“I’m marrying someone else.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Blade said. “But I still think you’re settling. You have passion, verve.”

“What do you know about me?”

“I know enough.” His voice was quiet, cutting through the kitchen like a knife.

Cassidy whirled away from him and gripped the granite countertop.

“Cassidy.”

Something in the tone of his voice softened her.

“Yes?”

“Are you afraid to turn around and look at me?”

Actually, at that moment she was. All she had to do was stand in the room and she wanted him. He tempted her like chocolate cake, but she needed to remain true to her diet of bland. Slowly Cassidy turned around and looked at him, sensing the mistake the moment she did so.

Dear Reader,

This month we have a wonderful lineup of stories, guaranteed to warm you on these last chilly days of winter. First, Charlotte Douglas kicks things off with Surprise Inheritance, the third installment in Mills & Boon American Romance’s MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA series, in which a sexy sheriff is reunited with the woman he’s always loved when she returns to town to claim her inheritance.

Next, THE BABIES OF DOCTORS CIRCLE, Jacqueline Diamond’s new miniseries centered around a maternity and well-baby clinic, premieres this month with Diagnosis: Expecting Boss’s Baby. In this sparkling story, an unforgettable night of passion between a secretary and her handsome employer leads to an unexpected pregnancy.

Also available this month is Sweeping the Bride Away by Michele Dunaway. A bride-to-be is all set to wed “Mr. Boring” until she hires a rugged contractor who makes her pulse race and gives her second thoughts about her upcoming nuptials. Rounding things out is Professor & the Pregnant Nanny by Emily Dalton. This heartwarming story pairs a single dad in need of a nanny for his three adorable children with a woman who is alone, pregnant and in need of a job.

Enjoy this month’s offerings as Mills & Boon American Romance continues to celebrate twenty years of publishing the best in contemporary category romance fiction. Be sure to come back next month for more stories guaranteed to touch your heart!

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Mills & Boon American Romance

Sweeping the Bride Away

Michele Dunaway

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Dedicated to my father, Larry M. Smith (1936-2002),

who always believed in me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In first grade MICHELE DUNAWAY knew she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up, and by second grade she wanted to be an author. By third grade she was determined to be both. Born and raised in a west county suburb of St. Louis, Michele recently moved to five acres in the rolling hills of Labadie. She’s traveled extensively, with the cities and places she’s visited often becoming settings for her stories.

Michele currently teaches high school English, raises her two young daughters and describes herself as a woman who does too much but doesn’t want to stop.

Michele loves to hear from readers, and you can visit her Web site at www.micheledunaway.com or write to her at P.O. Box 45, Labadie, MO 63055. Please enclose a SASE.

Books by Michele Dunaway

MILLS & BOON AMERICAN ROMANCE

848—A LITTLE OFFICE ROMANCE

900—TAMING THE TABLOID HEIRESS

921—THE SIMPLY SCANDALOUS PRINCESS

931—CATCHING THE CORPORATE PLAYBOY

963—SWEEPING THE BRIDE AWAY

A Bride-to-be’s Do’s and Don’ts

Do…

…listen to everything your busybody future mother-in-law has to say.

…go to dress fittings even though your wedding attire makes you look like a cumulus cloud.

…have fun with girlfriends before the wedding (especially to encourage them to find their own Mr. Perfect).

…write your future married name repeatedly.

Don’t…

…stare at the good-looking contractor who’s working on your house.

…even think about wearing his tool belt.

…contemplate long walks on the beach with your good-looking contractor.

…believe everything your fiancé says. Looks can be deceiving.

Contents

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

Mistake number one had been letting Lillian Morris, neighbor from hell and her future mother-in-law, in the front door. Yes, it would have been much better to have just ignored the doorbell and pretended she wasn’t home. But Cassidy Clayton had been waiting for the city building inspector, and when she’d opened the door, unfortunately he hadn’t been standing on the other side.

Cassidy looked at her fiancé’s mother and grimaced. Once again, this time within five seconds after Lillian’s arrival, Cassidy had been hit up to set an exact wedding date.

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, for it was always wise to choose your words carefully around Lillian, “exactly, if Dan and I want to marry this June. We haven’t discussed it. After all, we’ve only been engaged two months. I was thinking more like October. That’s eight months from now.”

Lillian Morris peered over her horn-rimmed glasses and with a dismissive wave brushed off Cassidy’s concerns.

“Darling Cassidy, engagements should be short. Yours can be even shorter than normal, given that you’ve known my son all your life. Besides, a June wedding is perfect for you and Dan. Even Ed,” Lillian mentioned her husband, “agrees with me. He’s going to announce Luke’s candidacy for senate right after the best man’s wedding toast. Of course, Dan already agreed that his brother, Luke, would be best man. It’s only fitting.”

Great. Before Cassidy could even fully open her mouth to remind Lillian whose wedding it was supposed to be, Lillian went right on. After all, Dan was her baby boy.

“Besides,” Lillian said, “Dan and I discussed it just last night and he agreed that June is perfect. Of course he wants to see his older brother win the senate race and keep the seat in the family. Luke would be the third generation you know. And we’ll hold the reception at the Diamond Country Club. I’ve already contacted the manager, booked the room and arranged the menu. We’ll be starting with roving waiters carrying trays of appetizers that are—”

If only for a brief moment, the doorbell’s ringing interrupted Lillian’s prattle. The older woman blinked, as if startled, as she glanced at Cassidy. “Are you expecting anyone?”

Even the devil himself was welcome at this moment. “City building inspector,” Cassidy replied as she rose from the overstuffed armchair that had been her mother’s latest attempt at redecorating.

Lillian nodded. “Oh, that makes sense. I had wondered why you were here. Usually you’re at work by now.” Lillian waved her hand dramatically around Cassidy’s family home.

“You must be so grateful, Cassidy, to have sold this albatross. I’d imagine it gives you terrible memories, especially with your father divorcing your mother clear out of the blue like that after what, thirty-seven years of marriage? No wonder she took off for Cannes. I’d do the same. Not that my Ed would ever leave me. Some marriages are just meant to last. But I’ve always been lucky. I hope your mother isn’t taking too much of a loss on the property. She should have fetched quite a price for this neighborhood, especially selling it furnished like that.”

Cassidy’s smile tightened. Next-door neighbors for almost twenty-five years, Cassidy’s mother had always said that if Senator Ed Morris had thought divorcing his wife was less of a liability than was keeping her, then the tactless Lillian would have already been history.

Cassidy opened the front door. The elderly inspector standing between the columns looked like a smaller version of Santa Claus. Cassidy sighed. He seemed harmless enough. Grateful for the welcome diversion from Lillian and the already insane wedding planning, she bade him to come in without shooing Lillian out. Right after that, Cassidy discovered that not getting rid of Lillian was mistake number two.

