She had seen plenty of buff, good-looking guys at the gym where she worked out, but this guy—no, this man—was different. He was more rugged and real, and with the mountains as a backdrop behind him, Gemma had the split-second fantasy that this could be an honest-to-goodness cowboy. Certainly there was nothing manscaped or metrosexual about him. As he shook the water from his brown hair and then raised both hands to push it back from his wide forehead, she caught sight of a few faded scars—one thin line along the underside of his tanned forearm and another ragged lightning bolt running down the length of his lean rib cage.
No way did those muscles come from a gym.
As he reached for a towel hanging over the back of a nearby lounge chair, he glanced over and his dark blue eyes met Gemma’s gaze. She knew she should look away—she really did—but once he started running that towel down the length of his arms and across that wide chest...
She couldn’t even blink, let alone find a way to break her mesmerized stare.
A slow smile broke over his handsome features, crinkling the crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes and warming Gemma from the inside out. She felt almost pinned in place on the pale blue lounger as a small shiver raced from the top of her head, all the way down to her purple-painted toenails.
As she watched, he lifted his fingers toward his lips. He wasn’t actually going to blow her a kiss, was he? That certainly didn’t seem like a cowboy thing to do. Tip an imaginary hat, maybe, but not—
The thought had barely formed in her mind when the man did indeed raise his fingers to his mouth—to give a shrill, sharp whistle that echoed through the enclosed space and had the young girl on the lounger next to Gemma’s giving a slight start.
Janie’s chatter cut off abruptly as she glanced across the pool toward the man who now had those impressive arms crossed over his equally impressive chest. Janie’s shoulders slumped slightly. “That’s my dad.”
“Your dad?” Gemma didn’t know why the statement surprised her. She would have guessed the man was in his late thirties, possibly early forties. Certainly old enough to be Janie’s father.
Somehow, though, her fantasy cowboy hadn’t come with a preteen daughter.
“Yeah. He’s always watching over me. It’s like he doesn’t know I’m practically a teenager already,” she added with an eye roll. “I better go see what he wants.”
With that, Janie bounced up from the lounge chair and rushed over to her father’s side. He grinned down at his petite daughter, love written in every rugged line of his face, as he listened to the young girl whose hands were moving almost as fast as her mouth.
Of course. That broad smile had been for Janie, not for Gemma.
The gorgeous maybe-cowboy was a dad with a cute blonde daughter and no doubt an equally cute blonde wife.
And Gemma felt like the world’s biggest fool. Again.
* * *
“Dad! You’ve got to meet Gemma!”
Hank grinned at Janie’s enthusiasm as he draped the damp towel over the back of a chair. Her blue eyes were bright with excitement, despite being a little red from all the chlorine, and he decided that maybe this vacation wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Once they’d checked in the day before, they had explored the hotel a bit, making plans for the next several days. That morning, they had hiked the trails around the hotel before having a late lunch in the dining room. After waiting half an hour—because, yes, he was that kind of dad—they changed into swimsuits and hit the pool.
Hank couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a day to relax. The Bar H had a capable foreman who could run the ranch in his absence, but Hank was not a weekend cowboy. His typical days, especially when Janie was at her mother’s, consisted of waking before dawn and working until he was ready to drop.
Sleeping in and spending an afternoon by the pool with Janie were luxuries he appreciated far more than any of the hotel’s other high-class amenities. Of course, he wasn’t sure what they were going to do tomorrow or the next day or the day after that.
One day of lazing around was about all he could take, and he was already anticipating his daughter growing bored. But so far Janie was having a good time, and if she’d made a little friend, it would help her to have someone to play with.
“Where is she?”
“Da-ad.” His daughter rolled her eyes in sheer exasperation. “Didn’t you see me talking to her right over there?”
She pointed in the direction of the stunning brunette a man would have to be dead not to notice. “That’s Gemma?”
Janie nodded. “She’s from New York City! Isn’t that cool? Did you see the headband she’s wearing and how it totally matches her flip-flops? And her tote bag? I bet she bought it at some super-famous store in New York.”
Headband? Flip-flops? Bag? No, no and...no. Hank hadn’t paid attention to any of those things and was a little surprised that his tomboy daughter had. Which wasn’t to say he hadn’t locked in on other details about the woman. Like the long black hair shimmering in a sleek wave down her back. The stunning green eyes were so bright, they seemed to glow from within. And when she slid the hotel robe from her shoulders to reveal a barely there bikini that highlighted her slender curves, Hank had found himself wishing the pool wasn’t heated. He could have used an instant ice bath to cool the sudden desire burning through his veins.
All of which was so unlike him.
“You’ve gotta meet her, Dad!” Janie insisted as she tugged on his arm.
“Janie, she’s here on vacation. You shouldn’t be bothering her.”
“I wasn’t, Dad. She’s all by herself.”
A woman like that on a vacation for one? She had to have a husband or boyfriend she was planning to meet up with later. And even if she didn’t, Hank had a type, and the women who fit the mold were ones like his ex-wife, Anne. Pretty and sweet in a girl-next-door kind of way.
