Exclusive / a Touch of Heaven

by Samantha Chase

  Sawyer shrugged. “I’m not thinking anything. I’m trying to keep an open mind as you suggested, and I’m trying to forget there is family drama here.” He looked around and noticed only the one car. “Does the daughter live here, too?”

  Max shook his head. “Caroline said her daughter lives in Raleigh, but the house is technically half hers. That’s why it’s so important we get the daughter on board with the project.”

  “What does that even mean? Technically?”

  “The daughter’s name isn’t on the home—the title, the deed, none of it—but Caroline explained to me that when the house sells, half of the money will go to her daughter.” Max paused. “If we wanted to push, we could point out that the daughter legally doesn’t have a say in what we’re going to do.”

  “I’m not going to bully anyone into this, Dad.”

  “I’m not asking you to. And I’m just speaking hypothetically. All I’m asking is for you to meet with them, look at the house, and see if it’s something you can picture doing on the show. We’ll be here an hour, tops.”

  Sawyer sighed with defeat. Hell, he had nothing else to do. The network wanted to do a couple of episodes in the area and he was stuck here until they lined up projects elsewhere.

  They started walking toward the front door when Max stopped him. “Hey,” he said quietly, “we’re not heading off to our execution. Caroline’s a very nice woman, and it would be helpful if you didn’t look like you were here with a gun to your head.”

  “You’re right. Sorry.”

  “I’ll spring for dinner tonight,” Max said to lighten the mood. “I’ll even go for Mexican.”

  Sawyer chuckled. “Just as long as we’re not sharing a room, you’re on!”

  “That’s my boy.” Max chuckled and led Sawyer to the front door, where Caroline Amerson was waiting.

  The first thing Sawyer noticed was her wide and welcoming smile. He had no doubt she was going to hug them both as soon as they got close enough. If he had to guess, he’d say she was in her fifties, her blond hair highlighted with gray. She stood about five feet seven and still had a good figure. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his father was smiling just as broadly as she was.

  Interesting.

  “I see you found the place,” Caroline said as she stepped out onto the porch, and as expected, she hugged them both. “I’m thrilled you’re here. It’s like an answer to a prayer!”

  Sawyer hugged her awkwardly and was about to speak when his father suddenly took over. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told us that before, Caroline,” he said as he inclined his head toward hers. Sawyer took a step back, a little in shock. Was his father flirting? What in the world? It’s not that Max didn’t date; hell, he had been single ever since Sawyer’s mom had left when he was just a toddler. This was the first time, though, that Sawyer had ever seen his father in action.

  “Why don’t you show us around, Caroline, and tell us what you envision for your home?” Caroline hooked her arm through Max’s and led him into the house, leaving Sawyer no choice but to follow.

  Chapter 2

  Her day had been hectic and all Regan wanted was to go home, have a glass of wine, and relax. But no, she had to make sure her mother wasn’t getting conned into some crazy scheme by some shifty contractor. Regan sighed. Lately, it seemed like everything was a challenge with her mother. Regan wasn’t sure which of them was being unreasonable, but they were butting heads with more frequency now than they had when Regan was a teen.

  Deep down, Regan knew her mother was ready to retire and move on to something new, and that she was the one holding her mom back. Caroline never said it outright, but Regan had a sneaking suspicion something was definitely up.

  It wouldn’t be hard to run A Touch of Heaven on her own; Caroline made her own hours and mainly worked so she could keep herself busy. But it would be hard not to have her mom around every day. It wasn’t that Regan was afraid to be on her own—quite the contrary. Regan loved her independence. She considered Caroline a friend as much as a parent and genuinely enjoyed the time they spent together.

  Even when Caroline was making her crazy.

  She pulled into her mother’s driveway and parked behind a massive Ford pickup truck. Oh, joy, she thought, they’re already here. With a fortifying breath, she climbed from the car. It was only four o’clock and Regan felt as though she had worked more than a full day. “Home makeover,” she mumbled aloud. “There’s probably a boatload of fine print saying how this is going to cost us a fortune.”

  A feeling of disgust stayed with her as she entered the house and called out for her mother. “In the kitchen!” Caroline shouted and Regan headed that way. She found her mother and an older gentleman sitting at the table drinking coffee and laughing like old friends. Max Bennett was a big, burly man who made Caroline look petite, and he had her laughing like a schoolgirl.

  Interesting.

  “Regan, this is Max Bennett. Max, this is my daughter, Regan.” Max rose and walked across the room to shake Regan’s hand. “As you know, Regan’s not the most excited for the home makeover—but I hope you’ll be able to change her mind.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regan,” Max said, towering over her. Regan stood five feet four and always wore heels to keep from feeling her actual height. He had a great big smile, dimples, and twinkling green eyes. Regan had a feeling he was going to charm the two of them no matter how hard she tried to fight it.

  “Same here,” she said, forcing a smile. “My mother tells me she won this home makeover. I don’t mean to sound critical, Mr. Bennett—”

  “Please, call me Max,” he interrupted.

