The Perfect Fit
Page 1
Praise
FROM THE BESTSELLING, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF
Letter to Reader
Title Page
Books by Calt London
About the Author
Dedication
Elizabeth Montclair-Tallchief’s Legend
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
Copyright
"Once in Paris is my first [original] book as a MIRA author, and there aren’t enough words to tell you how excited I am about it...I’ve never written a book I’m more proud of, or that I’ve enjoyed more."
—Diana Palmer
FROM THE BESTSELLING, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF
COMES THE POWERFUL STORY OF
NICK PALLADIN,
DECEMBER’S MAN OF THE MONTH,
IN
THE PERFECT FIT
by
CAIT LONDON
“Living on the borders of his brothers and the
Tallchief family, Nick glimpsed how love could
be cherished and last. The dark Palladin legacy
hadn’t stopped Joel and Rafe from finding
happiness, but Nick doubted love was meant for
him...until he met Silver Tallchief.”
Romance readers all over the world have fallen in
love with the Tallchief family and their legends.
Now, Cait London, the Tallchiefs and the Palladins
invite you to spend Christmas with them,
Silhouette Desire style.
“Cait London is one of the best writers in
contemporary romance today.”
—Affaire de Coeur
Dear Reader,
All of us at Silhouette Desire send you our best wishes for a joyful holiday season. December brings six original, deeply touching love stories warm enough to melt your heart!
This month, bestselling author Cait London continues her beloved miniseries THE TALLCHIEFS with the story of MAN OF THE MONTH Nick Palladin in The Perfect Fit. This corporate cowboy’s attempt to escape his family’s matchmaking has him escorting a Tallchief down the aisle. Silhouette Desire welcomes the cross-line continuity FOLLOW THAT BABY to the line with Elizabeth Bevarly’s The Sheriff and the Impostor Bride. And those irresistible bad-boy James brothers return in Cindy Gerard’s Marriage, Outlaw Style. part of the OUTLAW HEARTS miniseries. When a headstrong bachelor and his brassy-but-beautiful childhood rival get stranded, they wind up in a 61b., 12oz. bundle of trouble!
Talented author Susan Crosby’s third book in THE LONE WOLVES miniseries, His Ultimate Temptation, will entrance you with this hero’s primitive, unyielding desire to protect his once-wife and their willful daughter. A rich playboy sweeps a sensible heroine from her humdrum life in Shawna Delacorte’s Cinderella story, The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish. And Eileen Wilks weaves an emotional, edge-of-your-seat drama about a fierce cop and the delicate lady who poses as his newlywed bride in Just a Little Bit Married?
These poignant, sensuous books fill any Christmas stocking—and every reader’s heart with the glow of holiday romance. Enjoy!
Best regards,
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
CAIT LONDON
THE PERFECT FIT
Books by Calt London
Silhouette Desire
*The Loving Season #502
*Angel vs MacLean #593
The Pendragan Virus #611
*The Daddy Candidate #641
†Midnight Rider #726
The Cowboy #763
Maybe No, Maybe Yes #782
†The Seduction of Jake Tallman #811
Fusion #871
The Bride Says No #891
Mr. Easy #919
Miracles and Mistletoe #968
‡The Cowboy and the Cradle #1006
‡Tallcluef’s Bride #1021
‡The Groom Candidate #1093
‡The Seduction of Fiona Tallchief #1135
‡Rafe Palladin: Man of Secrets #1160
‡The Perfect Fit #1183
Silhouette Yours Truly
Every Girl’s Guide To...
Every Groom’s Guide To...