Janie was right about this woman. She was all big-city style and sophistication. And gorgeous or not, crazy spark or not, New York City was a helluva lot of doors away from Rust Creek Falls.
Even so, Hank reluctantly allowed Janie to drag him across the damp concrete decking, toward the woman reclining on the pale blue lounge chair. For a split second, he thought he saw the brunette’s eyes widen ever so slightly and drop to his naked chest as he approached.
Checking him out?
Naw, that had to be his imagination playing games with him.
“Gemma, this is my dad, Hank Harlow,” Janie said with enough pride in her voice to have his neck heating slightly. “Dad, this is Gemma...”
“Chapman.” Swinging those long, lovely legs over the side of the lounger, Gemma leaned forward to hold out her hand. A half a dozen or so slender gold bracelets jingled as they slid down her arm.
Hank had always considered himself something of a gentleman, but it was hard to know where to look when all that female flesh was on display. Bathing suits were a rarity in Montana, and though she was hardly the only one wearing a bikini, no other woman at the Maverick Manor pool wore one quite so well.
The black satin was a stark contrast to her creamy skin, the narrow straps cutting across her collarbones and molding to the curves of her breasts. Her stomach was smooth and flat, the indentation of her hip bones hollowing out ever so slightly right where the bikini bottom stretched across her belly. Her waist was slender enough that he could likely span it with both hands, and just the thought of feeling that smooth skin sliding against his palms had Hank breaking out into a sweat.
Long-ingrained manners had him taking her hand, instantly registering the delicate bones, as he gruffly murmured, “Miz Chapman.”
A small half smile curved her lips, and that heat started spreading out from his neck until his whole body felt on fire. “Please, call me Gemma.”
“Gemma...” Realizing he’d been holding on for far too long
as he ran his thumb across her silky-smooth skin, he practically jerked his hand away from hers. He lifted his arm, wishing for his old and familiar hat to hide behind, and had to settle for running his fingers through his too long, damp hair instead. “Nice to meet you. Hope Janie here hasn’t been talking your ear off.”
As expected, his daughter gave a huffing sigh, one that had Gemma’s smile widening. “Not at all. She’s been keeping me company.”
Was Janie right? Could Gemma be vacationing alone? Interest and anticipation buzzed along his nerve endings even as Hank dismissed the possibility. Okay, so maybe he had thought a time or two about jumping back in the dating pool, but this... This would be like launching right off Owl Rock and into the rushing waterfall that gave the town its name. He’d be in over his head the moment he hit water.
“I was telling my dad how you’re from New York. And—Oh!” Janie’s eyes widened as she grabbed hold of his hand. “Gemma...have you seen the new Disney musical on Broadway?”
Hank tried not to groan. Ever since Janie’s favorite actress had left her hit television series to pursue a stage career, his daughter had been obsessed with New York.
“Have I seen it?”
Gemma rose to her feet, and Hank realized she was taller than he first thought, the top of her head coming right to his chin. The perfect height for holding her in his arms. Not that Hank had any intention of testing out that theory.
He was a small-town single dad who hadn’t been on a date in well over a decade. Besides, if he needed a visual reference for the phrase out of his league, Gemma Chapman would be it.
“I love going to the theater,” she was saying, “and that’s one of my favorite musicals.”
“I know all the songs,” Janie boasted.
“Which one do you like best?”
This time Hank didn’t bother holding back the groan. One Gemma clearly heard as she shot him a look. Her dewy lips pressed together, trying to hide a smile, as his beautiful, smart, talented and completely tone-deaf daughter started belting out the Oscar-winning song.
A few people in nearby lounge chairs glanced over, but Janie didn’t care. Obviously Gemma didn’t either, as she too started to sing. Thanks to Janie, Hank had heard the song and seen the DVD numerous times, and the words—like the melody—had been little more than background noise.
But Gemma didn’t sing the lyrics so much as she seemed to embrace them. No keeping it in, no holding back...just letting it go. And as she lifted her head, her long dark hair trailing down her slender back, something inside Hank sparked to life. Something that had been, well, frozen for far too long.
Get a grip, Harlow! You’re way too old to be taking life lessons from Disney.
By the big finale, the people around them gave a round of applause that had Gemma laughing breathlessly. Even though a bloom of color brightened her cheeks, she brazened out the sudden attention and gave a graceful curtsy, one that Janie immediately copied.
“This afternoon’s entertainment has been brought to you by Janie and Gemma,” Gemma added with all the flourish of an MC hosting an awards ceremony.
“That was awesome!” Janie practically bounced on her bare toes in her excitement.
“Janie’s right. That was...awesome,” Hank echoed. The blush in Gemma’s cheeks deepened as their gazes met and held, but just like she had with the unexpected applause, she didn’t back down. Awareness rippled between them, and Hank wasn’t sure when he had moved, but he suddenly noticed a puddle of water from his navy trunks had formed at his feet and was inching toward Gemma’s purple-painted toes and sequined flip-flops.
Who wore sequins at a pool?