FOUR HOURS LATER Cassidy tossed her handbag onto the wooden bar. It landed with a thump, nearly knocking the half-empty bowl of peanuts off the other side. She ignored the curious look crossing the face of the man seated to her right.

“Bud Light.” The words coming from her lips sounded foreign to her own ears.

But the bartender simply nodded as if dodging flying peanuts was the norm, and without a word of judgment, she took a beer from the cooler, removed the top and handed over the longneck bottle.

Cassidy placed the cold brown glass to her lips and took a long slow slip of the golden liquid. Normally she avoided beer, but today an ice-cold one sounded like just the medicine she needed. Besides, it would serve her fiancé and his silly mother right. When she was with them she only drank wine, for in their “crowd” domestic beer was frowned upon as something bourgeois. As if millions of Americans who tossed cold ones back every night could be wrong.

Oh well, drinking beer could be mistake number three in her perfectly ordered world. With satisfaction Cassidy mulled over that thought. After all, what else could happen?

Thanks to Lillian’s inane prattle to the building inspector, which caused him to find even more code violations to cite, Cassie now had a multitude of problems all needing to be repaired by the home closing date in just two weeks’ time. If the code violations weren’t fixed, the house sale couldn’t be completed, and she couldn’t take a well-deserved vacation and close on her cute new condo in Clear Lake.

Cassidy took another long sip. The building inspector hadn’t missed a thing. She had to do everything from painting to fixing a cracked concrete pad under a screened-in porch.

Closing her eyes, Cassidy again let the cool liquid slide down her throat. Perfect. She opened her eyes. At least this one thing was what she needed, which was good because right now the rest of her life was absolutely falling apart.

And, of course, Sara wasn’t on time, and that was after Cassidy, preparing for her former college roommate’s perpetual lateness, had arrived fifteen minutes past their designated meeting time of seven o’clock. There was nothing Cassidy hated more than sitting in a bar by herself.

Making the best of it, she took another long swallow and drummed her manicured fingernails on the bar as she surveyed the place Sara had picked out. “No one will know you there,” Sara had said after Cassidy had called her in the throes of desperation. Now after seeing the place for herself, Cassidy couldn’t agree more. As an image consultant, she’d helped some of Houston’s elite refine their images, and this wasn’t where anyone worth their salt would ever be caught dead.

At least it wasn’t smoky, although that was about all it had going for it. There was no question that the place was a dive. The wooden tables had seen better days, the chairs were vinyl, and the waitress sported a tattoo under her Harley-Davidson T-shirt. All that was missing was sawdust covering the floor and musicians behind chicken wire.

“You know, most people at least try to relax when they come into a bar.”

Cassidy turned toward the deep silken tone coming from the man seated to her right. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Excuse me?”

“Perhaps, as long as you relax a little,” he said, his drawl rolling over her in waves. He grinned, and inwardly Cassidy groaned. Not another one.

Ever since she’d been a cheerleader in high school she’d attracted the wrong type of men like a refrigerator door attracted magnets. But at least this one was attractive. More than attractive.

From where he was sitting on the stool, he looked as if he would tower over her by at least a foot. His body was lean and wiry, and his shoulders were wide and broad. She liked that. Too bad his upper body was covered by a T-shirt that looked as if had been laundered too many times.

He twisted his beer in his hand, and Cassidy shivered despite herself. Maybe the air-conditioning inside the bar was set too high.

“Can I buy you another one?” Without waiting for her answer, he gestured to the bartender.

As he smiled again, Cassidy immediately gave him credit for having wide sensual lips, twinkling dimples and a roman nose that wasn’t too long. Too bad she wasn’t interested in men with dark-brown eyebrows and eyelashes, no matter how deep and sensual his greenish-blue eyes. Bedroom eyes. For that’s what they were, given the blood racing in her body. She made a show of studying her fingernails.

No, she told herself, as she tried to ignore the man’s magnetism, her fiancé Dan suited her just fine. At five-eight Dan only stood two inches taller than she. She could look Dan right in the eye. Plus he was always impeccably tailored, and his profession allowed him to keep his hands clean, unlike the man next to her, whose cuticles looked as if they’d recently seen some hard washing with Fast Orange.

Besides, she rationalized, she’d been dating Dan for more than two years now, and that was after they’d been friends forever. He’d been the boy next door of her childhood, and no one had been surprised when he’d proposed to her with a flawless diamond in the middle of the annual Morris New Year’s Eve party. Even better, Dan was easy, comfortable, not at all unsettling like the man seated next to her.

She hadn’t been this unsettled since—She brushed that thought aside. In college she’d learned that burning passion did just that—burn you and leave you singed.

Still, Cassidy had been raised in the spirit of Texan hospitality, and the man had just bought her a beer. She gave him a courteous smile and made her tone politely neutral. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugged, as if it were a gesture he made all the time. “You look like you had a hard day.”

It had been hard, but Cassidy was loath to tell him that. She’d learned long ago not to engage men in bars with idle chitchat. It always gave them the wrong ideas. Besides, would the man really care about her problems?

Doubtful. Even Dan didn’t think the fact that Cassidy’s parents were divorcing after thirty-seven years of marriage was a big deal. After all, her well-to-do parents had been estranged for years. Her mother just hadn’t looked the other way this time.

“Cat got your tongue,” he observed. He signaled the bartender. “Bring me my regular, okay, Dee?”

“Sure, Blade,” she replied with a warm smile.

“My dinner,” he offered, seeing Cassidy’s look.

Cassidy nodded benignly and pinned her gaze to the door. Just where was Sara, anyway? She was never this late.

He ignored her nonverbal cue.

“Say, would you like something to eat? The food here is actually pretty good. I can personally recommend the strip steak. It’s the best around.”

She drew herself up and chilled her posture, sending down her nose the ice maiden look she’d perfected long ago. “No thanks,” she replied. Perhaps now he’d get the idea.

At her change in posture, Blade Frederick almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it. For once he hated being right. For once, why couldn’t he be wrong?

Nope.

Not this time. He’d pegged her from the moment she’d arrived in his bar. One of those upper-crust women, slumming in an environment not her own, for reasons she felt like keeping to herself. Perhaps she was having second thoughts about her perfect life. Maybe wedding-day jitters?

His beer tasted stale in his mouth as he studied her left hand. Judging by the Rock of Gibraltar diamond on her third finger, no wonder she didn’t want to be noticed, or bothered, either.

Although not noticing her was damn near impossible.

Her suit, especially its short skirt, showed off her figure perfectly. With her long blond hair she could rival a Barbie doll for perfection. Being raised around the fake stuff, he could tell natural color when he saw it, and she had it. He’d wager money on it, and nowadays that was something he had plenty of to spare.

