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  Beauty’s Kiss

  A Taming of the Sheenans Romance

  Jane Porter

  Beauty’s Kiss

  © Copyright 2014 Jane Porter

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-940296-18-0

  Dedication

  For Meghan Farrell.

  You are Wonder Girl. Tule couldn't do what it’s doing without you.

  (And I'd be miserable without a cool Book Girl around!)

  Dear Reader

  If you've read my books before, you know I love connected stories, and have written numerous series featuring families for Harlequin Presents, Grand Central Publishing and Berkley Books. The Taming of the Sheenans, is my brand new series about five brothers from Marietta, Montana and boy oh boy do these men know how to take over a scene and own the room!

  The Sheenans are big, tough, rugged men, and as different as the Montana landscape. I launched the series in December with Christmas at Copper Mountain, a story about widower Brock Sheenan, the oldest brother, a taciturn rancher and single father who has been alone too long.

  Now the series continues with Beauty's Kiss, featuring the 'good' Sheenan twin, venture capitalist Troy, named Marietta's Most Eligible Bachelor by the Copper Mountain Courier several years ago.

  But thirty-six year old Troy is more than a pretty face. He's brilliant and ambitious, loyal to this family, and has a secret soft spot for historical buildings, small towns, and brainy book girls.

  I hope you'll enjoy Taylor Harris and Troy Sheenan's romance in Beauty's Kiss. These two stole my heart as has all of Marietta. Welcome back to Marietta, Montana nestled beneath majestic Copper Mountain!

  Jane Porter

  Contents

  Dedication

  Dear Reader

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  The Taming of the Sheenan Novels

  Montana Born Brides

  Also by Jane Porter

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Montana winters were never mild, and this winter felt even more brutal than normal.

  Taylor Harris sucked in a sharp breath at the blast of frigid air as she and Jane Weiss, the new director of the Marietta Chamber of Commerce, stepped from the warm library into the night.

  The frigid temperature and biting wind made her eyes water behind her glasses. Taylor fumbled with her key, blinking as she struggled to get Marietta library’s front door locked. She had to remove her mitten to punch in the security code on the wall.

  Jane stood close by, shoulders hunched, teeth chattering. “You’re sure you don’t mind driving me to the airport?” she asked, drawing her suitcase closer to her feet.

  “Of course not,” Taylor answered, shivering as she quickly tugged her mitten back on. Normally she’d be racing home on a night like this for a hot bath, a steaming cup of soup, and a great book in bed. Taylor had been a book lover her entire life and, even at twenty-six, loved nothing more than curling up and getting lost in a great story, reading until the early hours of the morning. So what if it meant she never got enough sleep? Books were her life, her passion. It’s why she’d become a librarian.

  They set off for the broad, pale stone steps that led to the park and parking lot, Jane’s roller bag bumped along next to them.

  Taylor glanced across Crawford Park to the tall, domed courthouse dominating the public park. Even though it was only a few minutes after six, the sky was already dark and the yellow glow of street lamps reflected off the snow heaped onto the sides of the city park’s paths. Larger, dirtier piles of snow lined Marietta’s streets, thanks to the diligent efforts of the city’s snow plows, and now a new storm was predicted to move in tonight, which would mean even bigger piles tomorrow.

  Jane glanced anxiously up at the sky. “It’s supposed to start snowing later. You’re okay driving in a storm?”

  Taylor nodded, smiling, amused. “Of course. I’m from northeastern Montana. All we do is drive in snow and ice. It’s you I’m worried about. You think your flight will get out okay?”

  “I checked with the airline. So far, so good, and I have those alerts on my phone so I’ll know right away if there’s a change in status.” Jane lifted her bag, carrying it down the salted front steps, slightly breathless by the time they reached the sidewalk. “So what are you wearing to the Ball Friday?”

  Taylor knew the Valentine Ball would come up, and she dreaded breaking the news to Jane that she’d decided not to attend. “I wanted to talk to you about that,” she said carefully. “I’ve—”

  “Don’t. Don’t say you’ve changed your mind. You promised me!”

  Taylor hated disappointing anyone, much less the best friend she’d made since moving to Marietta six months ago, but Jane enjoyed big events and Taylor did not. “It’s just not my thing, Jane, and it’s incredibly expensive—”

  “You’re getting a free ticket for being on the Wedding Giveaway committee.”

  Taylor adjusted her red and brown striped scarf around her neck, trying in vain to block the wind. “Things have been stressful with Doug and all the changes at the library. I’d honestly rather stay home and unwind. I’ve got a new book by one of my favorite authors—”

  “You can read over the weekend. You don’t need to spend your Friday night in bed!”

  “Why not?” Taylor exclaimed, as they darted across the parking lot. “We both know I’m not a Ball kind of girl. I’m a librarian. And boring as mud. Trust me, you’ll have more fun without me.”

