Big Fish In A Small Pond

It seems like the perfect solution: hotel mogul Alex Porter will manage his sister’s small-town bed-and-breakfast while she honeymoons. But he gets more than he bargained for when he finds himself clashing with feisty café owner Kate Nichols. Suddenly he’s organizing church outings and playing surrogate dad to the foster children Kate takes in. Alex is used to taking charge—but not like this! If he isn’t careful, this big-city executive just might lose his heart to Mirror Lake’s favorite hometown girl.

“Find a place to sit. I’ll be right with…”

You.

Kate felt a sudden disconnect between her brain and her voice when she spotted the man standing just inside the entrance, backlit by the morning sun.

Alex Porter, in the flesh.

In her café.

She’d sat right next to Abby in church the day before and her friend hadn’t warned—told—her that Alex would be in Mirror Lake.

A week early.

Their eyes met over the counter and Kate’s heart did a backflip. As impossible as it seemed, the man was even more good-looking than she remembered.

“Abby sounded a little stressed out the last time I talked to her,” he said. The rough velvet voice had a serrated edge that immediately put Kate on the defensive. “I decided to drive up a few days early to help out.”

Kate knew better. Men like Alex Porter didn’t help out. They took over. And the guy probably didn’t have a clue that he’d been the cause of Abby’s stress.

KATHRYN SPRINGER

is a lifelong Wisconsin resident. Growing up in a “newspaper” family, she spent long hours as a child plunking out stories on her mother’s typewriter and hasn’t stopped writing since! She loves to write inspirational romance because it allows her to combine her faith in God with her love of a happy ending.

Longing for Home

Kathryn Springer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Love Inspired!

2012 is a very special year for us. It marks the fifteenth anniversary of Love Inspired. Hard to believe that fifteen years ago, we first began publishing our warm and wonderful inspirational romances.

Back in 1997, we offered readers three books a month. Since then we’ve expanded quite a bit! In addition to the heartwarming contemporary romances of Love Inspired, we have the exciting romantic suspenses of Love Inspired Suspense, and the adventurous historical romances of Love Inspired Historical. Whatever your reading preference, we’ve got fourteen books a month for you to choose from now!

Throughout the year we’ll be celebrating in several different ways. Look for books by bestselling authors who’ve been writing for us since the beginning, stories by brand-new authors you won’t want to miss, special miniseries in all three lines, reissues of top authors and much, much more.

This is our way of thanking you for reading Love Inspired books. We know our uplifting stories of hope, faith and love touch your hearts as much as they touch ours.

Join us in celebrating fifteen amazing years of inspirational romance!

Blessings,

Melissa Endlich and Tina James

Senior Editors of Love Inspired Books

In loving memory of Lois A. Goldsmith

June 29, 1916–February 27, 2011

* * *

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

—1 Corinthians 13:13

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“Sit.” Kate Nichols took one look at her best friend’s face and pointed to an empty booth by the window. “I’ll be right back with a piece of pie.”

“Just bring the whole thing.” Abby Porter’s sigh stirred the wisps of honey-blond hair on her forehead. “And a fork.”

Kate shot her a sympathetic look. “That bad, huh?”

“Let’s put it this way—for the past twenty-four hours I’ve been seriously contemplating a destination wedding,” Abby said darkly.

“Mmm. Could be fun,” Kate mused. “What’s the destination?”

“Oh, possibly a tent in the middle of the Sahara. Maybe a remote tropical island.” Abby’s silver-green eyes narrowed. “Jupiter.”

Kate tried not to smile as she retrieved a piece of triple berry pie from the revolving dessert case near the cash register and topped it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

She set the plate and a carafe of fresh coffee down on the table in front of Abby before sliding into the opposite side of the booth. “Interesting choices but I’m not sure I see a pattern. What’s the criteria?”

“There’s only one,” Abby admitted as she attacked the pie. “Somewhere my brother can’t find me.”

Kate suppressed a smile. “I hate to be the one who breaks this to you, but I’m pretty sure the ‘tent in the Sahara’ thing won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Because Alex probably holds stock in some high-tech spy satellite. He’d track you down in no time.”

Abby frowned as she considered that. “Scratch that one, then. Tropical island?”

“Definitely a no go unless you’re willing to choose a new maid of honor. My hair and humidity are sworn enemies.” To prove her point, Kate tweaked a flame-colored curl that seemed to have doubled in size since she’d unlocked the door of the Grapevine Café at six o’clock that morning. “Not to mention that Alex has a yacht.”

“You’re right.” The words tumbled out with Abby’s sigh. “I guess that leaves Jupiter.”

“Uh-uh.” Kate leaned forward and lowered her voice a notch. “He owns it.”

“Kate!” Abby choked back a laugh.

Kate simply looked at her.

“Okay, because there’s a slight—very slight, mind you—chance that you’re right, I’ll take Jupiter off the list, too,” Abby grumbled.

“And several other planets in the solar system,” Kate said under her breath.

They shared a grin.

“All right.” Abby gave up. “It looks like I’m back to where I started. Getting married at the inn.”

Which was, Kate knew, exactly the place that Abby and her fiancé, Quinn O’Halloran, wanted to exchange their vows.

Shortly after the couple announced their engagement, Alex Porter had done his best to persuade Abby to hold the wedding in the grand ballroom of a swanky Chicago hotel. One of—count them—four swanky hotels the Porter family happened to own in the midwest.

It was clear the wealthy executive didn’t think that a small ceremony and outdoor reception were good enough for his only sibling.

If she were Abby, Kate would be contemplating Jupiter, too. Either that or sending the guy on a one-way trip to the moon.

Not, Kate thought, that it would do any good. The man possessed both the ways and means to find his way back.

Alex Porter was nothing if not…resourceful. Creatively, ingeniously and, yes, sometimes even scarily resourceful.

He’d proven that the previous summer when he’d secretly hired Quinn O’Halloran, a local security systems expert and former bodyguard, to keep an eye on Abby when she’d moved to Mirror Lake.

Kate had found out the whole story after she and Abby became friends. How Alex had hoped his sister would give up what he considered to be a foolish dream—turning an old Bible camp on the lake into a bed-and-breakfast—and return to Chicago where she belonged. How the plan had backfired when Abby and Quinn fell in love.

Abby had patiently held her ground over the past few months when her brother made his opinions known, but Kate had doled out enough slices of pie to know it wasn’t always easy. For all Alex Porter’s bossy ways, the two siblings were close and Abby hated to be at odds with him. In spite of their obvious differences, Abby talked about her older brother with exasperated but genuine affection.

Kate totally understood the exasperation. The affection, not so much.

Secretly, she figured the bond between them had more to do with Abby’s sweet, generous nature and her strong faith rather than some unseen quality that might lay buried like a vein of gold in the heart that beat beneath Alex Porter’s Armani suit.

“So what is big brother’s problem now?” Kate asked as she filled two coffee mugs to the brim. “The wedding is less than a week away. There can’t be anything left at risk for a hostile takeover.”

“You’d be surprised,” Abby muttered.

Kate silently scrolled through the list of wedding details she knew Alex had taken issue with. “Is he still upset that Jessica and Tony will be running the inn while you’re gone?”

“It was hard for Alex to give up one of his favorite managers and head pastry chef for two weeks, but he hasn’t said anything about that for a while. Probably because he knows they’ll do a great job.” Abby smiled. “Jessica plans to cut back to part-time until she has the baby but she insists that taking over my kitchen will feel like a vacation. And Tony is hoping to do a little fishing when he isn’t manning the desk.”

“So Tony and Jessica are safe.” Relieved, Kate mentally crossed that one off her list and went onto the next one. “He doesn’t approve of your decision to carry a bouquet of wildflowers so he hired his personal florist to change your mind?”

“He doesn’t have a…” Abby paused. “Never mind. But, no, I’m happy to report that my Queen Anne’s lace and daisies are safe at the moment.”

“So what is it now?”

