Sweet but Sexy Boxed Set

by Maddie James

  She worked hard at her art. Numbers, however, were clearly not her thing. Starting immediately, she didn’t have money for any personal niceties. Health insurance for instance—she hadn’t had any for years. It was an expense she’d not been able to fit into a budget, if she’d had one. She had spent a lot on her little cabin, and now even more on the new place. As of this moment, extras like food and clothing were iffy. Well, she had clothes. Most of the time she wore cruddy stuff anyway because everything ended up with paint on it. And she had food, or at least some food. Probably some cereal and some cans of soup and beans. Part of a half gallon of milk...

  It would all work out somehow, though—it had to. This was her big chance, and nothing was going to get in the way. She’d do everything she possibly could to make this a success. She wanted to do a couple more paintings for the opening. She’d saved some huge canvases for a special project, and this was definitely it. She also needed to spend a lot of time on her new art, because although the main attraction would be on her paintings of the mountains, she wanted people to see her little towns—both of them. Not only did she want the art community and their money to visit the beautiful little town of Legend, surrounded by the mountains’ natural beauty, but she wanted them to fall in love with her other little town. Walking to the kitchen counter, Chloe removed the dishtowel she’d thrown there a few minutes ago and picked up a two-inch representation of her cousin Mike McClain. She hadn’t painted his face yet, but had captured his longish brown hair, strong build, his ever-present pocket t-shirt and jeans with a carpenter’s square sticking out of a pocket in the leg. Yes, it would look just like him when it was finished. She set the tiny figure down next to another, a bit shorter. Betsy. Chloe leaned over and looked into its diminutive face. Just right. And the cloud of golden-blonde hair had come out perfectly. Her eyes shifted slightly right, and she narrowed them at an even smaller figure—Mike and Betsy’s daughter, LizBeth Ann. Now she had been a challenge. Less than an inch tall. It was a good thing Chloe had started this project while she was still relatively young, and had strong eyes. In a few days, she’d have the whole McClain clan finished, and could move on to other Legendarians.

  Chloe thought back to the morning a couple of months ago when Betsy had arrived early to pick up LizBeth Ann after a “sleep-over.” The preschooler had still been slumbering, Betsy had some extra time, and Chloe was about to burst with excitement. She led Betsy into the kitchen.

  “I want you to look at this and tell me what you think. Be completely honest with me. Seriously. I don’t want you to be kind—”

  “Oh my gosh! Midnight!” Betsy gingerly picked up the tiny figure of Midnight Shelby McClain and examined it. “Chloe, this is amazing! When did you start doing this kind of work?”

  Chloe felt her face grow warm. That wasn’t fake encouragement. Yes!

  “Actually, last night. After LizBeth Ann collapsed around eight o’clock.” She watched as Betsy carefully set the tiny Midnight back onto the kitchen counter. “We spent most of the evening playing with dolls. Hers that she brought, of course, and then—I want you to know I watched her really carefully so she wouldn’t swallow anything—um... I brought out a box of my old dolls. Little ones that I’d always loved as a child because I could drop one in each pocket and take them with me. Something about little bitty dolls always intrigued me. Like they could come to life and be my tiny friends.” She pulled a pained face. “I know. Strange. I started young on my weirdness, I guess.”

  Betsy laughed and shook her head, setting her long blonde curls into motion. “Yeah. I worry so much about how weird you are, Chloe. That’s why I trust you with my daughter.” Betsy helped herself to a mug from the cupboard and filled it at the coffee pot, generously dosing it with sugar. “So the little dolls were a hit with LizBeth Ann.”

  “She was entranced! She immediately named them all and started dividing them into families. One family lived on a couch cushion, one on the fireplace hearth, one under the rocking chair... It’s like she was finding dangerous homes for them.” Chloe laughed, remembering her fear that LizBeth Ann would somehow rock the chair onto her little arm. Chloe had been glued to the child all evening. “And as I watched her, I got the idea to make little families and houses, kind of like a fairy tale village. Then I realized—hey—I’ve got better than that. I’ve got Legend! I don’t even have to make it up. The models already exist.”

