Candy Halliday - Dad's E-mail Order Bride

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 informed 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.

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