Sweet but Sexy Boxed Set (101 page)

Whether writing traditional contemporary romance or building paranormal worlds, bestselling romance author, Maddie James, pens stories that frequently cross a variety of romantic sub-genres. Sweet or spicy, suspense or comedy, western or time-travel, her heroes and heroines always chase one thing—the
happily-ever-after
—whether they realize it or not!

A Food Network junkie who plots the way she cooks—by the seat of her pants—Maddie always has a delicious end product in mind (and she always follows a secret recipe!).

Her first book,
THE WILD WEST
, a Kensington Precious Gems romance, received a Calico Trails Cameo Award.
RED: A SEDUCTION TALE
, claimed first place as the Romance Book Scene’s favorite novella of the year. A four time nominee for a CAPA/Psyche Award from The Romance Studio, Maddie’s books have received numerous 5 Star and Top Pick reviews. Her books have landed on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo top-selling lists, and she is frequently listed as a Top 100 Most Popular Contemporary Romance Author at Amazon.

Maddie is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA) and its Published Author Network (PAN), Louisville Romance Writers (LRWA), Novelists Inc. (NINC), Kentuckiana Authors, and the Independent Book Publishers Association (IBPA).

Visit Maddie
’s website
:
www.maddiejames.com

Magdalena Scott

Chloe McClain is an artist, so she
’s used to creating something from nothing. This time, though, the project is bigger than her usual canvas—this time she’s bought a big dilapidated building to rehab into a classy art gallery. Should be easy enough; she’ll hire Greg Andrews and his construction crew. Greg’s work has gotten good reviews from everyone in Legend. Of course there is kind of a rush on the project…

Greg is a professional, and his professional opinion is that Chloe
’s pile of bricks should be put out of its misery. There’s no way he can bring the place up to code by her deadline, let alone turn it into the showplace she has in mind. But Chloe’s a McClain, and besides a wide stubborn streak, that means deep pockets. Speaking of which, Greg can’t keep his eyes off the back pockets of Chloe’s jeans...

When you live in Legend, Tennessee, there are certain things to remember. People in Legend pull together. Community before self. And you never want to take a wrong step around a McClain—even the cute females.

Chapter One

The customer is always right.

Greg Andrews looked around the interior of the derelict building and knew that was one of the stupidest sayings ever inflicted on the service profession.
The customer’s got no clue
would come a lot closer. He sighed, knowing that if the customer had the money, he’d likely take the job anyway. Although it made him want to hurl just thinking about the amount of work required to do the thing right, it could be an interesting project.

He would write up an estimate, present it, and see what happened.

Greg made rough notes on the yellowed paper hinged to his clipboard. He had pored over the owner’s meticulous drawings, understood what was expected, and appreciated the possibilities. Sure would be a lot easier, though, to just knock down the building and put up something new. Not that anyone besides him would consider the possibility. It hadn’t taken long to realize that people in Legend, Tennessee, weren’t much into
new
. A lot of them were into preservation. Since moving himself and his business here a year and a half ago, Greg had done mostly renovation work. He could build new houses—
loved
building new houses—and had a guy on his crew who was as talented and fast as anybody in the business on new construction. They’d had to adapt, though. He’d hired some local help with different skills. Even changed his business name from
Andrews Construction
to
Deluxe Home Improvements
when he came here. Nobody in Legend knew or cared about the Andrews name. Deluxe, though—that was the way to go. People saw Deluxe in the phone book, or on the little signs he put in the yards of satisfied customers, and they were likely to call.

Business was good. He had as much work as he and his employees could handle. Walking to the middle of the large empty room, he tried to imagine its transformation—and nearly broke his leg when part of the rotten floor gave way. Cursing fluently, he jerked his leg free and carefully moved back the way he
’d come. He roughly tossed his long blond braid over his shoulder so it hung down his back.

Yeah, this is definitely looking good so far.

****

“
You must be kidding,” Greg said, walking carefully around the hole he’d dropped his leg into earlier. “No way can this be rehabbed in a month. No possible way. Mike said you had a time frame in mind—but thirty days is plain crazy.”

