He found her standing next to the fireplace. He’d never seen anything more lovely, more perfect in his life.

He took a step closer to her. She took a step toward him. Then another, and another.

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

The closer they got, the less sense any of this made. “I don’t know.”

“This probably isn’t a good idea.”

He closed the distance between them. “Probably not.”

One taste. That was all he wanted.

Stop.

Logically that was what he should do, but Gabe was beyond rational thought and action. Everything he’d been searching for his entire life was suddenly right here in his arms. He hadn’t felt this way in years. Not since his ex-wife, Lana.

And then reality hit like a wrecking ball.

Faith wouldn’t be sticking around, either.

Dear Reader,

What does romance mean to you? Sure, it could be sharing a candlelit dinner or strolling hand in hand on a spring day. But to me it’s even the smallest of gestures that tells you the person you think hangs the sun and the moon finds you equally unforgettable. As a lifelong romantic who met her future husband nearly twenty years ago, I’m delighted to be heading up Silhouette Romance. These books remind me that no matter what challenges the day has held, finding true love is one of life’s greatest rewards.

Bestselling author Judy Christenberry kicks off another great month with Finding a Family (SR #1762). In this sweet romance, a down-to-earth cowboy goes “shopping” for the perfect woman for his father but instead finds himself the target of Cupid’s arrow! Watch the sparks fly in Melissa McClone’s Blueprint for a Wedding (SR #1763) when a man who has crafted the perfect blueprint for domestic bliss finds himself attracted to an actress who doesn’t believe in happy endings. This month’s “Cinderella” is a feisty Latina, as Angie Ray continues Silhouette Romance’s commitment to offering modern-day fairy tales in The Millionaire’s Reward (SR #1764). Part of the SOULMATES series, Moonlight Magic (SR #1765) by Doris Rangel features a vacationing nurse who falls for a handsome stranger with a particularly vexing habit of vanishing into thin air.

And be sure to stay tuned for next month’s exciting lineup when reader favorites Raye Morgan and Carol Grace return with two classic romances.

Ann Leslie Tuttle

Associate Senior Editor

Blueprint for a Wedding
Melissa McClone

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my family

Books by Melissa McClone

Silhouette Romance

If the Ring Fits…#1431

*The Wedding Lullaby #1485

His Band of Gold #1537

In Deep Waters #1608

*The Wedding Adventure #1661

Santa Brought a Son #1698

*The Billionaire’s Wedding Masquerade #1740

*Blueprint for a Wedding #1763

Yours Truly

Fiancé for the Night

MELISSA MCCLONE

With a degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford University, the last thing Melissa McClone ever thought she would be doing is writing romance novels, but analyzing engines for a major U.S. airline just couldn’t compete with her “happily-ever-afters.”

When she isn’t writing, caring for her three young children or doing laundry, Melissa loves to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea, her cats and a good book. She enjoys watching home decorating shows to get ideas for her house—a 1939 cottage that is slowly being renovated.

Melissa lives in Lake Oswego, Oregon, with her own real-life hero husband, two daughters, a son, two lovable but oh-so-spoiled indoor cats and a no-longer-stray outdoor kitty who decided to call the garage home. Melissa loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 63, Lake Oswego, OR 97034.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Prologue

From the latest edition of Weekly Secrets:

Losing Faith?

by Garrett Malloy and Fred Silvers

The lovely and talented film actress Faith Starr is calling it quits. With a string of five broken engagements, one might expect the Golden Globe nominee to be tossing out yet another fiancé with yesterday’s trash. But Weekly Secrets has learned the stunning Faith is not leaving a man, but—prepare yourselves faithful fans—acting.

Despite the lackluster box-office performance of her last two films and rumors surrounding the release of her upcoming movie, Jupiter Tears, a $150-million space epic still in postproduction after two canceled premiere dates, studio heads have been campaigning to woo her back.

But the A-list leading lady is not returning phone calls. Neither her manager nor publicist will comment.

Perhaps Faith needs a vacation from the spotlight following her latest and most public breakup with Jupiter Tears costar and heartthrob, Rio Rivers. This on the heels of the eleventh-hour cancellation of her Valentine’s Day wedding to Trent Jeffreys, founder of Hearts, Hearths & Homes, a nonprofit housing organization.

Whatever the reason, we predict Miss Starr is taking only a brief sabbatical. Producer Max Shapiro agrees, “Faith’s tired. She’s had a string of bad roles, but she’s also at the pinnacle of her career. The right script will have her back in front of the cameras before you know it.”

Let’s hope so, because all America is waiting.

Chapter One

She was a grand lady built to last. The most beautiful in Berry Patch, Oregon, and she was supposed to be his.

Sitting in his pickup truck, Gabriel Logan stared at the 1908 Craftsman-style mansion—the stone-covered pillars, the multi-paned windows, the exposed beams, the wraparound porch and the three dormers jutting from the long-sloping, gabled roof. She was beautiful, all right. As his heart filled with regret, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

For years, he’d been dreaming, planning and saving for the day he would buy this house. Eighty-one-year-old Miss Larabee had promised it to him until two months ago when she’d received another offer “too good to pass up.” One she didn’t even give him the opportunity to match.

