Chapter One

Derrick Albright stood on his deck watching the mid-day sun shimmer across Blue Hill Bay and enjoying the first day of his two-week staycation. His rustic cabin sat on ten awesome acres and he could sail or kayak whenever he wanted. Every once in a while, he still took out the rowboat, or his handmade canoe. The canoe had been a first-run effort when he’d built a similar model for his grandpa. Making that canoe had been his introduction to the boat school. He’d fallen in love with boatbuilding after that, and now it was his career.

Gravel crunched in his drive. Lots of gravel, like a huge party was arriving. Derrick frowned and glanced through the sliding glass door and out the kitchen window on the far wall, spotting several vehicles. There were a bunch of SUVs, a couple of sedans, a big white van…

What’s going on?

He walked through his living room, his flip-flops smacking the wood floor. He wore a ratty old pair of shorts and a T-shirt, but was basically decent enough to ward off the intrusion. Unless there was some kind of weird emergency in the area, these people obviously had the wrong address. They sure were insistent. Pounding and pounding on his front door.

He opened it and three different microphones jutted out below his chin.

“Mr. Albright!” one reporter said. She had on a hot pink suit that was so bright it hurt his eyes. “Is it true that you’re engaged?”

“What?” Derrick gripped the doorframe when the crowd of people pressed in.

“Meredith,” hot pink woman said. “Meredith Galanes! Your fiancée?”

He frowned. “What—”

Another woman wearing thick red lipstick shoved her mic so close it nearly grazed his cheek. “Is it really a match made in heaven?”

A what made in where? “Uh…”

A guy in a sportscoat squeezed between his female colleagues. “Can you tell us about your relationship?”

“Mr. Albright, when is the big day?”

Derrick gaped at them all. He hadn’t seen Meredith Galanes since his brother’s wedding disaster last summer, and he was glad for it.

“Is she here?” sportscoat guy prodded.

If a bunch of cameras shoved in his face wasn’t so overwhelming, he might have laughed. Like he’d ever let that woman into his home. This cabin was his respite, and Meredith, with her snippy attitude, sky-high heels, and irritatingly inviting lips, was the opposite of calming. “No. Definitely not.”

Camera flashes went off.

He tried to close the door but the reporters wouldn’t budge.

“Mr. Albright!” red lipstick lady called out. “Are you choosing to live separately until the wedding?”

Annnd…he was done.

“No comment!” Derrick snapped, and he shoved the door shut.

…

Meredith took the hands-free call on the second ring. It was her assistant, Beth, in Boston. “Hey! Are you there yet?”

She’d turned off the main highway and was creeping her way along small roads toward Blue Hill. Meredith took the last bite of her sandwich and set down the wrapper. She’d eaten a very late lunch on the road, but was mostly through her five-hour drive. “Not yet. Why?”

“Because, uh. Looks like the press got there first.”

“Nooo.”

Beth sounded nervous. “It didn’t look good.”

“What didn’t look good?”

“Derrick. He seemed sort of surprised. He didn’t really look dressed for company, either. Still was pretty hot though.”

She didn’t doubt it. Hotness was not Derrick’s problem. The man had been hot when he’d stopped on a dime, causing her to ram into his SUV last summer. Then he’d blamed her for her damaged bumper. Seriously? The man was so infuriating. Gorgeous, but still. “You saw footage?”

“Just a short clip.”

“Great.” Meredith glanced at the Crock-Pot she’d secured in the passenger seat with a seat belt. She’d prepared the meal while she was packing then had transferred it to this carrying container. Now she kind of wished she’d made two pot roasts, and not just one.

As if an extra pot roast could fix this.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll smooth things over.”

“There’s one more thing. Your mom called the station.”

“What?”

“Three times.”

“Yikes.” Meredith checked her phone, noting several missed calls and voices messages. She’d had to turn off notifications after her 8:00 a.m. taping because her phone had been going so nuts.

“She wants to know why nobody told her about this boatbuilder guy. And whether that’s why you’ve been refusing all her Boston area fix-ups.”

No. That had been on account of the fact that they were all over fifty. Ick.

“Your dad sounded unhappy, too,” Beth informed her. “He was shouting something in the background in Spanish and then she started yelling at him. I think they both forgot I was there for a bit. What does ay dios mio and ay caramba mean?”