  By the time the gallery opened, she planned to have all the shopkeepers and the main buildings of town completed. She’d had success with the rendition of her little cabin—a very sentimental enterprise—but for some reason the old town hall wanted to cave in. She needed to conquer that and finish the buildings facing the east side of Main Street, beginning at Midnight Shelby McClain’s shop, The Emporium, another large edifice. Chloe grinned. Midnight, with her long, impossibly black hair, black eyes, and porcelain skin, was an artist’s dream. Midnight’s reaction when she saw the little figure had been priceless! So far, Chloe had told very few people of her new project, still unsure of her ability to succeed in the new medium. She’d never wanted to try to paint people, just stick with landscapes. But once she had started creating the tiny figures, she’d become constantly more excited about the new project. Which was one reason her show had to take place in Legend and nowhere else. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have the impact it needed to make.

  Except for college, Chloe had always lived in Legend and loved it dearly. It was the center of her life, and she wanted everyone to see how special it was.

  Then she would take orders and start building other people’s families, from photographs, and she’d have a lucrative business. Without a doubt, rich people would pay good money to have themselves and their homes memorialized in polyresin. Then there would be no more financial problems for Chloe. She could start putting money away for her old age.

  Not retirement—never that. Chloe had no intention of ever not making art. If she had to stop that, she’d just as soon stop breathing.

  Yes, she had a lot of work to do for all of this to happen when she opened the gallery September first. She didn’t mind working hard. She just hoped Greg Andrews felt the same way.

  Chapter Three

  Chloe was jarred from a deep, sound sleep by the sound of her cell phone. Groping to drag herself into consciousness, she pulled an arm out of the tangle of blankets and started to feel around on the side table for the stupid phone. Had she accidentally set the alarm to go off in the middle of the night? There was no light coming through the muslin bedroom curtains to indicate it was actually morning. She put her hand around the phone and struggled to focus on the screen. Not the alarm. She was getting a call and didn’t recognize the number. A prank call on her cell in the middle of the night? What next?

  “Um. Hello?”

  “This is Greg. You need to get down here, or I’ll break into this damned building. How do you expect me to do the job with no damned key to get in?” Click.

  Chloe stared at the phone. Greg? Building? Then her mind kicked into high gear and she jumped out of bed, threw on clothes, and ran out of the house. A few minutes later, her Jeep screeched to a stop near her building. She couldn’t park in front of it, because all manner of pickup trucks were parked along the front and in front of the two adjacent buildings. Several hunky construction workers were standing by the front door, drinking coffee from thermoses and looking restless as they muttered to each other.

  Chloe slid down from the seat of her Jeep Liberty, slammed the door, and stalked over to the group of men. Greg Andrews was in the center, and when she met his eyes, he stopped talking whatever trash he’d been saying. A couple of the guys stepped back, allowing Chloe access to their fearless leader.

  In spite of herself, her hand and voice shook a bit with the effort of controlling the anger that had begun as soon as he’d hung up on her. “Here’s the damned key to the damned building. Next time you take on a job, you might request a key prior to arriving at the front door to begin wor
k. And Mike?” She turned and caught her cousin’s stare. “Thanks for giving him my cell number.”

  His face reddened. “Sorry, Chloe. We needed into the building.”

  “I’m not kidding, Mike. Thanks. If you hadn’t done that, I imagine Mr. Macho Carpenter here would have come beating on my front door, and I might have accidentally shot him with that rifle Dad gave me for Christmas a couple years back. You may have saved a life today.”

  She turned on her heel and walked a few steps before facing the group again. “Guys, I really appreciate you—” she flicked a glance at Andrews “at least, most of you—doing this job. It’s a huge deal for the town, and me, but I know it’s a lot of work. I hope afterward you’ll feel like it’s been worthwhile.”

  The guys looked embarrassed and muttered encouraging things about being glad for the work and happy to help Chloe when she was in a bind. Only Greg Andrews remained silent, staring a hole through her forehead. Too bad Martin had said he was the only contractor in town who could do this job. She already hated the man.