Silhouette Books
‡Tallchief for Keeps
Spring Fancy 1994
“Lightfoot and Loving”
*The MacLeans
†The Blaylocks
‡The Talichiefs
CAIT LONDON
lives in the Missouri Ozarks but loves to travel the Northwest’s gold rush/cattle drive trails every summer. She loves research trips, meeting people and going to Native American dances. Ms. London is an avid reader who loves to paint, play with computers and grow herbs (particularly scented geraniums right now). She’s a national bestselling and award-winning author, and she also writes historical romances under another pseudonym Three is her lucky number; she has three daughters, and the events in her life have always been in threes. “I love writing for Silhouette,” she says. “One of the best perks about all this hard work is the thrilling reader response and the warm, snug sense that I have given readers an enjoyable, entertaining gift.”
To all the wonderful readers who have enjoyed the
Tallchiefs, and especially to Melissa Senate, my editor,
for her enthusiasm, expertise and guidance.
Elizabeth Montclair-Tallchief’s Legend
“He’ll be a fine beast of a man, haughty and proud and strong as a bear, gnawing at the maiden’s shields, testing her, claiming her with wicked eyes and the pearls nestled in his hand If he places them upon her, warmed by his flesh, and gives her a sweet kiss, the pearls will be her undoing. Then their hearts will join forever.”
One
He’d come after the temperamental, spoiled woman who had just pushed him back out of the shop’s door, and he was getting her. At thirty-four, the survivor of a scarred life and the troubleshooter for Palladin, Inc., Nick Palladin wouldn’t be stopped by a closed door. He wrapped his hand around the antique brass doorknob, jerked open the door to the tiny perfume shop for the second time and stepped inside. The rain, typical of late May in Seattle, misted against the door’s glass, forming tiny rivulets and creating shadowy snakes in the shadowy interior of the small shop. He locked his legs and folded his arms across his chest. The owner and creator of the exclusive Silver’s Signature Fragrances was his to deliver to his grandmother...and he would.
Silver Tallchief, a top perfumer called “The Nose,” had just placed both hands on his chest and had pushed him out the door. Nick forced himself to breathe slowly, methodically. She was under contract to Palladin, Inc. and knew that a representative would collect her. Without knowing who he was, she’d shut the door in his face and had drawn down the fringed blind and the Closed sign. The shop, located on an artsy, hilly street in Seattle, was tiny, fragrant with women’s scents and cluttered with packing boxes, wooden crates and luggage. Now, inside the shop, Nick locked on to the woman he wanted and stood quietly in her path as she came soaring back to run him out again.
Nick braced himself for a second attack; she’d surprised him the first time—women usually liked him. He was ready for her now, and he was getting her, he repeated. Her long platinum hair swung out from her shoulders, si
lk fanning on air as she swept up to him, dressed in a loose, silky cranberry red blouse and slacks that clung to her slender body. Her finger shot out to punch him in the chest, long red glossy nails contrasting with his pin-striped gray suit jacket. Her gray eyes flashed at him, reminding him of iced, slashing steel. “I’m closed. The shop is already leased to someone else. You’re too big and taking up too much room. Don’t look at me that way, all dark and stormy. I cannot abide off-the-shelf masculine scents amid my exclusive ones—they clash. There is no way in Hades that leather and pine trees and man blends with the essences I use. You’ll ruin my nose. What is that awful animal essence?”
Her nostrils flared delicately, and she leaned closer to his throat. Her next sentence dripped with scorn. “Do I detect ironing starch?”
“This is a business shirt,” he explained tightly. “It’s washable, but the collar needs extra stiffening.” The lady was getting to him, and Nick regretted the gravelly edge to his usually smooth tone. He showed his teeth in a cool smile. In his job as a troubleshooter for his family’s company and in his private life, Nick knew how to cover his emotions with a smile.
“I cannot abide household cleaning scents.” Her finger punched his chest again, and Nick caught it in his hand and continued his cold smile as he eased it away from him. The woman’s eyes flashed, smoky with anger. “O-U-T. Now.”
Her hair fanned out from her shoulders again, feathering the fragrant air like a silky fringe as she pivoted and swept back amid the valley of boxes and luggage, retreating into her lair. She waved her hand, dismissing him airily and leaving him in a wake of feminine scents. He recognized a subtle musk and a bite of citrus.