Since she’d walked into his place, she’d judged and juried him into a neat little box, a box he’d long ago broken out of. He didn’t like her assumptions of who he was, but what the hell. When whoever she was waiting for finally arrived, she’d be gone. Just this once he might as well act the part she’d already assigned to him, a persona he’d long ago shed.

“You know, darlin’,” he drawled, “you really should eat something if you’re going to be slamming those beers down that fast.”

That got a rise out of her. He grinned. Yep, she was one of those high-and-mighty ones. She may have him pegged wrong, but he hadn’t made a mistake. He sure had her number.

“Excuse me?” Those golden eyebrows of hers arched again, and despite himself, Blade felt a bit of glee at getting a rise out of her.

He knew he shouldn’t delight in it, but after being looked down upon by the high and mighty of Scott Creek while he grew up, it was fun to toy with a woman of her class knowing that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. No matter what, he knew her type and her game, and never again would he let a woman out of her perfect world slum with his heart.

She continued to glare at him, and he found himself staring into her baby-blue eyes. Damn, she was pretty. But they always were.

God built them that way just to torment men. Blade shifted, trying to get that image out of his head and his now tightening jeans.

“Look, I didn’t come here to eat but to meet someone,” she said in a haughty tone that bordered on indignation. Blade bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from chuckling at her. She was too cute. “And since we do not know each other, and I’d like to keep it that way, please refrain from stating your opinion on my activities.”

The smile he’d been trying to restrain cracked open. “You almost sent the peanuts flying with your purse, honey. I was just concerned for Dee’s safety. She’s the best bartender around.”

“Thanks, Blade,” Dee called from where she was wiping up a residual beer ring.

Cassidy swung around toward him, her hosiery-clad legs connecting with his. She didn’t seem to notice, but he did. Immediately.

Her baby blues flashed fire. “You think I’m dangerous after two beers? Since you have no idea who I am or what I can do or how much I can drink, your opinion is best kept to yourself.”

Worrying about her drinking was now the last thing on his mind. His mind had headed south, and he wondered if she could feel the heat rising from his jean-clad thighs simply because of her touch. He suddenly hoped not. He hadn’t gotten this much of a rise from a woman in a long time, and despite himself, he wanted to prolong it.

“Most people value my opinion,” he drawled, giving her his best wink. If he’d worn his Resistol, he’d have tipped the cowboy hat’s brim to her.

She recoiled as if she’d seen a snake. “I am not most people.”

He could agree with her there. Actually, she was different from the others he’d met of her class. She had spunk, style. Perhaps his first impression of her had been wrong. He didn’t mind being wrong, not in this case.

A slow smile edged across his face. She’d said she wasn’t most people, meaning she didn’t value his opinion. He had the perfect reply. “Then that makes you one of the few that don’t know better.”

If she weren’t waiting for Sara, Cassidy would have shown him her beer up close and personal by dumping it in his lap. She bit her tongue from the barbaric reply that sprang to her lips, and instead replied through clenched teeth.

“I see your mother forgot to raise you with manners.”

He had to give her credit. She was fast on her feet. But so was he, and he was enjoying this challenge way too much. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who could match wits and spar with him. “What I lack in manners, ma’am, I make up for in other areas.”

“Really.” Those areas were not something she wanted to think about, but unable to resist his bait, she exaggerated her Texan drawl to match his. “Too bad I’m so unimpressed with any of the areas I see.”

The electricity between them sizzled. His voice silky, he drawled, “Then perhaps you should investigate the areas you don’t see. I’m sure you’ll find something to your liking.”

Her legs pressed even more into his, and she deliberately allowed her gaze to rove over his body. “Nah. Those don’t interest me, either.”

He arched an eyebrow at her and laughed. He hadn’t seen this much spirit and spunk in a woman in a long time. He had to admit, it intrigued him. Better, she intrigued him. He had judged her too quickly, and now he wanted to peel off her layers in more ways than one.

Besides, he would remain in control. He was all grown-up and practiced in the art of womanly wiles now.

Cassidy bristled, annoyed at his obvious ease. Still she maintained her outward composure as she dug a little deeper. “What, a woman not being interested isn’t a reply you hear every day?”

“Can’t say that it is.” He signaled for another round of longnecks and his expression sobered. “Seriously, though, why don’t we make peace and then you can tell me what’s got you in such a foul mood.”

Cassidy blinked at him, her suspicion obvious at the sudden shift of conversation. Oh, what the hell. It could be mistake number four, or was she now on five? She’d lost count, and all she knew was that she needed to vent, and Sara sure wasn’t around.

Suddenly noticing that her legs were touching his, she moved herself a safe distance away. Her body immediately missed his touch, and Cassidy frowned. That wasn’t a feeling she should be having. She found her safe topic. “I had the house I’m selling inspected by the city today.”

He nodded his understanding. “I should have guessed. Hit you hard, did he?”

“Four pages worth of predications,” she replied, reaching for the bottle of beer the waitress deposited in front of her.

He whistled low. “Not good.”

“You’re telling me,” Cassidy replied, her comfort level with him escalating.

Finally, here was someone who actually understood. Dan had been too busy with some project to talk to her. Not even her real estate agent had been sympathetic, and she stood to make a huge commission from the deal. Blade’s roast beef sandwich arrived, and it did look good. Cassidy’s eyes glazed as she stared at it. Maybe she should eat something. “I thought you recommended the strip steak.”

“I do, but my usual is roast beef.” He dipped the French bread roll in the juice, and Cassidy’s mouth started watering as he raised the morsel to his lips.

He gestured with a French fry. “So you were saying, about the house?”

She blinked as the French fry disappeared. Darn her. She’d been staring at his lips! “Oh. Right. It’s all Lillian’s fault.”

“Lillian?” His dark-brown eyebrow shot up and Cassidy again noticed his eyes. Those bedroom blues had turned boardroom. He was actually interested in what she was saying. Danger signals went off in her head. Whoa, she thought. Time to stop drinking beer.

She reached for the plastic dish holding the remaining peanuts. She should at least eat something. “Lillian’s my mother-in-law. Well, she’s not my mother-in-law. Not yet. Not ever if I could help it. She means well, but…”

Cassidy shuddered. Immediately forgetting her resolve, she took another sip of her third beer. She tried to gather her thoughts and retrench. Had she just criticized Lillian aloud? “She kept talking and the more she talked, the more he wrote.”

The inspector certainly hadn’t been impressed that Lillian had been the wife of Senator Ed Morris of Texas, or that she lived next door, or that she could get him fired. He’d just kept writing, turning the paper over, filling the back, and then beginning a new sheet.

Even worse, Lillian had remained calm about the whole thing.