He drummed his fingers against the leather-covered steering wheel. His dog, Frank, raised his head from the passenger’s seat and groaned.

“Sorry, boy.” Gabe scratched behind the giant mastiff’s drooping ears. “It shouldn’t matter. We’re here, right? On time. Might as well get to work.”

But Gabe made no move to get out of the truck.

Today he started work on his dream house. Not as the owner. As the contractor hired to turn it into a B and B. His grandfather must be rolling in his grave. This house was meant for a family—not tourists with a buzz after visiting one of Willamette Valley’s award-winning wineries. Yet Gabe was about to do the dirty work for the mysterious F. S. Addison. He hadn’t spoken with the new owner yet. A mutual friend, Henry Davenport, had made all the arrangements. He’d referred more business than Gabe and his crew could handle, and money continued pouring in.

Talk about ironic.

Bitterness coated his mouth. This was one job he didn’t want. But Gabe didn’t trust anyone else to remodel the house while preserving the character, the charm and the million other things that made it special. Things that made the house a home. What should have been his home.

The title company might not agree, but Gabe and his family had been calling it his house for years.

Frank tried to roll over and expose his belly for rubs, but there wasn’t enough room in the king cab.

“Sorry, boy.” Gabe patted the dog. “We both got screwed this time around. And not in a good way.”

Frank moaned.

“I know the truck is cramped.”

With sad eyes, the dog stared up at him. No doubt Frank missed his custom-built doghouse and the large, fenced yard where he’d had room to roam. Gabe missed them, too.

“But I can’t leave you at Mom and Dad’s during the day. As soon as I have time, I’ll find us another house.”

When Miss Larabee had told him she was moving to an assisted-living facility, he’d had no doubt her house would be his. So he’d made an offer, put his home up for sale, sold it the next day and moved into the studio above his parents’ garage to wait until he could move into Miss Larabee’s house. A good plan. If it had worked out.

Too bad none of his plans had worked out so far. Gabe had once thought he had it all figured out. At eighteen, he’d marry his high-school sweetheart, by the time he was thirty, he’d have a minivan full of kids and be living in the Larabee house. Instead he was thirty-two with no wife, no kids and no place to call home.

He stared at the house.

Sorry, Gramps.

His grandfather had wanted to restore the house, too. Death had robbed him of his dream. And now F. S. Addison had robbed Gabe of his.

Frank pawed at the passenger door.

Reaching over two hundred pounds of tan fur, Gabe opened it. The dog poured himself out, lumbered up the walkway and front steps and plopped down on the shady porch. Even Frank acted as if the house was theirs.

Gabe slapped the steering wheel. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he couldn’t sit in the truck all day.

Time to get moving. The sooner this job was over, the sooner he could get on with his life. He slid out of the truck and sorted through the bucket of blueprints stored in the back of the cab.

Frank barked. Once, twice. A cat? A bloodcurdling-slasher-movie scream cut through the stillness of the summer morning. No, the scream was female, not feline. Gabe sprinted around the front of the truck.

“Frank.”

The dog wasn’t on the porch.

Another bark.

His deep woofs signaled his location like a beacon. Gabe ran toward the sound, around the front of the house to the side yard. He waded through weeds and too-tall grass to find Frank, with his tail wagging, straddling the trunk of an old maple tree. This was where Gabe had pictured his own kids climbing into a canopy of shade and picnicking beneath its dense branches.

“What kind of trouble did you get us into this time?” Gabe asked.

Frank looked up at the tree and panted.

Gabe peered up to see a jeans-clad bottom. A very feminine, round bottom. A white T-shirt was tucked into the waistband. A brown ponytail hung out the back of a navy baseball cap. Frank had chased lots of animals up trees, but this was a first.

“That’s some hunting, boy,” Gabe murmured. He didn’t know whether to punish or praise the hound. “Go.”

The dog moved ten feet away and lay on the grass. Frank kept his head low—his guilty look—and drool ran from the corners of his mouth and pooled on the ground.

A muffled sob floated down from above.

“Are you okay, miss?”

“Is it gone?” a shaky voice asked.

“It?”

“The monster attack d-dog with big teeth. I just wanted to see the front of the house and was walking by…” Her voice was unsure, quiet. Scared.

With five sisters, he knew the sound well. From bugs to snakes to killer clowns, he’d dealt with it all. “You must not be from around here.”

“How did you guess?”

First, he would have remembered that bottom. Second, most people in Berry Patch walked in the early evening after they were done with work and had time to chat with neighbors on the street. And third, she was up a tree. “Everyone in town knows Frank’s bark is worse than his bite.”

“Is Frank short for Frankenstein?”

Gabe grinned. “Frank Lloyd Wright.”

Her mouth tightened. She looked down and nearly lost her sunglasses. “Is he still here?”

“The architect is dead, but the dog is right here.”

“Real funny.” Her voice trembled.