Nick inhaled slowly, slightly uncomfortable in the tiny shop with Silver’s artistically scrawled across the window. The jingling, whimsical angel bell over the door he had just closed went silent.
Outside, the rain stopped suddenly and sunlight poured through the window, labeling him with a shadowy Silver’s. A man who had escaped his grandmother’s matchmaking efforts for years, Nick edged slightly away from the elegant scrawl across his chest, unwilling to be labeled as Silver’s property.
The van he had rented to transport Silver’s most precious essences to the airport gleamed in the cloud-filtered sunlight outside the shop. Palladin, Inc.’s new acquisition, the creator of Silver’s Signature Fragrances, was bossy, rude and knew what she wanted. Silver’s lengthy list of demands lay crumpled in Palladin, Inc.’s new Amen Flats branch offices. The lady wasn’t a sweetheart.
“She’s temperamental, just like all good noses in the perfume business...give her some slack She knows what she wants and how to get it I like that. She reminds me of me, in a way, determined to succeed and not taking guff off of anyone. We need her talents to launch and package a unique Palladin scent,” Mamie, Nick’s employer and grandmother, had said.
According to Nick’s research, the protégée of a playboy perfumer twice her age, Silver had the endorsement of Monsieur De LaFleur. Living in Cannes and retired, Jacques remembered Silver fondly, warmly, and told Nick to give her a kiss.
Silver’s glossy red lipstick covered a generous, sassy mouth and sharp teeth—Nick wanted his skin intact, and kissing Silver wasn’t on his menu. She lacked the Tallchiefs’ friendly manners.
Nick sniffed through the feminine fragrances for his own slandered scents. Silver, at thirty-one, a top “Nose” in the perfume business, had been accurate. He hadn’t had time to shower before putting on his business suit. Before driving to Denver and stepping into Palladin’s company jet, he’d taken his baby nephew for a horseback ride on Montoya.
Nick pinpointed his lime-scented aftershave. A gift from his new relative, Elspeth Tallchief Petrovna, it was understated and did what it was supposed to do—the mild astringent tingling after his shave.
A loner wary of attachments, Nick realized that his left eyelid was twitching slightly. At the moment, the reflex was to the tall blonde’s orders to get out of her way and her insult to his aftershave. She had even managed to insult his horse’s scent.
Nick forced the tense muscles in his shoulders and neck to relax; hours of flying had lodged stiffly into them. Mamie, his paternal grandmother, wanted him to many Silver Tallchief. Still spry in her eighties, Mamie had hand-selected Silver, who was now gliding quickly down the narrow aisle of boxes. She looked like a moon witch in flight as strands of her straight white-gold hair flew out around her shoulders and a healthy thick length swayed in the middle of her back, the tips catching the dancing light.
Her hips were curved and all woman—
Nick’s fingers moved just once, the reflex surprising him. For just a heartbeat, he’d wanted to reach out and collect that thick, gleaming moonlight-colored mass into his keeping.
A man in control of his emotions, Nick stepped back into his control, gloving himself in it With his shoe, he eased aside a crate marked Fragile. Glass. Bottles and Stoppers. His family’s fate was entwined with the Tallchiefs, and Silver wasn’t his pick of a lifetime mate. His business telephone conversations with her had left him uneasy; her husky low voice had curled around him sensuously, until the matter of the contract dollars arose—Silver Tallchief was a capable, shrewd businesswoman with a cash register for a heart.
Though Nick enjoyed puzzles, he didn’t enjoy a woman with too many secrets. He eased through a narrow passage of stacked boxes, marked with Fragile. Essential Oil. Each scent was listed neatly—Rose, Sandalwood, Bergamot, Clary Sage, Oakmoss, Frankincense, Lavender, Myrrh, Patchouli, Ylang-Ylang, Lemon, Lime, Geranium, Vetivea—My Jasmine had a big heart drawn upon it.
