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Authors: Christy Hayes

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Craig didn’t look anxious at all, not with his ankle crossed
over one knee and his arm stretched along the back of Mark’s chair. He looked
so handsome in the blazer she’d found in his closet and insisted he wear. The
man had a lot of nice clothes. He caught her staring and gave her a wink that
had the tips of her ears burning and gave a nice little flutter to her stomach.
Allie turned her attention back to Leah as the passionate crescendo of the
piece brought memories of the night before floating through her brain.

She’d played for him, naked as requested, and they’d done
some very interesting post performance antics. She couldn’t believe how things
had changed, how open and giving and playful Craig had become. Every day they
spent together, every night they shared, felt like a gift.

Leah’s piece ended with thunderous applause and she exited
the stage, followed by Allie’s last performer, six-year-old Madelyn, who
brought the house down with her rendition of “Santa Clause Is Coming To Town.”

After her backstage congratulations and hugs, Allie and Leah
came down the auditorium stairs arm in arm. “You did great, Leah. I’m so proud
of you for mastering both songs.”

“Dad made me practice. A lot,” Leah admitted. “I’m glad he
did.”

“There’s my girl.” Mark extended his arms and Leah skipped
to greet her father. “You played wonderfully, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Carolyn gripped Leah’s hands. “I can’t believe how grown up
you looked on stage. You were lovely, Leah.”

Leah’s cheeks turned a nice shade of pink before she averted
her eyes and smiled. “Thanks. It was fun.”

Craig came through the side door from the parking lot with a
bunch of roses in his arms. He bowed in front of Leah and presented her with
the dazzling bouquet. “For the artist. You were magnificent.”

Leah buried her face in the deep red blooms. “Oh, Uncle
Craig. I love them.”

“You earned them.” He returned her hug and casually placed
his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels. His gaze, dark and
direct, landed on Allie. “And you,” he said, pivoting to face her. “You earned
this.”

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and plopped it
in her hand. “What is this?”

“Open it up and find out.”

Allie pried the lid open and gasped. “Craig. You didn’t.”

“Of course I did. Do you like it?”

“Like it?” She looked up into his eyes. “It’s beautiful…so
perfect.”

“Just like you.” He plucked the ring from the box and slid
the emerald cut diamond on her finger. It sparkled even in the muted light.
“Perfect fit.”

“You shouldn’t have, Craig. I said I didn’t need a ring.
We’re getting married in three days.”

“We may be doing this fast, Allie, but we’re doing it right.
I’m not going to scrimp on the details. We’re engaged and now it’s official.”

“I was officially yours when you said you loved me.”

“So,” he said. “Call this an encore.”

“That’s some kind of encore, Allie.” Carolyn grabbed her
hand and admired the ring.

Allie wrapped her arms around Craig’s neck. “Why don’t we
call it a prelude?” she suggested. “To a life full of love and happiness.”

“And babies,” he whispered as her lips hovered near his.
“Lots and lots of babies.”

 

About the Author

Christy Hayes writes romance and women’s fiction. She lives
outside Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband, two children, and two dogs.

 

Discover Other Romance & Women’s Fiction Titles
by Christy Hayes

Angle of Incidence

Dodge the Bullet

Golden Rule Outfitters
Boxed Set

Good Luck, Bad Timing
& When Harry Met Sally

Guiding the Fall
,
Book 2, Golden Rule Outfitters

Heart of Glass

Mending the Line
,
Book 1, Golden Rule Outfitters

Misconception

Shoe Strings

Taming the Moguls
,
Book 3, Golden Rule Outfitters

The Accidental Encore

The Sweetheart Hoax

 

Connect with Christy Hayes Online

http://www.christyhayes.com

http://twitter.com/SeaHayes

http://www.facebook.com/ChristyHayesAuthor

 

If you enjoyed The Accidental Encore, please consider
leaving an honest review at your point of purchase location.

 

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for reading!!