“He thinks…oh, it doesn’t matter.” To Kate’s astonishment, Abby’s smile faded and she averted her gaze. “You know Alex.”

Kate didn’t. Not really. She had only met the man once, a year ago, when he’d driven up in a silver Viper to check on Abby and make one last-ditch effort to convince her to leave Mirror Lake.

But because Abby talked about her brother a lot, Kate felt as if she knew him. And what she knew—other than the fact that Alex Porter oozed confidence out of every pore and happened to be quite unfairly, in Kate’s opinion, drop-dead gorgeous—didn’t impress her very much. As far as she was concerned, Alex tried to control peoples’ lives the same way he did his hotels. With a lift of one autocratic eyebrow. That it seemed to work for the guy was another cause for irritation.

“Well, he must have said something or you wouldn’t be threatening to elope five days before your wedding,” Kate pointed out.

“It’s nothing to be concerned about, really. Alex had some…questions…about the reception dinner,” Abby finally admitted.

“It’s all set. You and Quinn approved the menu. I have everything ready…” Kate stopped. Something in Abby’s expression set off warning bells in her head.

Alex Porter didn’t have questions. He had doubts. Doubts that a woman who operated a small café had the ability to cater his sister’s wedding reception.

“He doesn’t think I can do it.” Kate wasn’t sure why, but the thought stung.

“That’s not it,” Abby said quickly. “Alex just wondered whether you had the time to act as my maid of honor and handle the food for the reception.”

No doubt he wondered more than that, Kate thought grimly. But just because the Porter hotels boasted award-winning restaurants didn’t mean they were the only ones capable of creating a memorable reception dinner.

“I told Alex that I trust you completely,” Abby continued. “Not only are you the queen of multitasking, you’re a wonderful cook.”

Kate was touched by her friend’s loyalty, but Alex’s assumption still rankled. She was forced to take her own advice when it came to dealing with stressful situations.

Keep your sense of humor.

“So what does he think is on the menu? Hamburgers and French fries?” Kate even managed a weak laugh.

Abby joined in. Sort of.

Kate’s mouth dropped open. “He thinks that all I’m capable of making are hamburgers and French fries?”

“Not really,” Abby murmured. Unfortunately, the look in her eyes flashed the words “yes, really.”

Kate could feel the freckles on the bridge of her nose start to glow. “He thinks the Grapevine is a greasy spoon.”

“It doesn’t matter what Alex thinks.” Abby’s chin lifted. “He’s never eaten at the café.”

So, yes! A greasy spoon!

“I told him that you’ve won awards at the county fair…” Kate stifled a groan. She knew her friend meant well, but a first-place ribbon for her triple berry pie and sour apple salsa wasn’t going to impress someone like Alex. “…and just because the café is small, it doesn’t mean that you deep-fry everything and sling hash—”

“Hash?” Kate squawked.

“Maybe he didn’t say hash.” Abby bit her lip.

The familiar gesture, the one Kate saw whenever Abby was trying to find a tactful way to say something—or not to say something—only led to one conclusion.

He’d said hash.

Abby must have recognized the look on her face. “Don’t change your mind about catering the reception,” she pleaded. “Alex will eat everything you prepare, and he’ll love it. I promise.”

The corners of Kate’s lips curved in a slow smile. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to change my mind.”

Because Alex Porter would eat everything she prepared for the reception dinner…and a generous helping of crow, as well.

Play nice.

Those were Abby’s orders.

But Alex had found a loophole. His sister had been talking about her wedding day. If he arrived in town a few days early, technically those orders hadn’t taken effect yet.

The truth was, Alex Porter didn’t particularly care for orders unless he was the one giving them. And he didn’t care for orders issued by his kid sister, either.

Not, Alex grudgingly admitted to himself, that Abby was a kid. Not anymore. But it was hard not to think of her as the fragile, introverted girl he’d single-handedly raised after their parents died while returning home from a business trip.

One phone call from a sheriff’s deputy that night had changed the course of Alex’s life. At the age of twenty-two and six weeks shy of obtaining his bachelor’s degree, he had inherited the family estate, two hotels and the guardianship of his fourteen-year-old sister.

After the funeral, an attorney recommended that Alex “liquidate all the assets” in order to “disengage from the weighty responsibilities” that had been placed on him. Alex interpreted the ‘liquidating of all assets’ as polite legalese for disposing of the two hotels his parents had poured twenty years of their blood, sweat and tears into making a success. The “weighty responsibilities?” His only sibling.

He had dismissed the lawyer’s advice. And the lawyer.

There’d been little time to grieve as he took charge of the business and Abby, the only other remaining member of the Porter family. Over the years, Alex had done everything in his power to protect them both.

That’s why Abby’s decision to walk away from the family business—and, if Alex were completely honest, from him—the previous summer had been a difficult one to accept.

Alex realized now that he should have taken his sister a little more seriously when she claimed she had to follow God’s plan for her life. Whatever that meant. It was fine with him if people chose to look to God for direction, but Alex preferred to make his own plans.

But because he hadn’t paid attention, Abby had decided to follow the old adage “actions speak louder than words” to prove her point. A point Alex still thought she could have made without turning in her letter of resignation and buying a run-down lodge in northern Wisconsin.

He figured that Abby would get married one day, but he’d always assumed he would have a little more…input…about the details. Like who she married. And when. And where.

At the very least, he assumed she would agree to hold the ceremony in Porter Lakeside’s grand ballroom, surrounded by friends who moved within their social circle. But no. Abby had insisted on a simple wedding at the inn she’d opened; the guest list comprised a small group of people Alex didn’t even know.

His fingers tightened around the leather steering wheel as a gap suddenly opened in the wall of trees and revealed the small town his sister now considered home.

Mirror Lake.

There was nothing special about the place that he could see. Certainly nothing special enough to tempt a person to turn their back on everything the Windy City had to offer.

He cruised down the narrow, paved walkway called Main Street. The large pots of marigolds stationed at the foot of each streetlamp must have been part of a community beautification project of some kind.

Too bad it had failed.

A hardware store with hand-printed signs in the window advertised a two-for-one sale on garden hoses. Alex shook his head. Hadn’t these people heard of underground sprinkler systems? Next door, the plate glass windows of the variety store proudly displayed a blinding array of cheap sun catchers.

Alex decided it would serve Abby right if she received a dozen of the things as wedding gifts.

His gaze shifted to the third brick building in the lineup and snagged on a faded sign above the door.

The Grapevine Café.

Jerking the Viper to the right, Alex’s foot tapped the brake so the vehicle wouldn’t jump the curb and take out a pot of marigolds.

He cut the engine and stared at the old-fashioned diner in disbelief. Call him crazy, but for some reason, he’d pictured something with a little more curbside appeal. Something a little…bigger.

“What are you thinking, Abby?” he muttered. This was taking her friendship with the owner of the café—Kate Nichols—too far.

A memory, one that had lodged deep in his subconscious like a splinter, shifted and poked him again.

Almost a year ago, when he’d shown up at Abby’s bed-and-breakfast to make one final appeal for her to come home, he’d walked right into the middle of a renovation party. Alex had confronted the first person he saw—a young woman with a cap of flame-colored curls and eyes as green as a field of fresh clover—and asked where he could find Abby. Instead of taking him to his sister, the pixie had had the audacity to lead him to a dilapidated cabin down by the lake instead. Then she’d pressed a hammer into his hand, pointed to the roof and told him to “make himself useful.”

He hadn’t appreciated being told what to do. Especially by a petite, redheaded firecracker.

Alex had tried to put her out of his mind but that wasn’t easy when the name Kate Nichols popped up with annoying frequency during his phone conversations with Abby.

Business wouldn’t exactly be booming for the owner of a café in a town the size of Mirror Lake. If he knew his tender-hearted sister, Abby had felt sorry for Kate, put aside her misgivings and hired her to cater the reception dinner. It might explain the strain he’d heard in Abby’s voice when they had gone over the details for the reception the day before. Even with the simple wedding she was insisting upon, resources had to be limited.

