Her Lakeside Family

A Home for the Single Dad

Landing a renovation job for a wealthy Millbrook Lake client is a coup for contractor Davina “Dani” Connell—one that could give her business a much-needed boost. But Santo Alvanetti could be trouble in more ways than one. Dark, brooding and distractingly handsome, this recently widowed father of three is surrounded by sadness and shadows, much like his home. All good reasons not to become emotionally involved. They may be complete opposites, but there’s something irresistible about Santo. Dani’s determined to give him and his children the new home and future they deserve. But could she also be the wife and mom they need?

“What do you want to do at the new house?”

She laughed and tugged at her haphazard bun. “So much. A complete overhaul.” When she looked up, he was staring at her with a look akin to awe.

“Santo? Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Uh...yes.” His gaze moved over her face and then settled on her hair. “I’ve just never known a contractor with such beautiful hair.”

A blush moved down Davina’s neck. Great. Now she’d get the blotchies, as her sister Tilly always called them. A flush that only showed off her freckles. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

He kept staring at her.

“Santo, the house?”

“Oh, yes, the house,” he said with a wry smile. “I need to focus on the house.”

Frantic now, she searched her notes. What was happening to her anyway? She never acted like a ninny with clients.

With over seventy books published and millions in print, LENORA WORTH writes award-winning romance and romantic suspense. Three of her books finaled in the ACFW Carol Awards, and her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence became a New York Times bestseller. Her novella in Mistletoe Kisses made her a USA TODAY bestselling author. Lenora goes on adventures with her retired husband, Don, and enjoys reading, baking and shopping...especially shoe shopping.

Her Lakeside Family

Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Therefore with joy shall ye draw water

out of the wells of salvation.

—Isaiah 12:3

To my family, always.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Lucia, stop aggravating your sister! Adriana, hurry and get your backpack. Daddy’s late for work. And where did your brother go?”

A screaming cyclone whizzed by, all dark curls and giggles.

Nate.

Santo Alvanetti grabbed his two-year-old son and tried for the third time to get his shoes on. But Nate wasn’t in the mood to get dressed so he kept running away, taking off an article of clothing each time. Now he was down to his little blue jeans and one shoe.

“Daddy, the school bus is coming,” Lucia—the oldest, who’d just turned nine—screamed from the floor-to-ceiling front windows. “I’m gonna miss it again.”

Santo sent her a pleading glance. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll drop you off at school.”

The school was in town, near Millbrook Lake. Completely out of his way but he was already late. Thirty more minutes wouldn’t hurt. His cell rang, indicating his being late had already cost him money. Alvanetti Imports moved at a fast pace. He needed to do the same, but these days every morning had become a challenge and a race against time.

Adriana stomped a booted foot. “I can’t find my purse, Daddy.”

“She has a purse?” he asked Lucia. His middle child was only seven. But then, her late mother had loved expensive purses.

Lucia’s dark eyes opened wide. “Duh. We both do. Mom bought them for us a long time ago, before...” Her eyes went dull. “We need Mom back here. She knows how to find purses.”

Santo wasn’t sure how to answer that. His wife Althea was dead. She’d died a horrible death about a year ago, in a showdown with his sister Rikki and a police detective. While Santo both mourned her and resented her for betraying him, her children still missed her. Althea had tried to be a good mother but something had gone so wrong in their marriage.

Raising three children and trying to run a business made Santo too tired and stressed to try to figure out what had happened to bring his life crashing down around him. He thought of happier times with Althea, when they were younger and she still loved him. He’d pushed away his anger and pain for a while now, but his children had been acting out. They all needed help.

Nate started crying.

Santo wanted to cry right along with him but he couldn’t do that. He had to be strong. He had to get to work. He needed every ounce of strength just to make it through each day. The import business the Alvanetti family had been running for decades was legitimate now and finally back in the black.

Because he’d put every waking hour into making it work.

So he grabbed Nate again and managed to get him dressed, but the boy didn’t want to go to the day care.

“I want Mommy,” the little boy cried, kicking to get out of Santo’s arms.

Nate probably didn’t remember Althea all that much but he always echoed whatever his older sisters said. The counselor had warned Santo to let his children talk about their mother but each time they mentioned her, his heart hurt with a pain that rivaled a jagged cut. It was a tear that would never heal. Promising himself he’d never go through that kind of pain again, Santo gritted his teeth and focused on his children.

The doorbell rang, the chimes echoing over the fifteen-foot-high ceiling and the modern, wood-and-steel open staircase. Outside the spring sunshine glistened on the infinity pool and the bay below the bluffs. Santo had a stunning view thanks to the wall of glass across from the living room and kitchen.