She was really scared. That bothered Gabe. Worried him, too. “Did Frank hurt you?”

“He attacked me.”

That made zero sense. Gabe’s nieces did everything to Frank and the dog never cared. He sopped up love like a dry sponge. He didn’t even mind the baby bibs and bonnets they put on him. “Frank attacked you?”

“Well…not exactly,” she said. “He barked and ran toward me. I didn’t wait to see what he would do next. I saw this tree and ran.”

“Frank’s got a bad hip so he lumbers more than runs. Though if he gets excited he can sprint for a short distance,” Gabe said. “He must have wanted some attention.”

“Or breakfast.”

Gabe wouldn’t mind a taste himself. Another place, another time… “Come on down out of that tree. Frank might look intimidating, but he’s as harmless as a pup.”

“Cujo, or your average menacing canine that runs in a pack?”

Scared or not, she was showing some spunk. Gabe grinned. “Newborn puppy. Nearly blind.”

She scooted down, bringing her bare ankle and generic white canvas slip-on shoes to his eye level.

“It’s okay,” he encouraged. “Frank only wanted to play with you.”

“I…I don’t play with dogs.”

“I won’t hold it against you.”

Gabe hadn’t gotten a good look at her face, but she intrigued him. Berry Patch didn’t get many visitors, especially young females who could scale trees the way she had. He wondered why she was in town, where she was staying and for how long. Mr. and Mrs. Ritchey, the next-door neighbors, had a daughter who attended a swanky college on the East Coast. Was this one of Brianna Ritchey’s friends? He hoped not. Though Gabe didn’t like his women that young, if this were Brianna’s friend, he would take both girls out to make amends.

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight to make up for Frank chasing you?” Gabe asked.

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”

“Another night?”

No answer. Shot down. Ouch. He’d dated most of the available women in town and still hadn’t found what he was looking for. Guess he’d have to keep looking.

She tried to find her footing. Not an easy thing to do in those shoes.

“I’m sorry Frank scared you,” Gabe said. “He really is a good dog.”

“I don’t like dogs,” she mumbled.

A huge strike against her, but he really liked the way her jeans fit. And based on that ponytail, her hair had to be long. He liked long hair. “Why not?”

She scooted farther down the tree. “I got bit when I was little.”

His sisters had trained him well. He knew the necessary response. “That must have been scary. Was it a big dog or one of those ankle-biting, yipping rat dogs?”

“A rat dog.”

The sound of her voice made him think she was smiling. Good. He didn’t want her to be afraid. “Those little dogs will get you every time. They’re so small they have to assert their dominance.”

“Kind of like men driving cars and trucks with more horsepower than they’ll ever need.”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “Though some men do need that extra horsepower. Egos are pretty heavy to haul around.”

“Not many men would admit that.”

“I’m not ‘many men.’”

She glanced down at him, but her sunglasses hid her eyes. “What do you drive?”

He rocked back on his heels. “A pickup with heavy-duty hauling capacity.”

He caught a glimmer of a smile.

She climbed down a few more inches. He could see the back of her T-shirt, the band and straps of her bra showing through the stretchy white fabric.

“Would you like help?” he asked.

“I can do it myself.”

He knew better than to interfere with a woman on a mission. His mother had taught him that one. “I’m sure you can.”

Just then, she lost her footing and slid. He placed his hands on her hips to keep her from falling. She was soft and curvy in all the right places. Her scent, sunshine and grapefruit, surrounded him. Now this was the way to start a morning. Maybe today wouldn’t be so terrible after all. He would have to reward Frank with a bone later. Gabe smiled as he lowered her from the tree.

She stood in front of him and brushed her palms against her thighs. “Thank you.”

Gabe believed females were gifts from above. They deserved to be cherished and adored. He loved women, but he could really love the one standing in front of him. “At your service, milady.”

Most of the women he knew liked a little chivalry, but her full lips didn’t break into a smile as he expected. She did raise her chin, giving him a better view of her face. If only she’d remove those sunglasses so he could see her eyes. She wore no makeup, not even lipstick, but she didn’t need any. She was lovely. A natural beauty. With a straight, thin nose, generous lips and high cheekbones any model would die for. Her only flaw was a smudge of dirt on her right cheek and that just made her cuter. Though cute and the way the T-shirt stretched over her breasts didn’t belong in the same sentence. His temperature shot up.

Something about her rang a bell. Several actually. “Have we met before?”

“No,” she said. “I only arrived yesterday afternoon.”

Not even nine o’clock on her first morning in town and he’d already met her. Not bad timing. In fact, perfect timing. He definitely owed Frank a treat.

Gabe tried to place where he knew her. “You look familiar.”

She pressed her lips together. “I must have one of those faces.”

“You’re too beautiful to be just a face in the crowd.”

She shrugged.

Her indifference didn’t sway him. “I know you from somewhere. It’s going to come to me.”

A squirrel scampered through the overgrown yard. Frank barked, stood on all fours and trotted toward them.

The woman gasped and grabbed hold of Gabe. Her sunglasses flew off. Her hat fell back and long, wavy brown hair cascaded down. She buried her face against him.