 

Continue on to read the first chapter of
Heart of Glass
. Available now.

 
 

Heart of Glass

 

Prologue

Kate Donovan watched her boss, Michael Evans, founder and
managing editor of
Design
& Build
magazine, through the glass doors of his office. When
he looked up and saw her, he waved her inside.

“Kate, come in and sit. I’ve got news,” Michael announced
with a beaming smile. Nearing forty, he was often referred to as striking,
thanks to his dark hair, aristocratic features, and a deep tan he’d earned
aboard his sailboat.

 
“Your piece on
Frederick Balsted was genius. I’ve moved it up to the May issue. It’ll be the
cover story.”

Kate threw her exhausted body in the chair facing his desk. Her
flight back to D.C. from Oregon had been delayed due to bad weather and jet lag
lay heavy on her shoulders. She tried to stifle a yawn, but gave up when the
effort proved too much. “Balsted’s a night owl,” she said. “I got my best
material from him in the middle of the night.”

“So the four a.m. cruise on his yacht wasn’t an
embellishment?”

Kate jerked her eyes open wide and shoved her long bangs
from her face. “You know I don’t embellish. The man needs a film crew. The
written word doesn’t do his eccentricities justice.”

“You know the written word is made for people like Balsted,”
Michael said. “You’ve captured him perfectly—celebrated his artistic
flair in a way that doesn’t make him seem mad.” He clasped his hands together
as if in prayer. “We’ve landed a coup while you were away. You’ve been
requested.”

Kate nearly bolted from the chair and faced Michael,
exuberant as a child on Christmas morning. “You’ve got my attention, Michael. Between
the layover and the jet lag, I was going on auto pilot, but I’m awake now.”

“We were contacted by a firm in the Low Country. We’ve been
given an exclusive.” He rubbed his hands together and pushed away from his desk
to roam the office while he explained their good fortune. “A brash young
builder and his architect partner I’ve only recently been made aware of. Their
work’s brilliant, Kate, and the best part is they’re a naturalist firm. They’re
using all kinds of green materials like sand and mud up and down the coast from
Savannah to Maryland. I’ve managed to dig up some background on the architect,
but finding anything on the builder has been difficult.”

“Daniel Flannery.” Kate said his name in a whisper only
seconds before Michael. She reached for the necklace she’d worn every day since
he’d given it to her in an unconscious gesture of comfort. She’d rubbed the
sharp edges of the sea glass heart smooth over years of touching. For the very
first time it felt like a noose around her neck.

“You’ve heard of him then? I’m not surprised.” Michael
stopped pacing and came to a stop in front of Kate. “What’s with the long face?
I thought you’d be thrilled.”

“I knew him. It’s been years, a lifetime really, but…”

“Perfect. That’s absolutely perfect. Your ability to pry
into the motivations of self-proclaimed recluses, coupled with a familiar
background…this could be more than I’d imagined.”

“Michael, I…I can’t do it.”

“What? Why?”

She didn’t answer, but she knew he’d made up his mind.

“Damn it, Kate. I’m your editor as well as your friend, and
I’ve just given you an assignment.”

“My relationship with Danny was...it ended badly. There’s no
way he’ll talk to me.”

Michael slid a hip on the corner of his desk and frowned at
her. “Kate, they asked for you by name. I know you’re the best, and obviously
Mr. Flannery is willing to overlook—or he’s forgotten
about—whatever happened between you. The man’s a professional and he’s
requested our very best. That’s you. He knows it and so do I.”

Kate flung her head back in the chair, let her eyes drift
closed. Her name wasn’t the only thing that had changed since she’d last seen
Danny. “He may expect the best, but he’s not expecting me.”

 

Chapter 1

Six Years Earlier

 

Danny Flannery used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his brow
and the dust from his goggles when he heard the pong-pong of flip-flops moving
toward the staircase. Standing on scaffolding fifteen feet high, Danny looked
down and forgot all about the hot sun and the nail gun in his hand.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You can’t be in here.”