“You’ll just need to build a new house,” Lillian had said. “I’ll talk to Ed and Dan about it tonight. If you contracted for one now it might be ready when you come home from your honeymoon. A month in Alaska, doesn’t that sound wonderful? June is the perfect month to see Alaska. It’ll be Ed’s and my gift to you both.”

At that moment Cassidy was glad she’d never taken advantage of Texas’s concealed carry law.

“Sounds pretty bad,” the man next to her sympathized as she finished the story.

“It is,” Cassidy said. He finished his sandwich, and her mouth went dry. What had gotten into her? She’d just told him everything. She never did that. She never drank beer, either, or held conversations with strange but attractive guys in a bar. She blinked. He was gorgeous, enough to be a calendar pinup. She shoved another handful of peanuts into her mouth. Sober. She needed to be sober.

“Look,” he began, “I know some handymen who can help you out. I can call them and…”

“Oh no,” Cassidy managed through the mouthful of peanuts. She shook her head firmly and cut him off. Do not accept favors from strangers in bars. Especially good-looking men like him that would break your heart. Rule number thirteen or something like that in the Single Woman’s Guide to…something or other. “No. No.” She couldn’t believe she sounded so nervous. “Thanks for offering, but I’ll take care of it.”

Somehow she would, although frankly, she had no idea how. Maybe one just looked up handymen under the letter H in the yellow pages.

“Here.” Cassidy almost jumped out of her skin as he handed her a small card. Why was he making her so nervous? Even she could see that it was only a business card. People handed her business cards all the time.

“Uh,” she stammered, suddenly feeling the urgent need to flee and get out from his magnetic proximity. It was either that or kiss him. Where had that thought come from? She would never drink beer again. Ever.

“Take my card,” he said. Then he reached forward and uncurled her fingers. Never had a man violated her personal space like this.

But the rage at his invasion of her space didn’t come. Instead Cassidy felt heat flow through her. Underneath his touch all rational thought evaporated as he closed her fingers around the card. “Call me if you need me.”

Oh, I do, she thought, heat rising into her face. At least the words hadn’t been voiced.

Wait! What was she doing? What was she thinking? Dan. Think of Dan. That’s right. Think of nice, safe Dan who never made her quiver like this. The thought evaporated as Sara walked in the door. Relief filled Cassidy. Finally.

“Look, there’s my friend.” Cassidy jerked her hand away from his, her fingers instantly missing the heat of touching his. She shoved his card in her purse and edged her way off the bar stool. “Thanks for the drink. Enjoy your dinner.” Grabbing her beer, she tottered over to meet Sara.

With a mixture of relief and frustration Blade watched her walk away. Relief filled him because she had been one of those women and he’d actually found himself enjoying the conversation with her. Frustration filled him for just about the exact same reason. She was one of those women, and he’d been enjoying the conversation with her. Would he never learn?

Dee came over and stood for a second as they both watched the two women take a seat at a back booth.

“How was the food?” Dee asked.

“Fine,” Blade replied.

Dee’s expression, as she looked down her nose at him, said it all. “Just fine?”

“You know it was great, like always.” He shoved the empty basket toward her, his concentration still on the woman he’d just been sitting next to.

“Pretty thing,” Dee observed, following his gaze. She could take those liberties. Blade had hired her four years ago when he’d bought the place from the elderly man who owned it. Greg had wanted to retire, and Blade, flush with money, had seen the need to own something that wasn’t just concrete and steel.

“So did you get her phone number?”

“Please, Dee. I don’t even know her name.”

Dee dropped the basket on a tray beneath the bar. “You sure looked like you were getting friendly with her.”

Blade gave a short, bitter laugh. “Please,” he said, denying the attraction he’d felt, that he still felt. “She’s not my type. Heck, she doesn’t even belong here. Can you see her in the back room shooting pool?”

Dee cocked her head and watched as the other waitress, Lisa, took the women’s order. “Maybe not,” Dee replied. “But looks can be deceiving.”

He turned back around so he couldn’t see the women, especially her, anymore. “I’ve never discovered that to be true,” Blade protested, already knowing that whoever she was, she’d gotten under his skin.

At that lie, Dee simply shook her head and walked away.

“SO WHO’S THE GUY?”

Cassidy’s fork hovered over her strip steak. “You mean Dan?”

“No, not him.” Sara said. She pushed a dark hair off of her face. “The guy at the bar who keeps staring at you every few minutes. You were sitting by him when I arrived.”

“I don’t know him,” Cassidy said, spearing her cut piece of meat with such a force that Sara leaned back.

“Well for not knowing him, he sure got under your skin.”

“He did not,” Cassidy said with a vigorous shake of her head. “He’s just a guy sitting at the bar, that’s all. If you’d been on time, I wouldn’t have even been talking to him. You weren’t even your usual fashionably late self.”

“No, but my extremely late self got you next to him,” Sara said. She let her gaze rove over him, and Cassidy found herself bristling. “Man, he’s hot. I’d do him.”

“Sara!”

“What?” Sara looked taken back, as if surprised at the force of Cassidy’s reaction.

“You’re married.”

“Only until the divorce paperwork’s final,” Sara said. “Believe me, I’m allowed to look.”

Cassidy knew that. Never had she been so rattled. It had to be the beer. She stared at the empty bottle in front of her. She’d stopped at three, thank goodness.

Sara turned slightly so she’d have a better view. Cassidy watched as Sara put the end of her pinkie finger in between her teeth and gazed over toward the guy again. “I mean, he’s hot. And you know what they say, that you can tell a guy’s size by the distance between his thumb and pinkie. From the look of his hands…”

“Sara!” Cassidy put her fork down.

Sara’s brow furrowed. “Come on, Cass. Lighten up. You were never this prudish in college.”

“I wasn’t engaged then,” Cassidy said.

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t be engaged now, either.”

“Sara!” Cassidy realized she’d shouted that last one at her former roommate.

“Sorry, Cass. You know me. I call them the way I see them. All your friends are married, and now you’re settling down just because it’s the right thing to do. Believe me, I settled, and look what happened. He cheated on me right from the start.”

“I am not settling,” Cassidy protested. “I love Dan.”

“Dan is dull,” Sara said. “He’s like dishwater. You need it, but you don’t want to keep it.”

“I love Dan.”

“Yeah, as a brother,” Sara said. “I think that you’ve waited so long for Mr. Right you’re settling for Mr. Wrong. Come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t think that guy over there is to die for.”

Cassidy couldn’t get her lips to voice the lie. Instead she found another argument tack. “Yeah, but look where passion got me last time. Jeff the jerk.”

Sara nodded, but didn’t concede. “I’d forgotten about good old J.J. No offense but he was a loser.”

“Yeah, but passionate. He swept me off my feet and burned me bad.”

“True.” Sara thought for a second. “But we all go through the bad ones to find the good ones. Consider J.J. a learning experience.”

