Dad’s E-mail Order Bride Read online

  Graham had wanted Rachel to experience those same values. And he knew Rachel had been happy the first couple of years, when having her father’s full attention had been a novelty instead of a curse. Graham also knew most of Rachel’s attitude about being stuck in Port Protection now was simply her being a teenager. Still, the thought of Rachel returning to New York turned Graham inside out.

  He wanted to keep her safe.

  And not only from the type of crime everyone faced living in a large city. Graham wanted to keep Rachel safe from getting caught up in the whole gotta-have-it-all-regardless-of-the-cost madness that skewed a person’s outlook on life.

  He’d lived that type of phony existence.

  He’d also been raised by a long string of housekeepers and nannies, and he’d been born to parents who still believed money, power and social standing were the measure of a person’s worth. In turn, he’d married a woman who met his parents’ approval and who shared those same beliefs.

  Had he stayed in New York, Graham knew he wouldn’t have stood a chance against interference from his parents and from his former in-laws. Had he stayed, it would have been too tempting to fall back into his old routine instead of taking full responsibility for his daughter.

  Before Rachel set out on her journey through life, Graham wanted to do for her what his grandfather had done for him. He wanted to teach his daughter that there was so much more to life than an impressive salary, or a luxury penthouse apartment, or a closet filled with designer clothes. He wanted Rachel to know who she was as a person. And the longer he kept Rachel in Alaska, Graham believed, the better chance she would have of learning to appreciate the things that no amount of money, power or social standing could buy.

  A loud knock brought Graham upright in his chair.

  Speak of the devil.

  He prepared himself for another shouting match.

  Instead, the first thing Rachel said when she closed his office door was, “I’m so sorry, Dad. For everything. Especially for copying text from your journal.”

  “Sorry is a good place to start.”

  Her chin came up in defiance. “Well, at least Courtney has forgiven me.”

  “Courtney’s a nicer person than I am.”

  Rachel mumbled something under her breath.

  Graham let it go. “What were you thinking, Rachel? Did you really expect me to take one look at Courtney and fall in love with her?”

  “Well, I…uh—” She looked down at the folder she was rolling and unrolling nervously in her hands. When she looked back up she said, “Okay, yes. I did think you would fall in love with Courtney. How could you not fall for her, Dad? She’s smart. She’s pretty. She’s funny. She’s perfect for you. Just like Meg Ryan was perfect for Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail.”

  At least one mystery had been solved—where Rachel had come up with her insane e-mail idea.

  “But real life isn’t a movie, Rachel,” he lectured. “In real life people pick their own partners. And if I ever decide to fall in love with someone, I’ll decide who’s perfect for me.”

  She tossed her hair and said, “In other words, you don’t like someone else making decisions for you, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Neither do I, Dad.”

  He’d walked right into that one. But Graham wasn’t about to let Rachel take control of the conversation.

  “The difference,” Graham pointed out, “is that I’m the father, you’re the child, and it’s my duty to make decisions for you until you’re old enough to make them for yourself.”

  “No, Dad,” she said. “I was a child when we first moved here. But I’m not a child anymore. And that’s the problem. As long as I stay here, my life isn’t going anywhere. And you don’t seem to care.”

  Graham swallowed the big lump in his throat. Is that what Rachel really thought? That he didn’t care how she felt?

  “You’re wrong,” Graham said. “I do care. You’re the most important thing in my life, Rachel, and I love you. And because I do love you, there are going to be times when I have to do what I think is best. Can’t you understand that?”

  “No,” she said, crossing her arms stubbornly. “But obviously there isn’t anything I can do about it.”

  “I’m glad you’ve figured that out,” Graham said, his voice stern now. “Because what you did to Courtney is inexcusable. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”

  Her head dropped as she looked down at the floor. “I said I was sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough,” Graham said. “But you have Courtney to thank for me postponing any punishment until after the weekend. You invited her, and I expect you to bend over backward to make sure she has a good time while she’s here.”

  She looked up again, her expression more repentant this time. “I will, Dad, I promise. And thanks for being so nice to Courtney in spite of being mad at me. She really has been a good friend to me.”

  “That’s what has me concerned,” Graham admitted. “I don’t need another woman agreeing with you that you should move to New York. Both of your grandmothers do enough of that already. It only makes you more unhappy living here.”

  “But Courtney isn’t like MiMi and Gram at all, Dad. Courtney tells me all the time I should stop worrying about New York and focus on making life in Port Protection work for me while I’m here.”

  “Excellent advice,” Graham said a little too quickly.

  “Shocker.” Rachel snorted. “Of course you would think Courtney’s advice is excellent.”

  Graham grinned in spite of himself.

  Rachel only rolled her eyes.

  But they both knew this storm had passed—at least for now. And like all parents and children who instinctively know when it’s time to move on from an argument, Graham stood and held his arms out. Rachel stepped around his desk and walked into them.

  “Don’t ever think that I don’t care about your feelings,” Graham said, pulling his daughter close as he kissed the top of her head. “But for now you and I are going to have to agree to disagree on you staying in Alaska. Is that a deal?”

