SNOWFIRES

“
Ms Caroline Clemmons
has written a book that was so good it was hard to put down. She
had my attention from the first page.” The Romance
Studio,
5 Hearts
, for THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE

“
Just when you thought
a happily ever after was just around the corner, another corner
appears...I want more!” Night Owl Reviews,
Top Pick
for THE TEXAN’S
IRISH BRIDE

“
OUT OF THE BLUE is a
beautifully written story. The extraordinary characters,
descriptive setting and fast paced action/suspense made this a
delightful, enjoyable read. The in-depth POV from the hero and
heroine gave me a great insight on their emotions. This is the type
of book that pulls you in and you just don't want to end, but
leaves you with satisfied smile after the last page is read. A
perfect mixture of witty dialogue, sensual love scenes, and the
happily-ever-after ending, Caroline Clemmons pens a timeless tale
that I could re-read over and over again and never tire of it!”
Siren Book Reviews,
5 Siren
Stones
for OUT OF THE BLUE

“
Kudos . . . to author
Caroline Clemmons for one of the most entertaining books this
reviewer has ever read . . . absolutely outstanding job with
strong, distinctive characters, impressive imagery and syntax. The
story line is intelligent, sensuous and full of humor and emotion.
I highly recommend THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE . . .”
　
ReaderToReader.com

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 by Caroline Clemmons

Cover Artist

Michael Pohl

Cover Text by

Lilburn Smith

All rights reserved. Without limiting the
rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system
or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written
permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of
this book.

Author contact
information
Mailto:
HYPERLINK
mailto:[email protected]
[email protected]

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

Thanks to Sandy Crowley, Geri Foster,
Jeanmarie Hamilton, Brenda Chitwood, and the Rosebud critters for
their help critiquing this novel.

As always, thanks to my family for supporting
my writing habit--especially to my sweet Hero Husband.

CHAPTER ONE

Trent
Macleod
raked a hand through his hair with savage fury, and cursed the fact
he was stranded in the Texas Panhandle’s godforsaken plains. Damned
if he’d been able to make gnome-like pilot, Harley Gibbons,
recognize the importance of this flight and the necessity for
leaving immediately. The hayseed pilot’s obstinacy would drive any
man crazy, and Trent was already halfway there.

He pleaded again with the man who, at
least for today, controlled Trent’s destiny. "How can I make you
understand? I
have
to get to
Dallas today! Dammit, you brought me here. You
have
to take me back to civilization." Fierce
wind gusts whipped against him, molding his clothes to his body as
he faced the other two men on the patio.

Through the glass patio door, Trent spotted
his host’s granddaughter watching from inside, hostility flashing
sparks from her cornflower blue eyes. Great! As if he didn't have
enough problems, Holly had to witness this contest of wills. Even
in his fury, he didn’t miss the way her crossed arms pushed her
breasts higher or the fall of honey blonde hair across her
shoulders. Damn the woman for haunting his dreams.

He couldn’t afford any distractions, and
turned his attention back to the pilot.

Harley looked at the darkening sky then shook
his head and stuck out a thumb toward the plane setting nearby in a
corrugated metal hangar. "In this wind and with that storm almost
here, ain't nobody but a fool takin’ that there plane up today. My
momma didn't raise no fools."

Trent hated that this hick pilot had so much
power over his life. He lowered his voice to a placating tone. "The
main storm hasn’t hit yet. Let's both get the hell out of here
while we can. Look, I'll give you a bonus to leave right now."

The pilot folded his arms across his chest
defensively and shook his head again. "Dead man cain't spend no
bonus."

A few snowflakes whipped by to announce the
approaching storm. Trent stood with legs apart, feet braced against
the wind, much as he had stood aboard ship in his sailing days. If
only he were as certain of his choices here as he had been
then.

"Dammit man, we'll be flying
away
from the approaching
snowstorm." Trent gestured east toward Dallas with an angry wave.
He knew his voice sounded harsh, but too much rode on this to treat
the situation any other way.

Harley stepped forward and stabbed a
finger at Trent’s chest. “Now, you listen here, sonny. You maybe
were some kind of hero when you worked on that there boat a' yours.
Maybe you always got your way there, but that plane and any
passengers are
my
responsibility. If you knew beans from buckshot, you’d see
why I don't fly in this kind of weather."

"Weather won’t be a problem going east.
Be reasonable, will you? I
have
to be in Dallas in the morning for the most important meeting
of my life."

Trent’s comment understated the importance of
the meeting. Not only his personal financial future, the jobs of
many hinged on the outcome of this one meeting with a delegation
from Amberfield Industries. Over the past several weeks, he’d
painstakingly laid his groundwork with letters and conference
calls. This meeting was the payoff.