Meredith blew out a breath. “I’ll call them. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“No problem. I’m just sorry they got so upset.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Meredith pursed her lips, weighing how she was going to handle that.

The GPS told her to turn again and she checked its screen. “I’d better go,” she told Beth. “The roads are really narrow and I need to pay attention.”

“Okay then, good luck with everything.”

“Yeah thanks!”

“Keep me posted.”

…

Derrick had just finished making coffee when he heard a car door pop open.

He set his mug down on the counter and scowled. Another reporter? Really?

It had only been a couple hours since the last round had come through, though he’d been smart enough not to answer the door and eventually they left. Instead of fielding questions he had no answers to, he’d been busy googling Meredith, trying to track down her phone number.

As soon as he got rid of whoever the straggler was, he’d give in and call Brent. Maybe his wife, Hope, would be able to get him Meredith’s number. He intended to call and demand some answers. What had the infuriating woman said? Or maybe it hadn’t been her at all? Maybe one of her unhinged fans had started this rumor. But how did he get roped into it? He yanked open his front door, prepared to do battle with the paparazzi.

Then he froze at the sight of that cobalt blue convertible.

Meredith Galanes stepped out onto his gravel drive and his heart lurched. He’d had to put up with the woman for an entire week during Brent’s wedding last summer, and had hoped to never see her again. Yet, here she was, up close and personal, teetering in his direction in towering sandals and a flouncy dress, with her long dark curls bouncing behind her.

She held a large Crock-Pot in her hands, which she grasped with oven mitts. For an instant, it was hard to believe he was really seeing her and this wasn’t some kind of weird dream.

About Meredith? Not a chance.

“I can explain!” she said, traipsing toward his cabin.

This he had to hear. “Can’t wait.”

She approached his covered stoop, her spindly heels clack-clack-clacking against the flagstones hedged by flowering bushes. This was no dream. It was her, all right. In the flesh. And smelling like honeysuckle at the height of summer. Despite himself, he’d never forgotten her perfume, or, well…pretty much anything about her.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

She stared up at him with big, dark brown eyes and Derrick’s heart slammed against his chest.

“It was a simple mistake.”

“Simple? Your publicity posse was here not more than an hour ago.”

“Ah, um…yeah. About that.” She peered over his shoulder and into his empty living room. “Can we talk inside?”

“What are you even doing in Blue Hill?” he asked, not budging.

She smiled and shot him a flirty grin. “I came here to surprise you.”

Consider him surprised. And more than a little ticked off. What kind of nerve the woman had. “You’re not the first one today.”

She winced. “I heard.”

“And?”

She shoved her Crock-Pot under his nose in a peace offering. A delectable aroma wafted toward him. For the love of all things edible, it smelled just like a pot roast. A very delicious pot roast. Derrick hadn’t enjoyed a homecooked meal in months.

She pressed forward into his cabin and he inched back. “Hungry?”

“No.” Derrick’s stomach betrayed him with a rumble.

“Uh-huh. I brought this for dinner.”

Dinner? What?

“No, no, no…” he said. “You are no way—no how—staying—”

But, before he could finish, she used one of her shoes as a lever and kicked the door shut.

…

Meredith ogled the gorgeous man in front of her, working hard to remember her plan. Because Derrick Albright was most definitely gorgeous. Maybe even more so than when she’d seen him last. How was that even possible—or fair?

Stick to the plan.

Right.

She’d constructed her plan carefully during the drive from Boston. She just hadn’t counted on the paparazzi getting here first. She had no clue how they’d unearthed his name. Maybe there weren’t that many boatbuilders in these parts, particularly ones she’d come into contact with, and the Albright wedding last summer had made the society pages. Both she and Derrick had been listed as being in the wedding party. Her as the maid of honor and him as the best man, so there was a paper trail of their connection.

No matter. They could still pull this off. She just needed to get him on board.

The heavy Crock-Pot sagged in her grip. “Er…would you mind if I set this down?”

He spoke with unmasked sarcasm. “Make yourself at home.”

Derrick’s gaze tracked her, and she nearly tripped on her way to the kitchen. He had his arms folded across his broad chest and his T-shirt tugged against a six-pack, which was as flat as a board. Meredith locked her shaky knees, acting nonplussed. She’d almost forgotten how built the guy was, but she didn’t need to dwell on that now.