A man who appreciated women, but rarely let them enter his life, Nick’s gaze locked to the flowing cranberry silk slacks covering Silver’s hips. The matching tunic’s hem fluttered gracefully, adapting to the tall woman’s feminine sway. Silver had the height and lithe, feminine build of her Tallchief cousins, Elspeth and Fiona.
A subtle, feminine citrusy scent curled around him, and he edged through a sweeter, sensual musk to find himself enveloped by a light floral blend. He shook his head slightly to clear it and continued easing through the scents. Silver Tallchief had accepted the business offer from Palladin, Inc. too easily...almost as if she were waiting for a chance to go to Amen Flats, Wyoming.
A man who was born into a predatory family, Nick recognized Silver’s tendencies from their first business conversation on the telephone.
Nick inhaled slowly, caught a darker, softer scent blended with roses and studied Silver’s shapely backside. In constant motion as she went—stooping, checking boxes—Silver’s energy swirled around her, her hair swaying, gleaming almost like iced silver in the shadows, sliding sensuously around her cranberry clad body.
The Amen Flats Tallchiefs, descendants of a Sioux chieftain and a Scots bondwoman, shared the inheritance of black straight, glossy hair. Una Fearghus, the Tallchiefs’ great-great-grandmother, had given the Tallchiefs gray eyes—
Over her shoulder, Silver’s cool gray eyes skimmed the aisle of stacked boxes back to Nick. In the shadows, her full lips gleamed in a red gloss that matched her loose tunic and slacks. She casually leaned against the door frame. “You realize that if you break anything, you’ll pay. The ingredients for perfumes are very expensive, even the synthetic ones.”
Above the crystals on her layered gold necklace, Nick recognized the Tallchief features immediately—skin that could tan easily, high cheekbones, black brows winging high and pride tilting her chin. She folded her arms across her chest, one perfectly manicured berry-shaded nail tapping her sleeve as she studied him. A spray of colors shot from the rows of diamonds on her fingers.
Beneath the tufts of hair spiking up and out from the top of her head, her black eyebrows and heavily mascaraed straight lashes were all Tallchief, and a narrow margin of dark roots said her blond shade came from a bottle. There wasn’t anything innocent about the stormy shaded eyes boldly scanning Nick’s sixfoot-four body. In the small confines of the shop, the
punch of her sexuality slammed into Nick’s gut, stunning him. But then, a woman who had lived with the famous French playboy would be experienced at gauging what lay beneath his gray business suit.
“I am—” Before he could introduce himself, Silver’s long legs were taking her deeper into the shadows of the small shop.
Nick tensed, eased around a small wooden crate marked Amber and followed her through a citrusy scent. He’d flown Palladin, Inc.’s business jet into Chicago from Denver to baby-sit Mamie’s spoiled brat, who would be the creator of Palladin’s new Silver’s Signature line. After two months of negotiating with Silver to secure her talents and trademark, Nick had been dismissed—
Nick almost stepped on tiny wooden crates marked Musk and Amber No. 1. He nudged them gently aside with his foot Mamie had personally researched Silver and her career, and his grandmother wanted Silver’s talented nose under contract to Palladin. She also wanted Silver to be receptive to Nick as a future husband. “It’s all coming together...she’s a loner, like you, Nick, and she needs the warmth of the Tallchiefs—maybe I do, too. I can see real potential in Silver living in Amen Flats, working to develop Palladin’s Silver line,” Mamie had said. “If she wants a laboratory in more of a homey setting, find her a place—some cute little ranch where she can be influenced by the herbal and flower gardens. Your place will do nicely.”
Nick hadn’t trusted the too innocent gleam in his grandmother’s eyes. His brothers, Joel and Rafe, had married Tallchiefs, and a computer addict, Mamie had been sorting lists to find Nick a prospective Tallchief bride. “Unmarried ones are scarce as hen’s teeth,” Mamie had muttered darkly, before pouncing upon Silver Tallchief, custom perfumer.