He pulled her close. He liked the way she felt in his arms, probably more than he should, but he didn’t like the way she trembled; it was worse than one of those Chihuahuas Frank could use as a squeak toy.

“Sit.”

Frank obeyed. The action made the time and money of puppy kindergarten and dog-obedience training worth it.

“On the porch. Now.”

The dog loped his way to the front of the house.

Gabe continued to hold the woman, waiting for the rapid beating of her heart to slow. Finally it did. “You okay?”

She didn’t say a word, but clung to him. It was nice. Though he wished it were under different circumstances. Say, mouth-watering attraction rather than overwhelming fear.

“It’s okay if you aren’t,” he said. “I kind of like standing here with you in my arms. Doesn’t happen to a guy like me every day. Now every other day…”

She laughed. He liked the sound.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

A slight hesitation. “Faith.”

“Pretty name,” he said. “I’m Gabe. And we have a problem, Faith.”

She tightened her grip. “Frank?”

“He can be a problem, but no, we have another one. You can’t see from where you’re standing, but Mrs. Henry is peeking out of her miniblinds from across the street and she’s got her phone in her hand. She’s real tight with Mrs. Bishko and Mrs. Lloyd. The three of them like to keep the fine citizens of Berry Patch informed of all the happenings in town. I don’t need that and I doubt you do, either.”

“Oh, no. That would be bad.” She backed out of his arms. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The first thing he noticed was her hair. The color wasn’t simply brown, but oiled teak with copper highlights glimmering in the morning sun. Long strands hung over her face, and she flipped those behind her shoulders with a simple motion of her head.

Gabe drew in a quick, sharp breath.

They had never met, but he knew her. Knew all about her. Why hadn’t he recognized her immediately? She was, in a word, unforgettable.

The full, kissable lips that curved into an easy smile at the drop of a pin and melted even the coldest heart. The soulful, expressive green eyes that saw everything and made a man question his worth. The wavy mane of chestnut hair meant for covering a pillow or a man’s chest. Oh, yeah, he knew exactly who she was. Just like every other person who went to the movies or breathed.

“You’re the actress,” he said. “Faith Starr.”

She looked away. “That’s my stage name.”

Exactly. Faith was a movie star. One of the most beautiful people in the world. Famous, rich, important. Someone who did not belong here, and he’d asked her out to dinner. Still it would make a good story. Not many men in Berry Patch got the chance to be shot down by a famous actress. “Are they filming a movie around here?”

Faith’s mouth drew tight. She put her baseball cap and sunglasses back on. “No.”

Funny, but now that he knew who she was, Faith looked more like a famous person with those things on than off.

“What brings you to Berry Patch?” Gabe asked.

“A friend lives here.”

He knew everyone in town. “Who is that?”

“Henry Davenport.”

“He’s a friend of mine, too,” Gabe said.

She furrowed her brows. “You’re a friend of Henry’s?”

“I know his wife.” Gabe knew what she was thinking. How could a contractor be the friend of a billionaire? “She’s my sister Theresa’s best friend.”

The edges of Faith’s mouth curved upward in a slight smile. Her tension seemed to ease. “Henry Davenport married. I still can’t believe it. Husband. Father. Farmer. The Henry I knew wasn’t interested in anything but having a good time.”

“Nothing wrong with having a good time.” That’s what Gabe had. One good time after another, but it wasn’t what he wanted. Not really. A part of him envied Henry. Not for all his money, but for what he’d found on the Wheeler Berry Farm. Years ago Gabe had thought he’d found the same thing—the woman of his dreams who wanted to raise a family in Berry Patch and live happily ever after. He’d been wrong. “But Henry and Elisabeth are perfect together.”

“That’s what Henry told me.” Faith’s smile widened. The effect—dazzling. “I’m so happy for him. I can’t wait to meet his wife.”

Faith’s happiness seemed genuine. Maybe there was more to her than her movie-goddess image. More than her reputation as a runaway bride and heartbreaker. As she stared at the wraparound porch where Frank lay, she narrowed her lips. Then again, maybe not.

“Are you staying a few days?” Gabe asked.

“Actually I plan to stay much longer.”

Yeah, right. Someone like Faith would never last more than a couple weeks in this small, quiet town. A month at the most. She would get bored, long for the excitement of a big city and leave. The ambitious ones, women like his ex-wife, always did.

“I’m going to like it here,” Faith added. “It’s a cute place.”

“You haven’t been here when it rains. Cute wears off real fast.” Though a few nights at the cheesy hotel near Highway 99 or one of the homey, not-so-elegant B and Bs nearby would probably have the same effect. “Where are you staying?”

“Here.”

“Here?”

She smiled. “I bought this house.”

No.

“Is your last name Addison?” he croaked out the words. “F. S. Addison?”

“I’m Faith Starr Addison. Starr is my middle name and my mother’s name.” She drew her brows together. “How did you know?”

He ignored the question. “You bought this house from Miss Larabee?”