Alex’s eyes narrowed on a tear in the striped awning that shaded the sidewalk.

Very limited.

He got out of the car and reached the door in two strides. According to a piece of cardboard taped to the window, the café opened for business at six o’clock.

Alex glanced at the TAG Heuer on his wrist.

Two minutes past six.

Great. He’d be the first customer of the day.

Chapter Two

The bells over the front door jingled as Kate piped neat rows of whipped cream over the top of a fresh strawberry rhubarb pie.

“Find a place to sit and I’ll be right with…”

You.

Kate felt a sudden disconnect between her brain and her voice when she spotted the man standing just inside the entrance, backlit by the early morning sun.

Alex Porter, in the flesh.

In her café.

She’d sat right next to Abby in church the day before and her friend hadn’t warned—told—her that Alex would be in Mirror Lake.

A week early.

Their eyes met over the counter and Kate’s heart did a backflip. As impossible as it seemed, the man was even more good-looking than she remembered.

She could see traces of Abby in the straight nose and high, smooth forehead, but the resemblance between the siblings ended there. Abby’s silver-green eyes were warm, as if lit from within. A smile always played at the corner of her lips, ready to bloom at a moment’s notice.

Alex’s features, on the other hand, looked as if they’d been chiseled from a hunk of granite. His eyes were the same shade of green as the jade paperweight on Kate’s desk. And just as cool. The fact that those eyes happened to be framed by ridiculously long lashes didn’t count.

Not at all.

Short, windswept hair, toasted a light golden brown from the sun, made him look more suited to the deck of a sailboat than an office. The khaki pants and lightweight cotton shirt he wore looked casual enough but Kate wasn’t fooled. Both looked as if they had been custom fit for his lean, muscular frame.

“Alex.” Kate found her voice again. “What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Until the wedding.

“Abby sounded a little stressed out the last time I talked to her.” The rough velvet voice wielded an edge that immediately put Kate on the defensive. “I decided to drive up a few days early to help out.”

Kate knew better. Men like Alex Porter didn’t help out. They took over. And the guy probably didn’t have a clue that he had been the cause of Abby’s stress.

“Oh. Wonderful.” Just wonderful. “Abby will be—” insert tactful word here, Kate “—surprised.”

“Not for another hour or so.” Alex’s eyes narrowed when she didn’t respond. “The café is open, right? So you don’t mind if I sit down?”

“You want to eat here?” Kate blurted out.

Alex hesitated a split second too long. “Yes.”

This is Abby’s brother and she loves him, Kate reminded herself. For that reason and that reason only, she flashed one of her sunniest smiles. “You’re the first customer of the day so go ahead and sit anywhere you like.”

His gaze swept over the empty diner. In ten minutes she would be caught in the middle of the morning breakfast stampede; but judging from the skeptical look on his face, Alex doubted she would have another customer besides himself. All day.

Kate kept the smile pinned in place. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

He gave a curt nod. “No cream or sugar.”

Of course not. We wouldn’t want to add something that might sweeten our disposition, now would we?

“No problem,” Kate said out loud. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”

As Alex stalked to the back of the dining area to claim an empty lair, Kate retrieved a carafe from the coffee station. Her hands were actually trembling. Not out of fear but frustration. She couldn’t believe that Abby shared the same DNA with this man.

Long lashes or not, Alex Porter was arrogant. Cold. Condescending.

And Kate knew exactly what had brought him to the Grapevine. He wanted to see for himself what Mirror Lake’s greasy spoon had to offer.

She searched her memory for an appropriate Scripture. One that would give her the self-control to pour the coffee into Alex’s coffee cup, not over the top of his head.

Lord, I know there has to be one. Or one hundred. But I’m coming up empty at the moment. Sorry.

Kate set his coffee down and whipped the pen out of her apron pocket. Smile carefully balanced in place. “What can I get for you?”

Alex closed the menu with a decisive snap, as if there were nothing on the list of options that remotely tempted him. “I’ll just have the special.”

“Sure. Coming right up.” Given the fact that she’d unlocked the door only moments before Alex made his appearance, Kate wasn’t quite sure what the special of the day was.

Grady O’Rourke, the former military cook her father had hired when Kate was in first grade, took charge of the daily menu changes. When Kate had taken over the café, she and Grady had amicably divided the kitchen duties. Grady claimed the griddle, Kate the stove.

She ducked around the counter. “I need a special, Grady.”

“You got it.” The man’s off-key whistle accompanied the sizzle of butter in the cast-iron skillet.

Kate began to fill the dessert case with slices of the pies she’d made the night before, all too aware that a pair of jade-green eyes tracked her every movement.

“Order up, katydid,” Grady bellowed.

Kate winced, hoping Alex hadn’t heard the cook call her by the affectionate nickname he’d bestowed on her when she was six years old.

“Thanks.” Kate grabbed the steaming plate on the pass-through and felt the blood drain from her face. “Grady?” The word came out in a squeak.

“Problem?”

“No…no problem.” If a person didn’t count the six-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound problem sitting at a booth in the back. “I don’t think you’ve made this before.”

“Nope.” A smile bisected the grizzled face. “But mark my words. It’ll be a big hit.”

“I’m sure it will,” Kate said faintly.

Most days, Grady’s “special” came from a list of what he liked to call his “tried and trues.” Steak and potatoes. Blueberry pancakes. Ham and cheese omelets.

Why, oh why, couldn’t this have been one of those days?

Show no fear. Kate gave herself an internal pep talk as she breezed back to Alex’s booth. “Here you go. Enjoy!”

His gaze dropped to the plate and bounced back up again. “What is this?”

“The special.” Kate wished it hadn’t come out sounding like a question.

Alex arched a brow.

In retaliation, Kate lifted her chin. “It’s…a delicious blend of meat and potatoes with a hint of spice.”

“I see,” Alex said softly. “And does this delicious blend of meat and potatoes happen to have a name?”

Yes, it did. And he was going to make her say it.

“It’s…hash.” Kate pushed the word through gritted teeth.

The perfectly sculpted lips—Kate felt a trickle of horror that she noticed they were perfectly sculpted—curled at the edges.

“That’s what I thought…katydid.”

Organized chaos.

It was the only description that Alex could come up with to describe what he was seeing. Although it was possible that the word organized was too generous.

Total chaos would probably be more accurate.

He got dizzy just watching Kate Nichols in motion.

The woman fairly crackled with energy, making him wonder if the red curls poking out from beneath the floral bandana she wore doubled as some kind of power source.

In the space of half an hour, Kate had greeted each customer who came through the door by name. Paused to hug the blond, waiflike teenager who’d joined forces with her during the breakfast rush as if they were long-lost sisters. She’d even plucked a cranky toddler out of a portable highchair and balanced him on one slender hip while she rang up receipts so his weary young parents had an opportunity to finish their breakfast in peace.

Alex’s blood pressure spiked when Kate joined a group of men at their table to referee a lively discussion about the number of potholes on Oak Street.

Kate’s relaxed posture and easy laughter made him grit his teeth.

Didn’t she realize how dangerous it was to get that close to people? To let them get that close to you?

His parents had learned a lesson on setting boundaries the hard way. Abby had been six years old when a disgruntled hotel employee abducted her. The police had found her a few days later, frightened but otherwise unharmed. The family physician who’d examined Abby had reassured them that her memory of the ordeal would fade in time.

Alex, who’d been a freshman in high school, hadn’t been as lucky.

The three days Abby went missing remained etched in his mind. So had the days that followed her safe return. Their parents enrolled them in private school. His and Abby’s lives became governed by a set of rules that formed a barrier around them as impenetrable as the walls surrounding the Porter estate.

It was one of the reasons Alex had become so protective of his sister over the years. They’d lost their parents—he wasn’t about to lose the only remaining member of his family.

Kate might not realize it, but she was asking for trouble. Her smile was too friendly. Too engaging…

“Would you like a refill?”

