A Touch of Heaven

Also by Samantha Chase

The Montgomery Brothers

Wait for Me / Trust in Me

Stay with Me / More of Me

Return to You

Meant for You

I’ll Be There

Until There Was Us

The Shaughnessy Brothers

Made for Us

Love Walks In

Always My Girl

This Is Our Song

A Sky Full of Stars

Holiday Spice

Shaughnessy Brothers: Band on the Run

One More Kiss

One More Promise

One More Moment

Holiday Romance

The Christmas Cottage / Ever After

Mistletoe Between Friends / The Snowflake Inn

Novellas Now in Print

The Baby Arrangement / Baby, I’m Yours / Baby, Be Mine

In the Eye of the Storm / Catering to the CEO

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Books. Change. Lives.

A Touch of Heaven © 2013, 2018 by Samantha Chase

Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

Cover design by Dawn Adams/Sourcebooks, Inc.

Cover images © PeopleImages/Getty Images

Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

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Fax: (630) 961-2168

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For my mom: For always believing in me. For always encouraging me. For always being there with the advice I needed. But mostly, for simply being the best mom. Here’s to the spa we often talk about and maybe someday will own. Love you!

Contents

Front Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

A Sneak Peek of Suddenly Mine

Chapter 1

About the Author

Chapter 1

Oh, they’re perfect! Exactly what I was looking for.

Regan Amerson looked at her mother as if she had lost her mind. Um, they’re not exactly what we had discussed.

Of course they’re not—they’re better.

They’re bedazzled.

Exactly. I think they really grab your attention.

Regan pinched the bridge of her nose, mentally counted to ten, and sighed. "Mom, we agreed the shirts would be basic black or white with our logo tastefully placed in the corner. She pointed to the shirt her mother was holding up. That’s not what I see."

Caroline rolled her eyes. I know what we discussed, but those were boring. These are much better.

No, Mom, they’re not. They’re the opposite of better! Regan rarely raised her voice, particularly at her mother, but this time she had been pushed to her limit. "First, they are tacky. Second, we have male employees. Do you honestly think they are going to wear a bedazzled T-shirt?"

Don’t be ridiculous, Regan, her mother scolded. "I kept your boring design for the guys. I just thought the ladies would appreciate something with a little more…bling."

I hate bling! You know it’s one of my pet peeves, and yet you did it anyway! We’re partners, Mom, and we’re supposed to discuss things like this before making a decision. What were you thinking?

I was thinking it wouldn’t kill you to open your mind a little bit. Reaching into the box in front of her, Caroline pulled out a shirt in Regan’s size. Just try it on. She held it up in front of her daughter and measured it against her just like she had when Regan was a child.

Regan shooed her away. Stop that! she snapped. I’m not wearing that shirt and I won’t allow my girls to wear that shirt. You’ll just have to send them back.

"Excuse me, but your girls? Your girls? I’m a partner in this business. I think it’s fair to say that they’re our girls, and I say they can wear them."

Don’t you see what you’ve done? Regan asked, bewildered. Don’t you see what makes them so offensive?

Caroline looked at the shirt and could only smile. Regan, they’re perfectly acceptable. It’s a basic T-shirt, no plunging necklines, not too tight…I don’t see the problem. Here. She shoved the shirt into Regan’s hand. Go ahead. Try it on and show me what is so offensive about it.

I really don’t think—

No, go ahead, Caroline urged. Clearly you see something that I don’t. So please, enlighten me.

All Regan wanted to do was stomp her foot, but she knew her mother would eat that up. It wasn’t easy being in business together—their mother-daughter dynamic followed them to work. Ignoring her mother’s arched brow, Regan headed to the bathroom to change.

For crying out loud, Regan, I’m your mother. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.

Regan knew the words were a dare but she took the bait anyway. Fine. She stopped where she stood, whipped her own conservative shirt over her head, and reached for the bedazzled spectacle that her mother was so thrilled about.

It wouldn’t kill you to invest in some good underwear, you know, her mother taunted while Regan changed.

Deciding not to take that bait either, Regan pulled on the T-shirt and straightened it. Hands on hips, she faced her mother.

I still don’t see it.

Really? You don’t see any problems with this shirt?

It’s the spa logo. What is offensive about it?

