Carly Phillips - Lucky Break

He raised an eyebrow and shot her a knowing look.

She ignored him. “Can you recommend anyone else?” she asked instead.

“I can.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “But none as good as me.”

She already knew that firsthand. Fire burned her cheeks and she hoped a blush didn’t give her away.

He paused for a good, long time. So long she wondered if he was going to even answer. Finally, he said, “Got a pen and paper?”

She dug through her purse and handed him what he asked for.

He scribbled names and numbers on her small notepad. “There are two other local contractors, one in Perkins, the other one here in Stewart. We refer each other when we’re overbooked.”

“Thanks.”

“Good luck.”

She nodded and reluctantly turned away, surprised and strangely disappointed he’d given in so easily.

WHEN LAUREN REJECTED him, Jason’s fighting, competitive spirit returned. When he wanted something, he went after it, and he wanted Lauren Perkins. The woman and the job. She wanted the same thing. He’d seen the disappointment in her eyes when he’d given her those other contractors’ names. She was just too shocked to admit that their chemistry was as strong as ever. Jason intended to make sure they both got what they wanted.

Taking a page from his past, he decided the best way to accomplish his goal was to eliminate the competition. Growing up in a small town had its advantages. So did having uncles still working in subcontracting. Jason had enough contacts and friends in town to call in favors and even return a few to get what he wanted.

His first stop after Burt’s Hardware was a building site where he could find Greg Charlton, head of Charlton Construction, one of the names he’d given to Lauren. Jason had recently outbid Charlton on a job to renovate a large estate home on the edge of town. Their estimates had been close and the client would do well with either company. Though Jason could always use the money the job would bring, some things were more important. A brief meeting, confirmation with the client and a handshake later, and Charlton had taken over the estate home project from Jason’s company, and the other man had agreed to tell Lauren Perkins he was too busy to take on her renovation in the time frame she needed.

Jason returned to his home and office, the renovated barn behind Uncle Hank’s house. The place was perfect for Jason except for the added attraction of Fred, his uncle’s basset hound. The fat, lumbering old dog had gotten used to staying at the barn when Derek lived there with his daughter, Holly. Hank’s one condition for letting Jason move in was that he take over the care and feeding of The Fat Man, as Jason had started calling Fred.

It seemed a small price to pay and Jason had agreed. Then he learned how Fred made his presence known. He’d peed on Jason’s new work boots. And that had been the beginning of their relationship.

Jason settled into the chair behind his desk. He kicked his feet up on top as Fred flopped down beneath, and called contractor number two, Mark Miller. Jason had known Mark since high school and they were now friendly competitors who occasionally had a beer together after work.

Jason caught Mark on his cell phone and explained he’d be getting a request from a woman who’d need renovations in a short period of time.

“No problem, I can fit her in,” Mark assured him.

“No, you can’t. You’re too busy.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

“Because I want the job.”

“Then why didn’t she just hire you?” Mark asked.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his swivel chair. Mark was like a damn girl. He wouldn’t do a favor without knowing the reasons behind it.

“Let’s say we have a history and she’d rather not deal with me again,” Jason said.

He recalled Lauren’s expression when she’d realized he was the answer to her renovation dilemma and held back a laugh. The attraction between them was so strong it was a live, tangible thing and it obviously frightened her. But she was leaving town in a little over a month. Why not indulge while she was here?

“I’ll be damned, Corwin. You’re finally interested in women again. I was beginning to wonder if you’d taken a vow of celibacy.”

“You’re a laugh riot, Miller. So you’ll do it?”

“Why not. What did you say her name was again?”

“Lauren Perkins.”

“Damn, you know how to pick ’em,” Mark said, laughing. “Aren’t you afraid the curse is going to bite you in the ass?”

Jason rolled his eyes. Everybody thought they were a comedian. “Thanks. I owe you one,” he said, ignoring the gibe. Satisfied the other man would turn down the job, Jason hung up the phone.

Still leaning back in his chair, he glanced at the ceiling and thought of Mark’s question. Did it bother him that Lauren was a Perkins?

Now, as back then, the answer was the same. Not at all. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that a centuries-old spell had been responsible for Kristina and Rusty’s actions, even if he had lost the woman and his fortune.

Recalling how he’d felt when he’d discovered their betrayal, Jason felt a twinge of guilt at manipulating Lauren’s situation to fit his needs. But this wasn’t the same thing. He wasn’t looking to hurt her. He was giving her what she really wanted.

What they both wanted.

He might have to maneuver things to fall into place but he wouldn’t lie to her. She’d figure out what he’d done and eventually she’d thank him for it. Of that he was certain.

He knew her intimately. He understood what she wanted. And that changed the rules.

WHAT WERE the chances of both contractors being too busy to take on Lauren’s renovation project? And what was she going to do about it?

She walked through the house, making an inventory of the obvious damages, and there were many. From broken windows to funky noises coming from the boiler, she had problems. She’d called both contractors back and begged them to fit her grandmother’s house into their busy schedules-to no avail. But each man had highly recommended Jason Corwin.

If she was going to hire Jason, she needed a glass of wine and a long talk with an old friend first, so she’d invited Sharon over for a drink.

