Trusting Jake (Blueprint To Love Book 1)

Love Under Construction . . .

Broken down at the side of the road, Jenna Stone's life is like her car. In need of a jumpstart.

Tired of playing by other people's rules, the widowed single mom guards her new freedom by keeping her deadbeat husband alive . . . in name only. But meeting Jake Traynor makes her question the merits of lying. Will he break down the fortress around her heart?

Falling for a married woman was never in the blueprint. The definition of responsible son, workaholic executive Jackson Traynor is driven to prove his father right in promoting Jake to take over the family's construction company. He's all business. No pleasure. Until assisting a beautiful redhead with her broken down car reminds Jake what
he
wants.

What if the only person you want is the one you can never have? Battling their deepening attraction, Jake must question everything he's ever believed–because Jen and her kids are the family he's always dreamed of. Jenna must choose between a safe life and the one of her dreams. When Jake's company is threatened, she will risk everything to protect him– even if it means exposing old secrets.

Chapter 1

Baltimore

Jenna Stone stared at the garden she had coaxed into life, tears blurring the vibrant sea of tulips to a soft, muted coral. Was she doing the right thing? Despite the spring shower of cold, November drizzle, her tiny backyard was moments from bursting into bloom. Restless fingers danced on the windowsill, unconsciously imitating the rain pelting the glass. Did she even
know
what the right thing was anymore?

"Jenny, we're ready."

Startled, she dragged her gaze back inside, her brother's voice echoing in the eerie quiet. The warmth of the sunny, yellow room failed to soothe the knot of apprehension twisting her stomach. "We have everything?" 

Her brother's reassuring presence joined her in the window, two auburn heads reflected in the glass. "I'll take a last look." A mirror to her own, Dave's eyes reflected doubt. "Sure you wanna do this?"

No more Jenny Cahill
. With a flash of insight, Jen recognized she hadn't liked her much anyway. From now on, Jenna Stone would call the shots. She offered him a weary smile. "Not much left for me here, right? Rick's finally gone for good. Mom and Dad . . ."

He pulled her in for a brotherly hug. "Don't go there, Jen. They might have come around eventually."

"Two years wasn't enough time to change their minds?" Before the clock had stopped for good.

As stubborn as she, her eldest brother stared at her, unable to admit their parents had been wrong. "Everyone makes mistakes, Jen. But– look what you gave them to work with," he challenged. "A deadbeat, cheating bast-"

"We'll never know, right?" Wincing, she cut off the big-brother speech about mistakes and regret. She'd become an expert on the subject, the last decade a veritable monument to them. "I can't believe I'm doing this." Changing the subject, she relinquished her point. Easier to steer their conversation to safety than risk opening old wounds.

"I guess you know what you're doing." Dave shook his head.
There goes Jenny . . . making another mistake.
"If you stayed local, Sandy and I could help you."

Sure– as a doting uncle to fatherless kids. But her brother didn't know the whole story. Leaving town was the only way to start over professionally.

"Mama? Can I ride in the big truck?"

A small, sturdy hand slipped into hers. "No, Alex. Just Uncle Dave." Her brother hadn't signed on for a three hour ride filled with non-stop chatter. She stroked his blond curls, grateful he was still young enough not to mind the attention.

"Is Daddy comin'?"

"No, honey." Glancing at her brother, she crouched to face her son. Time for a diversion. "Why don't you find Meggie so you can say goodbye to the house?"
And all the bad memories
.

Pausing in the doorway, her son's expression was troubled when he turned back. "Why does he yell at us?"

With a sinking sense of failure, she wondered how much time would have to pass before those memories faded. "He won't yell anymore, Al."

"Maybe we should take his box? I could leave my race cars."

"Daddy can't go-"

"Cuz he's up in heaven, right?"

Despite rather serious doubts, Jen nodded, not trusting herself to speak around the lump in her throat. The car wreck that claimed Rick Cahill and his latest bimbo three months earlier had torched the cocoon Jen had burrowed in for too long. Reviewing her mental list, she took stock. Alone. Two kids to raise. Taking leave of her senses, she'd decided to uproot them. A new city meant a new start. It also meant no job. No prospects. Toss in a seriously dented sense of self-confidence, and it pretty accurately reflected her current state.

