BVC Announces No Limit to Love by Kate Freiman
No Limit to Love
Kate Freiman
She wanted a challenge… He didn’t.
Lisa Sutton wanted to prove she was a good enough engineer to do more than paperwork. When her best friend is injured at the construction site he was managing in British Columbia’s breathtaking Okanagan Valley, she eagerly steps in for him. Gradually, she wins the cooperation of the macho workers who called her “Little Boss.” The old farm is becoming a state-of-the-art hockey camp for young players. Everything is falling into place…
When “Bruiser” McKay, general manager of a professional hockey team and the future camp’s part owner, discovers that his project is in the hands of a beautiful, delicate-looking woman, he knows he has to fire her for her own good. Lisa’s too fragile, too vulnerable, too tempting. But Lisa doesn’t work for him, so she’s staying. In his house. With him.
Bruiser wants to protect Lisa from the hazards of construction and the roughness of the crew, and from an even greater danger: himself.
But when he looks into her eyes, Bruiser wonders: Who will protect him from Lisa?
____
Kate Freiman is an award-winning, national best-selling author of romantic stories that range from contemporary romance to romantic suspense and romantic fantasy. Originally a Connecticut Yankee, Kate holds a Masters Degree in English Literature and enjoys teaching and mentoring. Kate lives in Toronto, Canada, with her husband, cats and dogs, and owns a Morgan horse.
REVIEWS
“NO LIMIT TO LOVE will charm and delight readers. Ms. Freiman makes excellent use of a delicious sense of humor to play wonderful counterpoint to her beguiling love story.” – Melinda Helfer, Romantic Times
This is a delightful story with a little different slant from the predatory, self-confident male and the vapid heroine.” – Donna Ellis)
“This is a tender story – warm, thought-provoking, yet a love story in every sense. I couldn’t put it down.” -BLJ
“…filled with tenderness and emotional intensity.” – Eva Quan
AWARDS
Romance Writers of America bronze RITA (Golden Heart) for “Best Unpublished Long Contemporary Romance” (1991); “W.I.S.H.” Award (Women in Search of a Hero) from Romantic Times Magazine; Nominated for three “Reviewer’s Choice Awards” (Romantic Times Magazine): “Best First Series Romance”; “Best Kismet Romance”; and “Best W.I.S.H. Hero.”
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Chapter One
Lisa Sutton gripped the cool metal sides of the ladder and scanned the horizon, where rugged mountains bit into the clear blue sky and cottony clouds over British Columbia’s Thompson Rivers Valley. Beautiful. More than that. Magnificent. Peaceful. Inspiring. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of the beauty surrounding the former horse farm that was gradually becoming a hockey camp. Despite the hassles of unseasonably poor weather and a barely cooperative crew, the pressure of being behind schedule, and an occasional bout of loneliness, she was happier than she’d ever been working for her father, in the safety of her office back in Vancouver.
On the other hand, Chris Ballard’s phone call just an hour ago still weighed heavily on her mind. Her oldest, dearest friend, whose job she’d taken over when a load of lumber fell on him, had little to do in his hospital bed except flirt with the nurses and imagine the worst was happening to her out in the splendid isolation of the valley.
“He’s heading up there tonight, Sprite.” Chris had phoned to warn her after a visit from the owner of the camp, “And he’s looking meaner than the proverbial junkyard dog. If you have the brains God gave geese, you’ll be outta there without a trace. You can’t charm a guy like McKay with that smile of yours.”
Can’t. She hated that word. It always triggered an irresistible urge to do whatever someone told her she couldn’t. And sometimes, she did.
Filling her lungs with sweet air, Lisa took a step up the aluminum extension ladder. The metal creaked. She tightened her grip. Shifting her gaze to the second-story roof line, she took two more cautious steps up the ladder.
So, the camp’s owner was finally putting in an appearance. It was about time, if anyone cared to ask her. Wasn’t the man even a little curious about where his money was going? She couldn’t imagine staying away from such a huge construction project if she were the owner. As it was, after only four weeks as emergency project manager, she already thought of the camp as “hers.”