Regan was done playing. This had gone on long enough. "It says A Touch of Heaven in bejeweled letters right across my breasts, Mom! For crying out loud, you don’t think that’s offensive?"

She saw the exact moment her mother caught on.

Oh my goodness, Caroline gasped. I hadn’t thought of it like that! I just thought it would be better to have our logo stand out more—I didn’t even think about the placement. Caroline turned a lovely shade of crimson as she placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Don’t you dare, Regan warned. You can play innocent all you want, but I will not cave in and wear this shirt.

Well, the logo certainly pops, Caroline said and then burst out laughing.

Yes, yes, Regan said tiredly. Yes, it’s very clever, Mom. My enormous chest really makes the words stand out. What’s more flattering than someone asking what I do for a living and reading it across my breasts? Brilliant marketing strategy.

Don’t be so snarky. I honestly didn’t think along those lines when I ordered them. You have to admit, though, the male clientele will increase.

Mom! Regan cried with exasperation. We are a respectable day spa. We’ve worked so hard to get where we are, and I’m not turning to cheap thrills to boost business. You can’t be serious.

Caroline waved her daughter off. I was joking about the male clientele, Regan. Relax. I was only trying to go for something different, a little less practical and stuffy.

There’s nothing wrong with practical.

What about stuffy?

This was not a new argument. Lately there seemed to be a lot more of them. Originally they had agreed upon a standard uniform of black pants and white shirts. Then they added the option of black on black. The idea of a shirt with the spa’s logo seemed to be a good one, and as far as Regan was concerned, the design she’d suggested made sense. Caroline hadn’t argued about it, so Regan thought it was a done deal.

Clearly she was wrong.

People come here to be pampered and to relax. They don’t need flashy lettering on the employees’ chests distracting them.

Caroline nodded. You’re right. I’m sorry that I tried to get too creative. I’ll keep my opinions to myself from now on.

Great, the martyr act.

I’m not saying you can’t get creative. All I’m saying is that we’re supposed to talk to one another before making decisions. Those are two completely different things.

Mumbling about minding her own business and maybe it was time to move her into a home, Caroline walked away, leaving Regan in the office wondering what she was supposed to do now.

Forgetting about the ridiculous shirt for a moment, Regan welcomed an incoming phone call, and for the next hour found herself placing orders for towels and candles while scheduling appointments for two upcoming bridal parties coming in for a day of pampering. When she looked at the clock, it was lunchtime, her stomach reminding her that she had skipped breakfast. Stretching, she stood up from her chair and headed into the spa to find Caroline.

What are we doing for lunch today? she asked as Caroline was coming out of the storeroom.

How about sushi? Caroline suggested.

How about burgers? Regan countered. It was a daily argument about what to eat—Caroline always ready to try new things, and Regan content with sticking to what she knew.

Sighing with defeat, Caroline spoke first. I’m probably going to grab something while I’m out. I want to go to the home improvement store and get the paint for the kitchen and bathroom. The sooner we get them painted, the sooner I can get the Realtor over and the house listed.

It was a topic that made Regan’s heart ache: her mother was going to sell the home Regan had grown up in. It was the smart thing to do; after Regan’s father died ten years ago and with Regan living on her own, the house was too big for Caroline to take care of by herself. But it still made Regan sad. In a perfect world, she’d buy the house, but it was too much house for Regan as well. The practical thing was for them to sell the house and for Caroline to find someplace better suited for her. Regan just wished the thought of strangers living in her home didn’t bother her so much.

I still think we should hire a painter to come in, Regan reminded her mother. They’d had an earlier discussion on the topic.

Nonsense. It will be fun for the two of us to do it together.

Fun wasn’t quite the word Regan would have chosen. But it would go so much faster if we had a professional. Plus, it would help Regan distance herself from the process. The thought of spending extra time in the house and painting over walls that held a lifetime of memories seemed too much to ask.

Caroline knew her daughter well and knew why she was so apprehensive. She stepped up and placed her arms around her. Regan, it’s just a house. Your memories are here—she pointed to Regan’s head and then to her heart—and here. Just because the house won’t be ours anymore doesn’t mean you lose all those memories.

Tears threatened, but Regan willed them away. I know, Mom, I really do. I can’t help the way I feel, though.

