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9780373039555
THERE was no sign of him. Morgan Keenan stared out the bay window of her craft shop at the family Inn, willing the tardy Fortune 500 corporate CEO to appear. Not that she didn't realize what a long shot it was to get Justin Hilliard to even consider investing in her project. She glanced up at the clouds gathering over the San Juan Mountains, knowing the forecast was for snow flurries later tonight. It was still early in the season, but it could be a blessing for the old mining town of Destiny, Colorado. Especially when she was trying to promote the perfect location to build a ski resort. Since being elected mayor last year, Morgan had worked hard, pulling together a cost effective package and looking for investors. She'd received a few nibbles over the previous months, but it hadn't been until she heard from Justin Hilliard of Hilliard Industries, that she thought she just might have a chance to pull off this deal. And today, the CEO was coming to see the town...and to meet her. Or was he? With one last glance at the empty parking lot, Morgan walked to the back of the craft shop she ran in her parents' bedandbreakfast, the Keenan Inn. A wooden quilting frame was set up in the turretshaped alcove. She took her seat facing the windows so she could keep an eye out for her visitor while relieving tension by working on the wedding quilt. Morgan picked up her needle and took a measured stitch, a skill her mother had taught her years ago. It had been her salvation too many times to count. Lately the resort deal had been heavy on her mind, but after today, if Mr. Hilliard decided he wanted to invest in the resort she could breathe easier. Busy with her intricate work, it took a while for Morgan to realize she wasn't alone. She glanced up to see a small darkhaired girl standing in the doorway. Dressed in a pink nylon ski jacket and matching bib overalls, she was too cute. Morgan smiled. "Hi." The girl didn't answer. Since the Inn's guests didn't usually have children, Morgan decided the girl belonged to a day tourist. She glanced toward the front of the shop but didn't see anyone around. "I'm Morgan," she said. "What's your name?" "Lauren," the child answered softly. "Pretty name. Do you want to see what I'm making?" Her grayblue eyes widened, then to Morgan's surprise, the little girl walked to the edge of the stretcher board. Morgan ran her hand over the multiblue patterned fabrics already sewn into circles. "It's called a weddingring quilt. See the circles?" She outlined one with her finger. "They look like rings." The girl didn't speak, but leaned in to look at the halffinished quilt. "I like to use blue," Morgan continued. "It's my favorite color. What's yours?" Those big eyes rose to hers. Morgan felt a tug at her heart. "Pink..." the girl whispered. "You want to see if we can find pink in the quilt?" Surprisingly the little girl raised her arms to Morgan. She didn't hesitate to lift the child. A soft powdery smell emanated from her as she was tucked perfectly onto Morgan's lap. Morgan took a moment to savor the rare gift, because this would be as close as she would ever get to having a little girl of her own.Justin Hilliard stood at the Keenan Inn's front desk. He hated being late. Punctuality had been a discipline drilled into him throughout his life. Even if it couldn't be helped because the company jet had a minor mechanical problem, and Lauren had fallen asleep. he'd decided that she needed the rest more than he needed to be on time. "Sorry for the delay, Mr. Hilliard." The middleaged innkeeper had short gray hair and warm hazel eyes. "We put you in the suite on the second floor. My husband is bringing in a rollaway to accommodate your daughter." "Thank you, Mrs. Keenan. I apologize for not informing you ahead ofThayer, Patricia is the author of 'Mother for the Tycoon's Child ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373039555 and ISBN 0373039557.
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