Alex looked up and silently amended his opinion. Kate’s smile was engaging unless it was directed at him. Then it cooled to the temperature of day-old coffee. But he hadn’t come to Mirror Lake to make friends—he’d come walk his baby sister down the aisle. And to make sure there were no unexpected bumps along the way. From what he’d witnessed so far, putting Kate Nichols in charge of something as important as Abby’s wedding reception would guarantee more bumps than Oak Street had potholes.

“No thanks.”

“You’re ready for the bill?”

“Not yet.” With two simple words, Alex managed to extinguish the hopeful look in those clover-green eyes.

“All right.” He could almost see her silently counting to five…no, ten. For some reason, Alex found a perverse satisfaction in knowing he got under her skin, too.

“Kate?” The teenage waitress sidled up. “Mr. Dinsman ordered the biscuits and gravy,” she whispered.

“Absolutely not, Missy.” Kate shook her head, setting the corkscrew curls into motion. “I know what his cholesterol is. The only thing on the menu for Mr. Dinsman is a bowl of oatmeal.”

The waitress chewed on her lower lip. “He said that if you make him eat oatmeal, he won’t leave a tip.”

“Well, here’s a tip for him,” Kate said tartly. “If he wants to clog his arteries, he should stay home and make his own breakfast.”

Missy glanced at the portly man who sat a few tables away, glowering in their direction. “Do I have to tell him that?”

“No, sprinkle some fresh blueberries on the oatmeal and tell him there’s no charge.” Kate winked at her. “That’ll make the fiber go down easier.”

“Okay.” Missy grinned before darting away.

Alex had to ask. He just had to. “You know a customer’s cholesterol level?”

“It’s a small town—and a very small café.” Kate sounded proud of the fact rather than apologetic.

“Kate!” A man with a flowing white beard and brows that resembled an unclipped hedge waved a folder stuffed full of papers at her. “When you have a minute, can you look over the minutes from the last city council meeting?”

Kate didn’t seem at all surprised by the request. “I’ll be right there, Mayor Dodd.”

“You should hire more help.” Alex had to raise his voice a notch to make himself heard over the steady hum of conversation.

The watercolor pink lips compressed. “I appreciate your concern—” judging from her tone, Alex doubted that was true “—but I do all right.”

“Really?” He watched a gray-haired man shuffle around the cash register and select a tall parfait glass from the shelf. “Maybe if you had more help, your customers wouldn’t be forced to sneak behind the counter to make their own food.”

Kate followed the direction of his gaze and Alex heard a soft but audible chirp of dismay.

“Excuse me.” She shot away, the tails of her canvas apron streaming behind her like kite ribbons.

A trio of women trundled past Alex in a cloud of perfume, the scents clashing like the instruments in an amateur marching band. They crowded around into the booth next to his and began to pull out their knitting.

Knitting.

The dining area reminded him of a noisy family gathering. A limp copy of the local newspaper passed from table to table as if following some kind of prearranged system. Children hung over the backs of the booths and people roamed around the room, chatting or blatantly eavesdropping on the conversations going on around them.

He couldn’t help but compare the Grapevine to the restaurants in his hotels. Soft background music. A well-trained wait staff who’d memorized the selections on the menu but remained blissfully unaware of a customer’s cholesterol level. High-backed leather booths that provided peace, quiet and…

“Good morning.” Abby slipped into a chair across from him.

Anonymity.

“How did you find me?”

His sister didn’t look at all intimidated by his scowl. “Someone called me and said you were here, scaring the customers.”

Alex had a hunch he knew who’d called. But when had she found the time between taking orders, babysitting crabby toddlers and refereeing that lively debate over who was responsible for repairing the potholes on Oak Street?

“I’m not scaring anyone. I’m having breakfast.”

“Yes.” Abby cleared her throat. “That’s why it’s a little strange that you ended up here, given the fact that your sister runs a bed-and-breakfast.”

“I got into town a little early—” Four days, he thought he heard Abby say under her breath. “And I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Since when?”

Alex ignored that as he got a bead on Kate again. Instead of shooing the elderly man back to his table, she had retreated to the kitchen, leaving him alone with the blender. An accident—and a lawsuit—waiting to happen.

“Come on. I’m taking you back to the inn.” Abby stood up. “And leave Kate a big tip. I’m sure she earned it.”

“I already did. I told her that she needed to hire more help.” Alex left the money he owed on the table and rose to his feet.

“Really?” Abby shook her head. “I’m surprised you lived to tell about it.”

Alex remembered the spark of emerald fire in Kate’s eyes and clamped down on a smile. “There were witnesses.”

“Leave Kate alone,” his sister commanded. “She doesn’t need your advice. She took over the café when she was twenty years old. Most people that age are still trying to figure out what to do with their lives.”

“She tries to be in three different places at once.” He’d almost suffered an attack of vertigo just watching her.

“Kate has everything under control.” Abby tucked her arm through his and herded him out the door with impressive speed. “You of all people should appreciate the quality.”

He ignored that, too. “Under control? If that were true, her customers wouldn’t have to make their own food.”

Abby frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The man behind the counter. I saw him making a milkshake.”

Understanding dawned in Abby’s eyes.

“It was probably Arthur Lundy,” she explained. “His wife, Marsha, died last year and now he’s in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. According to Kate, they grew up in Mirror Lake. He proposed to Marsha right there at the soda fountain while they shared a milkshake.

“Some days Mr. Lundy comes into the café and he doesn’t seem to remember that she’s gone. He’ll go behind the counter to make a milkshake and ask for two straws. Kate doesn’t mind.”

His sister’s tone suggested that he shouldn’t, either.

“This is a business, not a home,” Alex said, capping off some unidentifiable emotion that bubbled to the surface of his conscience. “It’s a mistake to let the customers do as they please. She’s responsible if one of them gets hurt.”

“Kate looks at people like Mr. Lundy as more than just a customer.”

Alex’s lips twisted.

“That’s mistake number two.”

Chapter Three

Mission accomplished.

With a satisfied smile, Kate tacked down the last string of white lights along the roofline of the gazebo. When Quinn and Abby returned from their final premarital counseling session with Matthew Wilde, the pastor at Church of the Pines, they would discover the garden area transformed into a wonderland of fragrant blooms and twinkling lights.

She scooted away from the edge of the roof, careful not to look at the ten-foot drop to the flagstone patio below. Kate didn’t particularly care for heights but decorating for the reception was a labor of love for her friends. And because stringing lights around the gazebo had been her idea to begin with, she didn’t think it was fair to ask someone else to put them up.

Hammer tucked under her arm, Kate swung a foot onto the top rung of the ladder. A sudden commotion had her twisting around just in time to see Mulligan and Lady, Quinn and Abby’s dogs, race around the corner of the lodge. Both animals were linked together by the long rope clamped between their jaws. And they were heading in her direction.

Kate swiftly calculated destination, speed and distance and threw herself back onto the roof. A split second later, Lady ducked under the ladder while Mulligan veered to the right. The rope went through the middle. It was Kate’s foot, however, that connected with the top of the ladder, which teetered back and forth before it hit the ground with an impressive crash.

Leaving her stranded.

Kate groaned. “Now what am I supposed to do?” she called down.

The dogs, who circled back to survey the damage, looked at each other. Kate was pretty sure she saw them shrug.

She rose cautiously to her feet and looked around. There was no sign of Abby’s guests taking a leisurely walk by the lake. Kate checked the pockets of her cargo shorts before remembering that she’d left her cell phone in a safe place—on the wicker table in the gazebo.

Maybe she could jump. It didn’t look that far down.

She peeked over the edge and swallowed hard.

It was that far down.

There was only one thing to do. Pray for a quick rescue by a good Samaritan—or that Abby and Quinn would return sooner than expected.

“Either one, Lord,” she murmured. “I’m flexible.”

At least she didn’t have to worry about Alex discovering her in this predicament. Abby had mentioned that her brother had made plans to meet with Jeff Gaines, a local developer and kindred millionaire, and wouldn’t be back until later that night.

