Shep Bennett would do anything for his daughter...
Even fall in love!
Shep Bennett’s as smooth as they come...except when it comes to his new daughter. Paige Harper has the magic touch with the traumatized toddler, so she strikes a bargain. She’ll care for Rosie, if Shep will let her run the inn he bought out from under her family. But will Paige be able to keep her heart out of the deal?
“Here’s the deal. I’ll agree to one month as Rosie’s nanny. In that time, I’ll interview, hire and train my permanent replacement.”
Shep’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened like she’d just stripped down naked. Scratch that. No man had ever reacted with such obvious yearning to her body.
“In return,” Paige continued, “you’ll agree not to bulldoze The Bumblebee after you purchase it and I’ll be able to run it as an inn, at least through Christmas. If I’m successful, the revenue will give me enough money to buy the house from you.” She held up a finger when he opened his mouth to respond. “At the same price you bought it from my mother. Those are my terms. Agree or no deal.”
As Shep stood, she backed up a step, her legs hitting the edge of the coffee table. He reached out a hand to steady her, and it felt like being touched by an open flame. Jerking away from his hold, she forced herself to meet his gaze. Despite her heated cheeks, she lifted her chin, unwilling to acknowledge the way he affected her.
“Deal,” he said softly, sweeping aside a loose piece of her hair...
* * *
CRIMSON, COLORADO:
Finding home—and forever!—in the West
Dear Reader,
I’m so excited to bring you Shep and Paige’s story. These two characters were introduced in Coming Home to Crimson, and upon that book’s release, I received so many messages asking about Paige and Shep and his adorable daughter, Rosie. It was exciting to know that they touched readers in the same way that they did me.
At its heart, Anything for His Baby is a book about second chances and finding the place you belong in the world. Paige and Shep aren’t an obvious match when they first meet but end up being exactly what the other needs to make their hearts whole. This was a really fun and sweet story to write and I hope you love it!
Please let me know what you think. You can find me on Facebook or at www.michellemajor.com or email me at [email protected].
Happy reading and big hugs!
Michelle
Anything for His Baby
Michelle Major
Michelle Major grew up in Ohio but dreamed of living in the mountains. Soon after graduating with a degree in journalism, she pointed her car west and settled in Colorado. Her life and house are filled with one great husband, two beautiful kids, a few furry pets and several well-behaved reptiles. She’s grateful to have found her passion writing stories with happy endings. Michelle loves to hear from her readers at michellemajor.com.
Books by Michelle Major
Harlequin Special Edition
Maggie & Griffin
Falling for the Wrong Brother
Second Chance in Stonecreek
A Stonecreek Christmas Reunion
Crimson, Colorado
A Baby and a Betrothal
Always the Best Man
Christmas on Crimson Mountain
Romancing the Wallflower
Sleigh Bells in Crimson
Coming Home to Crimson
The Fortunes of Texas: The Rulebreakers
Her Soldier of Fortune
The Fortunes of Texas: The Lost Fortunes
A Deal Made in Texas
Visit the Author Profile page at www.Harlequin.com for more titles.
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To the Crimson, Colorado readers. Thank you
for making my little Colorado town part of your life.
I’m honored and blessed. XO
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Baby Arrangement by Tara Taylor Quinn
Chapter One
Paige Harper punched the heel of her hand into the bread dough she was working as the doorbell rang for the third time.
“Still ignoring it,” she muttered under her breath.
She turned the dough, stretched it against the counter then reached out and hit the volume button on the portable speaker at the edge of her work space. Barry Manilow’s rich voice filled the space, drowning out all other noise. Even the chatter in Paige’s head.
She continued the rhythmic kneading, flouring her hands when they began to feel tacky. Bread was new for her, and she loved the intensity of working the dough, the strength it took to mold it into a smooth ball.
Closing her eyes, she hummed along with the music as Barry sang about long, rocky beaches.
Just as the song came to its crescendo, Paige felt a tap on her shoulder. In the space of a few minutes, she’d become so wrapped up in the motions and the music, she’d forgotten about the world outside her kitchen.
Which was why the man standing behind her scared the living daylights out of her. She screamed and hurled the hunk of bread dough at him. Unprepared for the assault, he let out an oof as it hit his stomach then dropped and landed with a thunk on the wide-plank floor.
Paige grabbed her phone, turning off the music and plunging the kitchen into a sharp silence.
She and Shep Bennett stared at each other for several seconds then simultaneously glanced down at the sad lump of dough on the floor.
“What are you doing in my house?” she demanded. “You’re lucky I was making bread and not polishing the barrel of my Glock.”
“You own a Glock?” Shep asked, his full lips struggling not to pull into a smile. “I find that hard to believe.”
