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Blueprint for a Wedding
Melissa McClone
HE'D KNOW THE IDEAL WIFE WHEN HE MET HER!Because contractor Gabriel Logan had developed a design for his future a long time ago. And Faith Starr Addison did r?of fit the plan. She was too beautiful, too career-driven, too big-city…and much too tempting for a small-town guy like him. Gabe had learned a long time ago that her kind of woman was the kind who left. But working with Faith, side by 'side, to remodel a turn-of-the-century mansion, was putting ideas into his head–and into his heart. How else to explain why the woman who was so wrong for him now seemed so very, very right?
He found her standing next to the fireplace. He’d never seen anything more lovely, more perfect in his life.
He took a step closer to her. She took a step toward him. Then another, and another.
“What are we doing?” she whispered.
The closer they got, the less sense any of this made. “I don’t know.”
“This probably isn’t a good idea.”
He closed the distance between them. “Probably not.”
One taste. That was all he wanted.
Stop.
Logically that was what he should do, but Gabe was beyond rational thought and action. Everything he’d been searching for his entire life was suddenly right here in his arms. He hadn’t felt this way in years. Not since his ex-wife, Lana.
And then reality hit like a wrecking ball.
Faith wouldn’t be sticking around, either.
Dear Reader,
What does romance mean to you? Sure, it could be sharing a candlelit dinner or strolling hand in hand on a spring day. But to me it’s even the smallest of gestures that tells you the person you think hangs the sun and the moon finds you equally unforgettable. As a lifelong romantic who met her future husband nearly twenty years ago, I’m delighted to be heading up Silhouette Romance. These books remind me that no matter what challenges the day has held, finding true love is one of life’s greatest rewards.
Bestselling author Judy Christenberry kicks off another great month with Finding a Family (SR #1762). In this sweet romance, a down-to-earth cowboy goes “shopping” for the perfect woman for his father but instead finds himself the target of Cupid’s arrow! Watch the sparks fly in Melissa McClone’s Blueprint for a Wedding (SR #1763) when a man who has crafted the perfect blueprint for domestic bliss finds himself attracted to an actress who doesn’t believe in happy endings. This month’s “Cinderella” is a feisty Latina, as Angie Ray continues Silhouette Romance’s commitment to offering modern-day fairy tales in The Millionaire’s Reward (SR #1764). Part of the SOULMATES series, Moonlight Magic (SR #1765) by Doris Rangel features a vacationing nurse who falls for a handsome stranger with a particularly vexing habit of vanishing into thin air.
And be sure to stay tuned for next month’s exciting lineup when reader favorites Raye Morgan and Carol Grace return with two classic romances.
Ann Leslie Tuttle
Associate Senior Editor
Blueprint for a Wedding
Melissa McClone
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my family
Books by Melissa McClone
Silhouette Romance
If the Ring Fits…#1431
* (#litres_trial_promo)The Wedding Lullaby #1485
His Band of Gold #1537
In Deep Waters #1608
* (#litres_trial_promo)The Wedding Adventure #1661
Santa Brought a Son #1698
* (#litres_trial_promo)The Billionaire’s Wedding Masquerade #1740
* (#litres_trial_promo)Blueprint for a Wedding #1763
Yours Truly
Fiancé for the Night
MELISSA MCCLONE
With a degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford University, the last thing Melissa McClone ever thought she would be doing is writing romance novels, but analyzing engines for a major U.S. airline just couldn’t compete with her “happily-ever-afters.”
When she isn’t writing, caring for her three young children or doing laundry, Melissa loves to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea, her cats and a good book. She enjoys watching home decorating shows to get ideas for her house—a 1939 cottage that is slowly being renovated.
Melissa lives in Lake Oswego, Oregon, with her own real-life hero husband, two daughters, a son, two lovable but oh-so-spoiled indoor cats and a no-longer-stray outdoor kitty who decided to call the garage home. Melissa loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 63, Lake Oswego, OR 97034.
Contents
Prologue (#u525ed5eb-020e-5e28-b574-805e504807d0)
Chapter One (#u9c77ac76-afe7-5e07-a583-27809897fe6c)
Chapter Two (#ucc1a1085-7f8f-5349-a696-816f82039af2)
Chapter Three (#ua22bca68-d6d2-5f19-bb66-b03a6316db6c)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
From the latest edition of Weekly Secrets:
Losing Faith?
by Garrett Malloy and Fred Silvers
The lovely and talented film actress Faith Starr is calling it quits. With a string of five broken engagements, one might expect the Golden Globe nominee to be tossing out yet another fiancé with yesterday’s trash. But Weekly Secrets has learned the stunning Faith is not leaving a man, but—prepare yourselves faithful fans—acting.
Despite the lackluster box-office performance of her last two films and rumors surrounding the release of her upcoming movie, Jupiter Tears, a $150-million space epic still in postproduction after two canceled premiere dates, studio heads have been campaigning to woo her back.
But the A-list leading lady is not returning phone calls. Neither her manager nor publicist will comment.