Another twenty minutes crawled by. The setting sun melted into the trees, but Kate couldn’t even appreciate the way it turned the lake to liquid gold. She was too busy fending off the swarm of mosquitoes that had found an easy target.

Just when Kate was contemplating how soft a landing the bed of hydrangeas would provide, Lady launched to her feet and shot down the path, releasing a chain of sharp little barks. A canine SOS.

Kate’s relief turned to dismay when she heard the low rumble of a masculine voice. A familiar masculine voice.

She wondered if it was too late to add an addendum to her earlier prayer. Because Alex Porter was the last person she wanted to come to her rescue.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw two furry missiles hurtling toward him. One was Mulligan, the walking carpet that Abby insisted on calling a dog; the other a buff-colored cocker spaniel he assumed belonged to Quinn. Both animals performed figure eights around his feet, voices raised in a duet that threatened to pierce his eardrums.

Alex winced. “That’s enough, you two. Time to go inside. You’re disturbing the peace.” More specifically, his peace.

As he bent down to take hold of Lady’s collar, the dog danced out of reach and trotted up the path. Every few feet she would stop, glance over her shoulder and bark. Between each little yip, Mulligan interjected a mournful howl of his own.

“Quiet!”

In the split second of silence that followed Alex’s command, he thought he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a…groan.

Frowning, Alex strode down the narrow flagstone path that wove through the gardens and opened into a spacious patio area. There was no one there. But next to the old-fashioned gazebo, he spotted a ladder lying on its side and a rope tangled around one of the legs.

“I get it.” Alex shook his head. “Okay, now that we’ve returned to the scene of the crime, which one of you knocked it over?”

Mulligan barked twice. And looked up.

Before he realized what he was doing, Alex did, too.

He blinked, wondering if the evening shadows were playing tricks on him. But no…it was her. The very woman who’d been plaguing his thoughts for the past twenty-four hours was perched on the roof of the gazebo.

“What,” Alex said, “are you doing up there?”

“Waiting for a helicopter,” Kate said promptly.

“Landing might be a bit of a challenge.” A smile rustled at the corner of Alex’s lips as he went to pick up the ladder. “In the meantime, would you like some help?”

Absolute silence greeted the question.

Alex realized that Kate was actually thinking about it. Instead of being offended, he was overcome with a sudden urge to laugh.

“All right.” She stood up and inched her way over to the edge of the roof while Alex repositioned the ladder next to the gazebo. As Kate scampered down, he reached out and took hold of her arm in an attempt to steady her. The contact with her bare skin created a jolt of awareness that made Alex feel as if he’d been branded.

He released her immediately and Kate stumbled back. “Thank you,” she muttered.

Noticing the flush on her cheeks, Alex frowned. “How long were you up there?”

“Thirteen.”

“Minutes?”

“No. Mosquito bites.” Kate scratched behind her ear and sighed. “Make that fourteen.”

Alex tamped down another smile. “Now are you going to tell me what you were doing up there?”

“I’ll show you instead.” Kate disappeared into the gazebo and dozens of white lights illuminated the entire structure. She popped back up in the doorway a moment later. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to attract every flying insect for a five-mile radius.”

Kate didn’t appear at all fazed by his observation. “I already thought of that. There will be citronella candles strategically placed around the garden during the reception.”

“The reception is going to be here?”

Her eyes widened. “Didn’t Abby mention that?”

“No, but that doesn’t surprise me.” Alex had offered to help with the planning on several occasions, but Abby had resisted all his suggestions. Frustrated, he’d asked if there was anything he would be allowed to do. That’s when his sister had finally given him a task.

You can give me away.

Alex felt his throat tighten at the memory.

It was the one thing he wasn’t sure he would be able to do when the time came.

As the silence stretched between them, Kate released a slow breath.

She hadn’t expected applause but something other than a scowl would have been nice. “You don’t approve of an outdoor reception?” she guessed.

“It’s not that I don’t approve,” Alex said, his voice tight with something that sounded a lot like disapproval.

“Then what is it?”

Alex appeared taken aback by the question. Maybe because, Kate acknowledged ruefully, he wasn’t used to being questioned!

“This wedding wasn’t the kind that I envisioned for Abby,” he said after a moment. “I thought every woman wanted a fairy-tale wedding. The big puffy dress. Dozens of roses—”

“A horse-drawn carriage. String quartet,” Kate murmured.

Alex’s eyebrows shot up and she cringed. Finishing people’s sentences was one of her worst habits! And Kate could only hope Alex wouldn’t realize that what she’d described was her dream wedding, not Abby’s.

“Some women dream of all that,” she said quickly. “But Abby likes things simple, you know.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that,” Alex said. A shadow passed across his face, so fleeting that Kate wondered if she’d imagined it. “I practically raised her, but she’s changed since she moved to Mirror Lake.”

The changes in her friend had more to do with her relationship with God than a change of scenery; but Kate wasn’t sure Alex would understand. According to Abby, he remained openly skeptical about her faith.

“I caught her spying on a wedding at one of the hotels when she was about fifteen,” Alex said, his voice so low that it was almost as if he were speaking to himself. “It was the event of the summer. Ice sculptures. Fresh flowers flown in from Hawaii. I saw the look on Abby’s face when the bride and groom came in and I decided that when she got married, even though our parents couldn’t be there to make things perfect for her, I could.”

As Kate listened, it occurred to her that she hadn’t thought about the situation from Alex’s point of view until now. Abby had been in her teens when their parents died. Alex wasn’t simply an older brother smiling from the sidelines as he watched his sister get married. It was more complicated than that.

I practically raised her.

“The wedding will be special for Abby,” Kate ventured. “Her close friends and family will be there. You’ll walk her down the aisle where Quinn will be waiting. Those are the things that matter the most to her.”

“It just seems like there should be…more,” Alex said. “It should be perfect.”

“This is Abby’s more—and that means it’s perfect,” Kate said.

Alex stared at her and the look in his eyes made Kate catch her breath. Because this Alex Porter, the one who appeared…uncertain…was infinitely more dangerous than the millionaire CEO who insisted on having his own way.

He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t get the opportunity because the approach of a car drew the dogs’ attention. Lady took off down the stone path while Mulligan chose a shortcut through the bushes.

“It sounds like they’re back.” Kate followed Lady, aware that Alex was right behind her.

Quinn had parked the car and was opening the passenger door for Abby when they stepped into the driveway. The moment her friend got out, Kate could tell that something was wrong. Alex saw it, too.

“Abby?” His brows dipped together in a frown. “What happened?”

In a silent appeal, Abby looked at her fiancé. Quinn clasped her hand, his expression grim. “We should talk inside.”

As if by silent agreement, everyone trooped inside and headed straight for the kitchen. Abby went over to the sink and began to fill the teakettle with water. When she turned back again, Kate didn’t miss the glaze of unshed tears in her friend’s eyes.

“Jessica called when Quinn and I were on our way here,” Abby began. “She had an appointment with her OB doctor this afternoon and he found symptoms of a condition called preeclampsia. To be safe, he put her on complete bed rest for the next few months.”

“The next few months?” Kate echoed. “But that means she and Tony won’t be able to attend the wedding on Saturday!”

Abby leaned against Quinn and his arms immediately came around her, bracketing her slender frame. “I’m afraid not.”

“Oh, Abby.” Kate’s heart wrenched at the thought of the couple missing out on such a special day. Jessica and Tony Benson had been instrumental in leading Abby to the Lord and she counted them among her closest friends. “I know how important it was to have them here.”

Alex shot her a grim look. “That’s not all it means,” he pointed out. “They won’t be able to take over the inn while you go on your honeymoon, either.”

“What’s important is Jessica and the baby’s health,” Abby said softly. “If it means delaying our honeymoon trip for a little while, then that’s what we’ll have to do.”

Quinn nodded. “We already prayed about it and we trust that God is in control of the situation.”