  Regan cleared her throat. “As I was saying, I don’t mean to sound critical, but I find it hard to believe you’re going to come in here and do a home makeover that won’t cost us a dime.”

  “Regan Elisabeth!” Caroline hissed.

  Regan turned toward her mother. “Look, I don’t believe in wasting anyone’s time. Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?”

  Max held out a chair for Regan, but she shook her head, choosing to lean against the counter while he sat back down next to Caroline. “There is no chase, Regan,” Max said. “Our show, The Bennett Project, chooses homes that need our help. The only cost to you is what you were going to spend to spruce up the place yourself.”

  The snort of disbelief escaped before she could stop it. “So what you’re saying is that we’re going to get a home makeover for the cost of a couple gallons of paint, do I have that right?”

  Max nodded.

  “And how does the show make money on that?”

  “Product placement, advertising, media coverage of how we help in the community, that sort of thing.”

  “Look, Mr. Bennett—”

  “Max.”

  Regan sighed irritably. “Max. We appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested in having the house torn up. As I’m sure my mother has shared with you, I already have some issues with selling this house. This is my home, where I grew up. The thought of another family living here is…” She had to take a moment to compose herself. “Let’s just say it’s hard to imagine another family here. Adding demolition to the equation and watching you and your crew tear down parts of the house… It’s just too much. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

  Max simply nodded and looked at Caroline before addressing Regan. “Are you familiar with our show, Regan?” She nodded. “Okay, then you know our motto is ‘minimal demolition/maximum results,’ right?” Again, she nodded. “So we’re not going to be tearing down walls or ripping out things you don’t want ripped out. What we do is enhance what’s already there. If something needs to be repaired, we repair it. If it needs to be replaced, we replace it. Nothing gets demo’d unless you want it that way.”

  To say she was skeptical would be an understatement. One look at her mothe
r told her she was alone in her feelings—if anything, Caroline was absolutely beaming. With a sinking sensation, Regan knew she was fighting a losing battle. “I’ll want all of that in writing.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And I’ll want our attorney to look it over.”

  “Of course,” Max said, beaming just as much as her mother was.

  “What kind of timeline are we looking at?” Regan asked with resignation.

  “That will depend on Sawyer,” Max replied. When Regan looked confused, he clarified. “He’s the host of the show and he does all the designing and planning. Once he gets an idea of what he wants to do, we can give you a better estimate.”

  Regan looked around. “Is he here?” she asked as an idea began to form in her mind. Maybe she could convince Sawyer that this was not a project for his show. She could be rude and difficult and make demands that would ensure he wouldn’t want to take this on. “I’d like to meet him,” she said, her tone suddenly sweet, hoping she’d be able to pull this off and get this father-and-son team out of here.

  “He’s walking around taking measurements and making notes,” Max told her, seeming pleased that she appeared to be on board.

  “Great,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go find him and introduce myself.”

  * * *

  As much as Sawyer hated to admit it, the house had potential. He knew he should pass on the job; there wasn’t a challenge here construction-wise. It was structurally sound, and other than being outdated, the project would be a no-brainer.

  It was a shame, because now, standing in the master bedroom, Sawyer had all kinds of ideas how he could renovate the space and turn the room into the sort of retreat a couple would love. Taking out his tape measure, he let himself get caught up in the design in his head. “Change the lighting,” he muttered as he typed notes into his tablet, “add a ceiling fan and crown molding”—more typing—“rip up the carpet and replace with hardwood”—type, type, type—“put a king-size bed in here because what couple wouldn’t enjoy a king-size bed?”

  “My parents didn’t, actually,” a voice said from behind him. Sawyer turned and nearly forgot how to breathe. She was stunning and sexy and clearly mad as hell at him for being there, judging by her defiant stance in the doorway.

  “You must be Regan,” he said when he was able to find his voice. Walking toward her, Sawyer extended his hand in greeting. When she met him halfway and placed her hand in his, he felt as if he’d gotten an electric shock. Meeting Regan’s eyes, he was pleased to see he wasn’t the only one affected.

  “So,” she began and Sawyer heard her voice tremble, “you seem to have a lot of ideas for this room.”

  Sawyer still hadn’t let go of her hand. He nodded.

  And that’s when he saw it.

  The T-shirt.

  The bedazzled words emblazoned across Regan’s ample breasts mesmerized him. A Touch of Heaven, he read and actually felt the sweat breaking out on his temple. His gaze lingered more than was appropriate and when he finally forced his eyes away, they met a very angry pair of brown ones.

  “The room, right,” he stammered and released Regan’s hand. “I was thinking with the high ceilings, it’s a shame crown molding was never installed. The lighting fixtures are outdated and a ceiling fan would work wonders. The French doors leading out to the yard could use a good rehab, as well as adding blinds for privacy.”

  It hit him in that moment that he was nervous—and not just because she had caught him blatantly staring at her breasts. For some reason Sawyer felt that it was vitally important for Regan to see his vision and to win her over. Never before had the urge to get a client’s approval hit him so hard. It was quite disconcerting.

  “That’s all fine and well,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, “but I don’t want this room touched.”

