From the Moment We Met

by Adair, Marina

  Why?

  Because the thought of walking away from her made him sick. He’d done it before and it had nearly destroyed him.

  “It was either that or you were calling me from the bathtub. Either way, I would be more than happy to lend a hand. Or both, as the project requires. Although, I have to tell you that I am partial to bath salts, but I can deal with the standard bubbles.”

  He could practically hear her rolling her eyes through the phone. “The leak is in the garage.”

  Leak my ass. He could hear the steady stream of water pooling on the floor. It sounded like a set of sprinklers blasting the inside of her garage. “First thing, you need to turn the water off—”

  “I’m not a complete idiot, Jack,” she defended.

  “At the main?” There was silence, then he heard sloshing through the water, the garage door open and shut, and a couple of rusty squeaks. “Good girl, now can you see where the leak is?”

  “Hang on.” More sloshing. “Yeah, it’s right above the new washing machine.”

  “Who installed it?”

  “I did.” Oh boy. “Followed the directions to a tee.” He dropped his head back against the wall so hard it vibrated, because Abby and directions never mixed well. “Anyway, I called three plumbers, but no one is answering and there is so much water I’m afraid my car is going to float away.” Her voice shook a little and damn if that didn’t make his chest pinch. “I don’t want to eat crow on this with my brothers, and I only have today and tomorrow to finish my designs so I can submit them to Babs on Friday. I’m already looking at pulling an all-nighter and well . . . you’re my last hope.”

  Ignoring the odd feeling in his chest at being the last pick for Team Abby, which was incredibly difficult to do, he pushed off the wall and headed back toward the table to grab his keys. “Make sure that the water valve is completely shut off, and I will be there in a few minutes.”

  “What? No! I didn’t mean you. I was just calling to stealthily get the number of a plumber you’ve worked with before. One who might be able to squeeze me in and keep his mouth shut.”

  “I know the perfect guy, and all-nighters are his specialties. He’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Tanner ended the call before she could argue and—dropping a few bills down to cover his beer—really looked at the group of men who were starting to piss him off. Too bad they didn’t know the Abby he knew, the real Abby. Because if they did, they never would have thought she would be okay with getting a job she didn’t earn—career changing or not.

  “I gotta go.” He picked up his keys and headed for the door.

  “Go?” Colin barked. “What the hell, man? Ferris should be here any minute.”

  “Tell him something urgent came up. He’ll understand.” Tanner got as far as the next table when he turned back around. “And since you all seemed to have forgotten, let me remind you—Abby is one of the most talented designers in the area. Period. Her work speaks for itself.” He leveled Colin with a glare. “If you pass on her, that’s your problem. Either way, I don’t do renovations, and I don’t,” he looked at the whole table, “sell my friends short.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Ten minutes later, Abby was considering building herself an ark. The water had risen high enough to make galoshes a necessity. And even though she was standing on the dryer, she still couldn’t reach the cracked pipe, which was leaking in a steady stream.

  Still, she had a more pressing problem. She’d called Tanner. The same Tanner who had invaded her dreams as of late. Something she blamed on hormones and a depressing lack of orgasms that didn’t require batteries.

  Her fault, of course. After Richard, she hadn’t had the heart to put herself out there, so she’d used her marriage as a dividing line between her and, well, everyone else. Especially men. Only Jack Tanner, male incarnate and man who went the distance daily, made his fortune breaking through even the toughest defensive lines.

  And if she wasn’t careful, she’d let him break through hers. And then break her heart all over again.

  A determined pounding sounded over the loud gushing of water, and Abby headed for the front door. She trudged across the garage, through the kitchen, and into the front room, muttering a few choice words when she saw the forest of lingerie. Afraid that using her dryer would be like dropping a hair dryer into a full bathtub, not to mention she’d installed that too, Abby had opted to hang dry her laundry—down the banister.

  Not the smartest choice, seeing as she was expecting company and it looked like an orchard of panties and bras, their straps swaying in the wind of the ceiling fan.

  Before Abby could dispose of them, the doorbell went off. Clipped and impatient. She tiptoed toward the front window, pulled the shades open a tad, and peered through—to find Tanner on the other side of the glass.

  Not at the front door, but at the window, as though he’d anticipated she’d chicken out. Their gazes met and she felt herself tingle. He stood there, toolbox in hand, looking cool, collected, and oh so capable.

  Damn him.

  His dark blond hair was tousled, as though he’d had on a hat earlier and decided at the last minute to leave it in the truck. He was dressed in a pair of dusty work boots, well-worn jeans, and a soft gray T-shirt that was stretched to capacity, leaving no doubt as to just how many two-by-fours he lifted a day.

  The part that had her going all breathy was the tool belt riding low on his lean hips, which read, SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. The OR I’LL DO IT AGAIN UNTIL YOU’RE SMILING was merely implied.

  Yup, Jack Tanner looked like your basic sexy contractor for hire—and she wanted him for more than just his pipe work.

  “You going to let me in?” he asked, holding up a business card between his fingers. “I brought you the card of a good plumber.”

  She squinted through the glass. “That’s your card.”