Kate felt the sting of tears in her own eyes. Before he’d met Abby, Quinn had been angry at the world—and God. “You’re right. He knows what you need.”

“So do I,” Alex said. “You need a temporary manager. I can take over while you’re gone.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to him in amazement.

“You?” Quinn was the only one brave enough to voice the question.

“Don’t look so surprised. I do own four hotels,” Alex reminded his future brother-in-law.

The couple exchanged a look.

“But this is a bed-and-breakfast,” Abby said.

“Your point?” The eyebrow lifted.

“You don’t know how to cook,” Quinn said bluntly.

To Kate’s astonishment, Alex didn’t deny it. She glanced at Abby and found herself on the receiving end of a bright smile.

Oh, no.

Kate could read her friend’s mind. Now she could only hope that Abby could read hers.

Don’t say it, Abby.

But Abby did say it. Out loud.

“Kate does.”

Chapter Four

“What?”

“What!”

The words collided in midair. Alex’s came out like a pistol shot while Kate’s was just as loud but sounded more like a…oh, let’s be honest…a squeak.

“Alex knows how to run a hotel and you know how to run a kitchen.” Abby’s gaze bounced between Kate and Alex, as if daring them to disagree. “It makes perfect sense.”

Kate swallowed a groan. How could she say no to her best friend? But following that line of reasoning, how could her best friend expect her to work alongside a man who assumed her main culinary achievement was corned beef hash?

It wasn’t that Kate didn’t want to come to Quinn and Abby’s rescue. She did. But that didn’t mean she wanted to share a lifeboat with Alex Porter!

Kate reached for an excuse. Any excuse.

“I’m not sure Grady can manage without me,” she stammered, silently apologizing to her cook, who had fed platoons of hungry soldiers for years. “And I don’t have Alex’s minions to call on for help.”

“Did you,” Alex said softly, “just use the word minions?”

“It’s the only one that fit,” Kate admitted.

Quinn clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a sudden coughing fit.

“You’re right, Kate.” Abby mustered a brave smile. “Half the town depends on you, not just Grady. It isn’t fair to ask you to split your time between here and the café. The inn offers a full breakfast every morning in addition to afternoon tea once a week. You wouldn’t have a minute to yourself.”

Kate should have been relieved that Abby had let her off the hook so easily, but all she felt was guilt.

“Don’t worry, Abby.” Alex muscled his way back into the conversation. “I’ll reassign a real…” He caught himself. “A chef from one of the hotels.

“I’m sure given the right incentive, I can convince one of my—” He paused and stared down at Kate with a glint in his eyes, as if he knew she was silently filling in the blank with the word “minions.” “—employees to take your place for two weeks.”

Some of the worry lifted from Abby’s eyes but not all of it.

And Kate knew why. Alex’s “right incentive” translated into the right amount of numbers added to someone’s weekly paycheck.

Kate chewed on her lower lip. She and Abby had more in common than their faith and a love for the community they called home. They understood what it meant to be the sole owner of a business. For Abby to leave her kitchen in the hands of a stranger was the equivalent of leaving a beloved child in the care of a babysitter rather than a trusted friend or family member.

In this situation, Abby had both—if Kate could put aside her misgivings about working closely with Alex.

Kate drew in a breath and released it with a silent prayer.

We can do it for two weeks, can’t we, Lord?

“I’ll talk to Grady,” she said. “The café closes at two every day. That should give me plenty of time to drive over to the inn and get a head start on breakfast for the next day. Thursday is my day off, so that’s when I’ll host the afternoon tea.”

“Really?” A smile bloomed on Abby’s face. “Are you sure? I know it’s asking a lot.”

“Missy is leaving for college at the end of the month and she’s been asking for more hours. She might be willing to open right away in the morning and as long as I keep up with the baking, Grady can handle the kitchen.”

The more Kate thought about it, the more she realized it could work.

Until the harbinger of doom spoke up.

“I still think you should let me hire a chef, Abby. Like you said, Kate has a lot of responsibilities—”

“None of which are more important than you and Quinn,” Kate interjected.

Alex cut her a look cool enough to flash-freeze a package of pork chops. “Do you realize you have a tendency to finish other people’s sentences?”

“Oh, yes.” For once Kate didn’t feel the need to apologize. “It’s a habit.”

“It’s also—”

“One of the things we love about Kate,” Quinn said smoothly before Alex could insult his new business partner.

The jade eyes narrowed on his future brother-in-law. “You just did it, too.”

“Only to avoid bloodshed,” Quinn murmured.

Kate found it interesting that no one had to ask what he meant.

“So, this is great.” Abby stepped from the shelter of Quinn’s arms to pull her brother into a hug. With her free hand, she motioned to Kate.

No, Abby! Not a group hug…

Kate gulped as Abby reeled her in, briefly linking the three of them together. For a moment, Kate’s shoulder brushed against Alex’s and the hint of lime in his cologne caused her traitorous nose to twitch in appreciation.

“You guys are amazing,” Abby murmured. “I won’t worry about a thing. Not with Alex managing the office and Kate in the kitchen.”

“And a line of yellow police tape strung up between the two,” Quinn murmured.

Kate made a face at him over Abby’s shoulder before she wriggled free.

“That means I’ll be running the day-to-day operations,” Alex said. “Handling reservations. Overseeing the staff. The hiring and the firing.”

“You won’t have to fire anyone.” Abby frowned at her brother.

“Of course not,” Alex said in that crushed velvet voice. “I just wanted to make sure I understood.”

He took a step away from Abby and smiled. At her.

Suddenly, Kate understood, too.

She might be in charge of the kitchen, but Alex was in charge of the inn in which that particular kitchen resided. Meaning that he was in charge of her.

Like it or not, she had just become one of Alex Porter’s minions.

“Are you listening to me, Alex?”

Alex jerked to attention, upsetting Mulligan, who had camped out at his feet in the gathering room. “I always listen to you.”

They both knew it wasn’t true but Abby gave him a patient look.

“I know you think that taking care of the inn for two weeks is going to be easy, but it will definitely have its share of challenges.”

Challenges. That about summed it up, Alex thought.

“I’m sure we’ll get along fine.” As long as Kate Nichols stuck to making tea, blueberry muffins and dainty finger sandwiches.

Quinn and Kate had left the inn over an hour ago, but Alex could still smell her perfume. Of course the woman wouldn’t choose something tame, like vanilla. No, she wore a stirring, heady scent that reminded him of the tangle of plumeria that grew outside the door of his condo in Hawaii.

He realized Abby was staring at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” he shot back.

“I’m talking about the challenges of running a small bed-and-breakfast…” Understanding dawned in Abby’s eyes. “You were talking about Kate, weren’t you?”

Alex avoided the question. “I don’t understand why you won’t let me bring in a professional.”

Abby shot him an exasperated look. “Kate is a professional. She’s one of the most respected business owners in Mirror Lake—” As if anticipating his reaction to that, she raised her hand like a crossing guard. “If you don’t trust her, at least trust me. I wouldn’t have asked Kate for help if I didn’t believe she was capable.”

“Capable isn’t always enough,” Alex said. “You know the Porter family motto.”

“Don’t tell me you still…” Abby paused. “Never mind. Of course I remember it. You had the words engraved on a plaque for my high school graduation gift. ‘Don’t settle for anything but the best.’”

“So you see? It’s not personal.”

“It never is,” Abby said softly. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Not as far as Alex was concerned. He had rules in place for that sort of thing. Most of the people he came into contact with strove to keep their professional and personal lives separate. He’d come to the conclusion long ago that life ran much more smoothly if he kept his entire life professional. No blurred boundaries. Minimal conflict. It worked for him.

He thought it had been working for Abby, too, until she’d broken rank and moved to Mirror Lake.

“It’s getting late.” Alex eased his foot out from under Mulligan’s bristly chin and rose to his feet. “Hopefully you’ll see things my way in the morning.”

“Is this a good time to mention that placing a tape recorder under a person’s pillow and playing subliminal messages only works in the movies?”

