Her Montana Millionaire
Crystal Green
Stories of family and romance
beneath the Big Sky!
Damned long legs.
He tried to cleanse all impure thoughts from his mind.
Gams. A French starlet mouth pouted with red lipstick. A svelte figure covered by an elegant black-and-white dress suit.
Where had this woman come from?
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said, sliding her hand across the table, laying her fingers over his own. His skin heated from the contact.
Excellent. He was forty-three years old. Wasn’t he too mature to be getting excited over hand-holding? Evidently not.
He shifted in his chair when she started stroking his thumb.
“Relax, Max. I don’t bite.” She smiled. “Not unless you want me to.”
Her Montana Millionaire
Crystal Green
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CRYSTAL GREEN
lives near Las Vegas, where she writes for the Harlequin Special Edition and Blaze lines. She loves to read, overanalyze movies and TV programs, practice yoga and travel when she can. You can read more about her at www.crystal-green.com, where she has a blog and contests. Also, you can follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/people/Chris-Marie-Green/1051327765 and on Twitter at www.twitter.com/ChrisMarieGreen.
Karen Taylor Richman:
thank you for your support and faith
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
Just as Jinni Fairchild swooped into a prime parking space at MonMart, some uptight prig laid on his horn.
“Sorry, cupcake,” she said to no one in particular. “I’m the best parking pilot there is.”
Even in her younger sister’s sardine can of a compact car, Jinni was the queen of smooth moves, the duchess of derring-do. Not that it mattered in a small town like Rumor, Montana, where the citizens drove down the autumn-hued roads with lazy-Sunday nonchalance. Put them on a New York street and they’d be road kill in a matter of seconds.
She sighed on this wave of nostalgia. She really did miss the city.
The runner-up in the parking lot contest jammed on his horn once more, but this time it was a long, angry blast. Almost like unintelligible curse words strung together by one, endless electronic howl.
Unconcerned, Jinni turned off the Honda Civic’s trembling engine and yanked on the emergency brake. She had a lot to do at MonMart, shopping for her sister, Val, who was recovering from breast cancer.
That’s right—cancer. Her own baby sister.
It was unnatural, a thirty-five-year-old woman contracting a life-threatening disease. Jinni was the eldest, the one who’d hit the big four-oh this year. Why hadn’t she been the recipient?
Jinni shook off the sadness. Val wouldn’t want her to break down in tears again, especially in the parking lot of a middle-class shopping mecca. Would she?
No, absolutely not. Instead, Jinni would concentrate on getting over the fact that she was about to enter a store that sold food products, clothing and goods at discount prices. Sadly, it was no Saks Fifth Avenue.
Yikes. Going inside might taint her forever.
Nonetheless, she’d brave this trek into primitive bargain territory for the sake of her sister. Besides, once Val got better Jinni could wave goodbye to MonMart and Rumor and return to her own life. And if this last week of sheer boredom hadn’t hurt her, she’d survive intact.
Outside the car, a door slammed. Jinni paid it no heed. She was used to noise—lots of it. The snarl of traffic outside her Upper East Side window, the squeal of brakes and the rapid stutter of shouts, the shuffle of a thousand footsteps as they passed under her luxury apartment.
She whipped a tube of lipstick out of her Gucci handbag, tilting her starlet sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose in order to achieve maximum damage with the fiery cosmetic.
A polite tap shook her window. Wait, almost done with the lipstick. Blot, blot, blot. There, ready for the world.