  “Maybe,” Rachel said, pushing away from him. “I’ll agree to disagree, if you’ll agree to something.” She stuck her hand out. “Deal?”

  Graham looked at her outstretched hand, then back at Rachel. “Agree to what?”

  “I’m making you a special birthday dinner tonight,” she said proudly. “And I want to dress up as if we were going out to some fancy restaurant in New York. If I can’t go to New York, I’ll bring New York here to Port Protection.”

  Graham shrugged. “Okay. Dress anyway you want.”

  He reached out to shake on the deal. Rachel jerked her hand back.

  “I meant I want you to dress for dinner, too, Dad. That’s the deal. And don’t say you don’t have anything nice to wear.”

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Yes, you do. You have a tuxedo in your closet.”

  “And what were you doing in my closet?”

  Rachel grimaced. “Sorry. But I saw the tux when I was looking for your journal.”

  She ran for the door after that confession, but she stopped, hurried back and placed the folder she’d been mutilating on his desk. “I almost forgot. Courtney wanted me to give you those. They’re the e-mails she wrote when she thought she was writing them to you.”

  Graham was still staring at the folder when Rachel reached the door. He didn’t look up until she said his name.

  “Dinner will be ready at seven.” She flashed him a big grin. “That gives you plenty of time to clean up and put on your tux.”

  “I am not wearing a tux!” Graham called out as the door closed behind her.

  What the hell?

  Graham shook his head. His day kept getting crazier by the minute.

  First, Courtney had kissed him senseless the second she stepped off the plane. Then, he’d learned his own flesh and blood had put him up for auction on the Internet. Next, he’d been infor
med Rachel had suddenly decided to become Martha Stewart. And now he’d been told he had to wear a tux to dinner.

  Rachel had brought New York to Port Protection, all right. Up close and personal! Glancing at the folder again only made Graham wonder why Courtney wanted him to read the e-mails. Was she trying to give him a better idea of who she was? Or had that second kiss sent her the wrong message that he was interested?

  Graham sat behind his desk.

  And why had he kissed Courtney that second time? He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He’d just been standing there, his arm around her, and she’d been smiling at him. And dammit, he just couldn’t help himself.

  Is that what turning forty did to a man?

  Did hitting the big four-oh unleash some hidden gene that suddenly made a man feel the need to prove his virility? Or had he only been fooling himself all along? Had he really come to Alaska for Rachel’s protection? Or had he been protecting himself by making sure he wouldn’t have the opportunity to feel anything for a woman again?

  He needed a clear head. He had to stop overanalyzing every little thing—worrying about his reaction to this and his reaction to that. Of course, he was attracted to Courtney.

  He had eyes, didn’t he?

  His reaction was no different than any other healthy man’s reaction to a good-looking woman. He’d been out of circulation so long he’d forgotten what was normal and what wasn’t.

  And that sent Graham’s gaze back to the folder again.

  Okay. He’d read Courtney’s e-mails. It wasn’t as though he had anything pressing to do at the moment, since Rachel and Courtney were fixing dinner. He had another hour to kill before he had to dress for dinner.

  And yes, he would wear the tux.

  Begrudgingly, but he’d wear it. He’d never tell Rachel, but he would wear a tux to dinner every night until she left for college if that’s what it took to improve her bad attitude.

  Graham picked up the folder before he changed his mind. And leaning back in his chair, he propped his feet up on his desk again and opened to Courtney’s first e-mail.

  Hi Graham.

  The way I would describe myself is being in total awe over everything you said about life in your introductory e-mail to me. You see, today happens to be my thirty-fifth birthday. And if anyone needs to get her whole life-act together, it’s moi.

  I’m also one of those people who assumed by making everyone else happy, I’d eventually find happiness myself. Your e-mail has snapped me out of that delusion.

  So, thank you, Graham.

  You appear to be a wise and thoughtful man.

  I hope we can become good friends.

  The next one read:

  You mentioned those nights when you stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Sleep has never come easy for me. Sometimes I’m lonely. Sometimes I’m just plain terrified at how quickly life is passing me by. I blink and my day is gone. Two blinks and another year has passed. I have this recurring dream where I’m sitting on a white cloud. I know I’m dead, but when I open my book of life all of the pages are blank. They say bad dreams are only mental snapshots of your worst fears, and I believe that. If I had the courage to be honest with myself, my worst fear is that my blank pages will never be filled.

  Courtney had said his words touched her.

  Ditto.

  He often felt as if his life had been a blank page until he moved to Alaska. Was it possible Courtney’s trip to Alaska represented the same for her? Had she hoped to start a new chapter in her life and fill some of those pages?

  Graham could only wonder.

  But thinking about Courtney reminded him he would soon be facing her again at dinner. And deciding he’d better see if he could still fit into his damn tux after five years, Graham got up from his chair and headed for his bedroom.

  He took the folder with him. If he couldn’t sleep tonight, Courtney’s e-mails would keep him company.