Faith nodded. “She’s so sweet. She reminds me of my late grandmother. We met for the first time last night at dinner. We watched one of my movies together.”

“Dinner and a movie?”

“Yes.” Faith adjusted her baseball cap. “She asked me for my autograph. She was so cute.”

Gabe fought a wave of nausea. He remembered Miss Larabee’s one great passion—the movies. She’d once dreamed of being an actress. Damn. Dinner with a movie star must have been the offer “too good to pass up.”

Still that didn’t explain her selling the house to Faith. Not after he’d shared his own dreams about the house with Miss Larabee over tea during his weekly visits—dreams of restoring the house the way his grandfather had always wanted to do and raising a family here. Guess that couldn’t compare to dinner with flighty and flaky Faith, as the press called her, who merely had to learn to smile and speak on cue and steal people’s dreams.

She sighed with apparent satisfaction. “Henry was right when he told me it would be perfect for a B and B.”

Gabe froze. He couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. But he had to. He had to know. “You asked Henry to find you a B and B here in town?”

“No, I’d never heard of Berry Patch,” she said. “I hadn’t spoken with Henry in months, but he called out of the blue to say hi. We were catching up when I told him about looking for a B and B to buy and he explained how Berry Patch is an up-and-coming tourist destination in the heart of wine country.”

Movie star turned innkeeper? That made no sense. “Why would you want a B and B?”

She stiffened. “I always thought I’d go into the hotel business someday.”

“I can’t see you as innkeeper.”

She raised her chin. “I spent a lot of time working at inns and B and Bs when I was a teenager.” A slight smile formed on her lips. “You should taste my stuffed French toast.”

An invitation? He didn’t think so. Besides Gabe wasn’t interested. She was the enemy. Hell, she was his worst nightmare. The kind of woman his ex-wife had wanted to be. And now he worked for her on a house that should belong to him.

“After Henry told me about this house, he e-mailed me pictures. I made an offer that day. Everything went so smoothly I have to believe it was fate.”

Not fate. Henry. Damn him.

Gabe felt as if he’d been hit in the gut. And it was his friend, Henry, throwing the punches. A mix of emotions swirled inside Gabe. Anger, frustration, betrayal. He clenched his fists.

It was all Henry’s fault.

No, it wasn’t. Henry didn’t know about Gabe’s dream of owning this house. It wasn’t something they discussed over beers at The Vine. He had only shared the plan of his life with his family and Miss Larabee.

“Is something wrong?” Faith asked.

Very wrong. And now he knew why.

The owner’s notes—containing glitzy, glamorous and thoroughly modern changes to the remodeling plans—he’d received via Henry suddenly made a lot more sense. Gabe didn’t like the notes or her.

“You aren’t what I expected,” he said finally.

“I never am,” she murmured with a faraway look in her eyes. But in a moment, her gaze sharpened. “So I have a couple of questions for you. Who are you? And why is your dog sleeping on my front porch?”

My front porch.

Gabe bristled at the words. Resentment overflowed. There was so much he wanted to say to her. “I quit” was tops on the list. He glanced at the house.

Remember what’s important.

It wasn’t Faith. Or him.

It was this house.

His grandfather had been obsessed with restoring it for as long as Gabe could remember. It hadn’t taken long for him to feel the same way. Each time the bus passed by here on his way to school, his own desire had intensified. But when he’d accompanied his grandfather to fix a leak for Miss Larabee, something had happened. Something that went deeper than the house.

Even though Gabe had only been fourteen at the time, everything he wanted in life had crystallized during that first visit—a wife, kids, a dog and this house. The perfect family living the perfect life in the perfect house.

A life totally different from his own.

His family had been far from perfect. Too many kids, too many animals and a house that was nothing more than fodder for a wrecking ball.

He wanted that perfect life. Desperately.

Gabe had made a plan and set out to achieve it. He’d married the girl of his dreams right after high-school graduation. Next on the list were children. But his wife hadn’t wanted to stay in Berry Patch. He hadn’t wanted to leave. So they’d divorced.

But he wasn’t about to let his dream die. Unlike his father, when Gabe made a plan he stuck to it. So what if his first wife hadn’t gone along with his blueprint for a perfect life? So what if Henry had messed up Gabe’s chance of buying this house? So what if Miss Larabee had sold the house out from under him?

Gabe wasn’t giving up.

He had to remain strong, steadfast, to protect the house from Faith.

Already the second floor suffered from remuddling—what happened when remodeling destroyed the character of a home—and he wasn’t about to allow any more damage to be done. And that’s what would happen if he followed through with the changes suggested by F. S. Addison. But Gabe wasn’t about to do that. He would succeed with the Larabee house where his grandfather had failed with the farmhouse Gabe grew up in. The mess of a house his parents still called home.

While Gabe was growing up, his father had ignored Grandpa’s suggestions about remodeling the house. Instead of having a plan, his father took whatever extra money he had and simply added on whatever space he thought they needed most. But the money never lasted due to a tractor needing a new engine or some other farming mishap, so his dad just stopped whatever he was building. He never finished anything. Gabe’s bedroom had been nothing more than drywall and Astroturf for more years than he cared to remember. He’d had to finish it himself when he got older. And his sister Cecilia’s room, too. If not for him, the house would still be a bunch of unfinished rooms and additions.

