Zachary's Virgin. Catherine Spencer

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СКАЧАТЬ Zach from beneath bushy gray brows, “I’d say you look like a man with a load of woman troubles.”

      “You’re not far off the mark,” he said gloomily. “A jet-setting heiress with a bad case of perma-pout arrived this afternoon and it’s my guess we’ll be seeing and hearing a lot more of her than any of us would like before Christmas is over.”

      “Heiress, you say? She here alone?”

      “Yes.”

      “Ugly?”

      An image flashed across Zach’s mind, of huge gray eyes and silky black lashes in a delicate heart-shaped face; of a cupid’s bow mouth and small, perfect teeth. Of fine-boned hands and a fall of dark hair; of slender shoulders raised in protest and a narrow, elegant foot stamping in annoyance. Pity she had the temperament of a pit viper!

      He gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

      McBride looked hopeful. “Yeah? She lookin’ for a husband by any chance?”

      “There’s no doubt you’re a fine figure of a man and able to sweep just about any woman off her feet,” Zach said, grinning, “but this one’s young enough to be your daughter.”

      “Well, shee-oot!” The old wrangler cackled. “Can’t blame a guy for askin’. Maybe you’re the one should be setting his sights on her.”

      Zach sobered. “When hell freezes over!”

      McBride crooked one corner of his mouth and gnawed on his mustache a moment. “At thirty-eight, you’re awful young yourself, Zach, to be so set in your ways. Jenny’s been dead goin’ on six years and that little gal of yours needs a mama, else she’ll be growing up wild as a cayuse. Already she can cuss better’n me and that’s sayin’ plenty. Jenny wouldn’t like that, son, and you and I both know it. If she’d lived, she’d have seen to it that Melanie learned her party manners and wore a skirt once in a while, instead of always hangin’ around the joint in blue jeans and your cast-off sweaters.”

      But Jenny hadn’t lived, and although the shock of losing her so suddenly and senselessly had faded, Zach couldn’t imagine anyone else ever filling her place, least of all someone like the Durocher woman. Jenny had been soft and sweet and patient; able to turn her hand to whatever needed doing, whether it was teaching beginners on the ski hill, lending a hand at the front desk, or helping in the kitchen. And in between, she’d been a devoted wife and a wonderful mother.

      “Mel’s got plenty of time before she needs to worry about dressing up for parties,” he declared, and wished he felt as sure as he sounded. A year ago, he’d never have questioned his ability to handle his daughter. She’d been content with the kind of life he provided and seemed to love the isolation that came with it.

      He’d set her up with her own computer, enrolled her in correspondence school, worked with her on her class assignments. He’d taught her to ski, to skate, to swim. McBride had taught her to ride and shoot a mean game of pool. Her days had been full and exciting and she hadn’t seemed to miss friends her own age.

      But over the summer, something had changed. She’d begun harping on about going away to school. She didn’t seem as eager to spend leisure time with him anymore. They hadn’t skied together once this season. Either she had her nose buried in a magazine or else she went off by herself. Sometimes, he’d find her in whispered conversation with Sally, but the moment she saw him approaching, she’d close up tighter than a clam.

      He’d always known there’d come a time when she’d want to talk to a woman about…womanly things. But he hadn’t bargained on it happening this soon.

      “She’s only thirteen, for crying out loud.”

      “In case you didn’t know, son, that’s about the time when all hell breaks loose.” With the tip of his tongue, McBride probed experimentally at one of his molars. “From what I’ve heard tell, the teenage years ain’t ever easy. Even with two parents, it’s a full-time job keepin’ on top of things.”

      People were drifting downstairs and coming in from the guest houses for happy hour. Craning his neck, Zach could see across the lobby to the lounge where the staff was setting out a selection of hot and cold hors d’oeuvres. Charlie and Walter were already manning the bar.

      “Well, I’m damned if I’m going wife hunting just to give Mel two parents,” he told McBride, “so she’s just going to have to make do with one. I’m off to change before dinner. If you happen to see her, tell her to make tracks for home ASAP.”

      The wind had dropped when he went outside and it had started to snow, tiny sparkling flakes that signaled another dip in the temperature. Seasonal music floated out softly from the speakers mounted under the eaves. The thousand or more lights strung along the roofline and over the veranda railings of the lodge flung a blanket of light over the frozen, snow-packed ground. The pungent smell of wood smoke hung in the air.

      He inhaled a long, relaxing breath. The skies were forecast to have cleared by tomorrow, it was December the eighteenth, and in three days the holiday program would be underway, beginning with the traditional moonlight sleigh ride. He had better things to concentrate on than one nitpicking guest.

      Hunching his jacket collar more snugly around his neck, he set out along the path to the house, the conversation with McBride playing over again in his mind. Was he wrong in thinking he could be both mother and father to Mel? Did she miss Jenny more than either of them realized?

      The Samoyeds bounded ahead with Blanche nipping playfully at Lily’s heels as usual in a race to arrive home first. Turning the last corner, he saw with some relief that the lights in his section of the house were on, which meant that Melanie was already there. Too bad the remaining third was also lit up brighter than a Christmas tree. If he had to be saddled with someone next door, he could think of a dozen people he’d rather play host to than Claire Durocher. Even Eric, his flake of a brother-in-law, was preferable to her.

      Music blasted into the night, something festively bright and boisterous, punctuated by gales of laughter. Oh, yeah, his daughter was home, all right! Better warn her to keep the noise down for the next few days, unless she wanted to run afoul of their neighbor.

      He stamped the snow from his boots and opened the front door, expecting to find Melanie sprawled out in front of the TV. But the family room at the far end of the entrance hall was empty.

      Only then did he realize the music was coming from next door and so was the laughter, the woman’s rich as hot buttered rum and the girl’s—his daughter’s—high and gleeful.

      Damn! He’d seen more than enough of his petulant European guest for one day, but it looked as if he wasn’t through with her quite yet. Because just lately, Melanie had attitude to spare and the last thing she needed was further instruction from a willful, self-indulgent woman like Claire Durocher.

      Heaving a sigh of pure exasperation, he slammed shut his own front door and marched purposefully toward his neighbor’s.

      CHAPTER TWO

      IN MANY ways, the girl reminded her of herself as she’d been at the same age; a little urchin whose brave, tough exterior hid a heart as uncertain and vulnerable as that of a newborn lamb.

      “Oh, heck,” she’d said, her face falling in dismay when Claire had opened the door to her knock. “You’re not Eric.”

      “Well, СКАЧАТЬ