“
Fine,” said Chloe McClain. “I’ll get someone else.” She closed a small notebook and slid it into the back pocket of her snug jeans, then stuck the ballpoint behind her ear. The motion made the cascade of bell-shaped earrings tinkle softly. The sterling silver caught what little light came through the crud-encrusted windows. There was also a diamond stud up high in one ear. Greg had never considered ears to be particularly sexy, but on Chloe McClain, it seemed everything was sexy. At least, everything he’d seen. Her blonde-and-dark-brown streaked hair was wavy and cropped close to her head, but it grew a bit long in the back, and curls caressed her delicate neck. Her eyes were big and brown and bright as a child’s. The long lashes and dusky eye shadow had him wondering what those big dark eyes would look like if Chloe were feeling passionate about something besides an ugly old building. Her mouth was generous and shaped as perfectly as any he’d seen on lipstick commercials. Even her nose intrigued him. Short and straight, but turned up on the end. It made her look spunky, and he had an idea it wasn’t false advertising. Her body wasn’t runway model thin, but slender and pleasantly curvy. She looked even better once you started talking to her. Then her eyes began to snap, her head moved in emphasis to her words, the music started from her strange earrings, and that gorgeous mouth had you looking there more of the time than you probably should. Good thing she was nuts, or he might be attracted to her.

“
So... You’re Mike’s sister?” he asked. Mike McClain had worked for Greg a while now, but there were so many McClains in and around Legend, Greg couldn’t keep them straight.

“
Cousin.” She rolled her eyes, turned on the heel of her beat-up sandal, and headed for the door, where she flicked off the lights. Greg looked up at the half dozen bulbs hanging from the ceiling, suspended by dangerous-looking wires. Pathetic. The whole place was pathetic. He sure didn’t want to get into a situation of trying to bring this dump up to code in thirty days, let alone do the project to her unreasonable expectations.

Chloe shut the door after them, and locked it.
Right. As if anybody in his right mind would actually want to go in there.

“
Well. Thanks for the opportunity, Miz McClain. Sorry I can’t help you with this. Good luck finding somebody else.

“
Uh-huh. Thanks. Well, I’ve got some contacts around. I’m sure there’s somebody who could take it on. I need to have the place ready to go on deadline, or else...” She let the sentence trail off.

“
Or else?” Not that he cared. Just making conversation.

“
Or else I can’t do the exhibition I’ve committed to.” She pushed some round-lensed dark glasses onto her nose, and caught her lower lip between her teeth. Frown lines marred that perfect brow, below the fall of wispy dark and light bangs.

Exhibition. Whatever.
He needed to move on down the street. “So what kind of exhibition is that?” He hadn’t meant to ask.

“
Nothing. I need to go.” A sultry breeze came down the street, making the bells in her earlobes play again. She turned without another word and walked away from him into the breeze. Greg shivered. Some brush-off. Why he cared, he wasn’t sure. He enjoyed watching her from behind until she turned the corner and was gone.

Oh well. Cute, but not my type.
Dating a cousin of Mike’s would surely be more than he wanted to deal with anyway. Might get awkward when it ended. Greg’s relationships generally ended dramatically. Yelling and name-calling were sometimes part of it, and he sure didn’t need Mike to be in that picture. It was complicated being a single man in Legend, Tennessee.

****

“You
what
?” Mike McClain was clearly incredulous the next day when he heard about it.

Greg dumped the old grounds from yesterday
’s coffee, and jerked a new filter out of the plastic bag on the open shelf. “Turned her down.”

“
You can’t
do
that!” Mike was in his usual spot in the
Deluxe Home Improvements
office. He slid way down on the worn green Naugahyde couch with his long legs crossed in front of him and his head resting on the plastic paneled wall. At least he had been in that position until Greg told him about Chloe. Now Mike sat ramrod straight, his eyes bulging a little.

“
Of course I can turn down a job. Don’t get weird on me, Mike. This is my business, and if you’re gonna try to tell me what to do, we could have a problem.” His free hand fisted as he finished pouring water into the reservoir, concentrating on slowing his breathing so he wouldn’t say something more. He didn’t appreciate being second-guessed. Especially by the help. Of course, Mike was a friend, too, but Greg couldn’t let any of his guys forget who was boss.

“
Greg, that’s plain stupid. You can’t turn her down. She’s Martin’s sister.”

“
So?” Martin McClain owned a real estate business. He was also an occasional fishing and card-playing buddy. “What’s the big deal?”

