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“I’m just a guy from a small town who pounds nails for a living. I’m not much into types.”
“What are you into?” she asked.
The interest in her voice kicked up his desire, aroused him. He clamped it down. Not now. And not with her.
“Poetry?” she suggested.
“Sometimes.” He hooked his thumb through a belt loop. “I’m into houses, architecture, family and friends. My dog.”
You. Like her or not, she was attractive. Sexy. A whole lot of other things that he didn’t want to think about.
“What about you?” Gabe stared at her. He shouldn’t be interested in her, but the question had slipped out. “What are you into?”
“My family. Especially my nieces and nephew. And my privacy.”
If that was supposed to be a hint, he wasn’t taking it. Berry Patch wasn’t her home. She had no family here. Sure she might have some privacy, but not as an innkeeper. Maybe she wasn’t that committed to this project. To this house. Maybe his dream wasn’t completely dead. “How do those things fit into owning a B and B?”
“They’re why I’m here.” She tilted her chin. “Why I bought this house. And why I want the best contractor around to remodel it.”
He couldn’t deny her compliment pleased him, but the determination in her voice surprised him and aroused his curiosity.
Better keep his mind on the house. Gabe didn’t usually mind mixing business with pleasure, but not on this job.
She stepped into the dining room and he followed her.
In the sunlight flooding the room, her hair looked almost auburn. Her lips curled into an easy smile. “The built-ins are beautiful.”
He forced himself not to stare at her. Stay focused. “The French doors lead to a small back porch.”
She peered out. “Cozy.”
Too cozy.
Time to put an end to this. He didn’t want her to like the house. He wanted her to hate it. And he knew how to make that happen. She needed to see the upstairs. ASAP.
Gabriel motioned to the second staircase around the corner. “That’s the maid’s staircase. Would you like to see the bedrooms upstairs?”
Chapter Three
Conscious of the big contractor on her heels, Faith hurried up the steep, narrow kitchen staircase. The higher she climbed, the heavier and more stagnant the air felt. If this was a movie, music foreshadowing impending doom would play on the sound track and the audience would inch forward on their seats.
But this wasn’t a movie. And her instincts were on high alert. Not that she could trust her instincts. That was just one of the many lessons she’d learned this year.
Another step, and she heard a hissing sound. She froze.
Gabriel bumped into her backside and grabbed her waist so she wouldn’t stumble. His hands were big and strong. Heat flooded her cheeks. What was going on? She hadn’t blushed in years.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Oh, yes. Something was definitely wrong, and it had nothing to do with the house, and everything to do with her contractor. The imprints of Gabriel’s palms burned their way through her jeans and onto her skin. Hot. Oh, so hot. It felt good. She felt good. And that was very bad considering what was at stake.
“Faith?” His warm breath caressed the back of her neck and he squeezed her gently. “Are you okay?”
No. Not with him so close. She forced herself to breathe.
“I heard something.” She turned toward Gabriel, leaving him no choice but to remove his hands. An odd mixture of regret and relief surged through her. “A snake. But why would it be upstairs? It must have been something else.”
The stairwell was too dark to read his expression. “It was difficult for Miss Larabee to climb the stairs so she hasn’t been up here in years. The upstairs may come as a shock to you.”
“Thanks for the warning, but I’m not easily shocked.”
Eager to put some distance between them, Faith continued up the stairs. What she had said was true. Even when she had been lured into an interview on an over-rated entertainment cable show and surprised with the appearance of three of her ex-fiancés, she had managed to keep her cool. Nothing could surprise her more than that.
Or so she had thought.
On the landing, she stared in disbelief and horror. As a snake slithered under a doorway, a Weekly-Secrets-tabloid-size lump formed in her throat.
The faded, peeling blue-and-purple hydrangea wallpaper and the dingy, stained carpet made the landing and adjacent hallway dark and claustrophobic. Only random pools of sunlight reminded her that she stood on the second story, not underground. Or in a cave.
A trio of geckos raced across the floor, and doubts swept over her. The house was infested with mice and reptiles. Worse, it was a disaster area up here.
Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away.
She only liked to cry on cue.
Any other time was unacceptable.
Faith needed to pull this off, but how?
She was nearly broke. What money she had left was going to the house and remodeling. There was no extra. And that meant she had to rely on Gabriel to stay within the budget. But would he?
Could he?
He didn’t like her. She could tell by the disapproval in his eyes. He was one more person in a long line of people who made snap judgments based on who they thought she was. Any other time it wouldn’t have mattered. But standing here in her version of The Money Pit, it did. Faith straightened, not about to let her desperation show. “It just needs a little more work.”
“I can’t wait to hear your definition of ‘a little work.’”
A hard edge laced his words. Faith ignored it. She wasn’t going to let Mr. Toolbelt, or this house, get to her.
Maybe Faith wasn’t one-hundred-percent ready to handle this project, but she was determined to stay on time, on budget and get the job done, which is what she would be expected to do once she worked for Starr Properties. She wanted to prove to her family she was finished making the wrong choices—fiancés, finances, career.
“Right now, it feels like a lot of work,” she said. “But my mother always told me anything is possible.”
Those words had kept Faith going. Through the press frenzy, through the broken engagements, through near bankruptcy and her disintegrating career. But even her optimistic mother believed Faith couldn’t take care of herself and needed to marry.
Faith breathed deeply to gather her strength and nearly choked on the stale air. A sign? She hoped not. She wanted to embrace everything about this project. Put her heart and her soul into making it a success. But right now she was seriously tempted to hand over the keys, head to her parents’ Lake Tahoe house and admit defeat.
“You would have no trouble selling the house if you wanted to walk away,” he said.
“Walk away,” she echoed.
She could. No one knew what she was doing here except Henry. And he wouldn’t tell. She could give up, accept her limitations and a purely figurehead position at Starr Properties until her mother coaxed Faith into marriage so she’d have someone to take care of her.
Now that would be a total disaster.
She squared her shoulders. “I’m not walking away.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I am.” She said the words more for her benefit than his. “Even if the upstairs is…”
“Horrible,” he suggested.
“Yes.”
“Dank and dingy?”
“A little.”
“Overwhelming?” he asked.
“A lot overwhelming, but that’s okay,” she admitted. “It will make the transformation all the more stunning.”
Gabriel studied her for a long moment. “If it’s any consolation, I felt the same way the first time I came up here.”
His concession seemed reluctant, but she appreciated it just the same.
He continued. “I’d never been inside a mansion before and was so impressed with the architecture and feel of the downstairs. It felt like…”
“Home?”
“Home,” he echoed.
She’d felt the same way. Funny, but Gabriel seemed to take the project—this house—very personally and that appealed to her. She wondered if he always did that. Maybe that explained why he had such a good reputation as a contractor.
“But when we walked upstairs, I thought I’d entered the Twilight Zone.”
“Exactly.” Relief washed over her. It wasn’t just her. Still, being at the same place as her hunky contractor wasn’t much better. She needed distance from him, not to feel as if they were on the same team.
“But I saw the potential,” Gabriel added.
And she did, too. Lots of potential. As she stared at him, butterflies flitted about her stomach. Too much potential.
“Good bones,” he said.
She gulped. “Excuse me?”
“The house has good bones,” he repeated. “Potential.”
“Right. Potential.” Faith had forgotten he was talking about the house. Maybe if she focused on the house instead of Gabriel, she would see what he’d seen.
She studied the doorways, imagined walls gone and focused on the so-called bones of the structure. Faith widened her eyes. She squinted.
“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked.
“Trying to see the potential.”
“And?”
Faith liked looking at him better. “I’m not quite there yet.”
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