  “Yup, best in the county. I can provide references.”

  She just bet he could. Hard Hammer Tanner was the contractor of choice for the women of wine country. One look at his SATISFACTION GUARANTEED belt and generously endowed work boots, and anyone with double-X chromosomes would be lining up to talk about his tools. And Abby had had enough experience with tools, specifically his, to know that letting him inside would be a bad move.

  Her banister of panties was already waving in surrender, which was why she said, “Never mind, I got it handled.”

  “We can do this all night long, darling. Although . . .” He looked toward her driveway, then back to her, and let out a smile that was 100 percent trouble. “I can already see the water coming out the bottom of the garage door. And last I heard, you had to have approval for a water feature to be in Good Neighbor Code compliance.” She didn’t budge, except to check that the lock was bolted. “You can either unlock the door or I’ll pick it. Either way, I’m coming in.”

  “You do and Nora will have the sheriff here in no time. She’s got him on speed dial.”

  With that she crossed her arms in her most intimidating stance and waited for him to open his tool box and try to pick her lock. Instead, he flashed her a killer smile, pulled her spare key out from under the flowerpot, opened the door, and stepped into her house.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, taking in the new décor. Then he turned to face her, taking her in, and his lips curved up at the corners. “Colorful.”

  “I’m not hiring you, Jack,” she clarified, because the last thing she needed right then was more time alone with him.

  Tanner was charming and funny, and made her feel things she shouldn’t. Not for him. The only thing they ever managed to successfully accomplish was disappointing each other. In fact, they were two for two in that department, and she was older now, wiser, and knew that giving in to the heat between them would be a mistake.

  She was done with mistakes.

  “Y
ou said you needed a look under your hood, here I am,” he said casually, making himself right at home, sifting through the sketches and samples she had collected for the Pungent Barrel proposal, which she’d forgotten to hide.

  “They’re not done yet,” she said, wanting to smack herself for how desperate she sounded.

  He looked up at her through his brows. “You want to keep the existing conveyer belts?” he asked right as something large and solid got caught in the ever-growing current in her garage and slammed into what sounded like her car.

  “You want to talk about my designs? Right now?” Another loud thunk echoed down the hallway. “Maybe we should call that plumber.”

  “In a minute,” was his only reply, then he turned the sketch sideways. “It looks like you want to turn the conveyer belts into counters.”

  “Well, use them as the foundation,” she said, looking over her shoulder toward the garage. No sign of water above the door’s threshold—thank God. “They’ll have to be lifted and resurfaced, but I think that utilizing as much of the original structure as possible will make the space unique, attract a different clientele than just your average cheese and wine connoisseurs.”

  It would also add an edginess to the normal cheese and wine tasting experience that no one else in the valley had.

  “The other designers had it scheduled to be ripped out,” Tanner said, talking over the low and steady rush of water.

  She glanced toward the garage door again. “Jack, should we . . . ?”

  Mr. Contractor didn’t so much as bat an eye, just kept studying her designs, so Abby sighed and figured, what was another few hundred gallons? “The other designers didn’t take the time to understand the space as a whole, which is a shame if you ask me. See the way the conveyer belt snakes its way through the space? At first glance it seems random. But if they had really looked at it they’d see that the design was purposeful. Exact. It is the perfect way to divide such a large space and make it approachable. It also maintains the historical integrity of the building.”

  When he didn’t say a word, just kept staring at her, she felt a rush of insecurity come back. Whenever she’d pushed for restoration over demolition, Richard had warned that, while unique seemed romantic on paper, it often came across as naïveté disguised as taste. So she felt compelled to add, “New isn’t always better. Sometimes it’s just new.”

  “Huh,” was all he said, continuing to flip through until he got to the preliminary drawing, where he stopped—right along with her heart as she watched him pick it up, his intense blue gaze meeting hers over the papers before it returned to meticulously study the designs.

  To everyone else, they would look like a jumble of ideas and fabric swatches, but she had put her heart into this job. That proposal was her on paper, right there for anyone to see if they knew what to look for. And Tanner was looking, all right. Taking in every sleek line, every bold design choice, even the bit of whimsy hidden beneath the sophistication. And suddenly she was terrified of what he’d see.

  Despite the panic bubbling inside, Abby straightened, bracing herself for his reaction. She’d been dying to get a second opinion, a fresh set of eyes to make sure she wasn’t missing something, that her ideas were as amazing as her gut told her they were. That Richard was wrong and she had a knack for finding beauty in the forgotten.

  But a small part of her feared that Richard was right. Tanner was shrewd, knew the client, had a natural eye for spotting talent. He also had a natural eye for sifting out crap. And that scared her because his approval would mean everything. More than everything. His rejection would crush her. Which was why she hadn’t taken him up on his offer and called earlier.

  But he was here now and apparently had seen enough, because he gave a definitive nod with some kind of grunt that, damn him, was impossible to translate.

  “Well?” she asked when he just stared at her. “What do you think?”

  “I think we should go outside so I can carefully inspect each and every one of your pipes.” Although his eyes weren’t looking at her busted pipes—they were too busy studying her bare legs.