Caroline stroked her daughter’s cheek. You just say the word and I won’t sell. I’ll find a way to make it work.

And we’re back to guilt.

I’m sorry. I know I’m being selfish. Selling the house is the right thing to do. You deserve to retire and live someplace that doesn’t require so much work. She hugged her mother and stepped back. Go find your paint colors. Remember, the Realtor said neutrals. Don’t go getting all flashy with the paint.

I believe I’ve learned my lesson, dear, Caroline said as she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

Regan watched her go and took a moment to enjoy the silence. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the T-shirt debacle was an indication of bigger things to come.

* * *

Regan? Are you there? Did you hear me? I’ve won a home makeover! her mother trilled into the phone a few hours later.

Clearly, I’ve died in some sort of fiery crash and this is hell, Regan thought as her mother rambled on about her good fortune. Mom, I’m sure you’re mistaken. You did not win a home makeover.

Don’t talk to me like I’m senile, young lady! I’m telling you, I was walking around the home improvement store with a shopping cart full of paint supplies when a man with a camera crew approached me and asked what I was doing.

They couldn’t tell by the shopping cart full of paint? Regan deadpanned.

Caroline ignored the comment. So I looked around and asked for the store manager. He told me the man was legit and that I had, indeed, won a home makeover.

A migraine was building behind Regan’s right eye. We don’t need a home makeover, Mom, we need to paint the kitchen and the bathroom. That’s it.

Well, I know that’s all we had planned to do, but imagine how much more we can get for the house if it’s been professionally made over! It will surely draw a lot of attention to the listing if we say a famous TV show did our whole house over.

A famous TV show? Wait, wait, wait, Regan said, thoroughly confused. What are you talking about?

Honestly, you never listen to me, Caroline said with a huff. "You know that show The Bennett Project on the Home Improvement Network?"

What about it?

That’s who stopped me today! Max Bennett! Oh, Regan, he’s even more handsome in person!

Isn’t he a little young for you, Mom?

Sheesh, Regan, Caroline said with exasperation. Max is the father. You’re thinking of Sawyer. He’s the son.

Not that any of this matters, Mom. We don’t need the home done over. All we need is a coat of paint in two rooms. That’s it. Tell them thanks, but no thanks.

Oh, sweetheart, I can’t do that. I already told them we’d do it.

What? Regan collapsed into her desk chair and nearly slid to the floor. Didn’t we just talk about not making any decisions without checking with one another?

That was about business, dear, not the house.

Seriously, I’m in hell. Mom…

Anyway, they’re going to meet me at the house in an hour, so I won’t be back to the spa today. Kaitlyn can handle my appointments.

Please don’t sign anything before I get there! Regan cautioned.

You don’t have to be there, Regan. I can handle this.

Just…promise me you won’t sign anything, Regan repeated for good measure.

Fine, fine, fine. I won’t do anything until you get there. But I’m telling you right now, Regan, I want to do this. You’re not going to talk me out it.

We’ll see about that, Regan thought before she hung up the phone.

* * *

I thought you were going to wait for me before choosing someone, Sawyer Bennett said to his father as they drove down the highway in search of their latest project’s address.

I know, I know, Max said patiently. But I saw her wandering the aisles with way too many paint supplies, and I knew she would be the perfect client.

Dad, just because she was painting a room doesn’t mean she’s going to be a good fit for the show. You know there are certain criteria that have to be met. The producers—

I already talked to Devin and he is one hundred percent on board with this project.

Sawyer looked doubtful. Devin is never one hundred percent on board with any project—he finds problems with everything. What makes this one so different?

Well, for starters, she’s a widow.

Oh no—

Max held up a hand to stop him. She’s been a widow for ten years. She is getting ready to put her house on the market because it’s too much for her to take care of.

I’m still not seeing the draw.

Her daughter isn’t on board with her selling the family home, so it adds a bit of drama to the whole thing.

Luckily, they were stopping for a traffic light, otherwise Sawyer would have slammed on the brakes in disbelief. So we are going to glamorize an emotional decision between a mother and daughter for the sake of ratings? When did we stoop to this level?

It’s not stooping to anything, Sawyer, Max said in an even voice. "Devin and