Lauren set out the wine in the den. Unlike the office with bookshelves full of legal tomes, old volumes and framed pictures of Mary Perkins in various official capacities, this room had no overt reminders of Lauren’s grandmother and her term as mayor, and Lauren thought Sharon would be more comfortable in here.

Sharon arrived at eight o’clock. Lauren poured two glasses of wine, handed one to her friend and settled down beside her. “Thanks for coming over.” Lauren took a sip of the Chardonnay she’d found in her grandmother’s wine rack and hoped the alcohol would go to her head quickly.

She was so uptight about hiring Jason, afraid of how easily she could fall for him again, she needed a buzz to take the edge off.

Sharon took a long sip, too. “I have to admit, your grandmother had good taste in wine.”

Any compliment to Lauren’s family was huge coming from Sharon, and Lauren smiled in appreciation. “Thank you. And thanks for coming. I know it can’t be easy hanging out in this house.”

Sharon waved away the sentiment. “The company is more important than the setting.”

Lauren nodded. “I agree. I wish I could say this was purely a social invitation, but I need to talk.”

“About Jason.” Sharon’s eyes gleamed, but being Sharon, she didn’t mention the fact that she’d caught them-or that Lauren had run away.

Lauren nodded.

“Ask away,” Sharon said. “I kept you up-to-date on his big news because I figured you might hear about the steroids in the papers or on television. But since you’d moved on, I never filled you in on the little things going on with him. I didn’t want to stir up old memories that you didn’t want stirred.”

Lauren exhaled hard, then took another sip of wine. Sharon’s perceptiveness had enabled them to remain friends. The other woman had an innate sense of caring that Lauren appreciated and valued.

“Did you ever hear how he tested positive?” Lauren asked. That question had nagged at her since the start.

Sharon shook her head. “As far as I know, he’s never told anyone what happened. He’s just maintained his innocence, and frankly, I believe him.” She lifted her wine and took a long sip.

“No argument here.” Jason might be competitive and dedicated, but he was honest.

Sharon laughed as she drained her glass.

“More wine?” Lauren lifted the bottle.

Sharon nodded and Lauren topped off their glasses.

She stared into the golden liquid as she explained her problem. “He’s the only contractor available to work on this house.”

“I’m assuming from the look on your face when you talk about him, he’s still good with his hands?” Sharon rose and stretched her arms into the air, unsteady on her feet thanks to the alcohol she’d consumed too quickly. Thank God.

“Too good for me to get any real work done and that’s the problem.”

“And you want me to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” Sharon flopped back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. “It’s a good thing Richard is picking me up after his meeting because there’s no way I can drive.”

“I know what you mean.” Lauren’s head spun from the wine and her stomach swirled at the thought of hiring the one man she didn’t trust herself to be around. “And you’re right. I want you to tell me I can work side by side with him and not fall in love.”

“You can do it.” Sharon sounded like a cheerleader, obviously too buzzed to think clearly.

Which was fine. Lauren didn’t really need her friend to tell her anything. She already knew the score. Her nerves tingled at the thought of him. Her body still craved him. And her heart was already softening toward him.

Deep down, Lauren knew it didn’t matter what Sharon said. Working with Jason was a risk. A risk she had no choice but to take.

WORKING WITH HIS HANDS used to provide Jason with a means to pay for his snowboarding and Olympic dreams. After being forced to give up the sport professionally, he’d fallen back on what he knew in order to make a living. But painting and fixing things didn’t provide the creative challenge that snowboarding had, nor did it give him a goal to work toward.

Since he’d moved back here, his life had become stagnant, but Lauren’s return had given him new purpose and a new goal-winning the Perkins job. He’d even cleared his schedule in anticipation of working at Lauren’s house, but she hadn’t called.

Three days and not a word, although he knew she’d been in touch with Mark and Greg, and they’d both turned her down. He was tempted to stop by the house later today and check on her, but she’d been so resistant to them working together, he thought it would go better if she came to him.

To kill time, he turned to working on his own living space. He hadn’t had a chance to put his mark on the place yet, so he’d spent the past few days priming the walls in the lower section of the loft so he could paint over the gray his uncle had chosen. The sun didn’t shine in the windows until late in the afternoon and he needed a brighter color to perk up the place.

His sisters, Ruthie and Allison, lived close to each other in New York with their husbands and kids and had opened up an interior design business together. They’d both offered their advice, suggesting navy or hunter-green walls with white trim and had sent him photos of offices in their portfolio to back up their advice. Since this was the first permanent place Jason had lived in, as opposed to hotel rooms and short-term rentals, he’d chosen stark white instead. Like snow. He’d be surrounded by proof he was no longer hiding from his past. So here he was, standing on a ladder painting his new home, and waiting for a girl to call.

A few more broad strokes of the brush and he decided to take a break.

He stepped down, but instead of the floor, his foot hit something soft. Jason jumped back as Fred the basset hound yelped, trying to make his escape. But as slow as Fred moved, Jason tripped on the dog. He lost his balance and reached for the ladder to stop his fall, causing the paint tray to topple to the floor, splattering him with white paint along the way.

He landed on his ass, beside Fred, who looked up at him with those big, sad eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’re sorry.”

Jason pushed himself to a standing position and glanced at his paint-splattered shirt. “Another one bites the dust,” he muttered, and stripped off the gray tee. He was going to have to do laundry soon or else he’d have to go shopping. Neither prospect held much appeal.