Читать книгу Blueprint for a Wedding - Melissa McClone, Melissa Mcclone - Страница 12

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?”