Cassidy shook her head. “I don’t have time for more learning experiences. I want children and a family. I’m twenty-eight. Dan is perfect.”

He was. She jutted her chin forward stubbornly.

Sara simply shook her head. “I hope for your sake you’re right.”

“I am,” Cassidy said. As long as I don’t run into that guy again.

She’d throw his business card away as soon as she got home.

IMAGE CONSULTANTS were not supposed to have hangovers. In fact, no one was supposed to have a hangover after only three longneck bottles of beer, then dinner and then another two hours of conversation with only water to drink before either she or Sara had done any driving home. Even that guy had left long before she had.

Cassidy rolled over and shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight pouring in her bedroom windows. Lillian’s mantra suddenly filled her mind. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Make the best of it.”

With that annoying thought, Cassidy sat up straight in bed. Today already sucked, and if today was a crystal ball of the future then she wanted no part of it. She blinked and glanced at the alarm clock—7:00 a.m. Great. Her alarm wasn’t scheduled to go off for at least another fifteen minutes.

Figured. She hadn’t even slept in.

Cassidy flopped back on the pillows and covered her eyes with her arm. Not that she could go back to sleep, anyway. The only concession was that she’d slept soundly, with no dreams of said men to haunt her.

Begrudgingly she rolled out of bed, hit the shower and within forty minutes had seated herself at the breakfast table with the yellow pages.

As she munched a grape-jelly-covered bagel, she frowned. By the time she’d finished the last of the bagel, she was sure lines ridged her brow, as well, creating a look her mother had always chided would give her premature wrinkles.

The yellow pages listed hundreds of contractors, and Cassidy had no clue whatsoever who to call.

Three hours later, after dialing for over an hour, she faced failure.

“Your problems are too small,” one contractor had said. “We don’t handle residential,” another’s haughty secretary had replied. “We can’t put you on the schedule for at least three weeks,” most had told her.

She was already at the Hs. She rose and faced her nightmare. Two steps took her to the stainless steel trash compactor. She’d run it last night when she’d gotten home.

Grimacing, she opened it up. Gingerly she picked through the remnants, finally finding the tiny cardstock paper she was looking for.

Glad the sauce had been white not red, she brushed off a leftover fettuccini noodle and read the words embossed.

J & B Construction. Blade Frederick, President.

Rather a fancy title to disguise what was probably a sole-proprietorship. She shivered as her gaze swept over the card again. His name was Blade.

She’d briefly heard it once or twice at the bar, but it hadn’t really registered. It did now, and his name fit. Sara’s prophetic words came rushing back, and Cassidy dropped the card back into the trash compactor.

She couldn’t call him.

She stared at the card, lying faceup on the congealing fettuccine Alfredo. She had to call him. She had no choice. Besides, he said he would recommend a handyman, not do the work himself.

Inaction paralyzed her, and finally anger overtook her. She was being silly. Last night had just been too much beer and too much of feeling sorry for herself because of her home situation.

She grabbed the card back out of the compactor and kicked the stainless steel door closed.

She’d simply make it clear to…Blade that she needed his help and that she wasn’t interested in any of his other services.

Besides, over the phone she wouldn’t be tempted to look at his hands and wonder if…

She brushed that distracting thought aside as she swore never to drink beer again. I can do this, Cassidy whispered the pep talk to herself as she reached for the phone. She dialed the number for J & B Construction. Besides, it’ll be fine, she told herself. After yesterday I deserve a break.

Chapter Two

Blade needed a break, and not an endless coffee break like his secretary still seemed to be on. Bidding on—and winning—the job to build the state’s newest revenue office should have been a piece of cake. But it wasn’t turning out that way, and Jake was annoyed.

Blade hated it when Jake, his best friend and business partner, was annoyed. It always spelled trouble.

“We’re up against D. W. Braun, and it’s down to just us two,” Jake said.

Blade sat forward, letting the back of his leather chair thump him gently in the back. He knew there was more. “What do they have on our bid?”

“I’m not sure.” His partner, and technically the company co-president, paced the room anxiously. “I’ve heard on the street that D.W.’s put money into some political campaigns.”

“Figures.” Blade gritted his teeth. “So much for the lowest bidder.”

“Come on, Blade, we know it’s rarely the lowest bidder. It’s the bidder with the longest tentacles who can justify all the expenses and pad the congressmen’s pockets. That’s why public projects always run over budget.”

“Not with our company.”

“Of course not.” Jake knew Blade was as honest and ethical as they came, and their company had a reputation for the same. “But we’ve only been bidding on public projects for the past two years. We’re new in this arena. We usually do private, like the renovation of the old Caferelli warehouse into an upscale hotel and lofts.”

“I want this project,” Blade said. “We have the best design and the best company for the job. I want to see us diversify from just office buildings and 200,000-square-foot retail developments.”

“Exactly,” Jake agreed with a short nod. “We want to diversify. To do that we’ve got to get out there on the social scene. Make some political contacts. Show them we’re serious about running with the big boys.”

“That’s your job.” Blade took a mechanical pencil and tapped it, top down, on the mahogany desk. “I may own a half dozen custom suits, but I don’t wear them unless I have to. You win jobs—I work the field and make sure we come in under budget and on time.”

“Yeah, but we want to continue to grow, don’t we?”

“Grow?” Blade snorted his disbelief. “We’re the fastest growing commercial contractor in the nation. We did two billion in revenue last year.”

“Exactly. Two million less than the year before.” Jake sounded as if two million was the end of the world. “Come on, Blade. I want this company to be one of the top in the country, and so do you. Right now we’re number ten in Houston and thirty-third in the nation.”

“And we’re not satisfied with that?” Blade asked. Their growth had been so phenomenal they’d passed companies in business for generations, not a mere eighteen years.

“Of course we’re not satisfied,” Jake replied. “We made a goal when we graduated high school that we’d never settle. Remember?”

The ringing of Blade’s desk phone interrupted the conversation. He frowned. He’d left orders not to be disturbed. Obviously the temp at the front reception desk had screwed up again. Already this morning she’d disconnected three important calls.

Blade checked his tone. No use scaring the temp. He could replace her tomorrow. Better yet, he’d have his secretary do it. “Hello?”

“Hello,” the female voice on the phone said slowly. Blade stopped tapping the pencil. Not the temp, and not one of his former girlfriends. He would have recognized one of their voices. Still, the voice sounded oddly familiar.

“I’ve gotten lost in the phone system twice now. I want to speak with Blade Frederick about fixing some code violations.”

Great. The temp had screwed up. J & B did not do code violation repairs.

“Lady, we’re—” Blade began, but she cut him off before he could finish.

“Please,” she said, her voice a breathy rush. “I need Blade Frederick. He said he could help me and I’ve tried everyone else. I have four pages of predications. You should have seen the guy. He just kept writing. If it weren’t for Lillian I never would have been in this fix.”