  Driving away a couple of minutes later, she smiled, remembering her threat about the rifle. Wouldn’t be a bad thing for Mr. Andrews to reflect on that possibility from time to time. She wasn’t at all sure of him. Except for one thing—he started his day early. The clock on her radio told her it was now twenty minutes after five.

  ****

  “It’ll be fine,” said Betsy McClain softly as she walked down the street holding her young daughter’s hand. “You’ll see. They’ll bluster about it at first, but with LizBeth Ann there, they won’t say much. All the guys are in love with her.”

  Chloe hated the fact that she was hesitant to enter her own building alone with the crew there working. She was hiding behind Betsy and LizBeth Ann, and that fact rankled like crazy. Not that she minded talking to any of the guys. She knew them all. Had dated one of them in high school, and another was her brother Robert’s best friend. Their boss’s rotten attitude was changing her way of dealing with people, and she didn’t like it one bit.

  “You know, Betsy, this is silly. I can go in there. It’s my building, and basically they’re working for me.”

  “Chill out, Chloe. You’re not used to relying on anybody but yourself, and this has you feeling awkward. You don’t really need LizBeth Ann and me to run interference for you, but we’re glad to do it.”

  LizBeth Ann looked up at her mother, her blue eyes sparkling. “I run, Mommy?”

  Betsy looked down at the beautiful child. “Hm. Not just yet, sweetie. Later, in the park, you can run all over the place. Right now, you and I are doing a different kind of running for Chloe. Okay?”

  Blonde brows furrowed. “I not run?”

  “Oh, sweetie, life’s complicated, isn’t it? We’ll run at the park. In just a few minutes.” Betsy gave her daughter a brilliant smile, which seemed to appease the tiny girl. She looked up then and met Chloe’s gaze.

  “I run in the park. Fast!”

  “I bet you will, punkin.” Chloe squeezed her hand a bit. “We’ll go in and talk to your daddy and his friends for a minute. Did you see my big new building?”

  “I didn’t seed it. But my daddy says it’s a zaster.”

  “It’s a—what?”

  Betsy cringed. “Sorry about that, Chloe. Um, I think Mike was a little exhausted when he was talking about the job. The day they finished tearing out the walls and ceiling on the main floor, he said—uh—he said it’s—”

  “A zaster.” LizBeth Ann nodded her head solemnly, the movement of her golden blonde curls emphasizing the statement.

  Disaster. “Oh. I see.” And that was from her own cousin.

  “Renovation projects are like that, Chloe. You should have seen Charles and Dorothy’s library when Mike was just starting on it.”

  “A big mess. Daddy maked a big mess! But he cleaned it up. It’s okay, Chloe. My daddy cleans up his messes real good.”

  “He does at that.” Chloe remembered the mess Mike had made of his marriage to Betsy. In fact, it had been such a mess that Betsy had taken the infant LizBeth Ann away from Mike and away from Legend. Thank God Dorothy McClain had found a way to get Betsy and LizBeth Ann back to Legend—’temporarily.’ It had been just a matter of time before nature and love had taken over.

  Still, with the talk of disasters and messes, Chloe wondered what would greet her when she stepped into her building today.

  Well, at least there was no reason to be cautious about opening the door. It wasn’t closed. In fact, it was off its hinges, and lying on its side at the edge of the sidewalk, leaned up against the brick building. Anyone in Legend who was interested could easily see how the gallery project was going. To be succinct, it was a mess. Even a zaster.

  The sound of hammers, saws, and the colorful vocabulary of the men who wielded them was nearly deafening. The place smelled of fresh lumber, tinged with the odor of a hot blade zipping through wood. The floor was plain plywood; the walls were just studs. A new drywall ceiling was in place, though, high above. Chloe sighed. She loved the high ceilings of this place. That was one thing about old buildings that made them such wonderful gallery spaces. Mike was using a crowbar on a front window, but seeing them, set aside the heavy tool and strolled over.