“Are you going to answer my questions?” She sounded annoyed he’d ignored her for so long.

It was just the sort of snotty pay-attention-to-me-now attitude he expected from the actress, but she was the client. And until she got tired of the country and this house, he was stuck with her.

“Frank is asleep on the porch because he goes wherever I go.” With Gabe’s emotions firmly tucked back in place, his tone was cool but professional. “I’m Gabriel Logan. The contractor you hired to remodel the house.”

Chapter Two

Oh, my. Oh, no.

Forget about the killer canine with the massive jaws and thundering bark. The man was the bigger threat. To her peace of mind. To her plans. To her future.

Faith lowered the brim of her baseball cap, thankful the sunglasses shielded the surprise in her eyes. “You’re Gabriel Logan?”

He didn’t say anything. Just gave a single nod.

She had expected a balding middle-aged contractor, not sex in a tool belt.

Curly brown hair fell past his collar. Long khaki shorts and a green T-shirt showed off his lean-but-strong body. A far cry from an Armani suit, but the casual style fit him. Nicely.

Tall, dark and…

Ruggedly handsome was the only way to describe him. He could easily give Hollywood’s latest “it” boy a run for his money. Long, dark lashes fringed sapphire eyes. Fine lines at the corners of his eyes softened the chiseled planes of his face, a strong jaw and a nose that looked as if it had been broken at least once.

Her heart pounded, and her stomach tingled.

Uh-oh. It always started like this. The shiver of awareness. The air of anticipation.

She was in trouble. A whole lot of trouble.

The last thing she wanted was a man in her life. She wasn’t looking to fall in love. She’d fallen more times than she could count, but she hadn’t found “the one.”

Her one true love.

The way every other Addison had before her. No one had divorced or even separated during the past two hundred years of her family’s recorded history. Faith wasn’t about to ruin the streak. She’d failed enough.

Broken engagements. Broken hearts. Broken promises.

She wasn’t giving an encore performance.

That’s why she’d sunk every penny she had into this B and B project. Renovating an old house had to be easier than finding her one true love. She might not join the ranks of her family who had found their soul mates, but she could certainly join them in their successful hotel business, Starr Properties and Resorts.

A much saner business than acting.

Faith would prove to her mother—to her entire family—that despite making some huge mistakes in the past, she didn’t need a man to take care of her. She could do it herself.

“Henry’s told me a lot about you,” Faith said. But not enough. Not nearly enough. She’d wanted a contractor who was competent, experienced and safe. Two out of three…

“He told me nothing about you,” Gabriel said.

“I asked him not to.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“I didn’t want you to accept the job because of who I am.”

“Not likely.”

At least he wasn’t starstruck. Men often treated her differently because of who she was, or rather who they thought she was. Their reactions disappointed more than hurt. She tucked a strand of hair back into her cap. “I also didn’t want my involvement leaked to the press.”

She needed this project to remain a secret. She wanted to fix up the house, sell the renovated B and B to Starr Properties without her family knowing it was hers and show her family she was not only ready but capable of taking her rightful place in the business. She was as much an Addison as they were, even if she had never made it to “I do” and had made a mess of pretty much everything in her life.

Gabriel stared at her in disbelief. “You thought I’d call the Berry Patch Gazette and brag that I was working for some movie star?”

Gabriel sounded affronted. Disgusted, too. But it had happened to Faith before. A tabloid had paid one of her ex-fiancés for an exposé of their relationship. “It’s not the Berry Patch Gazette I’m worried about. Tabloids pay a lot and I don’t want the publicity.”

“I thought there was no such thing as bad publicity.”

“Try remodeling a house with sixty photographers taking pictures of you all day.”

“I wouldn’t want to.”

“Then it’s a good thing no one knows about this house.” Faith forced a when-is-this-press-junket-going-to-end smile. “Or me.”

Gabriel’s jaw tensed and she wondered what had caused the sudden change in him. A few minutes earlier he’d been flirting and asking her out on a date. Now he looked as tense as her stomach felt. She didn’t want him to quit. According to Henry, he was the best and she needed all the help she could get. She couldn’t afford another mistake. Not now. Not with this.

Time to make nice. She removed her sunglasses, stuck them above the brim of her cap and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

He didn’t say anything.

Faith extended her arm. A second passed. And another. Finally his large hand engulfed hers. His skin was rough, his grip firm. Strong. He drew his hand back and she was relieved not to be touching him. He was too warm, too male. Too much.

She waited for him to say something. Anything. A false nicety. An insincere compliment or two.

Nothing.

A flicker of apprehension coursed through her.

Faith fought against it. Gabriel had picked the wrong woman if he thought she was going to give up so easily. “So you’re a licensed contractor?”

Another nod.

“And you own your own business?”

“Yes.”

This was worse than trying to get an extra ticket on Oscar night. Maybe he was sulking because she’d shot him down.

