When Dreams Collide Read Online Free PDF Page A

had in mind at ten-thirty tomorrow morning.
     

 
     
    Chapter 3
     
    Susan leaned back in her executive chair, elbows parked on the arms, and fingers tented. The soothing earth-toned decor in her office usually kept her grounded, but the three inch heel on her strappy white sandal tapped a steady beat on the clear carpet protector underneath her chair. Her desk was littered with files, but she couldn’t concentrate on a single thing except her imminent appointment with Dusty MacFarland.
    What possible reason would Dusty have to meet with me today, she asked herself for the hundredth time. Business meetings never rattled her, but for some reason she felt as nervous as a virgin bride on her wedding night. She was being ridiculous.
    “Never mix business and friendships,” she chanted the mantra aloud. But she didn’t consider Dusty a close friend. She’d only met him two days ago.
    She glanced at the wall clock hanging beside the coat tree. Twenty minutes after ten. She stood and peeked through the louvered blinds on her office window. Dusty sat cooling his heels in one of the chunky tweed-upholstered customer chairs out front.
    “He’s prompt, if nothing else,” she observed.
    Susan watched Dusty through the slatted window covering. Jeremy Branigan looked the typical Hollywood-handsome leading man, whereas Dusty appeared ruggedly handsome. She recalled the old Marlborough man magazine ads she’d seen as a teenager, before tobacco became a four-letter word and the ads were discontinued.
    “Dusty, you would have made an excellent Marlborough man,” she declared aloud, smiling to herself.
    The cowboy seemed to be a no-nonsense, get-the-job-done, reliable type of guy. He’d certainly taken matters into his own hands and rescued her on Saturday afternoon when her ring held her captive in the cloakroom.
    Steeling herself for the worst, hoping for the best, she exited her office and strode out to the customer waiting area.
    “Good morning, Mr. MacFarland.” Susan extended her hand.
    Dusty leapt to his feet, whipped the now familiar pale gray Stetson off his head, and shook her hand. “Good morning, Ms. Sanders.”
    “Would you like a cup of coffee while we talk?” Susan was surprised by his cheerful greeting, and his broad smile suggested the mysterious matter wasn’t troubling him in the least.
    How bad could it be?
    *
     
    Dusty grimaced. He should have wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans before shaking Susan Sanders’ hand. He felt like a pubescent teenager, talking to the prettiest girl in school. Get a grip, MacFarland, he silently ordered himself. You’re here on time, you’re looking presentable in the new western duds, and you remembered to remove your hat before shaking her hand.
    What could go wrong?
    Plenty.
    For starters, she could say no and toss him out on his ear.
    Dusty smiled. “No thank you to the coffee, ma’am, but thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”
    The curvaceous body that drove him to distraction yesterday was dressed in a taupe pantsuit with a silky cream top peeking out from underneath. Good quality, professional, sensible clothes. Like the woman wearing them. He visualized the lacy panties hidden under those suit trousers. Cream? White? Pink again? He recalled her lustrous blond hair upswept in a stunning style for the wedding. Today, a single braid hung down her back.
    “All right, follow me, please.” She smiled and headed down the hallway.
    His thoughts wandered while he followed Susan into her office, admiring her south side heading north. What was the worst that could happen? She’d show him the door with an I-don’t-have-time-for-this-nonsense admonishment.
    “Please have a seat.” Susan pointed to the two upholstered chairs across from her desk.
    Dusty lowered himself into the closest chair, realizing he’d do damn near anything she asked of him. He really wanted this project to succeed, and he certainly wasn’t dealing with any