His expression pained, Dave hoisted her son in his arms. "Let's make sure you've got all your toys, Big Al."

"Mama. . . Meggie says you might leave, too. You don't hafta go to heaven, do you?"

Her brother paused mid swing, acknowledging Alex wasn't about to be distracted. Her heart cringing with the realization her children were burdened with adult-sized worries, she nuzzled him in her brother's arms, inhaling the sweet waft of baby shampoo.

"I'm not going anywhere. You, me and Meg are a team," she explained. "I'll take care of us."
This was her chance
. A clean slate. A do-over life. Erasing all the mistakes. Leaving them behind like dust in the chalk tray. Despite her apprehension, a shiver of excitement swept over her. Tweaking his freckled nose when it scrunched in doubt, she laughed, the foreign sound echoing off stripped-bare walls.

"It will be an adventure." Reinventing Jenna Stone. Discovering what remained of the old Jenny– the girl who'd been fearless. She'd been lost for the last decade, trapped in the shadow of a few bad decisions. What would it take to find her again? Releasing the breath she'd been holding, Jen found her first smile.
Let the adventure begin.

Chapter 2

Stafford

"Can
anything
go right today?" 

The woman with the seriously sexy voice flung her phone to the ground. Jake Traynor watched it bounce harmlessly on the grassy bank of the ditch before rolling back to rest at her feet. Pausing to admire long, curvy legs her uptight, navy suit couldn't hide, he winced when she contemplated stomping the offending phone.
Not a good idea, sweetheart
. Eying the spiky heels she teetered on, Jake tried to imagine her expression when she tripped and fell on her ass.

Sadly, she thought better of the idea. But when she bent to retrieve the phone, he had confirmation on the rest of her well-built frame. This damsel in distress had definitely been worth the stop. Not that he wouldn't have offered assistance anyway. His mama had raised the Traynor boys right. The flame colored hair had captured his attention, but the flying cell phone sealed the deal. His three o'clock appointment would simply have to wait.

Smothering his laughter when she cursed, Jake watched, fascinated when she raised her arm to hurl it again. Talking to herself the entire time, Red had a temper to match her hair. "Cursed by the car gods and
now
my cell phone?"

"Is that the trick to fixing them?" At the sound of his voice, the woman froze mid wind-up. Shaking his head, he chuckled. "All this time, I've been recharging mine."

"Something's wrong. My charge only lasts about twenty-seven seconds," she explained, her tone as guarded as her stance.

"Can I help you out of that ditch?"

"I don't suppose you have any tow chains?" The question sounding more like an accusation, Red tilted her head back to appraise him, raising a well-manicured hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

"Maybe." Two syllables were all he could manage. Jake wasn't certain he'd be able to formulate a full sentence– not until he inhaled several lungfuls of air. He wondered whether his expression was as rigid with shock as the rest of him felt. Despite her cranky disposition, the woman standing before him was quite possibly, the most incredible looking female he'd ever seen. Though she attempted a civil smile, her full, red mouth was tight with frustration. Vivid blue eyes sparked with anger. Strands of silky hair slipped from what he was fairly certain had once been a meticulous knot. Between the stiff breeze and her physical assault on the cell phone, several fiery curls had blown free.

"Perhaps we could focus on my car?"

Red's icy voice effectively doused his thoughts. "Where you headed?" Hot damn. He'd managed a full sentence.

"I need to be in Alexandria by two."

"I can try to get your car out." He hesitated. "But you'll never make it by two in this traffic. Use my phone," he suggested. "Tell them you're running late."

"I can't be late." Her shoulders sagged, the only suggestion of a chink in the feisty armor. "I think I'm out of luck."

"I'm sure they'll understand-"

"It's a job interview." Her smile was discouraged. "I wanted to be memorable . . . but not as the person who can't make the interview on time."

"Yeah, that's tough. First impressions mean a lot these days." He nodded to the worn out Toyota. It looked as though it should've quit running a few years earlier. "What's wrong with your car?"

Staring at it, she offered a wry shake of her head. "She's old and tired."