Perhaps Faith needs a vacation from the spotlight following her latest and most public breakup with Jupiter Tears costar and heartthrob, Rio Rivers. This on the heels of the eleventh-hour cancellation of her Valentine’s Day wedding to Trent Jeffreys, founder of Hearts, Hearths & Homes, a nonprofit housing organization.
Whatever the reason, we predict Miss Starr is taking only a brief sabbatical. Producer Max Shapiro agrees, “Faith’s tired. She’s had a string of bad roles, but she’s also at the pinnacle of her career. The right script will have her back in front of the cameras before you know it.”
Let’s hope so, because all America is waiting.
Chapter One
She was a grand lady built to last. The most beautiful in Berry Patch, Oregon, and she was supposed to be his.
Sitting in his pickup truck, Gabriel Logan stared at the 1908 Craftsman-style mansion—the stone-covered pillars, the multi-paned windows, the exposed beams, the wraparound porch and the three dormers jutting from the long-sloping, gabled roof. She was beautiful, all right. As his heart filled with regret, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
For years, he’d been dreaming, planning and saving for the day he would buy this house. Eighty-one-year-old Miss Larabee had promised it to him until two months ago when she’d received another offer “too good to pass up.” One she didn’t even give him the opportunity to match.
He drummed his fingers against the leather-covered steering wheel. His dog, Frank, raised his head from the passenger’s seat and groaned.
“Sorry, boy.” Gabe scratched behind the giant mastiff’s drooping ears. “It shouldn’t matter. We’re here, right? On time. Might as well get to work.”
But Gabe made no move to get out of the truck.
Today he started work on his dream house. Not as the owner. As the contractor hired to turn it into a B and B. His grandfather must be rolling in his grave. This house was meant for a family—not tourists with a buzz after visiting one of Willamette Valley’s award-winning wineries. Yet Gabe was about to do the dirty work for the mysterious F. S. Addison. He hadn’t spoken with the new owner yet. A mutual friend, Henry Davenport, had made all the arrangements. He’d referred more business than Gabe and his crew could handle, and money continued pouring in.
Talk about ironic.
Bitterness coated his mouth. This was one job he didn’t want. But Gabe didn’t trust anyone else to remodel the house while preserving the character, the charm and the million other things that made it special. Things that made the house a home. What should have been his home.
The title company might not agree, but Gabe and his family had been calling it his house for years.
Frank tried to roll over and expose his belly for rubs, but there wasn’t enough room in the king cab.
“Sorry, boy.” Gabe patted the dog. “We both got screwed this time around. And not in a good way.”
Frank moaned.
“I know the truck is cramped.”
With sad eyes, the dog stared up at him. No doubt Frank missed his custom-built doghouse and the large, fenced yard where he’d had room to roam. Gabe missed them, too.
“But I can’t leave you at Mom and Dad’s during the day. As soon as I have time, I’ll find us another house.”
When Miss Larabee had told him she was moving to an assisted-living facility, he’d had no doubt her house would be his. So he’d made an offer, put his home up for sale, sold it the next day and moved into the studio above his parents’ garage to wait until he could move into Miss Larabee’s house. A good plan. If it had worked out.
Too bad none of his plans had worked out so far. Gabe had once thought he had it all figured out. At eighteen, he’d marry his high-school sweetheart, by the time he was thirty, he’d have a minivan full of kids and be living in the Larabee house. Instead he was thirty-two with no wife, no kids and no place to call home.
He stared at the house.
Sorry, Gramps.
His grandfather had wanted to restore the house, too. Death had robbed him of his dream. And now F. S. Addison had robbed Gabe of his.
Frank pawed at the passenger door.
Reaching over two hundred pounds of tan fur, Gabe opened it. The dog poured himself out, lumbered up the walkway and front steps and plopped down on the shady porch. Even Frank acted as if the house was theirs.
Gabe slapped the steering wheel. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he couldn’t sit in the truck all day.
Time to get moving. The sooner this job was over, the sooner he could get on with his life. He slid out of the truck and sorted through the bucket of blueprints stored in the back of the cab.
Frank barked. Once, twice. A cat? A bloodcurdling-slasher-movie scream cut through the stillness of the summer morning. No, the scream was female, not feline. Gabe sprinted around the front of the truck.
“Frank.”
The dog wasn’t on the porch.
Another bark.
His deep woofs signaled his location like a beacon. Gabe ran toward the sound, around the front of the house to the side yard. He waded through weeds and too-tall grass to find Frank, with his tail wagging, straddling the trunk of an old maple tree. This was where Gabe had pictured his own kids climbing into a canopy of shade and picnicking beneath its dense branches.
“What kind of trouble did you get us into this time?” Gabe asked.
Frank looked up at the tree and panted.
Gabe peered up to see a jeans-clad bottom. A very feminine, round bottom. A white T-shirt was tucked into the waistband. A brown ponytail hung out the back of a navy baseball cap. Frank had chased lots of animals up trees, but this was a first.
“That’s some hunting, boy,” Gabe murmured. He didn’t know whether to punish or praise the hound. “Go.”
The dog moved ten feet away and lay on the grass. Frank kept his head low—his guilty look—and drool ran from the corners of his mouth and pooled on the ground.
A muffled sob floated down from above.
“Are you okay, miss?”