“
Chloe is Martin’s sister. Martin gives us referrals all the time. Remember the job at Charles and Dorothy’s? The library redo? Martin’s the one who suggested you to them. That was a cherry job, Greg, and they could have hired somebody from out of town. They have the money to do it. But we got it, and I did fantastic with it, if I must say so—”

“
Yeah, yeah. The place looked just the way she wanted. You did great, Mike. I told you so then.” Mike had also ended up getting his estranged wife and daughter back in the bargain, so he really didn’t need to make such a big deal of throwing this into Greg’s face. Mike was this perfect family man now, acting more like a newlywed than a guy with a two and a half year old daughter ought to, in Greg’s opinion.

“
Greg! Listen to what I’m saying!” The McClains have done you some major favors since you came to town. You’ve had great referrals. This job of Chloe’s may be a hassle, but you better rethink it. Not only is she a McClain, but this show of hers is big. She’s made a name for herself with her paintings of the mountains, and lately she’s doing some other kind of art... I forget, but Betsy’s all excited about it. Chloe had a chance to do a show at a gallery in Knoxville, but decided she wanted to bring Legend into the spotlight with her. That’s why she needs her own gallery ASAP. The timeline on this thing is set in stone. She’s promised to do it in Legend and bring in some big tourism money because of the artsy people who’ll be here for it. You let Chloe down, you’re letting down the entire McClain clan, which is not a good idea. More than that, you’re letting down the whole town of Legend. You know Legend can use this kind of opportunity. It could even translate into more business for you in the long run.” Mike stood up, obviously too agitated to remain still. “You do this job and do it right, and it’ll reflect great on you for years.” Mike put his hand on the doorknob, shook his head and frowned. “You let Chloe down when she’s got her big chance and is sharing it with her hometown, and I think you might want to think about relocating.”

“
People here would be that ugly about it?”

“
People would be that disappointed. One thing you need to remember about Legend—we pull together. If you’re not gonna pull with us, you’d just as well pull out.” Mike left, closing the door a little louder than necessary.

Chapter Two

Greg knocked on the door of the cabin, then looked around. You could tell a woman lived here. The cabin itself was kit-built, and well done at that, but flowerbeds were everywhere in the small yard and up against the house. Pots of flowers sat on the porch with some comfortable rocking chairs and a primitive-looking table. She hadn
’t just planted one or two colors either. Every color of the rainbow was represented and all different shapes and sizes. So it was obvious not only a woman, but an artistic woman, was responsible. Kinda sickening really. Greg didn’t do flowers. Besides the fact that they were feminine, they were way too much work. He lived in one side of a thirty-year-old duplex, and the only thing he had stuck in dirt was a cherry tomato plant. And that was in an old wooden half-barrel he’d cleaned off a job site. The barrel sat on the tiny concrete pad of a patio outside his kitchen, so he didn’t even have to mow around it. He liked things simple.
Clean
was optional.
Neat
was often more of an effort than he wanted to make. He worked hard with his business and couldn’t see the point of working on his free time.

Women seemed to like knocking themselves out decorating stuff. He shrugged and knocked again.

The door was jerked open, and Chloe McClain scowled at him. “What do you want?” She had white stuff smudged across her face in a couple of places, and her long dark shirt was a mess with dusty white splotches all over it. Her hands, too. Maybe, besides being crazy and some kind of artist, Chloe was a baker. That could be flour smeared on her face.
Baker
would be a nice combination with
sexy
, which she definitely had going on. He might reconsider a relationship with her if she was into baking homemade bread. Nothing would taste better right now... He glanced at Chloe’s mouth. Even though she was frowning, her mouth begged to be kissed. She had those great
pouty
lips...

“
I
said,
‘What do you want?’ I’m busy!”

“
Uh... Just came to talk about the building.”

Her eyes narrowed.
“I thought you’d finished talking about the building. ‘No’ pretty much covered your part of that discussion.”

Greg stood straighter and stared into those big chocolate-brown eyes.
“I’ve reconsidered.” God, he hated eating crow—even just a little bit of crow.

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest, wiping even more white stuff onto the long, dark shirt.
“Who put you up to this? Martin?”

“
No.” He crossed his arms, too. Might as well do the body language thing right back at her.

“
Mike then. Or Betsy.”

Greg laughed. No way would he listen to something Betsy McClain—or any woman—told him to do. Outside of a bedroom, that is.

Her eyes widened a little then. “So why
are
you here?”

