The Makeover Prescription. Christy Jeffries

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      “But how will you give me an estimate?”

      “If I decide to take the job,” he said, looking up at the large trees, their pine needles creeping toward the roof she was positive needed replacing, “I’ll come back and take measurements and write it all down neat and tidy for you.”

      “Sug,” Freckles interrupted in a stage whisper. “Kane here knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t come into the operating room and tell you where to cut or how to dig around in someone’s brain.” Then, as if to lessen the rebuke, Freckles turned to the brooding contractor. “Julia’s a neurosurgeon in the Navy. Smart as a whip, my grandniece. Did I mention that?”

      “I believe you did. Should we get started?” he asked, wiping his hand across his mouth. Then, without waiting for a response, he walked through the door as though he couldn’t care less about Julia’s abilities in the operating room or her whip-like intelligence. Not that she wanted the attention or expected him to be in awe of her, but it was one of the few times somebody hadn’t been impressed with her genius IQ.

      The guy strode into her front parlor as though he owned the place, and Julia resented his take-charge attitude and her unexplainable physical response to him. However, he was the expert—supposedly—and she was intelligent enough to know that this old house needed much more than her surgical skills.

      The trio made their way from room to room, and Julia lost track of the amount of times she had to tell Aunt Freckles that she didn’t love the idea of glitter-infused paint on the walls or a wet bar added to each of the three floors. When they finished the tour in the kitchen, Julia was already in jeopardy of being ten minutes late for her shift. Unfortunately, she didn’t trust her aunt not to suggest something outlandish in her absence.

      “I say you get some of those cool retro turquoise appliances and redo all these cabinets with pink and white paint.” Freckles waved her arms like an air traffic controller. “Then you can do black-and-white-checkered tile and give it a real fifties’ vibe. If you knock out this wall, it will open up the kitchen to the family room.”

      “Which room is the family room?” Julia rubbed at her temples before tightening her ponytail. Again.

      “I believe that’s the room you referred to as the study,” Kane told her. His smirk gave off the impression that he was laughing at her for some reason. Again. “Or was that the informal parlor?”

      “Either way,” Julia said. “I don’t want a fifties-themed anything in my house. Besides, remodeling the kitchen is my last concern.”

      It was difficult to not startle at Freckle’s loud, indrawn breath. “Sug, no, no, no. The kitchen is the heart of the house. That should be the first thing Kane works on. How’re you gonna cook or eat if you don’t have a decent kitchen?”

      “I don’t intend to do much cooking here. I eat most of my meals at the hospital, and as long as I have a refrigerator to store all the leftovers you give me, I should be just fine.”

      The woman tipped her head back, then rubbed her fingers over her eyes. Julia feared her aunt was going to smear her purple eye shadow. “It’s just that with the Pumpkin Pie Parade coming up and then ski season right after, I’m going to be so busy at the café. I worry about you being all alone, not eating right and withering away to nothing.”

      “I assure you, I value my health too much to allow myself to wither away,” Julia said. “But I know you worry about me, and if it makes you feel any better, I’ll buy a cookbook and teach myself some basic recipes. After all, how hard can it be?”

      “Sug, I know most things come easy to you,” Freckles said, wrapping her thin arm around Julia’s waist. “But there’re a lot of things in life you just can’t learn from a book.”

      Unfortunately Julia knew the truth of that statement all too well. Freckles was her last living relative and the reason Julia had transferred duty stations and moved to Idaho. If it would ease the woman’s mind to know that her only niece would have a fully functional kitchen, then Julia would give Sexy Flannel Shirt permission to start tearing out the old rotting cupboards today.

      Julia leaned into Freckles’s one-armed embrace. She didn’t even have to look at the contractor’s estimate to know that no matter how absurdly high his price might be, she would end up hiring him just to appease the affectionate woman.

      “Fine,” Julia said. “First things first, though. I need my bedroom to be in habitable condition. Then Mr. Chatterson can start on the kitchen. But no turquoise appliances or checkered floors. All design ideas need to be approved by me.”

      “Of course, Sug.”

      “Now I really need to get to the hospital,” Julia said, glancing at her watch. “Take your time looking around.”

      “You want me to lock up afterward?” Kane asked after she hugged her aunt goodbye.

      “That would be great, if you don’t mind. Do I need to sign anything?”

      “Not until I send you the estimate. Like I said, I haven’t decided if this project is something that will fit into my schedule yet.”

      Julia collected her leather satchel on her way to the front parlor, then glanced out of the glass-paned entryway toward his old car parked in her driveway. His schedule was probably chock-full of appointments involving lots of smirking and consultations on how to give strangers the silent treatment. Unfortunately for her, that kind of work likely didn’t pay his bills. Which meant she’d be stuck convincing herself that she could easily handle this unexpected attraction to her new contractor.

       Chapter Two

      Kane let out a long breath, feeling some of the nervous energy leave his body. This was exactly the kind of job he loved—taking something so run-down and bringing it back to its former glory. But Dr. Captain Julia Fitzgerald was exactly the kind of client that he most assuredly did not love.

      He’d first noticed the blonde woman the second she’d sat down at the counter of the Cowgirl Up Café. It was hard not to notice a pretty face like that, despite the fact that she’d kept mostly to herself and didn’t make eye contact with any of the other customers.

      Not that he’d been in a real friendly mood himself these past two years. But before he knew it, the woman had her arms wrapped around him, her small, firm breasts pressed up against his back, and suddenly he hadn’t cared about the vegetables he’d accidentally bitten into because all he could think about was his desire for her clasped hands to travel downward. He’d reacted so quickly, almost knocking his head into her face, that he wasn’t quite sure what they’d even talked about after that. He’d seen a flush of embarrassment steal up her cheeks, and she’d pointed at something in his teeth before the entire restaurant broke out into laughter. Then she was gone before he could find out who she was.

      An hour later, he still hadn’t recovered from the unexpected shock of seeing the same woman standing next to Freckles on the front porch. Nor had he stopped anxiously wiping his mouth or checking his teeth for residual spinach every time he’d passed his reflection in a window. So maybe he’d put on his game face when he’d been formally introduced to her, but she hadn’t exactly been real comfortable in his presence, either.

      “You sure she’s your niece?” Kane asked Freckles now, looking out СКАЧАТЬ