Blueprint for a Wedding. Melissa McClone
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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