  CHAPTER SIX

  RACHEL HAD PAID CLOSE attention to their reactions when her dad and Courtney saw each other for the first time all dressed up for dinner—her dad handsome in his tux; Courtney fab in a totally to-die-for off-the-shoulder black dress, her hair in a knot on top of her head. It was like watching a scene straight out of Pretty Woman—the one where Richard Gere sees Julia Roberts in that fancy red cocktail dress for the first time and she’s all smiling at him because he’s so wickedly hot she just can’t stand it. Rachel loved those old romance movies from before she was born, but she especially loved that one.

  Rachel was wearing a fancy red dress tonight, too—not as fancy as the one Julia wore in the movie—a dress her MiMi had sent her with a note that said:

  Even if you have no use for a fancy dress in dreadful Port Protection, darling, it’s your favorite color and I thought of you the second I saw it.

  Her dad had freaked over the note, saying with friends like MiMi he didn’t need any enemies. But her dad had never really gotten along with her mom’s mom anyway.

  Now they had just finished dinner and dessert and she could tell her dad had really enjoyed it. He’d even said the menu was worthy of being served at any classy restaurant in New York City, but he didn’t realize how true his statement was.

  She’d searched the Web sites of fancy New York restaurants for hours putting her menu together. The melt-in-your-mouth roasted salmon with a mustard, tarragon and chive sauce was compliments of a restaurant called L’Appétit. She’d chosen the fish because during salmon season they had the stuff practically coming out of their ears. The vegetable and rice medley—veggie ribbons on ice—had been on the menu of a restaurant named Wellington’s, and she’d chosen the dish first because she loved the cute name of it and second, because they had squash and zucchini from the garden and her dad had always preferred rice to potatoes.

  Her adopted grandmother Peg had made the apple cobbler for her, and Rachel was glad. Although the meal had been fairly easy to prepare with Courtney’s help, they never would have had time to make cobbler.

  Yes, her meal had been a great success.

  But right now Rachel was disappointed.

  She’d also searched the Internet for ways to make a table setting intimate—God, but she loved the word intimate. She’d kept the overhead lighting off, and to “set the mood” she’d placed candles on half of their long dining table so her dad and Courtney would be forced to sit at one end. Her dad was in his usual place at the head, and Courtney was sitting right beside him—so close they could have held hands, which was looking more doubtful with every minute.

  The mood she’d created wasn’t working.

  Sure, her dad and Courtney had been talking to each other all through dinner about different places they’d been in Europe, about books they’d read recently, and other boring adult blah, blah, blah. But at this rate, if Rachel didn’t do something quick, all of her romantic candlelight was going to be wasted.

  She had to get their focus back on each other—the way it had been when Courtney had first come downstairs for dinner. When her dad picked up his wineglass again and Courtney dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin, Rachel saw her chance.

  “So?” Rachel said. “Do you think there’s a possibility you guys might hook up after all?”

  Courtney laughed.

  Her dad choked on his wine and sent her a stern look.

  “What?” Rachel said. “It’s a simple question.”

  THERE WASN’T ANYTHING simple about Rachel’s question, and she knew it, but the question prompted Graham to tug at the collar of his tux shirt, suddenly needing a little more air. Probably all those damn candles taking up the oxygen in the room, he decided. They’d been driving him crazy all evening. All that flickering made it difficult to carry on an intelligent conversation—especially with the way Courtney looked in the soft light.

  He’d almost popped his cummerbund when she’d come downstairs with her hair up off her neck, her slender shoulders exposed, and that short dress showing him how long her fabulou
s legs really were. She’d looked so amazing all he could do was gulp.

  “Well?” Rachel said now. “Since neither of you is going to answer me, can I take that as a yes?”

  “It wasn’t an appropriate question to ask, and you know it,” Graham warned. “That’s why we didn’t bother to answer you.”

  She looked across the table at Courtney, then back at him. “Well, at least admit you think Courtney looks beautiful tonight, Dad.”

  “Rachel!” Courtney protested. “Don’t put your dad on the spot like that.”

  But rather than have Courtney more embarrassed than she already was, Graham looked directly at her and said, “You look extremely beautiful tonight, Courtney. And so does my daughter, even if she is being a complete brat.”

  “Why, thank you, Graham,” she said politely and picked up her wineglass. “I say we make a toast to your beautiful daughter, even though she is being a complete brat, for planning such an incredible meal for us tonight.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. But she got the message from both of them to back off.

  “To Rachel,” Graham said, lifting his glass and touching it against Courtney’s, then against Rachel’s Sprite-filled wineglass.

  But he hadn’t missed Courtney’s wink when their glasses touched, signaling she was pleased with the way they were handling the situation. That made Graham realize Courtney might be more of an ally than he thought.

  Maybe Courtney would be a good friend for Rachel after all. He’d paused outside the kitchen on his way to dress for dinner and listened while Courtney patiently walked Rachel through making the sauce for the salmon. And as he’d entered his bedroom, he’d heard them laughing. He hadn’t heard Rachel laugh like that in a long time.

  Graham glanced over at his daughter again.

  Seeing Rachel all dressed up made him wonder when his baby girl had grown into such a lovely young woman. But the dress she wore only reinforced Graham’s belief that he was doing the right thing refusing to move to New York. Rachel had a lifetime ahead of her for party dresses and fancy restaurants. A lifetime where he would only be an afterthought, the father she might decide to visit now and then.