Luckily she hadn’t accepted his dinner offer. She’d been tempted. That whole knight-fantasy thing when she’d been in the tree had been very appealing. Knights were heroic. Knights were romantic. Knights took charge. But for once that wasn’t what she needed. Or wanted. Thank goodness she’d listened to her head, not her heart, and avoided making a huge mistake.

She would continue to do the same where Gabriel Logan was concerned.

“How many employees do you have?” she asked.

“Four.”

If only she could get four words out of him. “Thanks for sending me the remodeling plans. Did Henry give you the questionnaire with my comments?”

Yet another nod. “Did you receive the revised plans?”

Six words. Maybe Gabriel hadn’t failed Customer Service 101 and they were starting to get somewhere. “Yes, I did. Thank you. I like what you did with the kitchen.”

Her compliment didn’t draw the reaction she’d expected. If anything he looked annoyed. “Do you have any questions or…changes?” The words seemed to stick in his throat.

Definitely annoyed. “Yes. A few things.” Several, actually. “My notes are in the carriage house.”

Gabriel furrowed his brow. “The carriage house?”

“That’s where I’m staying.” After buying this house, she couldn’t afford a motel, let alone a hotel or B and B. “I want to be close to the house while the remodeling is going on.”

“It’s going to be noisy. Dirty.”

“A little dust never bothered me.”

“A construction site isn’t a movie set.”

“I’ve been on sets in the jungle, the mountains and the desert,” she countered. “It’s not all five-star hotels with Evian baths if that’s what you’re thinking. I can handle a lot more than dust.”

He didn’t say anything. Again. He’d been so warm to her earlier, but now he was so cold she needed a sweater. She didn’t get it. Or him.

“I have the plans in the truck.” Gabriel walked away before she could reply. Faith followed him to the front yard, but kept a good distance from the porch with its slumbering mascot. She had more to be concerned about than the dog. She stared at Gabriel.

He strutted up the stone walkway with a confident stride. Staring at him, her mouth went dry. She forced herself to look away.

What was going on?

Her reactions to him made no sense. She’d been surrounded by gorgeous men her entire life. Thanks to Rio Rivers and her string of costars and fiancés, she’d become immune to them. So why was Gabriel Logan having such an affect on her? She blew out a puff of air.

“Today I was planning to do a walk-through, verify the drawings and check dimensions.” He glanced at his watch. “My crew will be here later to remove fixtures and cap off electrical sockets, but I thought I’d go in now.”

“I’d love to help.” She sounded more confident than she felt. As always. No problem. Surely she could play the role of knowledgeable, self-reliant B and B owner? “If it’s no problem?”

His gaze raked over her. If the hard glint in his eyes was anything to go by, her presence was a problem. Faith wasn’t about to be deterred.

“Before I forget, I have something for you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out two keys. As she handed one to Gabriel, her fingers brushed his warm skin and tingles raced up her arm. Faith jerked her hand away. “You’re going to need this.”

As he stared at the key in his palm, his frown deepened.

“Don’t you need a key?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Another monosyllabic response. Not even a thank-you.

What was his problem? She fought the urge to chew on the inside of her cheek. “Is something wrong?”

The blue of his eyes deepened. “No.”

She didn’t believe him. He looked dark and dangerous. Like a bad boy. A really bad boy. Make that a black knight. An unexpected rush of heat whipped through her.

Suddenly Henry Davenport’s assurances meant very little. They weren’t going to make Gabriel Logan the right man for the job. Or, a little voice whispered, the right man for her.

Standing on the porch, Gabe tightened his fingers around the house key. This wasn’t the way he’d planned to get it.

He knew where Miss Larabee kept a spare hidden on the back porch. That’s how his crew had gotten inside to take the measurements for the floor plan.

Now, to be given his own key…but he couldn’t forget, it was only temporarily his.

Gabe shoved it into his pocket. With a heavy heart, he watched Faith insert her key into the lock of the double oak doors.

Her hand trembled. “I’m dying to see the inside.”

“Haven’t you seen the place before?”

“No,” she admitted. “I was tempted to peek last night, but it was too late by the time I returned from dinner.”

Great, now he wasn’t only her contractor but also her tour guide.

The lock clicked open. She smiled. “Here goes nothing.”

Eagerness filled her voice, but the only thing he felt was dread pressing down on him like a two-ton weight. He wanted her to hate the house. He wanted her to regret her decision. He wanted her gone.

But he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Anyone with half a brain would love the house the minute she stepped inside.

As the door opened, the old hinges didn’t squeak. They didn’t make a sound. Pride filled him. All these years, he’d taken care of the house’s routine maintenance—or at least the minor things Miss Larabee had allowed him to do for her.

He’d been waiting for the day when he could fix everything. That day had finally arrived. But what should have been a dream come true was a living nightmare.

Gabe wrapped his fingers around the remodeling plans until the paper crinkled. He loosened his grip.

Faith glanced at him. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”

Nervous didn’t begin to describe how he felt. Gabe had imagined this moment for years. Carrying his bride over the threshold the first time they entered the house, their house.

