The Unintended Groom & The Bride Wore Spurs
Autore
Debra Ullrick
Letto da
17,4K
Capitoli
48
Chapter One
“What do you mean, I can’t?” Abby Bowen fought to keep from slamming her hands on her hips and glaring down at the rotund man seated in front of her.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the mayor and head chairman of Hot Mineral Springs, Mr. Prinker, said as his cheeks flushed.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before I bought the place?” She clenched her teeth as hot anger boiled inside her. There was no excuse for this. None whatsoever.
“We didn’t know what your intentions were for the building. We assumed you wanted to open a dress shop or a restaurant or even a luxurious mineral spa for women. We already have one for men, you know.” He grabbed the lapels of his jacket and puffed out his chest like a zealous rooster who was full of himself. “Any one of those would have been allowed. However, we—” he glanced around the large rectangle table at each of the seven town committee members “—cannot allow a single woman to open a theater. Why, something of that nature would be quite scandalous and ruin our town’s fine upstanding reputation. Not to say your own, young lady.” He shook his forefinger at her.
Abby wanted to latch onto his meaty finger and shove it up his bulbous red nose. But that attitude would get her nowhere, much less please the Lord. She quelled her anger as she searched for another option. Why some townspeople thought women who ran a theater were of questionable repute, she didn’t understand. In other towns, people did it all the time, and it was not considered a scandal.
“It’s too bad that your name is not Mr. Bowen,” Mr. Prinker said as if in deep thought. “For if it was, we might consider your proposal. However, as it stands, we will have to refuse the license required by our town to open such an establishment.”
Such an establishment? What did that mean? Whatever it meant, she didn’t care. She just wanted to make sure she understood him correctly. “Let me see if I get this straight. Are you saying if I was a man, I would be able to obtain this license?”
“In a manner of speaking, that’s precisely what I’m saying. However—” he rubbed his double chin for the longest moment of her life “—there is one other alternative.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?” Abby didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm from her voice. She’d about had enough of these men and their preposterous accusations.
“If you were to take on a male business partner, a gentleman with an outstanding reputation, then we would consider allowing you to open your theater. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”
They all nodded their heads.
What?! Surely these buffoons weren’t serious. Were they? Abby gazed at each man to see if they indeed were. Their stoic faces confirmed her assessment. She shook her head at the utterly and completely outlandish idea. “So you’re saying, if I obtain a male—” she emphasized the word male with abhorrence “—business partner, then you will allow me to open my theater? Correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. We feel it’s the only proper way. I am certain, ma’am, that you will find there are many upstanding men in our community who would be more than willing to help you with your business adventure. Including any one of us here in this room.” The mayor’s horse teeth overtook his supercilious grin.
Oh, how she wanted to reach over and whip that arrogant smirk right off his thin lips. Humpft. As if she needed their help running a business. There wasn’t one person in this room with whom she’d ever consider doing business with. They all looked shiftier and greedier than a gang of bank robbers.
“Excuse me a moment, gentlemen.” She all but choked on that last word. These men were no gentlemen.
“Of course.” Mr. Prinker’s smile couldn’t get any phonier than it was right now.
Abby stepped outside the room and slipped around the corner so she could be alone a few minutes. She paced up and down the sparkling-clean hallway, wringing her gloved hands. With each step she took on the polished hardwood floor, her button-up shoes echoed, her pink silk bustle gown swished and the pink plume on her hat danced.
She couldn’t believe this whole ludicrous thing was even happening. After spending the last year and a half going to plays and even participating in a few, she knew what she wanted to do with her life. That desire had only escalated when her ex-fiancé, David Blakely, had broken their engagement—the very day she had told him she could never bear children. After that, every time she’d seen him with his wife, the woman he had married two weeks after he had ended their engagement almost one year ago, and their newborn son, the dagger of rejection plunged deeper into her heart. That’s when she had plotted her escape from the Idaho Territory. Eventually, as she worked on her new life, the pain had gone away, and her focus turned completely to fulfilling her dream, a dream that was about to die before it even got started. All because of a room full of portentous, dishonest, stodgy old men.
And if she were honest with herself, her own stupidity, as well.