Admiring her frankness, his lips twitched into a smile. "I meant . . . was it making noise? Maybe it's something I could fix-" He checked his watch. "Still won't make the interview, but you could probably make it home if it's not too far."

Amusement momentarily replaced the worry in her gaze. "Sort of a screeching sound under the hood . . . like she was begging to be put out of her misery."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It gets worse." Her voice surprisingly calm, she tucked a strand of wavy, auburn hair behind her ear. "When I pulled over, I didn't see the ditch. So, now there's something wrong with her right tire, too." 

"It's a she?" 

"Lulu and I have been together since college. A hand-me-down from my brother." She dragged her fingers along the hood. "He'd named her Gomer."

Noticing the plain, gold band on her left hand, Jake tried not to be disappointed. Damn. Why were the smart, funny, beautiful ones always taken? "Maybe it's time to trade her in?"

Another blast from sapphire eyes made his heart speed up. "It's on the list. That's what the new job was supposed to accomplish."

"You should still call," he suggested. "Maybe they'll let you reschedule."

She nodded. "You're right."

Though reluctant to end his conversation with the beautiful stranger, Jake knew his own appointments wouldn't wait. "Where do you live?"

Cautious eyes met his. "Stafford."

Jake did the math. He'd have enough time . . . if he could convince her to accept his offer. "The way I see it, you have a few options. You can catch a ride with me. I've got an appointment in Arlington at three, but I could backtrack to Stafford and drop you off. You'd have to call to get your car towed."

She chewed her bottom lip, indecision clear in her eyes. "What else?"

"I can call the auto club for you," he said. "Depending how long
they
take, I could wait with you-"

"I hate to make
you
late, too." Her words contradicted eyes flashing with relief. But something else was making her hesitate. "I've already delayed you."

You're a stranger, Jake
. He gave himself a mental head slap. Of course she would be suspicious. And probably a little fearful, though she was doing a good job hiding it. "I'm Jake Traynor. I live in Stafford, too." He waved to his truck, company name emblazoned on the side. "I work for Specialty Construction. You can call them to verify I'm legit."

His words had the desired effect. Red seemed to sag with relief. Damn, he should have realized she'd be afraid. A complete stranger approaching her at the side of the road? "So, what do you think?"

***

Though not her forte, Jen attempted to size him up. The attractive– but
Potential-Serial-Killer
stranger added to a growing list of problems for what should have been a mundane Tuesday. Even with Lulu screeching for mercy, she should have waited for an exit. She hadn't seen the ditch until it was too late.

Chewing her lip, she contemplated her choices. Accept a ride from a complete stranger (and Potential Serial Killer) and the risks that entailed. Or wait by the side of the road for a tow truck . . . and pray someone
worse
didn't pull over to 'help' before the auto club rescued her. "Are you sure you don't mind dropping me off?"

"Not a problem, but we should probably get moving." Jake extended his hand. "The incline's pretty steep for those shoes."

Her hand was engulfed by the large, callused one above her. It was warm, the grip firm. She noticed the discrepancy between pleated khakis and scuffed work boots as he hoisted her the few steps up the incline. Despite three-inch navy pumps, Jen barely reached his chin. "I'm Jenna Stone."

"Nice to meet you." He glanced beyond her. "Got everything you need from the car?"

Turning, she viewed Lulu from his eyes. About to be abandoned, she looked forlorn and forgotten on the side of the highway, rust chewing away at the rear tire well. Jen experienced a pang of regret. They'd been through so much together. She hated thinking about the day Lulu would be replaced. "My purse is still on the seat." Spinning around caused her to teeter on the edge of the incline until he jerked her back a step.

"Why don't I go?" Resigned amusement flickered in his eyes, as though he doubted her ability to walk and chew gum simultaneously.

Long-dormant frustration flickered to life in a heartbeat. How many times had she been on the receiving end of that expression? "I can do it," she insisted, ignoring the trickle of perspiration sliding down her back. Navy suits didn't pair well with the sultry humidity of an early September afternoon.

"I think it'll be quicker if I go." His easy smile animated his face, crinkling the laugh lines around thick-lashed, hazel eyes. His teeth were startlingly white against tanned skin. Under the effects of a killer smile, her annoyance quickly fizzled.

