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Authors: Jill Shalvis
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numbers for the second listing, a JC Builders. “Hey,” she said to her sisters. “I got
an answering machine, and it says they have a master carpenter on staff. A
master!
”
“She’s drunk dialing contractors,” Chloe said to Tara. “Someone should stop her.”
“Shh.” Maddie closed her eyes as she listened to a deep, masculine voice instructing her to leave a message. “Hi,” she said
at the beep. “Potential new client here, looking for a master—er, renovation expert. We’re atLucky Harbor Resort, at the end of Lucky Harbor Road, you can’t miss us. Oh, and we’re in desperate need of mastering. You’re
probably busy, seeing as you’re the only master in town, but we’re short on time. Like
really
short on time. In fact, we’re sort of desperate—” She broke off and covered the mouthpiece because Tara was in her face,
waving wildly. “
What?
”
“You said
desperate
twice. You can’t tell him that—he’ll raise his price! And what the hell is your fixation on being mastered?”
Maddie rolled her eyes—which made her dizzy—and uncovered the mouthpiece. “Okay, forget the desperate thing. We’re not desperate.
Hell, we could do the work ourselves, if we wanted. So come or don’t come, no worries.” She paused, turned her back on her
sisters, and lowered her voice to speak extra softly. “
But please come first thing in the morning!
” And then she quickly ended the conversation and smiled innocently at Tara.
“Stealth,” Chloe said with a thumbs-up. “Real stealth.”
As always, Jax got up with the sun. Apparently, some habits were hard to break. Once upon a time, he’d have hit the gym and
downed a Starbucks while racing his Porsche on the highway to take his turn on the hamster wheel with the rest of the city.
As a very expensive defense attorney for a huge, cutthroat law firm in Seattle, where winning cases at all costs had been
the bottom line, he’d gone by his given name, Jackson Cullen III.
It’d been comfortable enough, given that he’d been raised by a man with the same philosophy as his firm. Jax had spent his
days doing his thing in court, schmoozingwith the other partners in the law firm, and in general sucking the very soul from himself and others. And then repeating
the entire thing all over again the next day.
He no longer owned the snooty condo, fancy Porsche, or even a single suit, for that matter, and he was five long years out
of the practice of schmoozing anyone.
But he was still working on recovering his soul.
Just being back in Lucky Harbor helped. It was a slower, simpler lifestyle, one he’d chosen purposely. He’d gone back to his
first love, rebuilding and restoration, while trying to help people instead of acquit them.
Until yesterday anyway, when for the first time in far too long, he’d actually felt something real. He’d felt it with shocking
depth for a curly-haired, endearingly adorable klutz, a woman with unconscious warmth and an innate sexiness, and a set of
sweet, haunted eyes.
Devastating
combo.
He pulled on his running gear and nudged Izzy, his two-year-old mutt. She was part brown lab, part possum, and proved her
heritage by cracking open a single eye with a look that said
Dude, chill.
“You’re coming,” he said.
She closed her eye.
“Come on, you’re getting a pudge.”
She farted.
He shook his head, then dumped her out of her dog bed, no easy feat since she weighed seventy-five pounds.
They ran their usual three miles along the beach. Well, Jax ran. Izzy sauntered a hundred yards or so, then slowed, dragging
her feet in the sand until she found a pelican to pester. Then, apparently exhausted from thateffort, she plopped down and refused to go another step until Jax roused her on his return.
He entered his house through the back door and stepped into his office. Surprised to see a blinking light on his machine at
seven in the morning, he hit play, then realized it was a call
an answering machine, and it says they have a master carpenter on staff. A
master!
”
“She’s drunk dialing contractors,” Chloe said to Tara. “Someone should stop her.”
“Shh.” Maddie closed her eyes as she listened to a deep, masculine voice instructing her to leave a message. “Hi,” she said
at the beep. “Potential new client here, looking for a master—er, renovation expert. We’re atLucky Harbor Resort, at the end of Lucky Harbor Road, you can’t miss us. Oh, and we’re in desperate need of mastering. You’re
probably busy, seeing as you’re the only master in town, but we’re short on time. Like
really
short on time. In fact, we’re sort of desperate—” She broke off and covered the mouthpiece because Tara was in her face,
waving wildly. “
What?
”
“You said
desperate
twice. You can’t tell him that—he’ll raise his price! And what the hell is your fixation on being mastered?”
Maddie rolled her eyes—which made her dizzy—and uncovered the mouthpiece. “Okay, forget the desperate thing. We’re not desperate.
Hell, we could do the work ourselves, if we wanted. So come or don’t come, no worries.” She paused, turned her back on her
sisters, and lowered her voice to speak extra softly. “
But please come first thing in the morning!
” And then she quickly ended the conversation and smiled innocently at Tara.
“Stealth,” Chloe said with a thumbs-up. “Real stealth.”
As always, Jax got up with the sun. Apparently, some habits were hard to break. Once upon a time, he’d have hit the gym and
downed a Starbucks while racing his Porsche on the highway to take his turn on the hamster wheel with the rest of the city.
As a very expensive defense attorney for a huge, cutthroat law firm in Seattle, where winning cases at all costs had been
the bottom line, he’d gone by his given name, Jackson Cullen III.
It’d been comfortable enough, given that he’d been raised by a man with the same philosophy as his firm. Jax had spent his
days doing his thing in court, schmoozingwith the other partners in the law firm, and in general sucking the very soul from himself and others. And then repeating
the entire thing all over again the next day.
He no longer owned the snooty condo, fancy Porsche, or even a single suit, for that matter, and he was five long years out
of the practice of schmoozing anyone.
But he was still working on recovering his soul.
Just being back in Lucky Harbor helped. It was a slower, simpler lifestyle, one he’d chosen purposely. He’d gone back to his
first love, rebuilding and restoration, while trying to help people instead of acquit them.
Until yesterday anyway, when for the first time in far too long, he’d actually felt something real. He’d felt it with shocking
depth for a curly-haired, endearingly adorable klutz, a woman with unconscious warmth and an innate sexiness, and a set of
sweet, haunted eyes.
Devastating
combo.
He pulled on his running gear and nudged Izzy, his two-year-old mutt. She was part brown lab, part possum, and proved her
heritage by cracking open a single eye with a look that said
Dude, chill.
“You’re coming,” he said.
She closed her eye.
“Come on, you’re getting a pudge.”
She farted.
He shook his head, then dumped her out of her dog bed, no easy feat since she weighed seventy-five pounds.
They ran their usual three miles along the beach. Well, Jax ran. Izzy sauntered a hundred yards or so, then slowed, dragging
her feet in the sand until she found a pelican to pester. Then, apparently exhausted from thateffort, she plopped down and refused to go another step until Jax roused her on his return.
He entered his house through the back door and stepped into his office. Surprised to see a blinking light on his machine at
seven in the morning, he hit play, then realized it was a call
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