There had been a wall of glass between him and Althea, too.

But he didn’t even notice the view anymore and the guilt he’d felt at not knocking down that wall between them had long dissipated like a morning mist over the water. He’d be so glad to get out of this house. Too many bad memories for him and too many memories of her for his children. They all needed a fresh start.

“Daddy, the bus!”

“Daddy, the doorbell!”

“I want Mommy.”

He prayed the new nanny—one of many his sister, Rikki, had hired since Althea’s death—had arrived. He hadn’t met the woman but Rikki and Blain had vetted and cleared her, stating she had impeccable credentials. Santo hurried to the door and opened it while he held Nate’s squirming, screaming little body against his heart.

The woman standing there didn’t look like the typical nanny. She had strawberry-blond hair that shot out in chunky layers around her face and chin. Her eyes were an ethereal green, like the bay waters in the early morning. She wore a plaid button-up shirt, worn jeans and...work boots.

“Hello,” the woman said. “I’m—”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Mrs. Brownlee,” Santo interrupted, shoving Nate into her arms. “The instructions are on the counter in the kitchen. The girls go to Millbrook Elementary and they usually catch the bus or ride home with a neighbor. I’ll take them to school and call the neighbor to pick them up this afternoon. Nate has day care but now that you’re here, let’s just keep him home today.”

He kissed his sobbing son. “C’mon, girls.”

Nate started crying all over again. But the woman standing there marched right on in and said something soothing in his son’s ear. Nate hiccupped and stopped crying, his misty brown eyes glued on the woman holding him.

She smiled over at Santo. “I’m sorry but—”

“I want my purse,” Adriana said on a scream, her long brown curls falling over her purple tunic and matching leggings. She looked at the surprised woman. “I can’t leave without my purse.”

The pretty nanny looked at Adriana with sympathetic eyes. “Of course not. I never leave home without my—”

“Found it,” Lucia said, shoving the shiny purple shoulder bag at her little sister. “Now can I please get to school?”

Santo let out a sigh and nodded to the woman. “You don’t have to apologize but please try to be on time from now on, okay?”

The woman’s green eyes flared with something akin to mirth. “Mr. Alvanetti, I don’t think you understand. I’m not—”

“I’m here.” A shrill, laughing voice came from the open door. “And not a moment too soon from the looks of things.”

Confused, Santo turned to find a plump, smiling woman with short auburn hair and black-framed, crystal-encrusted glasses standing on the threshold. “I’m Virginia Brownlee. I’m your nanny.”

Santo looked from the smiling woman at the door to the bemused woman still holding his son. “Then who are you?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for the last five minutes,” she said, passing Nate back to him. “I’m Davina Connell. I’m here to help you get this house in shape to sell. I’m the contractor.”

* * *

Davina almost felt sorry for him.

Santo Alvanetti exuded power and assurance, his tailor-made suit, his hair crisp and dark and falling in touchable curls around his face and neck much in the same way as his son’s. But right now, the man’s expression filled with realization and panic, his onyx gaze darkening even more.

“I am so sorry,” he said, obviously rewinding his thoughts so he could assess the situation. “It’s been one of those mornings and I was expecting Mrs. Brownlee and I must have gotten the time wrong and...I completely forgot you would be coming by today.”

Even as he explained, one of the beautiful little girls let out a yelp and his son started crying again. While his cell buzzed over and over.

“Give me the boy,” Mrs. Brownlee said in a manner that made them all stop what they were doing. “I’ll put him in his car seat and I’ll get the girls to school. You did alert the school that I have permission to drop them off and pick them up, of course.”

His gaze moved from the prim woman to Davina. “Not yet, but I’ll put that on my list.”

“Well, let’s get on with it then,” Mrs. Brownlee said, her big glasses and boot-cut jeans made her look much too hip to be a nanny.

“Look, I’ll drop the girls at school,” he replied. “And I’ll get it all straightened out. If you can just handle Nate.”

“Nate and I will be fine,” Mrs. Brownlee replied. “When you get home tonight, I’ll go over the terms of my employment. For now, we’re all going to be okay.”

He looked from her to Davina again as if caught in a trap. Again, Davina felt empathy and sympathy for him, her heart doing a little tug that made her much too aware of how handsome the man was. “Would you walk me to my car?” he asked. “So we can discuss what needs to be done with the house?”

“Sure.” Davina smiled at Mrs. Brownlee, her heart hammering an erratic beat against her insides. “I’ll be back to look over the house and do some calculating, if that’s okay with both of you.”