  “Hey.” He leaned down and gave Betsy a long, lingering kiss, then knelt and placed a noisy smooch on his daughter’s cheek.

  “Daddy! You get me dirty!”

  “Trying not to, Princess. I am dirty, though. Sweaty, too.” He smiled wanly at Chloe. “Hey there, Boss Lady. This place sure gets warm when you’re workin’ your butt off.”

  “Hey Mike. I can see you’ve been working hard, but thanks for pointing out the obvious.”

  He winked. “No problem. So. What do you think of the place?”

  “I telled her it’s a zaster,” LizBeth Ann said helpfully.

  Mike had the grace to blush a little. “Did you now? Well, not as much of a zaster as it was a few days ago. I think it’s coming along pretty well.” He tapped his foot. “We’ve got a floor with no holes or even a sag. You could play marbles on this thing. The ash planks are on order.” He pointed upward. “New ceiling is primo and just needs some paint. Some of the windows arrived this morning, so we’re getting these old ones out. Dave’s pulled all the old wiring. Rewiring will be a major job. And the plumbing all had to go. So it’s not like we’re almost done, but we’re making good progress.”

  “Gee. You’re not almost done yet? It’s been over a week.” Chloe smiled and relaxed, glad for Mike’s summary. He understood construction, so if he thought it was going well, that meant a lot.

  “Mike! You ready for those windows yet?” The grating voice of Greg Andrews was closely followed by the man himself stomping down the stairs from what would eventually be her living quarters.

  “No, man. Not yet. Just a couple minutes and I think this one’ll be out, though. We have company.” Mike gestured down at LizBeth Ann, who was staring at Greg.

  “Oh. Yeah. Hey, LizBeth Ann. How are you doin’?”

  “Good,” she answered softly.

  He raised his eyes to Mike’s wife’s. “Betsy.”

  “Greg.”

  “Miz McClain.” A glare accompanied his cold tone.

  “Mr. Andrews.”

  “Dropping in to see how you’re spending your money?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Questions? Comments?”

  Was he daring her? Fine. “Are you on track to complete the project by the date we agreed upon?”

  “So far so good. As long as the materials arrive when we need them, we should be okay. The guys don’t mind working crazy long hours to satisfy the whims of an artist. Do you, guys?”

  Chloe hadn’t realized that the sounds of men and tools had stopped sometime during the awkward conversation. The guys stood where they’d been working, watching their boss try to stare her down.

  In answer to his question, there was a general muttering from the guys. Some of
them shook their heads no.

  Chloe took what she hoped was an obvious and exaggerated inventory of Andrews. From the top of his blonde head to his piercing green eyes, the strong almost chiseled features of his overly handsome face, taking in his broad shoulders encased in a faded blue chambray shirt that was sweat-stained, un-tucked, and unbuttoned. His chest and abdomen glistened with sweat, emphasizing the musculature that had been built not in a gym, but with plain hard work. The bleached-out, worn-out jeans molded to his body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. The tour ended with scuffed brown work boots. The appraisal, instead of making her feel in charge of the situation, made Chloe breathless. The man was obnoxious, but that sure didn’t keep him from being delicious looking. Despite a fear of what she might give away, she swept her gaze quickly back up to those green eyes.

  “So.” She gestured at his open shirt. “Are you trying to be Samson or something?”

  “Samson, huh? Hadn’t really thought about it.” He shook his head, throwing the blonde braid back over his shoulder. He pinned her with a glare—but a different kind this time. This one looked hot. Was he aware of her physical reaction to him? “You know what, Miz McClain? Maybe Samson was trying to be like me.” He shrugged. “Poor guy. You know where he went wrong, don’t you?”

  Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “When he developed a huge ego?”

  “No. When he listened to a woman.”

  “Ah. I’m sure you’ll never make that mistake.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Except when the woman is paying the bills.”

  “Hey. I never said women were totally useless.” He leered. “In fact—”

  “Hey!” Betsy said loudly, a fake smile plastered onto her face. “I think now is a really good time for us to go to the park.”