On the other end of the phone Cassidy bit her tongue. Had she just said that, again?

In his office Blade waved off Jake’s curious look and silent whisper of “Who is it?”

It was the girl from last night, and no, Blade himself couldn’t believe it. She’d called. Last night he’d left the bar long before she had, and he’d spent a sleepless night dreaming of her. He hadn’t woken up in a hot sweat like that since he’d been a randy teenager.

And she’d called. Unbelievable. He’d certainly lost that bet with himself.

He steadied his tone before speaking. No use giving away too much yet. “You do know we’re a commercial contractor.”

Sitting in her home office, Cassidy had no idea what that meant. “No,” she said. “Look, I need to talk to Blade. I need him.”

Blade shifted. That was not an image he needed at 11:00 a.m. Didn’t she know what a seductive voice she had? He should tell her she had him. “You’ve got him.”

“Oh.” Cassidy never felt so out of her element.

“Look, I’m a little busy right now, but how about you fax the list to me and I’ll take a look at them?”

Cassidy shifted the cordless phone to her other ear. So much for worrying about him hitting on her. Far from it.

“All right,” she replied, her ego just a bit dented that she’d worried for nothing. She fingered the list that sat on her desk. “What’s your fax number?”

Blade gave it to her. “I’ll send it right over,” Cassidy said. “I can’t thank you enough. My neighbor Lillian, I told you about her, she kept telling the inspector she was a senator’s wife. The more she talked, the more he wrote.”

He’d heard all that before. “Fax it over and give me a number where I can reach you.”

“Okay,” Cassidy replied. “Oh. By the way, I’m Cassidy.”

“Great, Cassidy,” Blade said, deliberately keeping his tone professional. “Send it over and I’ll get back to you.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“No problem.” Blade set down the phone before she had a chance to say anything else. He chuckled.

“What is it?” Jake asked.

Blade leaned back in his swivel chair and linked his hands behind his head. “I met this woman in the bar last night. Pretty thing, one of those rich women who live around the medical center and Rice University. The building inspector hit her up for four pages of violations.”

Jake gave a low whistle. “And she called you?”

Blade stretched and shook his head before he sat forward. “Well, I gave her my card.”

Jake looked impressed. “You dog. I didn’t think you still had it in you. You’ve been out of the scene awhile.”

“Yeah, well, I told her I’d find her a handyman. I really didn’t think she’d call.”

“She probably figured out how much you’re worth.”

“That’s the funny part. She has no clue. She wants me to find someone to fix her home predications. She thinks I’m some redneck, not a CEO.”

“But you didn’t correct her. You told her to fax you.” Suddenly Jake laughed as Blade grinned. “You’re a devil, Blade. Just wanted to know if you still had it, huh?”

“Yeah, well,” Blade changed that subject, “besides it really isn’t her fault. I kind of feel sorry for her. Her fiancé’s mother kept telling the city inspector she was married to a senator or something. So don’t get your hopes up. I’ll help her find a contractor, but that’s all.”

Jake’s ears perked up, and he ignored the last part of Blade’s explanation. “Senator? Did you say senator?”

Fire alarms pealed in Blade’s head. “Don’t look at me like that. We’ve been friends for too long. You should be warning me off. She’s set to be married.”

“That’s irrelevant. I like married women. They don’t want to settle down, just play. Which senator?”

Blade had long ago given up on Jake and his morals of an alley cat. “I don’t know. All I remember is that his wife’s name is Lillian.”

Jake’s jaw dropped and he stared at Blade. “Lillian Morris?”

Blade arched an eyebrow. “You know her?”

“Everyone knows Lillian whether they want to or not. She’s a firebrand who gets her way because she’ll just run you over if you don’t move.”

Blade shrugged. “Whatever. She didn’t make much of an impression on the building inspector.”

Jake blinked in surprise. “That’s because he hasn’t learned better. I bet he’ll never make that mistake again.”

“Anyway, I’ll look at the predications, and I’ll call her and find someone to fix them for her. I offered to do it last night in the bar. My mother raised me to be a gentleman.”

“Yeah, when she was home. Anyway, while you’re being so ignoble, why don’t you just hit the lady up for an invitation to meet the infamous Lillian. Senator Morris has a lot of pull in this town. We could use the connection.”

That didn’t sound good. “How about you meet the famous Lillian?”

Jake’s smile turned wicked. “Maybe I will. You described the girl on the phone as a pretty thing, but I know you. She’s hot, isn’t she?”

Blade shifted. Sure he’d describe Cassidy as hot, but that sounded so cheap. She was beautiful, an image of perfection, just as he’d thought last night.

Jake’s gray eyes gleamed at Blade’s silence. “I think I want to meet her. After all, it is my job to make contacts.”

The idea of Jake, whom he liked a lot but wouldn’t set up with his sister even if he had one, didn’t sit well at all. No, the idea of Jake meeting the lady from the night before, Cassidy, didn’t sit well at all.

“I’ll do it,” Blade said simply, his decision instantaneous. “I’ll get you a meeting with Senator Morris, and you take it from there.” There, that solution sounded just fine.

Sending Jake after Cassidy was like sending Christians to the lions.

Jake grinned. “Blade, my man, we are now on our way into Houston old money society, and I have just the plan to get us there.”

Blade frowned. Jake’s ideas involving women and Blade often backfired. “Yeah, well let’s hope it doesn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Money never leaves a bad taste, Blade,” Jake chided. “It’s time you learned that. Yep, high time you learned that, especially when the babe is hot. Now you listen to me, and I’ll tell you what we are going to do.”

CASSIDY COULDN’T BELIEVE her luck. A man named Jake from J & B Construction had called and told her that his company would do her work. Even better, he’d told her that J & B was licensed by the city and oversaw a crew that would do the job.

She pushed a loose strand of blond hair back off of her face. Jake had told her someone would come over at four-thirty. She’d be his last appointment of the day.

The doorbell rang, and she threw it open.

“I saw your car and since I knew you were home, I came over to discuss the flowers.”

“Lillian!” Cassidy managed to step out of the way before Lillian barged right in. “I’m meeting with the contractor.”

Lillian stopped and peered over her glasses. “Is he here?”

“Not yet. Any minute.”

Lillian didn’t look too concerned. “Well then, you have plenty of time.”

“No, I don’t.” Cassidy tried anyway, but as always, protests with Lillian were useless.

“I talked it over with Dan this morning and he agreed with me.”

Of course he had, Cassidy thought. He’d just smiled and nodded, just like his father did when Lillian got her teeth into something.