Why hadn’t she listened to her brothers? Haydon, Michael and Jess had warned her about buying a building without seeing it first. But no, she had assured them the ad stated the mansion at the edge of town was previously owned by a prominent family, so therefore, it had to have been well taken care of. They weren’t convinced. But she refused to let that stop her. Her stubborn exuberant way took charge as did her dream of life outside the confines of her family. Thus, she let them know she had prayed about the whole thing and was confident in her decision to go ahead with her plans.
The theater was third in her line of dreams, but it was all she had left to dream about. So using the money her father had left her, money he had intended for her and her siblings to use to fulfill their dreams, she’d gone ahead and purchased the place sight unseen. What a mistake that turned out to be.
The very day she arrived in Hot Mineral Springs, Colorado, she quickly discovered her brothers had been right. No maintenance had been done on the home since the owner had moved back east years ago. Because of the mansion’s abandoned condition, there was no way for her to sell the place and get her money back so that she could move somewhere else. Someplace where she would be allowed to open up her business.
Abby stopped pacing. For a brief moment she closed her eyes and sighed. No, like it or not, she was stuck with the place.
She flicked her thumbnail with her teeth as she tried to come up with a plan, but nothing came to mind.
Oh, if only she could have opened her dinner theater back home in Paradise Haven, but she couldn’t. They already had one, and the town wasn’t big enough for two. Not only that, she had to move away.
She just had to.
Being at home constantly reminded her of the two things she wanted most out of life but could never have—children of her own and the love of her life, David. What she needed to do now was to expunge the past and its painful memories. She’d start now by forcing her mind to take a turn in another direction, to figure out a way to make her business adventure work. Operating a theater would not only keep her busy, but it would give her life meaning. Something she desperately needed.
With a new resolve, Abby determined it would be a hot day in a shed full of ice before she would allow anyone to throw away her opportunity for happiness and fulfillment. No one, not even these men, would steal those things from her. There had to be a way to fulfill her dream.
There just had to.
It was in the next moment Abby remembered that it was God who had led her here. And it would be God who would solve the obstacles before her. She sent up a quick prayer for wisdom, and within seconds a plan formulated in her mind. It was a drastic one, but it just might work. Knowing it would be strictly for business purposes, she would place an advertisement for a business partner. A male one. She rolled her eyes at that one. But she’d do it. That would fix these pompous men’s wagons fine enough.
Satisfied and feeling somewhat pleased with her scheme, she headed back into the boardroom. Abby put on her best acting face and eyed each man with a sweet smile. “Gentlemen, I’ve decided to do what you have asked. I will take on a gentleman business partner.”
Their faces lit up and greed ravished their eager eyes.
“But—” she held up her hand “—it won’t be with anyone here. Good day, sirs.” With those words, she whirled on her heels and breezed out of the conference room, leaving each man with his mouth hanging wide open.
Now all she needed to do was make haste and find a gentleman who would be willing to become her partner. Was there such a man? One who would agree to the terms she’d already started formulating in her mind?
Outside, the light breeze brought with it the smell of sulfur from the hot mineral springs. She’d been here two months now and she still hadn’t gotten used to the rotten-egg odor. To think that people actually bathed in that smelly water made her shudder. How revolting.
She’d been amazed to learn that Indians believed the waters to be sacred. That they relaxed in the natural hot mineral pools here, believing it healed their minds, bodies and souls.
To think that the mayor actually thought she would want to open a women’s spa utilizing that water. Did women actually bathe in that stinky stuff, too? She wrinkled her nose, then hiked a shoulder. If they indeed did, she might have to consider opening a spa. Something she would have to discuss with her business partner. Or would she? Could she do one on her own and the other with him? Whoever he was.
The very idea of having a partner, someone who would have a say in how things were run, was about as pleasant as the thought of a million spiders crawling all over her. Over the past two years, she planned exactly how she wanted to run her dinner theater. What it would be like. What meals would be served. What plays would be staged. What furniture and place settings she would use. All of it. Down to the very last detail. Would her new business partner, if she found one, try to change those plans? What was she thinking? She shook her head at her own silliness. Of course he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let him.
Maybe the man would agree to split the business 60/40. That way she would have controlling interest of how things were run. Mr. Barker, her new stepfather back in Paradise Haven, whose business-savvy mind she’d questioned almost daily over the past year and a half all the way up until the day of her departure, had taught her that. But... She sighed. Where would she find such a man who would be willing to do that? She didn’t know, but God did. Her lips curled upward with the knowledge that God was in control and that He would work it all out.