He’d planned a detailed tour of the facility
preceding a face to face discussion at which he’d present a
well-thought-out campaign to the skeptical Amberfield people. The
contract he sought would broaden the market for Marvel Incorporated
and turn a stagnant company into a viable entity for the
future.

That's why he’d agreed to let Joe Bob
Grayson’s pilot fly him to Grayson’s ranch in the Texas Panhandle
for an in-depth strategy session over the long weekend. As one of
the founders of Marvel and now its Chairman of the Board, no one
alive understood the company better than Grayson. More importantly,
Trent needed Grayson’s support to put together this deal.

Lord, how had his life gotten so complicated
in such a short space of time?

The pilot's voice brought him back to his
present predicament.

"I got just three words for you--Patsy Cline,
Buddy Holly, Big Bopper." The small man stuffed his hands into his
pockets, all the while nodding in satisfaction, as if his brief
statement furnished a wealth of information which needed no further
explanation.

How had he managed to get stuck on the back
steps of nowhere dealing with a moronic hick? Trent threw up his
hands in disgust. "Hell, man. What are you talking about? That's
six words, and what do dead entertainers have to do with you flying
me to Dallas?"

"Humph, you bet they’re dead." Harley
stabbed at Trent with a forefinger. "Them's just three of the
greatest singers ever lived, and you know why they’re dead? They
thought they just
had
to get
somewhere in spite of bad weather. Yessirree. But when their plane
crashed, they missed those meetings anyway, didn't
they?"

Harley nodded, agreeing with himself,
pounding a fist into his open hand to punctuate his words. "Like I
said, planes don't fly with ice on their wings."

"For the love of—“

Joe Bob's grasp of Trent's arm interrupted
his response. "Now, Trent, listen to Harley here. He may be an old
country boy, but he's the best damned pilot out there. If he says
it isn't safe to fly, then it isn't and that's that. Remember this
is a cow pasture runway, not a high tech airport. We have enough on
the line without fighting the weather.”

Joe Bob looked toward the house and leaned in
to confide in Trent. “Holly’s other grandparents—that’d be my
former partner and his wife—died in a plane crash in a rainstorm
with high winds. You just can’t be too careful when a plane’s
involved."

Recognizing defeat, Trent assaulted his hair
again. As his eyes sought Holly through the closed sliding door, he
also caught his own reflection mirrored in the glass. His hair
stood out in owlish clumps. Damned if he didn’t look as desperate
as he felt.

When he had called to pick Joe Bob’s brain
late Wednesday afternoon, having Joe Bob invite him for the weekend
was a shocker. But what the hell, it’s not as if he had anywhere
else to be. The real surprise came when he arrived Thanksgiving
morning and found Grayson’s granddaughter here.

As if contending with her hot body and cold
stares at the office weren't enough, she had to be visiting her
grandparents this weekend. Hell, he could have ridden down with her
Wednesday if he’d known in time. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted him
along. No, she’d seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see
her.

He would have expected a princess-type like
Holly Tucker to be swept up in a series of parties each weekend at
her Dallas country club or the homes of society's elite. Not here
in the middle of nowhere doing something as boring, or kind, as
visiting her grandparents. Glares and one-word snippets were all
she had for him, but the elegant Ms. Tucker cheerfully pampered her
grandparents as much as they doted on her.

While her attitude irritated him, Trent had
caught her too damned frequently in his mind of late. Like ever
since he’d met her. He had no business even thinking of her, yet an
intense fascination with her created fantasies in his dreams—asleep
and awake. No matter how he tried to rein in his sophomoric
hormones, he couldn't stop his attraction for her.

A gorgeous woman, regal and full of
life, she must have to fight off men. If Dallas men had red blood
pumping through their veins, she must have them lined up at her
door.
If
she didn't work for
him, and
if
he were over the
hump on this financial crisis, he’d probably be pushing his way to
the front of that line.

Hell, he admitted she wasn’t for him.
They were as different as light and dark. He’d never fit in her
world and she wouldn’t
want
to fit in the life of an orphaned nobody trying to make the
transition from merchant seaman to up-and-coming entrepreneur. He’s
better keep his mind on business and get her out of his thoughts.
Not just his thoughts, where he had come to think of her as
"Princess," he must also exorcise her from his nighttime dreams.
Like that was easy.

Puzzled again as to why she appeared to
dislike him so much, he knew she deliberately watched this tableau
unfold around him. He understood she might resent anyone who came
into the company as CEO after the death of her father. Even
knowledge of the folly of her father gambling away his share of a
family business might not offset her indignation at the situation,
so he cut her some slack.