earnest still sit out in front of the Barber shop, playing their game of chess while watching the people in town go about their business.”

She refrained from commenting that Frankie and Earnest’s daily ritual might end soon, depending on what the new land owner of that strip of stores decided to do with the property. “Did you stop and say hello?”

“No.” He grinned an adorably impish grin. “I’m not sure if they’re still holding a grudge for the time I rode by on my bike and threw a bunch of firecrackers next to them and nearly gave them both a heart attack.”

Grace laughed at the old memory, but clearly remembered the outrage that had followed on the heels of that prank. What Ford had done had been foolish and dangerous, no doubt, but when she’d told her mother of the incident, Felice had just sadly shook her head.

While everyone condemned Ford, her mother made the comment that the act of rebellion was a cry for attention. At the time, Grace hadn’t understood how a perilous stunt could be construed as such, until she’d met Ford face-to-face and she’d seen the hostility in his eyes, and the pain and loneliness of a lost little boy. And despite her father’s warnings to stay away from that “no good McCabe boy”, Grace had made it her personal crusade to befriend him when the rest of the town scorned him.

Never would she have guessed she’d fall in love with him.

Exhaling a deep breath, she thought about all the different things that had remained the same in his absence, and the other things that had changed. Like the place where he grew up.

“Ford, I don’t know if you realize this yet or not, but . . . have you been out to Cutter Creek?”

“Yeah, I’ve been there.” His expression remained unreadable as he commented on the land where he’d lived the first twenty years of his life. “Quite an impressive house someone built there.”

Impressive was an understatement for the huge, sprawling ranch style home, complete with barn, corral, and all the amenities to accommodate livestock. “The house is certainly the gossip of Whitaker Falls.”

Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “Really?”

“Rumor has it that FZM, Inc. bought the land. Whoever that corporation is tore down the original house and barn to build what’s there now.” She waited for him to confirm or deny the speculation, if he in fact knew anything at all. The property had gone into foreclosure shortly after his mother had passed away, which had been only a few months before Ford had left town.

“Amazing what money can buy, hmmm?” he drawled, a sarcastic bite to his tone. “Has anybody met the new owner yet?”

“No, and the construction crew who built the place didn’t seem to know who the landowner was, either. Everything went through FZM. The house is completed, so I suppose it’s just a matter of time before we meet the new resident.”

Since Ford made no reply, Grace assumed he knew nothing about the person who’d purchased the land that had belonged to his grandfather. The property had been passed down to his mother, Candace, only to be mortgaged to the hilt to support her drinking and carousing habits, leaving Ford with nothing.

The orchestra in the dining room struck up a tune, and the music floated out the French doors and carried on the breeze, curling around the two of them. A faint, wistful look touched Ford’s expression as he gazed out at the darkened golf course, though for the life of Grace she couldn’t imagine what had captured his attention. The man was shrouded in secrets, an enigmatic puzzle she couldn’t quite piece together. For as much as they’d shared in the past few hours, she felt as though he was holding back twice as much, and she couldn’t help but wonder about all that he
wasn’t
revealing.