Mrs. Brownlee nodded. “Won’t bother me a bit.” Giving them both an impish grin, she added, “I’ll be doing the same.”

“Let’s go, girls,” he said, prodding the two dark-haired children toward his sleek sedan. After he had the chattering, fussing girls inside the car with their seat belts on, he left the driver’s door open and turned to Davina. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know who you were. I thought my sister said David...somebody...would be coming by. I wasn’t expecting—”

“A woman?” she finished. “I’ve never been called David but my dad calls me Dani.” She spelled out the nickname for him. “I prefer Davina, however.”

“Davina,” he said, his dark eyes pouring over her like liquid chocolate. “I think I’ll remember your name from now on.”

“It’s okay,” she said to hide the sizzle of something richer and darker than even his chocolate eyes. “I was hoping we could do a walk-through on the house.”

His cell buzzed with an annoying hum. “Work,” he explained, checking it and shutting it down. “I’m late for a meeting.”

And by the way he was fidgeting, he wanted out of here.

“Well, I’m burning daylight,” she said in her firm voice that usually made surprised, unsure men sit up and take notice. “What do you want me to do?”

“Rikki trusts you so I guess I will, too,” he replied, already getting into the car. “Look it over and call me with an estimate. Maybe we can meet here again later.”

“Maybe.” She wasn’t going to hold her breath on that. “My time is just as valuable as yours, so that’s your choice.”

He stared up at her again, causing Davina to shiver even while the early springtime sun was warm on her skin. “My sister says you come highly recommended,” he said. “She just neglected to explain that you’re a woman.”

“Does that matter?” Davina asked, used to this type of conversation. “I work harder than any man you could hire.” She handed him her business card.

“It matters,” he said, his tone low and gravelly. Tucking the card in his pocket, he added, “But not in the way you might think.”

Then he cranked the car and backed out of the driveway, leaving Davina to wonder why her being here should matter to him at all.

Chapter Two

Davina moved around the modern, sleek living room of the house on the bay, reminding herself she was taking on this job and the renovation of the other house this man had also purchased because her friend Rikki Alvanetti Kent had handpicked her. She’d known Rikki since college and they’d kept up with each other since they both worked in the same field.

Rikki was an interior designer, so they threw each other work here and there. And this was a big chunk of work.

Davina needed this project on her résumé since she was trying to establish her budding construction company as a leading player in the ever-changing Southern real estate market. But she’d heard the rumors that swirled with all the flickering evasiveness of fireflies around the quaint town of Millbrook Lake, Florida.

Santo Alvanetti came from a gangster family. A Mafia lord. His wife murdered two people close to Rikki Alvanetti and tried to kill her, too. Althea Alvanetti died in a shoot-out at an old warehouse. Detective Blain Kent killed her to save the woman he loved. The whole mess involved a diamond-and-emerald necklace that belonged to Santo’s mother, Sonia.

Everyone says they’ve changed and that they aren’t doing anything illegal now, but you need to stay away from that family.

Although she and Rikki hadn’t talked in detail about the tragedy that had happened over a year ago, Rikki had told her if she didn’t feel comfortable taking the job, they’d all understand. But Davina had a policy that had always served her well. Ignore the rumors and get to the truth. And in renovating houses, the truth always lay in the bones. This house was a showpiece, no doubt. But the bones were sorely lacking.

Something was missing.

“I don’t feel the love,” Mrs. Brownlee said as she came back into the big open area with the majestic windows that highlighted the pool and the water beyond. “I just don’t feel it at all.”

Davina turned toward the older woman. “Me either. There’s a sadness shadowing this brilliant room.”

“I think it’s called neglect,” Mrs. Brownlee replied, running her finger over a dusty table, her earrings swaying. “It lacks warmth.”

“Yes, I agree,” Davina said. She liked Virginia Brownlee. “Even with the stunning view and all the glass that brings in the sunshine, it’s still a bit cold.”

“Call me Virginia,” the other woman said. “What do you aim to do to make this place worthy of love again?”

Davina grinned and grabbed the leather tool pouch her daddy had given her for her twenty-fifth birthday. Da had always understood her need to hammer and build since he’d once owned his own construction company. A company where she’d worked after school and on weekends just to learn the business. Until her daddy had booted her out and sent her on her way once she’d finished college.

Now, she turned to study Virginia Brownlee. “You’re awfully blunt. I like that.”

“I don’t pull any punches,” Virginia replied, her brown eyes turning melancholy. “This family is in crisis. But I knew that coming in. Such a tragedy.”

Davina wasn’t going to gossip.