Okay, the truth was she’d never held any kind of gun, Glock or otherwise. She’d heard the term used on the Law & Order spin-offs she’d binge-watched this week. She’d made it to season six out of approximately three hundred and fifty and knew way more about police procedures than any civilian had a right to. Not that she was going to admit that to Shep.
“You’re still trespassing,” she said through clenched teeth, ignoring the spark of heat that raced along her skin as Shep gave her an appraising once-over.
The perusal didn’t take long as there wasn’t much of her to see. Five feet two inches tall with slim hips and very little in the way of curves anywhere else. Paige wasn’t a woman who’d normally attract the attention of a drop-dead gorgeous man like Shep, with his lean, muscled build and tousled dark hair. Not to mention those whiskey-colored eyes. She wasn’t looking to attract his attention anyway. Shep Bennett would clearly be a handful, and she had too much on her plate already.
“He’s here with me,” a voice said from the back door and Paige dragged her gaze away from Shep.
Lorena Jones, the thirtysomething real estate agent Paige’s mo
ther had hired without bothering to mention it to Paige, walked into the kitchen, frowning as she took in the state of the room. “I left you three messages about a final walk-through today,” she said, her glossy mouth pulling down at the corners.
“I didn’t get them,” Paige mumbled.
“Liar,” Shep whispered under his breath then winked, like this was some kind of game.
It wasn’t a game for Paige. This was her life, and Shep was well on his way to ruining it.
“Have you scheduled movers?” Lorena continued as if Paige hadn’t spoken. “Your mother told me—”
“She’s not going to sell the house,” Paige blurted. “She changed her mind.”
Lorena crossed her arms over her chest. Her ample chest, Paige couldn’t help but notice. It was difficult to ignore those assets, encased in a dark gray bandage dress more appropriate for a big-city nightclub than a Tuesday morning in Crimson, Colorado. “I spoke with her on the way here,” Lorena countered. “She didn’t mention that to me.”
Paige glanced at Shep, expecting to see him ogling Lorena. Most men would, but his gaze was still trained on Paige, his head inclined like he was trying to riddle out some sort of puzzle. Not having anything to do with her, she guessed. She had no secrets.
“She probably doesn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Paige lied. Her mother would cut someone off at the knees if it served her purpose. “She appreciates the work you’ve done so far.”
Lorena sniffed, fluffing her wavy blond hair. “I’ve barely done a thing since you wouldn’t give us access to the house.”
“Because I’m not leaving.” Paige congratulated herself that her voice didn’t waver. She said the words strong and sure, the way she’d been practicing in the bathroom mirror every night this week.
“The closing is set for this week,” Lorena reported tartly. “All that’s left is to complete the terms of the financing. Shepherd is going to take possession, so you’ll need to have your personal belongings out of here. You’re under a time crunch, but you have to manage it, Paige. Obviously, the furniture stays since your mother made the sale of it part of the contract.”
“She did what?” Now Paige couldn’t keep the emotion from her voice.
“Take anything that has special meaning to you,” Shep said gently—far too gently—like she was a fragile piece of china. That wasn’t his personality. Although Paige didn’t really know the man, she’d bet her life that gentle didn’t come naturally to him. The fact that he could manage it for her made her feel more pathetic.
“This house has meaning to me.” She jabbed a finger against the counter. “It’s my home. My business.”
“You haven’t even officially opened,” Lorena pointed out, none too helpfully.
“I’m aware of that.” Paige turned toward the counter, gripped the edge and looked down at her flour-coated hands, swallowing back the tears that rose up hot in her throat. The plan had been for The Bumblebee Bed-and-Breakfast to be operational by now. If the plans for renovations and her budget had stayed on track, the inn would be filled with guests for the busy Rocky Mountain summer tourist season.
But nothing had gone quite according to plan for Paige, not for years. She wasn’t supposed to be pushing thirty alone, with only a ramshackle house to her name. No, not even that. Her grandmother had left the beloved Victorian to her only daughter when she’d died a year ago.
It still hurt that Nana had left the inn to Paige’s mother when Paige had always loved the property, but that emotional slight didn’t stop her from wanting to continue her grandmother’s legacy in Crimson.
Susan Harper had wanted to sell the property at that point, but Paige had convinced her to let her move in and begin renovations to once again open as an inn. She just needed a little more time and she’d be ready for guests. Ready for the income that would allow her to purchase the house from her mother and truly make it hers. She could make something of it. Of herself.
“I need more time,” she said, turning around and schooling her features. She wouldn’t let either of these people see how truly desperate she was.
“Could you give us a minute?” Shep asked the Realtor, who flashed him a sickeningly sweet smile. Paige had seen Lorena’s face on shopping carts, billboards and bus-stop benches around town. She was Crimson, Colorado’s top Realtor according to her ads.
“That’s fine.” Lorena walked forward, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Who wore heels in Crimson anyway? Lorena placed a hand on Shep’s arm, an almost proprietary gesture. Paige wondered if the two were an item. It wouldn’t surprise her.