She set the Crock-Pot on the counter and turned toward him, steeling herself for her next move, but she sank under the weight of his stare.

“What was all that talk about a match made in heaven?” His eyes glinted dangerously and she backed up a step.

“Oh that,” she said with a wave. “That was just a little misunderstanding.”

“And the engagement part?”

She swallowed hard. “That one was bigger.”

“Meredith.”

“Okay. All right,” she relented. “I was kind of in a spot on this talk show—”

“Talk show?”

“Talk Time, yeah. With Tanya Gibbs.”

“That’s a real show?”

She frowned. “Of course it’s a real show. That’s where the whole thing started.”

“What thing?”

“My idea! To…to help you. The thing is Tanya totally got the wrong impression, then everything went off the rails. I guess they looked you up—and hunted you down, those media people, because they falsely believed that you I are together. Which isn’t a bad belief if you think about it. Not if it’s just for the short term and only pretend.”

He was shaking his head before she’d even had a chance to finish. Not a good sign. “Oh, no you don’t. I am not pretending anything with you. My family went through enough last time with my brother and your twin friends.”

“Hey!” she protested. “That turned out all right!”

Derrick scowled. “It was the getting there that hurt—just about everyone. You know that as well as I do, Mer.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like it.” Didn’t help that he’d used it in that snide and superior way.

“Then I intend to.” He stepped forward. “A lot.”

Meredith bristled, recalling her greater ambitions. “I’m not talking about tricking your family. In fact, I insist they know the truth. I’m just asking you to play along with this in public for a short while.”

“This meaning the lie that we’re engaged?”

“At least pretend that we’re serious.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “What’s in it for you?”

“A syndication contract,” she admitted honestly. “Taking my matchmaking show wide.”

“It’s only local now?”

She nodded. “My station’s a network affiliate.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Tanya pretty heavily insinuated that my love life is a dumpster fire.”

“Is it?”

“That’s not the point.” Her cheeks burned hot. “The point is the insinuation looks bad for business. Could be seen as a black mark in building my career.”

“As a matchmaker.” He laughed out loud. Rudely. “I see.”

She huffed out a breath. “This is serious, Derrick! I’ve just taped my hundredth episode. I’m on the pinnacle here, maybe of something big. If Matched Up goes into syndication, viewers everywhere will see it! It might even get picked up for streaming.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “That does sound big.”

“Huge.”

“So. How do I fit into this pretty picture?” He crossed his arms in front of him but still looked interested somehow. His eyes were doing that little twinkling thing that said she had his full attention. It also made her a bit nuts because it looked like he was trying to sneak into her head. Well fine. Let him go there.

Welcome Derrick! Now cooperate for once in your life.

“I needed to come up with someone,” she added coolly. “I mean, name a person I was involved with so I wouldn’t look like a loser in the love department.”

“Aww, and you thought of me.” She wanted to smack him but she wasn’t a violent person so she held her breath instead. One dark eyebrow arched. “Why?”

She huffed, completely irritated, then decided to play nice. She needed his help after all. “I didn’t—mention you by name exactly,” she said smoothly. “That part got extrapolated by the press.”

“You must have given them something to work with.”

“I might have mentioned something about a boatbuilder in Maine.”

“That’s fairly broad.”

“Yeah, but Blue Hill’s not.” She winced. “You’re all I could think of in a pinch. Probably due to our, you know, mutual dislike of one another?”

“Sure,” he said like she’d lost her mind. And maybe she had. “That makes perfect sense.”

“I was desperate,” she told him. “If Tanya had her way, I’d lose this syndication deal. She’s never wanted me to get it because she failed to get one herself, in spite of her daddy’s advertising money.”

“Professional jealousy’s an ugly beast,” he agreed sympathetically. He studied her a moment, seeming to soften. “Look, I’m sorry things are so twisted up, because this sounds like a great opportunity for you—”

“Could be for you, too! That’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

The look he gave her was pure skepticism. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

She played her best card, hoping she’d win this hand. Based on the private conversation she and Derrick had shared last summer, she was willing to hedge her bets.

“I can tell you in one word. Olivia.”