Taming the Montana Millionaire by Teresa Southwick Page A

quo territory.
    Marlon was right about her being the queen of denial, but that was okay with her, because he wasn’t now and never would be her Marlon.

Chapter Seven
    M arlon paced the length of his room above The Hitching Post for the umpteenth time. Fridays in Thunder Canyon were fun, but Monday night the place was dull as dirt. TV wasn’t his thing and nine-thirty was too early to turn in. He knew the devil had a seat in hell with his name on it when thoughts of going to bed made him picture Haley lying by his side.
    He walked to the window and lifted aside the lace covering for a better view of Main Street and ROOTS. Light from inside the teen center spilled onto the wooden walkway in front, which meant someone was there. It had to be her.
    He’d only seen Haley for a few minutes earlier that day. She’d dropped into ROOTS a couple of times to check on things. Then she’d relieved him of duty after her shift at the bar and grill ended. Clearly she hadn’t wanted to chat. The last time they had, he’d accused her of lying. He’d beteverything he owned that she remembered kissing him. And bringing it up with her earlier had been tempting, but with kids wandering in and out it wasn’t appropriate.
    Maybe she was alone now.
    The thought was too tempting to resist. He left his room and went down the rear stairs, taking his usual back route to Main Street. There weren’t a whole lot of folks around, but he didn’t want to chance running across someone who felt like chatting him up. He wasn’t in the mood for idle conversation. Only one brown-eyed girl was on his mind and he was pumped for a chat with her.
    The dull thud of his boots sounded on the wooden sidewalk outside the teen center. He was right about her being here. Through the window Marlon could see her sitting on the sofa, with pencil in hand and a pad of paper on her lap. No one else was with her.
    She was sketching something and looked especially cute and far too appealing with her forehead furrowed in concentration. One foot was tucked up underneath her and she’d caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
    He’d like to bite her bottom lip. Not hard. Just a nip, something to show her that thoughts of her mouth had cost him a decent night’s sleep ever since that first day he’d seen her here working on the mural. He pushed open the door and decided leading with that particular revelation would not be the best way to go.
    She looked up. “Marlon. What are you doing here?”
    â€œI could ask you the same thing.”
    â€œThis place is my project. What’s your excuse?”
    His punishment, he wanted to say. But he wasn’t talking about legal obligations. Thoughts of her tortured him pretty much all the time.
    He moved farther into the room, just on the other sideof the coffee table. “I saw your light on. Isn’t it kind of late?”
    â€œKids have been in and out all day. Because they’re still on summer break it hasn’t been quiet.” She shrugged. “I’m keeping the place open until ten. Just in case someone wants to come by and talk.”
    As it happened, someone did want to talk, although he probably wasn’t on her approved list. But it occurred to him, and not for the first time, how selfless her dedication was to this project. She was giving up a lot of precious personal time for the benefit of teens who didn’t have much of a clue how hard she was working to make this happen.
    â€œWhat?” she asked, eyes narrowing on him.
    â€œNothing.” He sat down beside her. “I was just thinking.”
    â€œAbout?”
    â€œDo the kids have any idea how much time, effort and sacrifice you’ve put in to make this place a reality for them?”
    â€œIs that a rhetorical question?”
    â€œNot really,” he said.
    â€œToo bad, because I really don’t have an answer for you.”
    â€œWhy do you do