Sweat beading on her forehead made her hardhat slide forward. The early May sun radiated through her black cotton T-shirt, and the lazy breeze that smelled of pine and freshly sawed wood did little to cool her heated skin. She pushed the hardhat back, ran her fingers across her damp brow, then wiped her hand on the seat of her dusty jeans. The ladder shook slightly, humming metal on metal as she steadied herself, hating that swift jolt of adrenaline from belly to breast that accompanied her fear of heights.
All she had to do now was tack down some loose Tyvek around the edges of the second-story window. She really didn’t have to do this; one of the carpenters should have done it. The task would be no big deal for any of the gladiators in the construction crew. She wasn’t going to let them think she was a wimp, even if that was exactly what she dearly wanted to be at that moment. But she’d somehow gotten suckered into proving she could do more than read blueprints and issue orders.
It wasn’t the first time.
It probably wouldn’t be the last.
She’d spent four weeks working shoulder-to-shoulder, or more precisely, nose-to-biceps, with these chauvinistic hulks, determined to earn their cooperation, if not their respect. It was proving an uphill struggle. The men simply scoffed at the idea of a woman engineer. All she’d had going for her after Chris’s accident was their loyalty to him, and their desire to stay employed on a long-term project. She’d exploited that for all it was worth, telling herself it was for the sake of Chris’s fledgling construction company. She owed her self-appointed “big brother” at least that much.
When she’d first offered to take his place, Chris had accused her of rationalizing.
“Don’t do me any favors, Sprite,” he had mumbled from his hospital bed, his purple and yellow jaw encased in gauze. “You’re an engineer on paper, baby girl, and you’re good behind the scenes. But you’ve never worked at a site. Don’t take advantage of my hanging here like a Peking duck to prove you can.” He’d managed a weak grin, but it hadn’t softened the hurt his lack of faith had caused.
“You don’t know what it’s like on a project. It’s dirty, exhausting work, and the crew are sexist pigs. It’ll be worse than engineering school ’cause you’ll be on your own. They’ll sandbag you, or make passes, or both, and you’ll be stuck hours from the city. You’ll hate it.”
When she’d opened her mouth to argue, he’d groaned. “Besides, your father will finish what that load of lumber started if he finds out I let you do it.”
Lisa had simply worn Chris down, until he conceded that he was stuck and she was his best bet for an immediate replacement. Before he could change his mind, she’d moved into the camp and tackled the job of getting the project finished on deadline.
She knew Chris had her best interests at heart, but he was overreacting, worrying about her like that. After four weeks, nothing awful had happened. Of course, most of the crew still treated her like a mental defective, or a clever child, except for the ones who kept inviting her to spend her nights in their trailer camp. But she had a few allies among them, and the work was progressing, in spite of an unusually wet spring, so Chris really should be spending his time healing.
Still, Chris’s warning hummed in her head. The owner of the camp would arrive soon, and, according to Chris, he was in a dangerous mood. Even his name sounded dangerous. Bruiser McKay. McKay was the general manager of the Vancouver Polar Bears hockey team, a former hockey player, as much respected for his punishing strength as for his playing talent.
Lisa shivered and the ladder sang metallically under her battered tan work boots. A shock of excitement zinged through her, but this time it had nothing to do with heights.
Anticipation. Her pulse surged with it; her breath shuddered with it. Anticipation. Thanks to Chris’s deliberate vagueness, McKay expected to find an experienced male engineer managing the project in Chris’s place. In a few hours, she would meet the man described as bigger than Sasquatch and meaner than a hungry bear cat when crossed. This job was the biggest test she’d ever faced, and she had a feeling McKay was going to take one look at her and consider himself crossed.
“Hey, Little Boss!” The shout from below her startled her. Her feet shifted, causing the ladder to shimmy. She clung hard to the vibrating metal and risked a glance down at the head carpenter. Her hat slid forward a little. Big Eddie peered up at her. “You want me to get someone to steady the ladder?”
She gazed down at him, then pushed up the brim of her hat again. “No, thanks, Eddie. I’m fine. Almost done.”
“If you say so.” As usual, he didn’t sound convinced, but he didn’t contradict her. “We’re ready to start the drywall inside the gym tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll be down in a few minutes to check things out.”
The weather-beaten face turned up toward her wrinkled into a resigned expression. “You’re the boss.”
That and fifty cents wouldn’t get her a cup of watery coffee.