Abby gazed up at the clear, blue sky and sent up her prayer request. When she finished, she thanked God for the answer. After all, that’s what living by faith was all about. Trusting Him for the answer before it ever came. Two scriptures popped into her mind. Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. And Philippians 4:6 Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
Confident she had done that very thing, her attention slid downward toward the tall mountains surrounding the eighty-five-hundred-feet-above-sea-level town. The high altitude had taken some time getting used to. At first, breathing the thin air had been difficult, and she had gotten a lot of headaches. Drinking more water seemed to help. Eventually, she had gotten used to the thinner air, and the headaches were gone. Because of that, she now loved living in these majestic mountains. Mountains unlike any she’d ever seen back home in Paradise Haven in the Idaho Territory.
Back there, the land was much different from here with its rolling hills, bunch grass, tall wheat and rich volcanic ash soil. Here there were large hay meadows, oodles and oodles of sagebrush and high mountains covered with aspen, blue spruce and ponderosa pine trees. Hidden in those breathtaking mountains were running brooks of crystal clear water, concealed waterfalls, wildflowers, caves, bears, mountain lions, bobcats, foxes, coyotes and lots of lots of deer and elk. Her favorite things in this remote mountain town were the hummingbirds, the tiny striped ground squirrels and the itty-bitty chipmunks. Each brightened her day with their cute antics.
The desire to stay in this beautiful town snuggled cozily into her. Only one way to make that happen, though. She’d better get to it. And now. Anxious to get home so she could word her advertisement carefully, and post it as soon as possible, she picked up her pace, sending up yet another prayer. “God, send me the right man. And make it quick.”
Harrison Kingsley sat at his deceased father’s massive mahogany desk and re-read Abigail Bowen’s advertisement for the fifteenth time.
Wanted: Business Partner.
Prosperous business opportunity for the right gentleman. Guaranteed full return on investment within three months, including interest. If interested, please contact newspaper for more information.
At first he’d thought the ad had been some kind of prank, but his gut told him it wasn’t. Years ago, he’d learned to follow his gut instincts and to trust in them, so three weeks ago he had contacted the paper. They informed him all correspondences would be made through them.
Within a week of responding to the advertisement, he’d received his first reply and was shocked to discover the advertisement had been written by a woman, a woman who had asked many questions about his life. Such as, how old he was, what he did for a living, where he was from, why he was interested in becoming a business partner and many more. Harrison answered each one honestly, and even asked some of his own. The hardest one to answer was, “Why are you willing to invest?”
Need. That’s why. He glanced at the legal paper lying on his desk mere inches from his fingers. With a heavy sigh, he picked up his father’s will and re-read the final stipulation, the very one he had memorized by now.
Notwithstanding anything contained herein, in order for my son, Harrison James Kingsley, to receive his full inheritance as set forth above, he must first prove that he is capable of operating my businesses. As proof of such capability, Harrison must start his own business, which business may be in any manner of industry or trade but which (a) must be located in a community other than Boston and specifically in a community in which he is unknown to the other residents, and (b) must show a profit of at least 1,000 dollars before his twenty-fifth birthday. If he fails to satisfy the foregoing requirements on or before his twenty-fifth birthday, all my assets will be divided equally between the following charities...
Anger bubbled up inside Harrison as it did every time he read that section of his father’s will. He tossed the paper onto the desk, pinched his eyes shut and pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips and thumb. How could his father do this to him? Give him so little time to accomplish this? Did his father really hate him that much? Or was he still punishing him for the death of his mother? Harrison didn’t know. But what he did know was that his father still controlled him, even from the grave.
Harrison Kingsley, Sr. had controlled and manipulated him since his birth. Every minute of Harrison’s day had been planned by his father, who ordered the staff to see to it that his strict regimen was followed to the letter. Not only had he been told what to wear, where to go, when to go, who to see, but also whom he was to marry.
It was there Harrison had drawn the line. On the day of his twenty-first birthday, he eloped and married the love of his life, Allison. When his father found out, he was livid and stripped Harrison of any and all income. To this day, Harrison had no idea how his father had managed it, but no one would even consider hiring him for fear of his father’s vengeance.
Harrison had even thought about moving out west in hopes of gaining employment there, but he’d had no money to support them along the way. The final determining factor came when his wife developed complications and was confined to her bed during the remainder of her pregnancy. No other choice remained but to once again succumb to his father’s strict rule of thumb.