But Faith Starr wasn’t his wife, and the house wasn’t his.

“It won’t bite,” he said.

Her lips curved into a slight smile. “Frank? Or the house?”

“Neither.”

She walked inside. Unfortunately the house didn’t swallow her up and spit her outside.

Which meant it was his turn.

“Are you coming?” Faith asked.

A beat passed. He drew a deep breath and stepped over the threshold into the foyer.

Faith was already oohing and aahing the way he knew she would. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction when she saw the rest of the house, especially the upstairs.

“All these windows and French doors. It’s so bright and open.” Faith’s mouth formed a perfect O, and she glanced around. She reminded him of his nieces when he took them to the toy store. “And spacious. I had no idea it would be so big.”

“It’s a lot of square footage.” But Faith’s presence filled the room, the house. The large, empty space was more welcoming with her here. Star quality? It couldn’t be anything else.

“The hardwood floors are lighter than I thought they would be.”

“They need to be refinished.” Gabe wanted to find as much fault as possible so she would get discouraged and give it up. “With the room empty, you can see how dingy and scratched the floors are.”

“They’re still nice.” She knelt to touch the hardwood, giving him a great view of her bottom. Courtesy of a highly paid personal trainer, no doubt. “And they give the house a warm, homey feel.”

A black mouse scurried across the floor. Cobwebs and dust bunnies weren’t the only things to have taken up residence since Miss Larabee had moved out.

“We’re going to need a cat,” Faith said.

He’d expected her to scream. Or at least gasp.

She’d done neither.

So, tiny furry things didn’t scare her, only big ones that barked. He’d have to remember that.

“There could be other things lurking beneath the baseboards,” he warned.

“I’ll call an exterminator.” She smiled. “Or Frank.”

The edges of Gabe’s mouth curved. He couldn’t help himself. Her charm drew him in even though that was the last thing he wanted. He would have to watch it. Watch her. She’d already stolen his house. He couldn’t give her a shot at his heart.

Faith stepped into the sitting area on the left. “The fireplace, the exposed beams on the ceiling. It’s absolutely perfect.”

He forced his gaze off her and into the room. At least she had the right enthusiasm about the house. That had to count for something. Maybe he’d misjudged her. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that.

As much as he liked women he didn’t always have the best judgment of their nature or motives. He’d seen only what he’d wanted to see in his ex-wife. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Oh, look. Another seating area—” she hurried back across the entry into the room on the right-hand side of the house “—with another fireplace. This is great. Guests can have their choice of areas to sit and relax.”

Guests. Not a family.

Her enthusiasm wasn’t so appealing after all.

She stood in front of a window, the spot where he had imagined putting up a Christmas tree, and pointed to a corner. “What a perfect place for a Christmas tree.”

“Where you’re standing is better.”

Damn. He hadn’t meant to say that.

She glanced around. “You’re right.”

He didn’t want to be right. Not about the tree, the house or its new owner.

As Faith walked across the room, the air moved around her. She exuded an energy he could almost touch. It made zero sense but he wanted to touch it.

Touch her.

Gabe brushed a cobweb from the ceiling.

“I can’t believe the staircase. The wood is incredible.” Her gaze met his. “Can you match the trim and moldings if they need to be replaced? Arts and Crafts style is popular, but these designs are so old.”

He liked that she cared about the details. Liked it a lot. Stop. Focus on business, the house. Anything but her. “The finishing work can be specially milled to match.”

“But won’t you be able to tell what’s new versus old?”

“When my crew and I are finished, you won’t know the difference.” He ran his hand down one of the wide staircase’s balustrades. The polished wood felt smooth and solid. This house had stood long before he and Faith were born and would be around long after they were gone. “My goal when I remodel an old house is to have the place look as if I’ve never been there and have all the work I’ve done look as if it’s been there forever.”

“That’s a noble goal,” she said. “But is it realistic with all the modern conveniences people expect nowadays? And staying within budget?”

As if money were a concern to a famous movie star…

“Yes to both questions,” Gabe answered anyway. Maybe she would get tired of the house and Berry Patch the way she got tired of her fiancés. “Many people long for the charm and character of an older home, but don’t want to sacrifice a gourmet kitchen or a spa-like bath or closet space. With care and planning, restoration can be achieved without ruining the architectural integrity of the house or costing an arm and a leg.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Good answers.”

He didn’t care what she thought. “It’s my job.”

“The Ornaments of a House Are the Friends that Frequent It.” She touched the inscription over the fireplace. The faded gold letters were raised on an oak plank and inset in the bricks. “Isn’t that just perfect for a B and B?”

Better for a family home. “No.”

“What did you say?” she asked.

Busted. Like it or not, she was the client. If he provoked her enough, Faith could fire him and hire someone else. Someone like Scott Ellis and his crew of imbeciles who would do whatever she wanted as long as she was willing to pay for it. Gabe couldn’t allow that to happen.

Time for damage control. “The quote is from Emerson.”

She arched a brow. “You don’t seem like the poetry type.”

“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.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.