“Orchids. We’ll be doing orchids. I think that’s the perfect flower, and we’ll get them at Estelle’s. All I need to tell her is the color, although honestly I think we’ll be sticking with pure white. You do agree white is best, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Cassidy said in resignation, giving Lillian a smile and a nod. Anything to get Lillian out of the house.

The last thing Cassidy needed was Lillian scaring off the contractor. She’d done enough damage with the city inspector.

“Excellent. I’ve also booked the church for 3:00 p.m., June 10. An afternoon wedding is best, and your rehearsal dinner is the night before. I’m still choosing the location. I can’t decide between The Ryan Room or Gillamaine’s.” Lillian stopped to draw a rare breath. “We also have a private appointment tomorrow evening at Monica’s Boutique to find you an appropriate wedding dress.”

“I thought I’d wear my mother’s dress,” Cassidy said. “It’s in a box in the attic, and…”

Lillian’s mouth dropped open in surprise and she looked as if Cassidy had grown another head. “That won’t do, dear, especially with your parents getting divorced. Heavens, no.” Lillian shook her head vehemently. “Tomorrow evening at six. We’ll be the only ones in the shop. I’ll pick you up at five. You know how traffic can be.”

Cassidy gave Lillian another smile and nod before panic struck. Was that a truck pulling into the driveway? It was. Not good. Somehow Cassidy managed to usher Lillian to the door and got her through it. “See you tomorrow, Lillian.”

Cassidy leaned back against the door and took a moment to sigh with relief. Home safe.

“Oh, you must be the contractor,” she heard Lillian say.

Nope, out at third. Cassidy threw open the front door and walked out. The Ford 350 truck now sitting in her driveway looked as if it had known better days. Red with faded black lettering on the passenger side door, it proudly proclaimed to be from J & B Construction.

“You are the contractor, right?” Lillian asked.

“That would be me, ma’am.”

Great. Lillian was already engaging the contractor in conversation. Did the infernal woman ever stop talking? Cassidy bit her lip and sped up. Wearing heels didn’t help.

Worse, once again she’d had a mean thought about Lillian. That was so unlike herself. She usually had such good manners and polite thoughts.

And just when had the front walk gotten so long? Finally Cassidy reached the back of the truck. The contractor had his back to her, with Lillian facing him. He stood about six-six and had a nice posterior. Great, Cassidy thought. One night with Sara and now she was looking at everyone.

Cassidy paused just a moment, turning around to take a second look at something she’d at first only caught in the periphery of her eye.

Just what did that homemade back license plate say? Power Strokers do it better? Dear Lord. Don’t let Lillian see that.

“What’s that license plate mean?”

Too late.

“It’s the engine. Ford has a diesel power stroke.”

Cassidy saw Lillian nod as if she understood. “I see,” Lillian said. “But shouldn’t you have a real license plate?”

“Trucks over a certain gross vehicle weight don’t need back plates. We pull trailers.”

“Oh. So that plate really isn’t a sexual thing at all.”

“Uh, well,” the contractor began.

Cassidy rolled her eyes and stepped closer. Time to interrupt before someone got himself in deep trouble with the matriarch of the Houston morality police. “Hi, I’m Cassidy Clayton. I believe you’re looking for me.”

As he turned around, she gasped. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Jake had said…

Mistake number five didn’t look surprised to see her. Instead he gave her a wide smile.

“Hello again,” he said. “I’m here to do your work.”

LILLIAN GLANCED over her glasses, her gaze speculative. “You two have met?”

“Yes,” he said, his gaze never leaving Cassidy’s.

“No,” she said, wrenching hers away.

Lillian’s head turned from one to another as if she were watching a championship Ping-Pong match. “So which is it?”

“No, we haven’t met,” Cassidy inserted quickly. She gave the man a wide smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She had never thought she would see him again! After all, wasn’t he a president? He really was a one-man, well, a two-man operation. After talking to a receptionist, and then Jake, she’d hoped otherwise.

“We just talked on the phone today. This is my contractor, uh…” After rolling his name on her tongue all day, now she couldn’t get his name out.

“Blade,” he finished smoothly, returning her fake smile with an infuriatingly real, and extremely sexy, one of his own.

“Blade,” Cassidy repeated. She shot him a warning glance and hoped the man had enough brain cells upstairs to figure out what she meant—keep quiet.

Seemingly satisfied with the explanation, Lillian broke into a small smile. “So, you’re doing all the repairs on Cassidy’s house?”

“That’s what I intend on doing,” he replied. His tone insinuated to Cassidy that there might be more to his plan. Cassidy shifted on her feet.

“Oh, good,” Lillian said, seeming not to notice the sexual undercurrents as she warmed to a topic she knew way too well. “Cassidy needs to get rid of this house quickly. Thank goodness it closes in two weeks. I mean, you heard why she has to sell it didn’t you? Her philandering father left her mother for a younger woman and…”

Great. One more complication to her already hectic life. Now the infernal contractor, Blade—she got his name right this time—knew her personal business. First things first. Time to get Lillian moving toward her own home.

“I doubt he really cares about my parents’ problems, Lillian,” Cassidy said. Relying on her training as an image consultant, she froze her smile in place and hoped that Lillian would get the subtle message. Instead Lillian looked confused.

Cassidy wanted to scream. Did no one around her understand body language? This was her career, and she was good at it. Somehow she managed to keep her voice calm. “I’m sure he’s on the clock, and I’m sure he wants to go home soon. I’ll see you at five tomorrow.”

“Five,” Lillian repeated. She let her gaze rove over Blade one last time. Cassidy bristled. Did every woman stare at him like that? Then Lillian straightened as if the moment hadn’t occurred and gave Cassidy a stern look of warning. “We need to be on time tomorrow. Monica’s is open only to us, so don’t forget. Five.”

“As if you’d let me forget,” Cassidy said under her breath after Lillian slipped through the gate in the hedge between the two side yards.

His voice was right by her ear. “So I take it that’s the infamous mother-in-law-to-be.”

“That’s her.” Cassidy whirled around and found herself facing Blade’s chest. Whoa. She took a step back “Would you care to explain what you are doing here?”

“I’m the contractor.”

Why did he upset her equilibrium so? “Yes, well, your card said you’re the president.”

He grinned, and Cassidy wished she’d never called him. “Oh, that’s a little joke Jake and I have. We own the company together. He’s also a president. But I can assure you, I’m a contractor.”

She struggled to regain control of the mess she was now in. “Well I can see that. You have a truck, and you’re dressed in—”

“They’re called carpenter whites. Whites for short.”

Cassidy swallowed. Never had a pair of dirty white pants and a dirty white T-shirt looked so good. They hinted too well at what lay beneath. And just when had he gotten so tall? And his chest so broad? She gathered her wits, and rallied.

“Well, why didn’t you say something on the phone when I called?”

His greenish-blue eyes twinkled, drowning her. “And ruin the surprise?”