Soon after his sons were weaned from their mother’s milk, Allison disappeared, leaving a note saying she no longer loved him. Harrison’s heart had been ripped from him that day and his only consolation was his sons.
Days after his father’s death, Harrison received a parcel that contained two letters. One from Allison, and one from a Mrs. Lan informing him that Allison had been killed in a buggy accident, and that the woman had been asked if anything ever happened to Allison, to send the letter to Harrison.
Allison’s letter stated how she’d never stopped loving him, and that his father had forced her to leave by threatening to withdraw all financial support from them. When that hadn’t worked, he’d threatened to send the boys to boarding school. Allison knew how Harrison despised the idea of sending his sons to boarding school and how powerless he was against his father. She loved him and the twins too much to let that happen, so she’d left. Harrison felt the pain of that decision even now. What kind of father did something like that to his son, anyway?
He’d always known his father resented him and blamed him for his wife’s death. But to go to those extremes? To strip him of the wife he loved and his innocent children of a mother’s love? That was low, even for his father.
Determination rose up inside of Harrison like a geyser. His boys had suffered enough at the hands of their grandfather. He’d be hanged if he’d let them lose their inheritance, too. Therefore, he decided he would do whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen. His father thought he’d defeated him even in his death. Well, he’d show him.
His gaze slid to the will sitting in front of him.
His only hope in fulfilling the detestable stipulation his father had thrust on him in such short notice was the one line from Miss Bowen’s advertisement, “Guaranteed full return on investment within three months, including interest.”
He gaped at the envelope staring back at him, wondering if its contents would seal his fate or secure his future. Perhaps it was a good sign that this one had been mailed directly to him instead of going through the newspaper. He read the return address.
Miss Abigail Bowen
777 Grant Street
Hot Mineral Springs, Colorado.
Just where Hot Mineral Springs was in Colorado, he didn’t know. Didn’t matter. Going out west to see the rugged Rocky Mountains he’d heard so much about from his friends and their travels was something he’d always wanted to do. Now he just might get that chance.
He pressed his hand to his aching, nervous gut, and drew in a deep breath, blowing it out long and slow as he broke the seal off the envelope, and slipped the letter from its pouch.
Dear Mr. Kingsley,
From what you have said in your posts regarding the stipulation in your father’s will, it sounds like this business arrangement would be as advantageous for you as it would be for me. Therefore, after much consideration, I have decided to offer you the first chance at this opportunity.
Please let me know what you decide as soon as possible so I can let the other gentlemen who responded to my advertisement know your decision.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Abigail Bowen
Harrison paused and gazed at nothing in particular in the large office decorated only with the finest of furnishings. This whole arrangement was almost too good to be true. Either that or it was just crazy enough to work.
The way he saw it, this was his only chance to get the inheritance he needed to secure his twins’ future. And since no other prospect had presented itself, he had no other choice but to give Miss Bowen’s dinner theater prospect, something she had mentioned in one of her previous letters, a try. What money he had saved from working for his father wouldn’t go far if he didn’t find a way to secure at least his position in his father’s businesses, if not the outright inheritance.
It would also enable him to fulfill his lifelong goal to right the wrongs his father had done to the fine people in Boston, and to restore the Kingsley name to what it had once been.
The discovery of his father’s true legacy still pained him greatly. It was after the death of his mother that his father had changed so drastically. He’d become a bitter, angry, vindictive man with no scruples when it came to business. Every time Harrison thought of the things his father had done, how he had cheated those poor people out of their businesses and their homes, his stomach churned with sorrow and disgust. Like now. The only way to take care of those matters would be to take Miss Bowen up on her offer, and then come back to take over the helm and set things right.
Rather than take the risk of his post to Miss Bowen getting lost in the mail and her taking on another partner, he decided to go a faster route. He would send a telegram and head out west immediately.
He quickly penned a short telegraph message and reached over and pulled the string, ringing for his butler.
Forsyth stepped into his office and stopped in front of the expansive desk, his posture stiff as a wooden plank, his black suit and white shirt pressed to perfection, his white gloves immaculate. “What may I do for you, sir?”
“Have Staimes pack my clothes. Tell him we’ll be going out of town for a couple of months or so. Let Miss Elderberry know, too, so she can pack for her and the boys. I’ll need you to take care of things here while I’m gone.” Harrison handed his trusted butler, who never revealed or spoke of Harrison’s affairs with anyone, a folded slip of paper. “Send this telegram out immediately and purchase tickets on the next train heading to Hot Mineral Springs, Colorado.”