“But it’s not my place to discuss Mr. Alvanetti’s personal life with anyone,” Virginia replied, confirming that she didn’t intend to do that either. Lowering her voice, she added, “My focus is on the children. I’m going to check on little Nathan. I think he might be coming down with something.”

“Have you always been a nanny?” Davina asked, making conversation since they’d be around each other a lot during the next few weeks.

“No.” Her new friend started up the open stairs and unlocked the safety gate at the top.

Okay, a bit cryptic but maybe the woman didn’t like nosy questions. Davina was known for asking a lot of questions, however. Curiosity could get her into trouble.

“I’ll be measuring and taking notes,” Davina replied in a loud retort. “I’ll also have my crew come back with me later to show them what needs to be done. I think I can bring this place up to speed to sell but it’ll be a challenge.”

“And bring the light back into this home,” Virginia said with a smile, her hoop earrings jangling. Then she toddled off on her cushioned wedge loafers, her funky glasses sparkling in the sun.

Mary Poppins with Bohemian earrings is in the house, Davina thought. But this house needed someone to shake it up if Santo expected to get top dollar when he put it on the market. Davina moved around the wide rectangular kitchen, ideas popping into her head. The planes and angles of this place were sharp and jagged, made of wood, stone and granite. Icy. Cold. Unyielding.

Like the man who owned it?

His eyes weren’t icy. They were rich and warm and chocolate. She loved chocolate. Especially dark chocolate. But his onyx gaze also held a hint of regret and a longing for redemption.

Stop that, she cautioned. Out of your league. Out of your range. Not your type at all.

Davina wasn’t sure what her type was anyway, since she went through what her younger sister, Tilly, called possibles as fast as she went through nails. She didn’t have time to date, let alone think about a client in romantic terms. Her chaotic family back in Bayou Fontaine, a sleepy river town near New Orleans, needed her help.

Her brother Darren, a hothead who thought he should be ahead of his baby sister in the construction field, always teased her about her pointed views and blunt ways.

“You can’t be mushy and sentimental about building houses, Davina. You’ll never survive.”

She’d not only survived. She’d thrived. She didn’t build houses. She rebuilt them. Her daddy had forced her out of the company, telling her she needed to make her own way. Now her overconfident brother wasn’t speaking to her but that was okay. As long as Darren took care of what was left of Connell Construction, she’d do her part by helping with the family finances.

So she ignored how Santo Alvanetti made her stomach lift and crash like a confused wave and started taking notes on what needed to be done to breathe some life into this stunning house.

Two hours later, the front door opened and Davina jumped and whirled around to find Santo standing there staring at her.

“I shouldn’t have left like that,” he said. “I hurried through my meeting so I could get back to you. I mean, back to this.” He lifted a hand toward the high ceilings. “I need to get away from this house and I’ve put off doing it long enough. My children need a new start in a more modest, child-friendly home. Whatever you can do to make that happen, I’m all for it.”

Davina went to her tote bag and pulled out a cupcake centered in a clear plastic container. “Breakfast,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m willing to share. I never make decisions on an empty stomach and I got so involved in work, I forgot I had this in my bag.”

Glancing at her cupcake, he said, “I know where you bought that and I sure hope you’re willing to share it.”

“Let’s go over my plans for this place and then... I might let you have half. That is if you agree to my stipulations.”

“You’re tough, aren’t you?”

Davina wasn’t all that tough. Right now, she felt weak, her knees trembled and her sturdy boots were the only thing holding her up. Santo Alvanetti seemed to be flirting with her. Probably trying to make up for that false start, which was still kind of sweet since she got to hold that adorable little boy.

“Don’t look so glum,” she said, trying to show him she could be fair. “I’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”

He actually smiled. And her insides turned as mushy as the center of this Peaches-and-Cream cupcake she’d bought earlier.

Mushy doesn’t cut it, Davina.

The challenging echo of her brother’s words made her spine stiffen. And made her want to demo something.

“From Marla’s place?” Santo asked, hopefulness cresting in his expression when he pointed to the cupcake.

“Don’t you know it,” she retorted, trying to calm her suddenly jittery nerves. “We’ll nibble while we walk and talk. I have a lot of ideas.”

* * *

An hour later, Santo felt sick to his stomach, the sweet bite of cupcake weighing heavily against his gut. “This is your estimation?” Staring at the figures on her list of needed updates, he said, “I thought some paint and a few new rugs would do the trick.”

“Then you don’t know your house,” she retorted, her black pen tapping the paper. “One of your toilets has a loose handle and really, the whole thing has seen better days. You need something with less water-flow. More economical.”