“
Thought about it some more. We didn’t really finish the conversation yesterday—”

“
You said I should try to find someone else. That you couldn’t do the job in thirty days.”

“
Yeah, well... Not for my usual rate. I’d have to charge extra for expediting the job. I didn’t get to that part.”

Greg had thought of this clever ploy after replaying their conversation in his mind way too many times last night instead of sleeping. He couldn
’t afford to alienate the entire town by turning down this job, but who could blame him if Chloe was the one who made the decision? He’d neatly written his proposal and added a fee for expediting. It was just good business all around.

Chloe
’s delicate brows drew together. “Hm. Well then, come in for a minute.” She turned on her heel, something he’d seen her do yesterday, but this time she led him through a brightly decorated little entry with some delicate flowers from her yard stuck in a bunch of tiny dark-blue vases on a little low table. He followed her down a polished oak hallway to the kitchen.

The room was small but efficiently laid out, and in the center was a round oak table with four chairs. She tossed a dishtowel over something on the counter—maybe bread dough rising?—waved him into a chair, and sat opposite.

He handed her the estimate. She unfolded it, hesitating as she did and glancing back up at him. He thought she might ask about the brown blotches on the paper, but it was probably obvious those were coffee. If the estimate had been more important to him, he would have recopied it onto a clean form. This one was a throw away anyhow, so why waste an extra set of the carbon forms? They weren’t cheap.

He thought he heard her take a quick breath, but her expression didn
’t change. He’d expected to see shock or disbelief, not bland perusal. She paged through the estimate carefully.

“
I understand most of what you’ve set out here.” She glanced up finally. “Everything I told you I want—everything in my drawings—all of that is covered?”

“
Yeah.”
And a big extra at the end. Notice that.

“
The figure here by ‘expedite’—that’s an additional fee because of the short time frame?”

“
Right. It’s standard in this kind of situation. I’d have to get all my guys on this job, so I could lose some potential business while we’re tied up with your project...”

“
Any contractor would do the same. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“
Uh. Yeah.” Why wasn’t she freaked out? Maybe she was. Maybe she’d blow up in a minute. He looked around her to see what she might throw at him if she was that type. In the last few years, women had thrown all kinds of things at him.

Chloe shrugged. At the motion, a little bit of white dust filtered off her shirt and drifted toward the floor.
“And you guarantee the space will be ready August thirty-first to my specifications. Per the drawings I gave you. Right?”

Hm. This didn
’t sound like she was cutting him loose. He never thought she would agree to the exorbitant price. She wasn’t supposed to agree. She was supposed to roll her eyes, wad up the paperwork, and order him out of her house.

“
Mr. Andrews? Did you hear me?”

Greg cleared his throat.
“Yeah.”

“
Do you guarantee the space will be ready on August thirty-first?”

“
Well...yeah.” His throat was really closing up. Maybe he was allergic to that white dust, or to Chloe McClain.
Or to the thirty day time frame.

Twisting in her chair, she reached behind her and slid a drawer open.
Oh, man. A gun? No—it’s a kitchen. Maybe a knife...

She turned around with a long green pen in her hand. Something bobbed off the end of it...a big yellow fake daisy head. Holding the pen and paperwork out to him, she said,
“Write in the completion date. Then we’ll sign. I guess we have a deal.”

Ten minutes later Greg was slowly driving to the office. They had a deal, he and Chloe McClain. Crazy as it was, he had just signed an agreement that would keep him and his guys busy for a solid month. If he was lucky they
’d finish on time, and nobody would quit because of the hours he was going to make them work. Even with the overtime pay, he knew most of them would grouse. That’s what it would take to gut the century-old brick building and turn it into the spare but upscale art gallery Chloe had sketched. How had his plan gone so wrong? How did she have so much money? Evidently, painting pictures paid a lot better than painting walls. Greg let himself into the office and tossed his copy of the paperwork onto his desk, where it slid into a puddle of leftover coffee.
Great
. He stalked to the coffee pot and dumped the old grounds, getting ready to make his second pot of the day. He needed to be alert. After all, he had building materials to order.

