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A Second-Chance Proposal
C.J. Carmichael
He's back!Two years ago, almost everyone in Canmore, Alberta, thought Dylan McLean was responsible for the death of a teenage girl on his father's ranch. Only Cathleen Shannon believed he was innocent.Then he left her at the altar and fled town. Now Dylan has returned, and he wants a second chance–from the townspeople and Cathleen!Having been jilted on her wedding day, Cathleen is furious when Dylan shows up asking for assistance. But that doesn't mean she wants him paying for a crime he didn't commit. So maybe she will help him clear his name.A second chance at love, though? That's out of the question….Or is it?
“I’m not a chef, darlin’, but I’d say you’ve been cooked.”
Dylan smiled. A gentleman would probably retrieve the towel draped on a lounge chair near the hot tub, then turn his back as she slipped it around herself. But both options seemed kind of dull to him. He raised his eyebrows. Dare you.
He faked a yawn. “This is real comfortable. Of course, if you were to offer me a room, that would probably be even more comfy. You said you had just one guest at the moment. Which means you’ve got a few rooms available. Why not put me up?”
“Bastard,” she muttered. Then, even as he was congratulating himself on a hand well played, she added, “I’ve had enough.”
She stood, and took her time getting out of the hot tub and replacing the lid. Her body gleamed. Taut muscles, curved lines, gorgeous legs. She turned from him to reach for her towel. Methodically, she patted off the moisture beaded on her skin—then tossed the towel on the chair again.
“Good night,” she said, her hand on the patio door.
So she was really going to leave him out there, with no transportation back to town.
“About tonight…”
“Yeah?” His confidence surged. After all, she’d once loved him. He’d once been her best friend.
“There’s an extra stall in the barn,” she said. “If you’re desperate, you can have that.”
Dear Reader,
Have you noticed that the most wonderful, magical days come about, not as a result of careful planning and organization, but almost by accident? Serendipity is one of my favorite words. And the perfect example occurred several years ago when my husband and I and my two daughters, along with my husband’s father and his wife, were driving out to Kananaskis to enjoy “Mozart of the Mountain.”
A bad traffic jam had us aborting our plans and heading instead for the small mountain town of Canmore. Within half an hour of turning off the highway, we were in a large yellow raft, drifting along Alberta’s Bow River. The day was warm and bright, we still had our picnic and the scenery, dominated by the Three Sisters Mountain, amazed us all. At the end of that perfect, unplanned day we were left with a memory to treasure forever.
And I had the setting for a trilogy I’d been thinking about. The Shannon sisters have always counted on one another, especially since, like their mother, they seem to be unlucky in love. Three men are set to change all that, with three proposals as unique as the sisters who inspire them. I hope you enjoy A Second-Chance Proposal, A Convenient Proposal and A Lasting Proposal.
Sincerely,
C.J. Carmichael
P.S. I’d love to hear from you. Please send mail to the following Canadian address: #1754—246 Stewart Green S.W., Calgary, Alberta T3H 3C8, Canada. Or send e-mail to: cjcarmichael@home.com
A Second-Chance Proposal
C.J. Carmichael
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to those who assisted me in my research,
in particular Corporal Patrick Webb of the RCMP in Calgary,
Constable Barry Beales of the RCMP Canmore Detachment
and Lynn Martel, a reporter with the Canmore Leader.
DEDICATION
This trilogy is dedicated to my editors,
Beverley Sotolov and Paula Eykelhof,
with my thanks and affection.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
CHILLED CURRENTS of mountain air circled the Larch Lodge bed-and-breakfast and played on Cathleen Shannon’s bare wet shoulders. The cold autumn air only made the luxury of 104-degree bubbling water all the more pleasurable. Fitting her body to the sloped back of the hot tub’s molded seat, she gazed upward. A sky of restless clouds offered teasing glimpses of a fluorescent half-moon.
This is nice. She took a sip of brandy from the plastic glass she’d brought out with her. The outdoor spa had been installed this summer for the benefit of her guests, but she really should make use of it more often herself.
She sighed and sank lower, then suddenly tensed as a shadow shifted in the dark, about twenty meters away. Something, or someone, was out there. But why wasn’t Kip barking? The shape kept moving, coming closer. Oh, why had she turned off all the house lights?
Probably she was worried about nothing. Elk roamed freely over her property. Still, there was the off chance it could be a bear…. She contemplated dashing for the house, but just then, against the backdrop of moonlight, she made out the silhouette of a lanky cowboy. She recognized him immediately from the set of his shoulders and the rhythm of his gait.
Unbelievable.
And there, trotting faithfully by his boots, was her dog. The traitor.
Like a figure in a dream, the cowboy kept advancing. She couldn’t see his eyes—clouds had shifted yet again to cover the moon—but she had no doubt that he watched her every step of the way. Only when he reached the cedar skirting around the tub did he stop.