"Should I take my registration and stuff?" She called after him as he opened the door. What if someone broke in before she could get Lulu towed?

"I'll check your glove box."

Dumping the items into her outstretched arms, he hesitated, reading her expression. "Now what?"

"My files? They're on the front seat." She grimaced. "I promise– the last thing I need are the files."

"You're sure?"

Laughter brimming in his eyes, she sensed he enjoyed teasing her. "You're probably regretting you stopped."

"Not yet, but check with me in ten minutes." The sexy mouth curved in a smile when she couldn't contain her chuckle. "Jump in my truck," he directed. "I'll lock your car. And buckle up because we're gonna need to make some time."

Studying the interior of his pickup, Jen waited for her Good Samaritan's return. He worked for a general contractor like the one she'd left in Baltimore. Specialty was one of the largest contractors in the region. She'd learned at least that much in studying the new market she would break into. With the company's name plastered on the side of the truck, she felt slightly safer accepting a ride with a stranger.

His hardhat rested on the seat divider, perched on a folder of notes and sketches, his tablet anchoring the pile. Glancing through the rear window, she recognized the standard tool box in the truck bed. Her former company's fleet had looked identical. Checking behind the seat, she expelled a sigh of relief. No ropes. No weapons. Only a few rolled sets of blueprints.

Refusing to lower her guard, Jen inventoried her purse. Hairbrush. Mints. One of Alex's toy cars. Not exactly an arsenal. Plotting strategy, she envisioned swinging the hairbrush. First raking his face with the bristles– then beating him over the head with it. Digging further into her bag, she unearthed hairspray. Good. She could blind him if necessary. Eyeing the spiky heel of her leather pump, she wondered whether she could follow through on attacking someone with it.

"You ready?" Jake passed her the forgotten files and fastened his seatbelt.

"All set."
Hell, yeah
, she could. Living with Rick had toughened her. Living
without
him had proven she could do just about anything. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to test her makeshift weapons. But she'd be ready either way. "Thanks for helping me."

"Happy to." Patting his pocket, he found sunglasses and slid them on before starting the truck. "We're gonna have to hustle."

"I hope I don't make you late." The warm, green eyes disappeared behind dark lenses that made his tan glow with health. Lean and muscular, Jake's rugged build seemed right at home behind the wheel of the dusty pickup, his hands sturdy and capable on the wheel. When the truck filled with the intoxicating scent of his cologne– woodsy, male and devastating, Jen bit back a sigh. But smelling great didn't make him safe. It made him more dangerous.

After cautiously re-entering the highway, she felt the engine accelerate. His gaze slanted to her. "You sure you remembered everything?"

Mentally reviewing the pile that had been on the passenger seat, she nodded. "Positive."

A moment later, a set of keys dangled before her eyes. Straightening in her seat, she turned startled eyes to his.

"These were in the ignition."

"I don't know what's wrong with me today," she confessed. "I'm usually the most organized person on the planet."

His slow, dazzling smile had her pulse skittering to life. Swallowing around the sudden dryness in her throat, she calculated how long it had been since she'd experienced a reaction like that. Since she'd felt anything for a member of the opposite sex– other than apprehension.

"Maybe it's the interview." He checked his mirror before changing lanes to pass a slow-moving lumber truck. "They can be intimidating."

"I'm out of practice," she admitted. "I work in construction, too." Worked. Before her handsy, chauvinistic, jackass boss presented the insulting offer she'd refused. Although
offer
suggested a choice in the matter. With no HR department to complain to, her
choices
included enduring his behavior– or leaving. Steve Baldwin had been her husband's friend. The husband who'd abandoned them over a year ago for the latest in an endless string of women. Should she really have been surprised when her boss turned out to be a lying jerk just like Rick? Flustered by her thoughts, Jen shrugged out of her suit jacket and laid it over the back seat. The afternoon sun blazed through the window.

"Where do you work?"

"Worked," she corrected. "A developer in Baltimore– but I've recently relocated." Drumming her fingers against the glass, she traced patterns on the window.

"What was your role?"

"I assisted three project managers." Her glance slid back to him. "I had three guys telling me their stuff was my first priority. They managed three or four jobs, but none of them seemed to grasp I was juggling ten projects."