****

Chloe stood on her front porch watching the
Deluxe Home Improvements
truck drive away. Her hands began to shake a little, and her knees were wobbly, so she went to a rocker and dropped into it. She had just signed away more money than she had or had access to. The sale of the cabin and small acreage was supposed to pay for the building and renovations. That plan had just gone out one of the energy-efficient replacement windows she’d specified for the gallery and living space above. She was going to have to take out a hefty mortgage on her new building. She’d had unrealistic ideas about the price of the renovation. Even without the additional fee Andrews added, the cost was more than she’d expected. Chloe leaned her head back and looked out at her cheerful little yard. All this would soon belong to a young couple who seemed to love it as much as she did. They had called it their dream home when Chloe and her brother Martin sat across the table from them at the bank during the sale closing. In thirty days, they would be living here, and Chloe would be in an apartment in town over a gallery that might or might not succeed. Everything hinged on what happened during those thirty days. Thirty very
expensive
days. She didn’t have time to go looking for a contractor, or for this guy Greg Andrews to act like a
prima donna
.

She worked hard at her art. Numbers, however, were clearly not her thing. Starting immediately, she didn
’t have money for any personal niceties. Health insurance for instance—she hadn’t had any for years. It was an expense she’d not been able to fit into a budget, if she’d had one. She had spent a lot on her little cabin, and now even more on the new place. As of this moment, extras like food and clothing were iffy. Well, she had clothes. Most of the time she wore cruddy stuff anyway because everything ended up with paint on it. And she had food, or at least some food. Probably some cereal and some cans of soup and beans. Part of a half gallon of milk...

It would all work out somehow, though—it had to. This was her big chance, and nothing was going to get in the way. She
’d do everything she possibly could to make this a success. She wanted to do a couple more paintings for the opening. She’d saved some huge canvases for a special project, and this was definitely it. She also needed to spend a lot of time on her new art, because although the main attraction would be on her paintings of the mountains, she wanted people to see her little towns—both of them. Not only did she want the art community and their money to visit the beautiful little town of Legend, surrounded by the mountains’ natural beauty, but she wanted them to fall in love with her other little town. Walking to the kitchen counter, Chloe removed the dishtowel she’d thrown there a few minutes ago and picked up a two-inch representation of her cousin Mike McClain. She hadn’t painted his face yet, but had captured his longish brown hair, strong build, his ever-present pocket t-shirt and jeans with a carpenter’s square sticking out of a pocket in the leg. Yes, it would look just like him when it was finished. She set the tiny figure down next to another, a bit shorter. Betsy. Chloe leaned over and looked into its diminutive face. Just right. And the cloud of golden-blonde hair had come out perfectly. Her eyes shifted slightly right, and she narrowed them at an even smaller figure—Mike and Betsy’s daughter, LizBeth Ann. Now
she
had been a challenge. Less than an inch tall. It was a good thing Chloe had started this project while she was still relatively young, and had strong eyes. In a few days, she’d have the whole McClain clan finished, and could move on to other Legendarians.

Chloe thought back to the morning a couple of months ago when Betsy had arrived early to pick up LizBeth Ann after a
“sleep-over.” The preschooler had still been slumbering, Betsy had some extra time, and Chloe was about to burst with excitement. She led Betsy into the kitchen.

“
I want you to look at this and tell me what you think. Be completely honest with me. Seriously. I don’t want you to be kind—”

“
Oh my gosh! Midnight!” Betsy gingerly picked up the tiny figure of Midnight Shelby McClain and examined it. “Chloe, this is amazing! When did you start doing this kind of work?”

Chloe felt her face grow warm. That wasn
’t fake encouragement.
Yes!

“
Actually, last night. After LizBeth Ann collapsed around eight o’clock.” She watched as Betsy carefully set the tiny Midnight back onto the kitchen counter. “We spent most of the evening playing with dolls. Hers that she brought, of course, and then—I want you to know I watched her really carefully so she wouldn’t swallow anything—um... I brought out a box of my old dolls. Little ones that I’d always loved as a child because I could drop one in each pocket and take them with me. Something about little bitty dolls always intrigued me. Like they could come to life and be my tiny friends.” She pulled a pained face. “I know. Strange. I started young on my weirdness, I guess.”

Betsy laughed and shook her head, setting her long blonde curls into motion.
“Yeah. I worry so much about how weird you are, Chloe. That’s why I trust you with my daughter.” Betsy helped herself to a mug from the cupboard and filled it at the coffee pot, generously dosing it with sugar. “So the little dolls were a hit with LizBeth Ann.”