The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart. Stacy Connelly
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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