  Wishing like hell she had on something other than ladybug galoshes, a pair of ratty old cutoffs, and a white T-shirt that was thin enough to advertise that all of her bras were currently drying, Abby weighed her options, then gave in.

  Sort of.

  She needed a plumber and Tanner had a black book that rivaled Donald Trump’s when it came to the construction professionals. Maybe he could patch it enough to last until Friday—after her meeting with Babs.

  Plus, needing his opinion was pathetic enough. His knowing it was not going to happen.

  “Fine, you can look at my pipes, give me an idea of what I’m looking at,” she said, snatching her papers back. “Then you can recommend someone I can call to fix it.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “That someone being not you.”

  Without another word, she strode toward the garage and trudged to the washer, not bothering to see if he’d follow.

  Never one to be rushed for anything, Tanner took his sweet time, coming to a stop at the threshold of the garage and eyeing the pool of water. With a grimace he stepped down, the water line coming midway up his work boots. Unaffected and swagger in full effect, he moseyed over, pulled out the washer, and inspected Abby’s snazzy install job.

  Abby leaned over the machine to have a look-see, only the movement caused her shirt to gape at the neckline, and Tanner gave her a look so innately male her nipples perked up at the attention.

  “I’ll just give you some space,” she took a small step—in the opposite direction, “and stand over here.”

  But Tanner wasn’t listening. He was too busy hopping that fine ass of his up on the washer to look at the damage.

  What he was looking for, Abby had no idea, but based on the fierce concentration going on she figured he didn’t like what he found. Not to mention the low whistle he gave sounded way too expensive for her checkbook. Between keeping her design firm afloat and buying this house a few months ago, the closet remodels and piano lessons weren’t cutting it.

  Bottom line, Abby was strapped for cash. And going to her family was not an option.

  Unable to help herself, she walked back over, careful to give him enough space to work, and assessed the damage. Since she had no idea what to look for, she resigned herself to assessing the squeeze factor of his butt. It came in at a tantalizing ten. “Is it bad?”

  “Not sure yet.”

  Eyes firmly on the pipe, he grabbed a wrench and fiddled with the joint. Two twists later and a loud creak echoed throughout the garage, followed by a geyser of water that hit Tanner straight in the chest.

  “Oh my God.” Abby jumped back, hands shielding her face. “I don’t know why it did that. I turned it off like you said. Well, I turned it as far as I could. It was kind of rusted in place.”

  Tanner didn’t say a word, didn’t even try to lecture her about how she should have hired a professional. He just quickly retightened the joint and hopped down with the grace of the former football stud he was, all that yummy Capable Man oozing from his pores.

  “Do you think it’s a one-pipe-being-a-jerk kind of thing or more of a major project?”

  “I have a replacement pipe in the truck that should do the trick,” he said, and she could tell he was trying really hard to look her in the eye. A fact that became obvious when his gaze slipped to her chest and he cleared his throat. Which was fair, since her gaze was doing some gawking of its own. Needless to say, it wouldn’t have escaped anyone’s attention that they both looked like candidates for a wet-T-shirt contest.

  He finally peeled his gaze back to her eyes and held up a silencing hand. “And before you remind me that I’m not on your approved list of plumbers, know that you can either let me get to work or start fluffing up the guest pillows, beca
use I’m not leaving until you have water. So, what’s it going to be, Abs? Should I grab my overnight bag from the car?”

  She knew from his tone that he wasn’t backing down. He would dig in deep, fight her on this, and in the end he’d win. Because she needed running water, and he was her only hope. Plus, Tanner, for all of his laid-back charm, was one of the most determined people Abby knew. Stubborn too. And sexy as hell when he was shoving all of that protective swagger her way.

  She threw her hands up in defeat. “Fine. Just give me a rough estimate. What are we looking at?”

  His eyes softened, but nothing else did as he stepped into her space. He was all hard lines and stubborn attitude. He stood so close that all she’d have to do was raise up on her toes and they’d be kissing.

  “I don’t want your money, Abs.”

  “If you do the work, you get paid. It’s only fair.”

  “We’re friends,” he said very softly. “That’s what friends do. They help each other out.”

  “You’re friends with my brothers and you charge them.”

  “I charge your brothers because they bug the shit out of me.” Tanner smiled wickedly, his gaze skating over her like a caress. “And your brothers aren’t nearly as much fun to look at.”

  They both took in her current state of dress and she laughed. “You mean funny looking.”

  He flashed a single, devastating dimple her way. “Sexy is sexy, darling. You could be in cleats, a jersey, and full football pads and you’d turn heads. In fact, that sounds like one of my fantasies.” He winked. “You got a jersey? If not, I have one I can lend you. It even has authentic Super Bowl dirt on it.”

  “How do I know it’s Super Bowl dirt?”

  “Matches the ring.” He held up his hand and flashed the giant nugget of athletic domination her way.

  She shrugged. “I already have a jersey.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.” Abby hid a smile when his eyes went all hot. “It’s navy and bright green and has a cute little Seahawk on it. Right here,” she lied, tracing a circle over her chest.