A young woman stood in the doorway, her fall of dark hair
swinging past her shoulders. “That’s an awfully big assumption,” she called up
to him.

The last thing he needed was another interruption from a
curious onlooker, particularly the female kind. Lord knew he’d had enough of
those. “What?”

“Your first assumption is that my heart is sweet.” Her words
sounded carefully enunciated. “That’s never a safe bet.” She moved to the base
of the stairs and stared up at him with her hands on her hips. “Second, how can
you be sure I don’t belong here?”
 

“This is a work area,” he explained. “Unless you’re related
to the owners, you need to scram.”

“You mean the Fordhams?”

“Congratulations, kid, you can read. Now out. I mean it. You
could get hurt in here.”

 
“There you go,
making assumptions again.”

Danny lifted the safety goggles from his eyes. Without the
hazy film of his glasses, he could see long legs showcased by cutoff shorts,
high, tight breasts under a strappy tank, and mink-colored hair pulled away
from a very appealing face. She was damn-near gorgeous. Having to stop work
pissed him off, but his irritation waned as he hopped off the scaffolding and
descended the stairs. Her startling bright blue eyes were such a contrast to
her dark hair that he really had to work at keeping his scowl in place. “Why
don’t you cut to the chase so I can get back to work here?”

“Fordham’s my brother-in-law,” she said. “And this horrific
house is on its way to becoming the summer home to my sister and her seriously
overindulged daughters.”

“Any more tales you’d like to tell before I kick you out?” He’d
seen Fordham and his snooty wife at the site, poking around and making changes.
He wondered why they’d bothered to hire an architect when they insisted on
changing the plans anyway, especially considering the plans probably cost more
than his truck.

“You don’t believe me?” A sly smile snaked across her
stunning face.

“Short of a physical description of the guy who owns this
place, yeah, I’d have to say I don’t believe you.”

She crossed her arms and struck a bratty pose. “He’s maybe a
half inch shy of six feet, dark hair going gray around the temples, and steely
eyes the color of…” She poked her finger into his chest. “…this dirt stain
right here. He’ll tell you he’s one-eighty, but he’s closer to two hundred, and
his Boston accent’s the real deal. He’ll be forty-three in September.” She
looked down at her nails before returning her eyes to his. “I don’t know his
social security number, but I’m pretty sure I could get it.”

A gorgeous smart-ass. Just what he didn’t need. Danny blew
out a breath in concession. “Sorry, kid, but this place draws a crowd. Be
careful when you look around and I wouldn’t walk under any power tools if I
were you.” He turned and headed back up the stairs.

“If you were me, you’d know how insulting it is to be called
a kid when you’re twenty.” She began climbing the boards that served as the
staircase.

Dumb girl; the place was dangerous. “The second floor’s off
limits until we shore up the floor boards. You’ll have to stay on the main
level until then.”

“You’re up there,” she shot back.

“Yeah,
Miss
, that’s my job. One I can’t finish while I’m
talking to you.” He waved her down the stairs with his free hand.

 
Danny watched as
she turned in a snit and headed down the stairs. Sexy from behind, too. He
could still feel the chill from the look she’d sent him with her ice blue eyes.
He wondered if she had a little tattoo hidden somewhere under those tight
clothes. Tattoos were about as rebellious as the rich girls got these days,
that and trying to bed a local boy for the summer.

As he methodically nailed the support beams into place, his
thoughts lingered on the girl who’d left his line of vision. A girl like that
was a distraction. He would’ve felt better if she’d been under eighteen like
he’d first thought. Having her legal and poking around the house in those short
shorts wasn’t going to help him get through the framing of this house. He hated
framing. The finishing work, the detail and steady hand it required challenged
him and kept his interest. Not that he cared what he built, but the mansions of
Andover meant steady work close to home with decent pay. The money he and his
dad made building went a long way towards a better life for his little brother.

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