“Well, well,” she said coolly, hiding her trembling hands under the water. According to his cousin, Jake Hartman, Dylan was supposed to be in Reno, Nevada, the latest stop in his never-ending rodeo circuit. Jake always filled her in on Dylan’s latest adventures, even though she’d let him know she couldn’t care less what her ex-fiancé was up to. Still, when Jake talked, she rarely missed a single word. And she was certain that plans of Dylan McLean’s return to Canmore had never been mentioned.
If they had, she would’ve prepared herself. Over the past two years she’d come up with at least a dozen speeches with which to rake him over the coals. Trouble was, now that he stood just a few feet away, she couldn’t think of a single word, let alone a whole tirade.
He closed in on her, then sat on the decking, folding his arms over the tub’s white plastic ledge. Now she could see his face clearly. His gray eyes sought to engage hers, to coax a smile, but she was in no mood to be charmed. Eventually his gaze skimmed from her face, down her neck, to the line where the water cut across the top of her chest.
“I like your outfit,” he said. “Room in there for one more?”
After two years of silence, you’d think he’d have managed to come up with something a little more profound.
“The hot tub is for lodge guests only. Oh, and family and friends.”
He registered the intended insult with a one-sided twist of his mouth. “I see. And I’m neither. Is that it?”
She said nothing.
“Look, Cathleen.” He sighed and tipped back his hat a fraction. “Things ended badly between us, but you know it wasn’t what I wanted. If I’d had a choice…” He reached for her shoulder, and she pulled away instinctively.
“Hell, Cathleen. I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“Okay.” Dylan shifted back on his heels. “You’ve got a right to be angry. But you received the letter, right? Jake said he put it directly in your hands.”
“Yeah, Dylan. Thanks a lot for going to the trouble.”
She pictured herself two years ago, standing at the open screen door of this very house, staring off into space. Her white dress flowed down to her sandaled feet. Her long, normally rather wild dark hair coiled in luxurious curls down her back. Two bouquets of orchids—one larger than the other—lay at the ready on the kitchen table.
She held an envelope in her hand. With her name on the front, penned in Dylan’s distinctive bold script. Out in the distance, the dust from Jake’s truck still hovered like a patch of white fog in the lane.
She hadn’t needed to tear open the flap and read the single sheet of paper within to know there would be no wedding that day.
“I guess you didn’t think your note ought to be supplemented by something as personal as a visit or a phone call.”
He winced. “I was afraid you might talk me out of my decision. But you’ve got to admit the situation was impossible. There was no way we could’ve gotten married as we’d planned.”
She’d admit nothing of the kind. But she didn’t argue with him. If he’d cared what she thought, he would have talked this over with her two years ago.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with the aftermath—telling the guests, canceling the minister and the caterer…”
Actually, her sisters had handled those details for her, but she didn’t want to give him the comfort of knowing that. Besides, the logistics of the wedding arrangements had been the least of her heartaches back then. She held out her arms, skimming the bubbles that frothed on the water’s surface. It still bothered her how much his desertion had hurt. She saw it as a sign of weakness in herself, and weakness was something she could not tolerate.
“What did you do with the ring?” Dylan was staring at her hands, naked of jewelry of any type.
“I sold it,” she told him, improvising. “Just like I sold the wedding dress. Advertising them both in the Canmore Leader. I used the money to finance the renovations to this place.”
“Yeah, Jake told me you opened in the spring of last year. He says—” Dylan leaned back and stretched out his legs “—Jake says you’ve dated a little.”
“A little,” she agreed amicably. Actually, the tally was close to a dozen men in two years. An active social life had seemed the best way to prove to the town, her sisters and even herself that her botched wedding hadn’t been such a big deal.
Dylan rubbed his chin. “So who’s the current favorite?”
She hated the fact that he made them sound like jelly-bean flavors. “Actually, I’ve been seeing two guys lately. Friday, Thad Springer and I went to a movie in Banff.”
“Springer? You mean RCMP Staff Sergeant Springer?”
“I sure do.”
“Jesus, Cathleen…” He took a second to digest that, before asking, “And the other?”
“James Strongman.”
If she’d surprised him with Thad, she shocked him with James.
“I don’t believe this. You’re kidding me, right?”
“I assure you, I’m totally serious.”
“Of all the men in Canmore…you wouldn’t date my stepbrother….”
“Why is that, Dylan? Because you never got along with the man? Because you hate his father? Those are your issues, not mine.” Although she had put off James for more than a year simply because of his ties to Dylan. But James had been persistent. And still was. On their last date he’d made it clear he hoped for a more exclusive relationship with her.
“You’ll think I’m just being jealous, but you should stay away from that man. You can’t trust him.”
“You mean if he asked me to marry him—which I think he just might do—he’d back out the day of the ceremony?”
“You know I had no choice….”
Liar! He’d had a choice. And he’d made it without even considering that she might have an opinion on the matter.
“Just for the record,” he volunteered, “there’s been no one in my life—no one—since you.”
Ah. She turned her head and blinked. For a moment she wondered if he was telling the truth, then she reminded herself that it simply didn’t matter.