  Jane raced next to Taylor, teeth chattering again. “You’re only boring because you don’t go out and do anything!”

  “I like being home. I like reading.”

  Jane shuddered as the freezing wind whipped past. “You’re too young to become a hermit.”

  Taylor peeled a long strand of hair from her lashes and tugged her knit cap lower on her head. “I’m not a hermit. I’m just an introvert, which means I like people, but I don’t find parties exciting. They tire me out—.”

  “You sound like an old lady!” Jane interrupted, giggling. “But you’re young and beautiful and this is a once in a lifetime event. A historic event to commemorate the 100 year anniversary of Marietta’s 1914 Great Wedding Giveaway—” she broke off and glanced up at the sky as the first slow, lazy snowflakes drifted down. “It’s starting to snow.”

  “We’ll get you to the airport,” Taylor said. “You’ll make it.”

  Jane dragged her bag across an icy patch. “So when does it warm up?”

  “May? June?”

  “No!”

  “Don’t think about it,” Taylor said, as they arrived at her car and she clicked the unlock button on her key ring. “It’ll just make it worse.”

  Inside the car, as Taylor turned the engine on, Jane held her hands to one of the vents, waiting for the heat to kick in. “You have to come, Taylor. It’s the party of the century. Everyone’s going to be there—.” she broke off, frowned, hesitated. “Okay, from the sluggish ticket sales, we know not everyon
e will be at the Graff Hotel Friday night, but most of Crawford County’s movers and shakers will. It’s going to be beautiful. Don’t you want to see the ballroom decorated?”

  “I do. That’s why I’ve volunteered to help Risa deliver the flowers Friday. But that’s enough for me. I love to read about Balls in my Regency romances, but there’s nothing in me begging to go to a ball. Besides, even if I went, what would I wear?”

  “That’s easy. I’ll take you shopping, and Taylor, you have to go. We’re sitting at the Sheenan table. It’d be rude to not go now.”

  Taylor backed out from the parking spot, shifted into drive. “Just have catering remove a place setting and chair from the table. No one will even notice if there is eight, nine, or ten at the table.”

  “Yes, they will.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  “Yes. They will.” Jane exhaled hard before adding in a small voice. “Because you’re Troy Sheenan’s date.”

  “What?” Taylor slammed on her brakes and stared at Jane.

  “He just broke up with his girlfriend and he needed a date and you didn’t have a date so I told him–”

  “No, you did not.”

  “I did.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “He’s really nice.”

  “No he’s not. You said he broke your heart.”

  “Okay, nice is maybe the wrong word. But he is seriously gorgeous and sexy and smart. Very, very smart. And successful. Rich as Midas—”

  “Jane, no. He sounds awful. Yuck. No.”

  “It’s just for the Ball. You can go with Mitch and I, and we’ll drive you home. And I promise that Troy won’t make a move—”

  “No.”

  “Although he is by far the best kisser—”

  “Don’t care. Don’t want to know.” Taylor’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as she moved her foot from the brake to the gas pedal. “And you agreed after that last terrible set up that you wouldn’t put me through anymore blind dates.” She shot Jane a severe look. “I’m holding you to that promise, Jane.”

  Jane slunk down in her seat. “I’m not asking you to marry him, just be his date.”

  Taylor said nothing, her gaze narrowed and focused on the road.

  “Normally I wouldn’t set him up. I wouldn’t want to see him with another woman but you’re not... plastic... and you wouldn’t be into him for his money...” Jane’s voice drifted off. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Silence followed.

  Taylor clamped her jaw tight.

  She was not interested in going to the Ball, and definitely not interested in being set up with gorgeous, rich, sexy Troy Sheenan, Jane’s ex-love, whom Taylor had heard far too much about over the past few months.

  Good Lord. From everything Jane had said, Troy was a handsome, ruthless, self-absorbed playboy. Could anything be worse?

  “You’d enjoy talking to him,” Jane said faintly, hands knotting in her lap. “He’s very smart—brilliant, really—and exceedingly well read. You should see his personal library—”

  “Jane.”

  “He’s just got his hands full with his break up, his dad dying, and hosting the Ball for us in his hotel. It’s a massive expense that he personally is underwriting.”

  Taylor flexed her fingers against the steering wheel. “That’s not my problem, and it’s not yours, either.”

  “I know, but I offered to help—”

  “Wait. You offered to set him up? He didn’t ask you?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, Jane.” Taylor sighed. “You’re still in love with him.”

  Jane’s head bowed. “I know we’re not going to be together. And I’m moving on, I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t care for Troy, and it doesn’t mean I can’t want him to be happy.”

  Taylor just shook her head. She’d been in Jane’s shoes once, back when she was in graduate school, and it was a bad place to be. Unrequited love was brutal. All those intense emotions, bottled up inside, making your feelings strong, too strong. “You need to let him go. Completely.”