She found a life preserver. “I don’t like surprises.”

His cheek dimpled as his smile curved upward. “I do, especially when it was a phone call from you. Imagine you calling me, especially after insisting you didn’t need my help last night. I thought you’d just throw my card away.”

She had, but she wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

His voice washed over her. “Ironic isn’t it, how fate works?”

“Look, this is a business arrangement.” She stressed the word business.

He shot her another infuriating grin, as if he knew exactly what she was really thinking. “Never said it wasn’t.” He sobered his expression for a second. “Look, do you want me to do this work or not? Or would you rather hire someone else?”

Cassidy drew herself up. As if she could find another contractor on this short notice, and he knew it. After all, she only had ten business days until closing. “Fine, then. Come inside and I’ll show you what that infernal city inspector is referring to.”

With a huff she turned and walked toward the house.

IT WAS ALL BLADE COULD do to stop from humming to himself. He’d made one change to Jake’s misguided plan.

He’d borrowed one of his foremen’s trucks for the occasion, and from the expression on Cassidy’s face, it had been worth it. While Jake wanted him to reveal who he was, Blade didn’t. Why spoil her preconceived notions? No, his plan of appearing like the everyday Joe that Cassidy had pegged him for had gone off perfectly.

Blade grinned at his success. Earlier that day he’d considered Jake’s suggestion of driving his own truck, but the more he thought of it, the more he had decided not to.

She already thought he was just a blue-collar workingman. While Blade had a diesel Ford 350 himself, he knew it didn’t look like what Cassidy thought a contractor’s truck would look like, not with leather seats and being loaded with every known option.

Besides, she’d never believe his truck cost almost as much as a Corvette.

So, instead he had borrowed Frank’s truck, and of course, the forty-year-old Frank had been only too happy to exchange his work truck for Blade’s new BMW convertible, which, too, had cost a few hundred less than Blade’s truck.

“I’ll even take the wife on a date,” Frank had said with a grin. “I’ll tell her I sold the truck. It’ll pay her back for my license plate.”

Blade had laughed. Everyone knew Frank’s wife was a practical joker, and she’d gotten him the plate as a gag gift for his fortieth birthday.

Blade snapped to attention as Cassidy began talking. “This is the first predication,” she said as she came to the front steps. “He said something about needing some new boards, plus he wanted the entire front porch painted.”

“I saw that on the fax you sent,” Blade said. He reached into the pocket of his pants. “I brought it with me.”

Cassidy’s lips thinned into a slight smile. “You’re so efficient.”

“That would be me,” he replied, ignoring her slight sarcasm. Heck, he’d be a mite upset if someone had just pulled this surprise on him. However, he rationalized, he was going to fix her house, so in the end that made it all okay. And despite how pretty she was, he wasn’t going to hit on her the way she obviously thought he was.

His gaze scanned the porch. She did need a few new boards, but nothing really major. “Why don’t you show me the rest?”

“Front door needs painting,” Cassidy said as they walked through it. “All the windows need to have working sashes. Something about the springs being broken. When the city inspector lifted the one in the bay window, the whole window fell out.”

Blade nodded. “That’s not difficult. I know where to get the parts.”

“Good.” And with that, Cassidy was on a roll. Twenty minutes later Blade was certain of two things. One was that the city inspector had been overzealous in citing things that he really didn’t need to have cited. The other was that Cassidy Clayton had grown up with every possible advantage in life.

His bedroom, which he’d shared with his two older brothers, would have fit in the master bedroom closet. The master bathroom of the house, which needed all new plumbing fixtures, was bigger than the living room and kitchen where he’d grown up.

Sure he had a house about the same size now, but he’d worked and sweated for every brick. Cassidy had simply been born into it.

“That’s all of them,” she said. “Think you can have all this work done in a week?”

Blade stared at her. She’d pushed her hair behind her ears and was peering earnestly up at him. Darn, but she was pretty.

“I’m going to have to work nights to get these all finished,” he said. Where those words had come from, he would later decide that he didn’t know. They’d just slipped out. He was the boss. He could do what he wanted, and he could work days.

“You want time and a half?” She seemed shocked.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied, trying to backtrack. “Jake gave you our bid already for all hours worked. No matter what time of day, fixed hourly rate. You only have about twenty hours of work.”

“So what’s the catch?”

Was there a catch? He thought about it a second and dismissed what Jake wanted him to do out of his head. “No catch. It’ll take me about four days of about five hours each. I’ll get here at four and leave by nine.”

She frowned. “Look,” he said, “That’s the best I can do. I’ve got other jobs in the queue, as well, and somehow I’m going to have to balance everything. So I won’t get here until four. But I will get your predications done and have them done before your deadline.”

The thought of him in her house at night seemed so… “I sometimes have to work at night,” Cassidy said, pushing thoughts of Blade in her house at night out of her mind. That was not a path she should tread. He raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to explain, and she felt the need to. “I’m an image consultant, and depending on the day I attend dinner functions and…”

Suddenly he didn’t want to hear about her social life. He cut her off. “If you aren’t here to let me in, then I’ll need a key and your alarm code.”

He almost wanted to laugh at her horrified reaction. “We are licensed and bonded, ma’am.”

“Cassidy,” she corrected automatically. She hated being called ma’am. It made her feel old.

“Cassidy.” He rolled her name on his tongue and decided that he liked it. “Well, Cassidy, since I’m here, shall I get started?”

Her mouth puckered. “You’re starting the job tonight?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Is there a problem with that? I’m already here, and I need to make a list of stuff I need. Plus, you don’t have time to spare.”

He was right.

Cassidy gulped and tore her gaze off Blade’s chest. Last night Sara had said something about stroking it and discovering if his chest was smooth or covered with dark whirls of hair.

If he took off his shirt when he worked in the Texas heat she’d know.

Whoa! Wait right there. Those were not thoughts she should have. Think of Dan, think of Dan.

Oh, God. Dan. He’d be over in less than an hour to take her out to dinner. He had some clients to impress. That meant she needed a shower, and she needed to redo her makeup and…Then again, she also needed to have her predications fixed. What was it Blade had asked?

Normally she wasn’t so scatterbrained. Maybe it was the stress of everything. Her parents had dumped the selling of the family home and moving the few belongings they wanted to keep into her lap.

“No problem,” she said after finally remembering his question about whether he should get started tonight. “Just stay on the first floor.”

The last thing she needed was for him to be in her bedroom. Thankfully that had been one room that hadn’t needed any repairs.

“I’ll try,” Blade replied, his gaze sweeping over her.

“See that you do,” she said, suddenly feeling the need for a long, cold shower. She now knew the truth. She couldn’t blame her physical reaction to him on beer.

Turning, she disappeared up the stairs. She had the distinct impression that he stared at her legs the whole time.

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