“Yes, Mr. Kingsley. Will that be all, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I will take care of this immediately.”
“I know you will. Thank you, Forsyth.”
“You’re quite welcome.” With that, the aging man who’d served his father well, and now him, turned and left the room.
The leather chair creaked as Harrison settled his back into its softness. His gaze dropped to the letter, her letter, still lying on his desk. A peace he hadn’t felt in a long time settled inside him. He had a gut feeling this arrangement would indeed fulfill the nonsensical stipulations in his father’s will along with everything else, too.
He could be back in Boston in three months with a new future for himself and his family, a future filled with hope that he himself had never known.
“Abby, this telegram is for you.” Colette Denis walked into the room of Abby’s three-story mansion, holding a slip of yellow paper. Abby was so grateful Colette and her two sisters had decided to come with her to Hot Mineral Springs. Since her mother’s remarriage, the Denis sisters’ maid services were no longer needed back in Paradise Haven. Mother refused to let them go, though, until Abby had come up with a plan to take them with her. She needed their services and the sisters had no family in Paradise Haven so they were more than happy to move with her and to work for her.
Abby dropped the washcloth she was using to wipe down the windowsills and bookshelves in her office into the bucket of soapy water. She dried her hands on the only dry spot left on her apron and took the telegram from Colette. “Thank you, Colette.” She slid the paper into the pocket of her skirt. “Did you remember to stop by the mercantile and post my ad for a carpenter on their bulletin board?” Colette had a tendency to get distracted and forget what she was doing. Abby did, too, so she could relate to the girl who had a good heart but a somewhat scattered brain.
“Oui. Well, at least I tried to, anyway.”
“What do you mean, you tried?” Abby’s lips pursed into a frown, and she pushed back the wet strands of hair plastered on her cheeks.
“When I went to tack it onto the corkboard, I could not reach the only empty place. This nice man offered to help, so I gave it to him. But when he looked at the ad, he asked if he could keep it.” Colette wrung her hands and her green eyes shaped like an almond shell drifted over to Abby, then cut to the floor.
“Is something wrong, Colette?”
Colette glanced at Abby, then back at the ground again. “I—I am so sorry, mademoiselle, but he is here.”
“Who’s here? The man who kept my post?”
“No, mademoiselle. Mr. Kingsley.”
“Mr. Kingsley?” Abby frowned, then her eyes bounced open at the recognition of the name. “Mr. Kingsley is here? Now?”
“Oui. I am sorry.” Remorse crackled through Colette’s voice. “That telegram came several days back, but I forget to give it to you. When I went to wash my dress just now, I found it.” Colette rattled on, intermingling French with English.
Abby heard nothing more as she looked down at her soaked apron and the simple blue dress she wore to do chores in. She caught Colette’s gaze glossed over with unshed tears. Her heart went out to the poor girl who tried so hard, but always seemed to fall short. She looped arms with Colette and headed toward the door. “Don’t you go crying now, you hear? I know you didn’t mean to forget. Nothing in this life is worth fretting over. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. God has a plan. Even in this.” Abby encouraged her, sincerely hoping she could take some of her own advice. What was she going to do? He was here!
Well, she couldn’t let that bother her. He was here, so she might as well go ahead and make the best of it. She just hoped and prayed he wasn’t one of those snobbish businessmen like the city council members were, one who would surely look down his nose at her attire and might even judge her for it. Nothing in his letters indicated he was. But even if he was, she decided as they headed to the door, that was his problem, not hers.
Realizing she still had a hold of Colette’s arm, Abby let it go, but her attention stayed riveted on the sixteen-year-old girl, looking for any sign that she felt better. The frown on the young girl’s heart-shaped face disappeared, and Abby was glad to see it. “Are you all right now?”
A moment and Colette nodded.
“Good.” Abby smiled, and without looking where she was going, she stepped into the hallway and turned right. Her body collided into a granite wall of flesh and stumbled backward.
Something warm, strong, yet gentle secured her arm.
“Oh. I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was—” Words escaped her the instant her eyes landed on the sculptured face of the handsome man gazing down at her, still holding her arm.
He looked every bit as startled as she was. “Are you all right, miss?”