  He turned and looked at her with disbelief. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sure my mother has already shared with you that I am against this project. If there was any way not to sell this house, I would do it. This is where I grew up. I have a lifetime of memories here, and changing all this around before we go is not something I’m happy about.”

  Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest and studied her until Regan started to squirm. Finally, he said, “If we take on this project, I won’t be doing a lot of structural changes—if any. But you have to admit there is plenty here that’s outdated and in need of renovation.”

  “Oh, I’m not denying it, Sawyer,” she said, her voice sounding a little breathless and a whole lot sexy. “But the fact remains that I don’t see why I have to make this house over for someone else to enjoy. I agree some paint is needed in the kitchen and the hall bathroom, but that was all I was willing to commit to. So, I think you can see this project is really a waste of your time.”

  It was exactly what he’d wanted to hear—all the excuse he needed to get him the hell out of here. Yet now that Regan had said it, it was the last thing Sawyer wanted. Leaving here would mean not getting to know her, and he knew right then, without a doubt, that Regan Amerson was someone he definitely wanted to get to know. It had been a long time since he’d wanted to get to know a woman, but something about this pint-sized beauty with wavy brown hair and angry brown eyes made everything in him want to know her. From the tips of her pink painted toes on up, she was like a present he wanted to unwrap.

  In that king-size bed he imagined in here earlier.

  Damn.

  The smart thing to do would be to thank her for her time, collect his father, and leave—cut their losses and run. But suddenly that was the furthest thing from his mind. Honestly, now that he’d gotten a glimpse of Regan, Sawyer knew he’d need to find a way to drag out the three weeks he’d anticipated the job taking so he’d have more time to win her over.

  And there was no doubt he’d have to win Regan over. Between the issues she was having with her mother over selling the house and the fact that he was going to be the guy doing the work on the house, he was going to be persona non grata with her. Well, Sawyer could certainly be charming when he needed to be—and he needed to be right now.

  “Why don’t you let me present to you and your mother what I have planned for the house before you make a decision?” he suggested.

  “I really don’t think—” she began, but Sawyer brazenly placed a finger over her lips to silence her. They both stared wide-eyed at one another at the charged contact.

  “Promise me,” he said softly, “that you’ll at least let me make my presentation to you before you say no. Your mother is very excited about this project and I know we can do everything that needs to be done here and please you at the same time.”

  If that wasn’t a loaded statement, he didn’t know what was.

  * * *

  Regan didn’t know what to say or if she would be able to form the words at all. Goodness, but Sawyer Bennett was even better-looking in person than he was on TV. He towered over her much as his father did, but where Max Bennett was big and burly, his son was big and muscular. Her hands itched to reach out and touch one of his biceps to see if it was actually as hard as it looked.

  Bad Regan! Knock that off! Clearing her throat, Regan tried to think of something witty to say but got lost in Sawyer’s sea-green eyes. The whole making-him-go-away thing was suddenly not appealing at all.

  Regan wanted to speak, but his finger was gently caressing her bottom lip. She wanted to be outraged that he was being so forward with her, but she honestly couldn’t find the will to fight it. When Sawyer finally pulled his finger away, Regan delicately licked her lips and saw the heat in Sawyer’s eyes. He looked at her expectantly, and then she remembered he had asked her a question.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “I will wait to see what you come up with, but I have to be honest with you, there’s nothing that’s going to make me get on board with this. I don’t want t
o see anything changed in this house—I love it the way it is.”

  “Then why sell it? Why don’t you buy it?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  “For the same reason my mother is selling it: it’s too big for one person to live in and take care of. There are four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and we’re on almost an acre of property, as I’m sure you’ve already seen. It’s not practical for a single woman to have this much space.”

  “But someday you’ll be married and have children,” he countered. “Wouldn’t it be nice to raise your children in your childhood home?”

  It bothered her that Sawyer seemed to know all the buttons to push. Of course she had thought of that; as a matter of fact, it had been all she had thought of. As much as she hated to admit it, the house did need some work and it wasn’t a project she wanted to take on. Plus, she had her townhouse in downtown Raleigh. It was new and sleek and modern, and she didn’t have to do a thing to maintain the grounds. That would not be the case here.

  No, as much as she hated it, there was no husband, no children in her near future to make the idea of keeping the house feasible. Now she was angry at him all over again for reminding her of that depressing aspect of the whole damn thing. Taking a step back, she laid down the rules.

  “Look, what I want and what is practical are two different things, and they don’t concern you.” There was an edge to her voice now, and she noticed Sawyer arched a brow at her tone. “For whatever reason, you and your crew latched on to my mother. Maybe you saw her as some weak older woman and thought she’d be a pushover, or maybe you figured she’d be so thankful to be chosen that she’d allow you to do whatever you want, but I’m here to tell you that is simply not the case. I don’t want you here, I don’t want your crew here. I’ve agreed that my mother needs to sell this house because the situation is hopeless. You can renovate the hell out of the house and it won’t change the simple fact that it has to be sold. Maybe you should wait for the next homeowners so you can customize the house to what they want, but no amount of renovation is going to give me what I want.”