He took a stumbling step back to keep from dripping on her fancy shoes, nearly tripping over the lounger behind him. He’d barely caught his balance when Janie added, “I totally wanted to go to New York to see the musical, but we’d already booked the hotel here. I’m hoping I can go later this summer with my other dad.”
“Other dad?” At that, Gemma’s dark brows winged upward as she gave him a somewhat-surprised look.
His face already burning, Hank quickly said, “My ex-wife remarried a year and a half ago.”
“Ah, I see.”
Did she? Somehow Hank doubted it. Not that he was about to explain that Dan Stockton was more than simply Janie’s stepdad. The man was in fact Janie’s biological father. And the daughter Hank had raised from birth—the baby girl he’d held in his arms when she was only minutes old, the one he’d rocked into the wee hours of the morning when she was sick or teething, the one who’d taken her first stumbling steps while holding on to his thumbs—was not actually his.
And neither was the woman he’d been married to.
In reality Hank had been little more than a placeholder in Anne’s life. A second-best substitute who had stepped in at a time when she had been alone and afraid. From the start Anne had been completely honest. She’d told him all about Daniel Stockton, the young man she had been in love with since high school. How she had thought they would be together forever, how he had disappeared after his parents were killed in a car accident and how she was pregnant with his child.
Hank had asked Anne to marry him anyway, believing in time she would forget about Dan. He’d been so sure that if he took care of her and treated her right, eventually she would grow to love him. And Anne had said yes, certain Dan Stockton was never coming back to Rust Creek Falls.
In the end, though, they’d both been wrong.
Chapter Two
“What else do you like to do, Janie?” Gemma asked. “Other than sing?”
Sitting across a table loaded with chips, popcorn and soft drinks, Hank gave a wry half smile. She had a feeling their impromptu duet had embarrassed him, but he hadn’t let it show, praising his daughter’s efforts...if not her actual talent.
A completely different reaction to how Gemma’s own mother and stepfather would have responded. In Diane and Gregory Chapman’s socially structured mind, everything had a time and a place. Performing on stage at a carefully orchestrated and choreographed pageant or school performance was one thing. Singing a cappella poolside was something else.
Her mother would have been mortified, and Gemma didn’t even have to try hard to picture how the disappointment and disapproval would have pulled at the features so similar to her own. When Gemma wasn’t struggling to rub the image of Chad and Melanie from the inside of her eyelids, she was trying to forget her mother’s reaction when she called off the wedding.
Think of the embarrassment, Gemma!
Because, yes, the real scandal was Gemma calling off the wedding weeks before her walk down the aisle. Not her fiancé’s sleeping with her best friend.
But to her mother and stepfather, her engagement to Chad had been about more than two people pledging to forsake all others. The wedding would also have united the Chapman and Matthews families. Gemma had no doubt her business-minded stepfather had viewed it in terms of a merger rather than as a marriage. A check mark in the asset column of some mental balance sheet Gregory Chapman kept. To him, the boarding schools and etiquette lessons were finally paying off since Gemma caught the eye of one of NYC’s most eligible bachelors.
Determined not to think of the embarrassment, of her broken engagement or her mother, Gemma focused her attention on Janie...and on Hank.
Janie had already asked dozens of rapid-fire questions about Gemma’s life—where she worked, where she lived, where she shopped, if she knew anyone famous. It didn’t seem to matter much what answer Gemma gave; Janie still thought everything about New York was the most exciting thing ever.
Her father certainly seemed harder to impress. Money, clothes, fame... None of that had the somewhat-silent man seated across from her raising so much as an eyebrow. Not that Gemma was trying to impress him... Was she?
Certainly it would be much easier to regain a bit of eq
uilibrium if Hank wasn’t so impressive without even trying. He’d pulled a faded T-shirt on, but the soft blue cotton only molded to those broad shoulders, the sleeves hugging a pair of well-defined biceps. His thick brown hair had dried with a bit of a wave, the too-long locks falling across his wide forehead and curling at the strong column of his neck.
On another man, the tousled hair might have looked boyish or at least done something to soften his masculine features. On Hank, it only drew attention to his rugged features and the solid set of his jaw.
There was nothing boyish or soft about Hank Harlow.
Gemma didn’t think he was trying for any kind of fashion statement. More likely he was a month or two beyond needing a haircut. But instead of being turned off by the overgrown style, she longed to run her hands through a man’s hair without worrying about encountering more product than she put in her own.
So distracted by the tempting fantasy, Gemma almost forgot the question she asked by the time Janie stated, “I love to go horseback riding.”
Horseback riding... Gemma had never been on a horse.
At least not that she remembered.
Many years ago, when she had been around Janie’s age, Gemma had found an old picture of herself as a toddler. In the photo, she’d been stumbling toward the camera in a red bandanna-print shirt and denim overalls, with a pink cowboy hat on her head and a pair of fawn-colored boots on her feet.
The picture and the outfit had stood out in such sharp contrast to the typical professional shots of Gemma in frilly, girlie dresses that—as the overly imaginative child she’d been and thanks to a Disney remake she’d just seen—she had been convinced the girl in the photo was her separated-at-birth twin sister.
The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart Page 2