“That’s what you think.”

Abby grinned. “Good night, bossy older brother.”

“Good night, annoying little sister.”

Just as he reached the door, one of the decorative sofa pillows smacked him in the back of the head. Alex caught the tasseled grenade before it hit the floor and lobbed it back.

“Does O’Halloran know about your temper?”

“Quinn calls it spunk.” A hint of mischief stole into his sister’s eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I tweaked the Porter family motto a bit.”

“That’s it. I’m calling my attorney.”

Abby ignored him. “Now I live by the motto ‘Don’t settle for anything but God’s best.’ And, in this case, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Kate understands that what makes people repeat customers isn’t only the food on the table, it’s the feeling they get at the table.”

Feelings?

Alex was pretty sure that ‘feelings’ didn’t account for the success of the four hotels in the Porter chain. His guests returned because they wanted a professional staff waiting in the wings, poised to meet their every need—not a buddy.

An image of Kate, claiming an empty chair at the tableful of men who were discussing the dangerous potholes on Oak Street, came to mind. He would have fired her on the spot for that kind of familiarity.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I know you’ve been spending too much time in the ‘Kum ba yah’ circle since you moved here.”

Abby chuckled. “You’re welcome to take my place at the campfire while Quinn and I are on our honeymoon. Kate can teach you the words.”

The sarcastic comeback Alex was about to make was suddenly hijacked by a redheaded sprite.

This is Abby’s more—and that means it’s perfect.

He pushed the memory aside.

Learn something from Kate?

What did she know about ‘more’? She lived in a backwoods town with a population of less than a thousand. The dining room of her café was smaller than the master bathroom in one of his suites.

Abby clucked her tongue. “I know that look, Alex.”

“What look?”

“Don’t sell Kate short. She’s taught me a lot about friendship…and faith…since I’ve known her.”

Then she definitely had nothing to teach him. Alex had closed the door on both those things a long time ago.

“Doug…you…chicken!”

The burly truck driver, who’d been filling out the inventory receipt, glowered at Kate. “Didn’t Mrs. Carlson tell you not to call me names?”

“That was in second grade,” Kate huffed. “And I didn’t… I’m not calling you names! I’m talking about the chicken that was supposed to be on the truck today.”

The chicken that was to serve as the main entrée for Abby and Quinn’s wedding reception.

“It’s there.” Doug’s platter-size palm thumped her gently on the head as if she were a golden retriever puppy. “I saw it.”

Kate felt a headache sink its talons into the back of her skull. The café was the first stop on Doug’s predawn run and she was glad she’d checked the order before he’d left. Most of the time, he unloaded the boxes straight into the walk-in freezer while she signed the paperwork.

But the past forty-eight hours, Kate had gotten a little paranoid.

One of the freezers had died two nights ago, forcing her to dispose of half the inventory. Her best waitress had had a family emergency and Kate wasn’t able to find a replacement on short notice. So instead of devoting precious hours on the prep work for the reception dinner, she’d had to wait tables instead.

To top it off, the ’57 Thunderbird she’d inherited from her grandfather had thrown another temper tantrum and refused to leave the garage. To get from Point A to Point B, Kate had to make do with the canary-yellow Schwinn she’d received on her twelfth birthday.

And let’s not forget that you and Alex Porter are about to become temporary business partners.

Kate suppressed a shudder. There was no denying it. The man managed to get under her skin—like a splinter. If she didn’t know better, she might think he was responsible for all the obstacles that had been thrown into her path.

“I saw a box marked chicken,” Doug said in a soothing voice. The voice a person used when talking to small children. And golden retriever puppies.

“What you saw was a box of frozen chicken patties.” Kate’s back teeth snapped together on the last word.

“So what’s the fuss?”

“The fuss…” Kate cleared her throat to open a passage in which to breathe. “Is that I didn’t order a box of frozen chicken patties. I ordered fresh, free-range chicken cut into kabob-size pieces.”

“Huh.” Doug scratched the back of his head. “That’s weird.”

“It’s worse than weird, Doug. I need that chicken for Abby and Quinn’s wedding reception. Tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just substitute? Nothing wrong with chicken patties. Smear ’em with a little mustard and—”

“I’m calling my supplier.” Kate veered toward the oversize closet that passed for her office. “Don’t leave,” she called over her shoulder.

“I’m on a tight schedule today, Kate.”

“Five minutes,” she ground out. “Help yourself to coffee.”

Doug’s lips peeled back into a wide grin, unveiling a gold-capped incisor. “Okay.”

Kate took two laps around the desk, debating whether it was too early to call the Jensens, who owned a small farm several miles from Mirror Lake. The couple had stopped in and introduced themselves early in the summer. Kate had never ordered from them before but she had a soft spot for family-owned businesses.

The first order she’d placed was for the meat and fresh produce for Abby and Quinn’s wedding.

Farmers were up with the sunrise, weren’t they?

Kate took a deep breath and dialed the number. Just when she was about to hang up, a young woman answered.

“North Star Organics. Amber Jensen speaking.”

Kate took a deep breath, praying that once she explained the situation to Amber, the mistake would be rectified and all would be right with the world.

The absolute silence on the other end of the phone told her otherwise.

“I’m really sorry, Miss Nichols. My parents left for the Upper Peninsula yesterday to visit my grandparents and they won’t be back until Monday.”

Monday.

Kate closed her eyes. “It’s very important that I get the order today. There has to be someone there who can help me out.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Amber sounded as if she were on the verge of tears, which made Kate feel even worse. “It’s the first time my parents put me in charge and I promised my dad he wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“It’s okay.” Kate wasn’t sure how she found herself in the role of comforter when she was in dire need of some comfort herself! “I’ll figure something out.”

“You’ll order from us again, won’t you?”

“I’ll talk to your parents when they get back.” It was the only promise Kate could make.

The response was a faint sniffle. “All right.”

“These kind of things happen,” Kate heard herself say. “It’s all part of owning a business. It will work out.”

Please let it work out.

At this late date, Kate wasn’t sure where she would find what she needed, but she wasn’t quite ready to release the mental image of her main entrée. Chicken, slow cooked to perfection, with a drizzle of her famous maple-syrup and cranberry glaze, nestled on a bed of wild rice pilaf. If worst came to worst, she would just have to revise the menu.

Abby wouldn’t mind. Kate couldn’t count the number of times over the past few months she had heard her friend say, “we aren’t going to sweat the small stuff. The wedding is only a day, the marriage is forever.”

It was good to know Abby felt that way but there was another opinion to consider and it wasn’t Quinn’s. Alex Let-Me-Hire-A-Real-Chef Porter would never let her forget it.

“Thank you so much for not yelling, Miss Nichols,” Amber said. “And—”

Don’t say it, Kate thought.

“Have a nice day!”

“Right.” Kate hung up the phone with a sigh, knowing Doug would be champing at the bit to get back on his route…

“Hey, Kate! Over here.”

Or maybe not.

The truck driver was sitting at a booth near the window and he raised his fork in a mock salute. “The guy in the kitchen gave me this while I was waiting. Apple pie counts as a fruit, right?”

Knowing how busy she was getting ready for the wedding, Grady must have slipped in a few minutes early.

“Thanks, Grady!” she called.

“You’re welcome.”

Kate strangled on her next breath as Alex sauntered out of the kitchen.

Chapter Five

“What are you doing here?”

Alex showing up at her café at the crack of dawn was beginning to be a habit.

“I was out for a run and saw the lights on.”

And it wasn’t fair, Kate thought, that Alex looked better in black sweatpants and a plain cotton T-shirt than most men did in a tux. She tore her gaze away from his lean but solid frame and looked pointedly at the clock on the wall.

“The café isn’t open yet.”

“Doug let me in.”

“Really.” Kate wasted a scowl on the truck driver, who was so intent on tunneling his way through the massive piece of apple pie that he didn’t even notice.

“He mentioned that you’re having a little trouble with the order for the reception.”

“No trouble,” she denied sweetly.