Shep Bennett was new to Crimson. His company had recently purchased the ski resort that sat adjacent to Nana’s house and renovations were underway that would allow him to reopen in time for the upcoming winter season. That made Shep a hot commodity in town, and Lorena seemed the type to want a powerful man at her side.
“I need to measure the bedrooms upstairs.” She arched a brow in Paige’s direction. “I assume that’s okay with you.”
“Fine.”
Lorena left the room, hips swaying as she moved. If Paige tried to swing her hips that way it would probably look like she was being electrocuted.
“You have awful taste in music,” Shep said conversationally as he bent to pick up the dough from the floor. “And you couldn’t carry a tune out of a paper bag. I swear I heard neighborhood dogs yowling along.”
“My nana used to listen to Barry Manilow.” She took the dough he handed her, dumped it into the trash, then grabbed a wad of paper towels from the roll on the counter and flipped on the faucet. “He’s a musical god and it helps me concentrate when I’m baking.”
“It makes me want to concentrate on finding a decent set of earplugs.”
Paige wet the paper towels then wrung out the excess water. It was all she could do not to fling them at Shep. First he made her ruin her bread dough and now he was going to stand in her kitchen and insult her musical taste.
Her kitchen. The place where she was happiest in the world. And Shepherd Bennett was taking it from her.
Jerk.
He walked to the far side of the kitchen, taking in the oak cabinets, which Paige had painted a cheery yellow, and the row of antique plates she’d hung on one wall. “This is the first time I’ve actually been in the house.”
She dropped to her knees and scrubbed the floor. It would be easier to clean up the dough splatter before it dried completely. “What kind of idiot tries to buy a house he hasn’t even seen?”
“This kind of idiot,” he said, the scuffed toes of his work boots directly in front of her. “And I didn’t try to do anything. You know I close on this place this week.”
“Not if I can help it,” she muttered.
“You can’t.” All the gentleness had disappeared from his tone. He stated a fact, and her body burned with anger at the certainty in his voice. “I don’t care about the house. I wanted the land.”
She stilled, staring down at her hands splayed out on the cherry floors, the veins that ran across the tops of her hands faint and blue. Paige might be petite and delicate looking to some, but she had sturdy hands. Hands like her grandmother.
“This property will give secondary access to the ski mountain and allow us to create a Nordic ski trail plus a new terrain park. We’ll bulldoze the house before the end of summer. I’ll give you a couple of weeks to move out if you need it.”
Paige felt her mouth drop open. Blood roared through her head, making her feel at once dizzy and nauseous. “No,” she whispered.
“The furniture was your mom’s idea. I think she threw it in to save the trouble of having to move everything. She claims it’s mostly old junk.”
Paige sat back on the balls of her feet and looked up, past the jeans that hung low on Shep’s hips and the crisp button-down he wore, smudged with stains from the dough she’d throw
n at him.
“I hate you,” she said clearly and Shep’s mouth curved up on one side, as if he’d expected the words. Been waiting for them even.
“Sooner or later I have that effect on most women.”
“Shocker.”
“I know, right?” He flashed a full smile, the kind that had certainly melted the panties of dozens of ladies over the years. Probably hundreds. Maybe thousands. Shep looked like the type to melt the undergarments of anyone carrying two X chromosomes. A moment later that smile disappeared, and he was all business. “You can’t stop this.”
“I can try.” She straightened. “I’ll call my mom again.”
He shook his head. “Your mother won’t change her mind, and if she considers it I’ll up the offer. I always get my way.” He shrugged. “It’s not personal.”
Not personal? This house—reopening the bed-and-breakfast that had meant so much to her grandmother—was all Paige had in life. She’d come here every summer from the time she was ten years old, tapped to help her grandma manage the small inn. The only time she’d stayed in Denver was between her sophomore and junior years of high school when her weekly chemo treatments had prevented her from being away from home.
But the following summer Nana had insisted she return, even though Paige still felt like she needed more care than she’d be able to give. Nana had put her to work, easy tasks until she began to regain her strength. Began to believe she might fully recover from the cancer that had changed everything in her world.
Paige could not see this house demolished. It represented too much to her.
“Maybe I should talk to Cole about whether your arrival in Crimson is personal,” she said with a composure she didn’t feel.
Shep’s head snapped back like she’d hit him. For a moment she could see past the mask of either the hard-nosed businessman or incorrigible flirt. For a moment she saw his soft underbelly exposed and it was too much, too familiar. Shep Bennett was the enemy, and she couldn’t afford to forget that for a moment.
“Wait. I remember you.” His eyes widened and he took a step closer to her, once again the smooth-talking scoundrel. “The toddler whisperer,” he murmured almost more to himself than her.
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