  For a long moment Jane said nothing, and then she sighed heavily. “So what do I tell Troy?”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “To be a man and go find his own damn date.”

  Troy Sheenan was glad to be on the ground, even if he was arriving in the middle of a blizzard. He was a seasoned traveler, accustomed to jetting back and forth between Montana and California to oversee the renovations at the Graff Hotel during the last couple of years, but tonight’s flight was rough. Seriously rough. Three endless, unrelenting hours of turbulence that kept him buckled into his leather seat, as the pilots of his private jet searched in vain for some smoother air.

  They didn’t find it.

  But at least he and his crew were safely on the ground and he was free to move, his long strides carrying him swiftly across the snowy tarmac to the Executive terminal.

  His rental car, a big black four wheel drive SUV with snow tires, was waiting for him outside the executive terminal, the key already in the ignition, the interior still warm. The paperwork had been handled earlier by Troy’s assistant before he left San Francisco which meant he was free to go.

  Troy tossed his bags into the back, and slid behind the steering wheel, noting that the snow flurries were coming down thicker and faster. In good weather it was at least a fifty five minute drive to Sheenan Ranch. And it wasn’t good weather. He wasn’t even sure if Dillon would have been able to get their private drive plowed, which meant he might be four wheeling it. Or stuck.

  Any other night he’d just stay at the hotel. He had his own private suite on the fourth floor of the historic hotel, and the suite was always kept ready for him, but if Dad was doing as badly as Dillon said, Troy wanted to get to the ranch tonight and sit with him. Troy hadn’t been there when his mom died, and he was damn well not going to be MIA when Dad passed.

  The snow was really coming down now.

  Taylor sat ramrod straight in the driver’s seat, her hands set precisely at ten and one on the steering wheel, her heart pounding harder than she liked.

  She wasn’t scared.

  She’d driven through worse.

  And the road seemed fine, not too icy. She just had to keep an eye on her speed and pay attention.

  And yes, it was getting harder and harder to see the hood of her car, never mind the road, but she was a Montana girl. She had a good car, a reliable car, and her Subaru could handle the icy roads just fine.

  The car would be fine, and she’d be fine, she silently insisted, even as she regretted that she hadn’t stopped in Bozeman when she had the chance.

  She should have not pushed it. She should have played it safe. But Taylor had thought that maybe the flurries would lighten. She’d thought perhaps once she hit the highway the storm would ease.

  She’d thought wrong and now she was driving through a blinding sheet of white, having to pretend her pulse wasn’t racing and her hands weren’t damp against the steering wheel.

  Fifteen more miles, she told herself, checking the windshield wiper speed again. But they were already on their fastest setting and unable to clear her windshield quickly enough.

  She couldn’t see.

  It’s okay.

  She hated this.

  You’re halfway home.

  Her eyes burned as she fought panic. She wanted to pull over, get off the road but this was a mountain pass and it’d be suicide to pull over here. Another motorist or trucker could lose control and take her out.

  No choice but to keep going. No choice but to finish what she’d started.

  And so she sat tall and held her breath and focused very hard on the glow of white where the car headlights shone through the swirling flurries of snow, unable to reach as far as the yellow reflectors on the side of the road. Taylor only knew for sure where she was when she drove over one of the bumps.

  Too far right. She was practically on the shoulder. Not good.

  She corrected, steering a l
ittle more to the left, frowning hard, trying to see the road, knowing it curved somewhere near here, a fairly sharp curve which wasn’t a problem during the day but could be treacherous at night. She was concentrating very hard on staying off the reflector bumps and in the middle of her lane when suddenly red brake lights glowed in front of her.

  She hadn’t even known a car was in front of her and Taylor slammed on her brakes to avoid rear ending it, which put her in a skid on the ice.

  Braking hard on ice was the absolute wrong thing to do. She was supposed to pump the brakes, supposed to keep the brakes from locking. Too late.

  Her tires spun, and her car spun, and she went careening off the shoulder before slamming violently into the metal side guard.

  Her airbag deployed, the impact knocking the air from her.

  Taylor knew she’d stopped moving when everything grew still and quiet. She sat for a moment, dazed, barely able to see over the airbag.

  Cautiously, she opened her door and stepped out into the snow. She shivered as she inspected her car where it had slammed into the guardrail. The guardrail was twisted and bent, but it had stopped her car from going over the edge.

  Good guardrail.

  “That was close,” a deep male voice said from behind her. “You alright?”

  “I think so,” she answered, swaying a bit as she turned around. A man was walking towards her, his big SUV parked just behind her car, his headlamps on high beams to illuminate the highway shoulder. “Just shaken up more than anything.”

  The man walked past her, took a look at the guardrail and crushed hood, before returning. “That guardrail saved you.”

  “I know.”

  “What happened?”

  “The truck in front of me slammed on its brakes, and I had nowhere to go.”

  “You were following it too closely?”