“You got your chicken?” Doug had surfaced for air.

Not exactly, Kate wanted to say. But she couldn’t with You Know Who standing right there.

Alex gave her a measuring look. “You’d tell me if there was anything wrong.” It wasn’t a question. “This is Abby’s wedding and we want to make sure everything goes the way it should.”

Translation: the way Alex Porter thought it should go.

“Really. Nothing is wrong.” Nothing that fervent prayer and a few phone calls wouldn’t fix, anyway.

Alex didn’t look convinced. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. We are business partners.”

“Not until Monday,” Kate reminded him.

“You took on a partner?” Doug’s head lifted like a hound on a scent trail.

“No!” Kate choked out. “I mean…Alex and I…our relationship has nothing to do with the café.”

Seeing the gleam of interest in the man’s eyes, she realized she shouldn’t have used the word “relationship.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Doug!”

“Don’t worry.” Doug winked at her. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“There is no secret,” Kate hissed. “We’re helping out Abby and Quinn. That’s all.”

“I get it.” Doug lumbered to his feet and gave Alex a good-natured jab in the side with his elbow. “You’re a lucky guy. Kate’s one in a million.”

“Oh, I figured that out right away,” Alex drawled.

“Don’t encourage him,” Kate said in a terse whisper.

Alex might frequently make the society pages of the Chicago newspapers—not that she’d looked—but it paled in comparison to how many people the unofficial grapevine of a small town could reach.

Doug’s truck route zigzagged through the entire county. By sunset that evening, everyone he’d come into contact with would be speculating about Kate’s relationship with Alex Porter.

Business relationship, she corrected herself.

The idea that she and Alex would—could—ever be anything else was…well, it was laughable.

Not only did Alex move in a social sphere far above that of mere mortals like herself, from what Kate had gleaned from her conversations with Abby, he also lived his life by a strict set of guidelines. The Grand Plan, Abby had ruefully called it during one of the times she’d lamented about her older brother.

Abby hadn’t gone into detail, but it sounded as if everything on the list revolved around work.

That was something that Kate could understand. She devoted the majority of her time and energy to the café. But to her, it was less about serving food and more about serving people.

She and Alex Porter would never see eye-to-eye. His goal was to build an empire. Kate’s was to build a life.

“Thanks for the pie.” Doug reluctantly moved the plate aside, mopped his face with a napkin and pushed to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” Alex said.

Kate waited for him to follow Doug out the door. He took over the empty booth instead.

“I’ll have coffee.”

“I’m sorry.” Kate tried to look as if she meant it. “The café isn’t open yet.”

Alex consulted a wristwatch that resembled the control panel of a jet. “It’s six o’clock.”

Kate glanced at her watch. The one shaped like a wedge of cheddar cheese that she’d won in a drawing during Dairy Days.

It was six o’clock.

“One coffee, coming up.”

Kate no longer believed that Alex had come to Mirror Lake to check up on her.

He’d come to Mirror Lake to drive her crazy.

“You summoned?”

Alex glanced up and saw Quinn standing in the doorway of Abby’s office.

“Very funny. You could always moonlight as a stand-up comedian if you don’t make enough money in the security business. Or, here’s a thought.” He leaned back in the chair and considered his future-brother-in-law. “You could marry an heiress.”

“Watch it or we won’t invite you for Christmas.” The tone was mild enough, but Alex didn’t miss the flash of warning in Quinn’s pewter-gray eyes.

“Who needs an invitation?” Alex hid a smile. No doubt about it, O’Halloran loved his sister. And he was protective of her. Alex had recently come to the conclusion that the guy might—just might—be good enough for Abby.

No point in telling Quinn that, though. Maybe on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Or the fiftieth. As skeptical as Alex was about “happily-ever-after,” there was something in the way Abby and Quinn looked at each other that told Alex they just might make it that far.

His sister had been floating around the place all day, smiling and humming as she took care of the last-minute wedding details. The last of the guests had checked out before lunch. Abby’s decision to close the inn for the weekend had been a good one. Like ants at a picnic, a steady stream of people had been coming and going all morning, sprucing up the grounds and the stone chapel in the woods where the couple planned to exchange their vows.

“So, what’s up?” Quinn wandered into Abby’s office and folded in half to fit into one of dainty wicker chairs stationed by the windows overlooking the lake. “Abby said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Since I’m sticking around for a few weeks, I wondered if you wanted me to keep an eye on things at O’Halloran Security, too.”

Quinn laughed.

“Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”

“It’s a no—thank you,” Quinn added. “I appreciate the offer, but my employees are extremely capable and I’ve got Faye guarding the front office.”

Capable. There was that word again. Alex was tempted to repeat the Porter family motto but decided it wouldn’t do any good. Not only was Quinn not a Porter, but Alex had a strong suspicion he would agree with the version Abby had, in her words, tweaked.

The tough bodyguard-turned-security-specialist had a marshmallow center and Alex couldn’t put all the blame on his sister. References to God—and not the ones typical to a former Marine—seemed to come as naturally to the guy as breathing.

“Just thought I’d offer.” Alex shut down the computer program he’d been working on. Abby had given him full access to her records, so he’d spent the morning going through the inn’s finances.

Surprisingly enough, even in a slow economy, Abby had been turning a decent profit. The cabins Quinn had renovated the previous summer were booked solid through the end of October. Once Abby decided to open up the rooms inside the main lodge to guests, Alex guessed those would fill up, as well.

“Believe me, you’ll have plenty to do around here,” Quinn said. “The locals love the fact that Abby reopened the inn and she encourages them to use the property.”

Uh-huh. And, according to the records, she didn’t charge them a thing.

His sister was asking to be taken advantage of. Alex had discovered that Church of the Pines, the one Quinn and Abby attended every Sunday, frequently scheduled events at the inn. Abby generously provided refreshments and, at times, invited visiting speakers to stay at the inn. Free of charge.

Alex made a mental note to talk to the pastor, Matthew Wilde, at some point over the next two weeks. Just so the guy knew that someone was looking out for Abby’s best interests.

“There you are.” Abby glided into the room, clutching the gaudiest shoes Alex had ever seen, a pair of white sneakers crusted with sparkling beads and pink sequins.

She smiled at Alex before zeroing in on her fiancé. “Could I talk to you for a minute, Quinn?”

“Sure.”

“In the kitchen?” Abby bit her lower lip.

Alex recognized the gesture. Obviously Quinn did, too, because they both came to their feet at the same time.

“What’s wrong?”

Abby smiled at Quinn. And frowned at Alex. “Nothing. There’s always a few last-minute…glitches…to work out when it comes to weddings.”

Alex looked at the shoes in her hand. “I see what you mean.”

Abby chuckled. “I’m not talking about the shoes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. These are for Faye. She can’t wear heels because of the arthritis in her feet, so Kate bedazzled her favorite pair of Keds.”

“Bedazzled?” Alex looked at Quinn.

“I have no idea, but it sounds like something Kate would do,” he said with a shrug.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “So does causing a glitch.”

Abby cast Alex a meaningful look, silently reminding him of their conversation the night before. “Don’t worry. Everything will be…everything is fine.”

Where had he heard that before? Oh yes, in the Grapevine Café that morning.

“Does this have something to do with the chicken?” he demanded.

Abby’s eyes went wide. “Kate told you?”

Actually, the tattooed, pie-eating truck driver had. He’d also told Alex—between bites—that the café’s walk-in freezer had died and she’d lost a good portion of her inventory.

“I heard the order didn’t come in.”

Abby nodded. “Kate called about half an hour ago. The order was supposed to be on the truck, but she found out the supplier wrote down the wrong date. The chicken will arrive on time—a week from now.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you want to postpone the wedding?” Quinn wrapped an arm around Abby’s slender waist.

She smiled up at him. “Not a chance. It’ll work out. Kate just wanted to let me know that she’ll be a few minutes late for the rehearsal dinner. Thor is giving her grief again so she’ll meet up with us at the restaurant.”

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