“I’m—I’m fine. Thank you.” She straightened. Only mere inches from him, her eyes never drifted from his. Something was different about his eyes. Abby looked at one, then the other. One was minutely wider, and the other looked like it hadn’t quite awakened yet because the outer half of his eyelid rested against his eyelashes a little heavier than the other one did.
That wasn’t what was different about them, though.
Abby placed her fingertip on her lip. It was something else. Then she spotted it. Her mouth formed into an O. Both eyes were grayish-blue except the right one. A third of the lower iris was hazel. The amber color started small at his pupil, but spread out, ending with the same grayish-blue as the rest of his eye. She had never seen anything like that before. “I’m sorry for staring, but you have very unusual eyes. They’re quite beautiful.”
Those same eyes, surrounded by long but straight medium brown eyelashes, twinkled. “Thank you.” He said it like he meant it, but his closed-lipped smile didn’t stretch very far. Far enough, though, to reveal a crescent-moon line on one side of his half-full lips and a quarter-crescent moon on the other. “Could you please tell me where I might find Miss Abigail Bowen?”
“Abigail? Oh. Oh. Yes. I’m Abby.” She waved her hand at her momentary lapse into forgetfulness because no one ever called her Abigail. Except her mother, and that was only when Abby was in trouble.
Surprise flounced across his face, and his attention drifted over her again, starting with her feet and ending at her hair. “You’re Miss Bowen?” One of his eyebrows peaked.
Hey. She knew she looked a mess, but the man didn’t need to be so blatantly rude with his disapproving perusal of her. Abby pushed her shoulders back and stood as tall as her five-foot-six-inch frame would allow. “Yes, sir, I am.”
Once again, his gaze roamed over her.
This time, she wouldn’t let it steal her joy or her peace.
If he didn’t approve of what he saw, again, that was his problem, not hers. But in all fairness, the man did have a good reason to be shocked. He probably wasn’t expecting to see her looking like a scullery maid, especially since from his perspective, she should have been waiting to meet him for the first time. “Please forgive my appearance. Because of an oversight, I didn’t get word of your arrival until a moment ago, so you caught me in the middle of cleaning.”
“So I see.” A chuckle vibrated through his low, brassy voice. “Well, Miss Bowen. I’m Harrison Kingsley.” He reached for her hand.
Abby quickly tucked both her hands behind her back. “Trust me, Mr. Kingsley. You do not want to touch these hands. They’ve been in soapy water all morning and probably feel pricklier than pig bristles.” And the rest of her, she was certain looked even worse. Oh, well, couldn’t be helped. She had a lot to do. If his time was as valuable to him as hers was to her, rather than keep him waiting while she cleaned up, she decided to go ahead and get right down to business. “Colette, would you make some tea and bring it to the parlor?”
“Oui, mademoiselle.” Colette curtsied.
“Thank you.” Abby spoke to Colette’s retreating back before she turned and faced Mr. Kingsley. What a fine specimen of a man he was. Like one of the heroes in the dime novels she often read. Only she hoped he wasn’t as stuffy as some of the heroes in those books seemed to be.
She couldn’t help but wonder, if instead of the dark blue three-piece suit Mr. Kingsley had on, what would he look like in a blue plaid shirt, denim blue jeans, Hyer boots and a black Stetson? No. Nix the cowboy hat. It would cover up that lovely head of medium brown hair. Abby liked the way he parted it—not on the side, not in the center, but in between the two, and straight in line with the inside of his right eyebrow.
She pried her attention from his broad-shouldered frame. “Shall we?” Abby swayed her upward palm toward the direction of the parlor. At his nod, she headed that way, tucking the loose strands of hair back into place as she went.
Having someone as handsome and fine-looking as Mr. Kingsley for a business partner was going to be a lot harder than she had anticipated. She’d always been a sucker for a handsome face. Probably due to all those romance novels she’d read. A handsome face didn’t guarantee happiness, though, as she had discovered with David. The most important elements in any human being were their hearts and their souls.
While that was definitely true, a quick glance at the gorgeous man standing in front of her, and she knew because of the romantic nature in her, she would have to work very hard at keeping her focus on business, or she might very well risk opening up her heart. Having done that once before, she refused to do it again. Therefore, her hopeless romantic notions would have to stay locked deep inside her heart, tucked away safely, even from herself. No. Make that especially from herself.
