Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,6

up a chance to wow him with her accomplishments. She’d seen his work; let him see hers. “I’ll get you a hard hat.”

She grabbed her own, as well as a spare kept on a hook on the wall for visitors. She passed the spare to Matt. As he took it, his fingers caught hers, just their tips brushing the backs of her knuckles, and when she looked up at him, he smiled into her eyes. “Thanks.”

The fine dark shadow on his jaw showed off the perfect whiteness of his teeth. Eve blinked. The man was gorgeous. And he knew how to rock it.

She put more distance between them and settled her hat in place. She reached for the door, but Matt got to it first. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held a door for her out of politeness and not because her hands were full.

He got full marks for manners. The jury was still out on his intentions.

They both stepped from the dingy trailer into the sunshine. Shouting to the site supervisor to let him know where she was going, she led Matt across the torn-up lot to the heavy, steel doors of the new federal building.

Inside, black mirrors greeted them from an otherwise empty foyer. Thick cables crisscrossed the dusty granite floors. The smell of drying paint from the glassed-in office suites tickled her nose, while clouds of Gyprock dust drifted in the air. Hammers thundered in far-off parts of the building.

Eve loved everything about a construction site, including the creative challenge of working within a budget. Here, outer offices were given extra attention while inner offices were designed more for function to save money. Nowhere, however, had corners been cut.

She was proud of this particular project and, as she walked him through, didn’t try to hide it. She’d done this design, too. She knew just where she could cut costs—and those cuts usually involved the little details most architects considered important to their professional identities. What would an architect of Matt’s caliber do when she had to tell him he couldn’t have some of those pricy little details?

“Nice,” he said when they were back in the foyer, his expression warm and unsettling.

Eve tried not to feel insulted by his lack of enthusiasm. It wasn’t the Taj Mahal, granted, but he could at least acknowledge it for what it was: a quality piece of construction.

Then she wondered if it was the building he thought was nice or if he meant something else. She recalled the twinkle in his eye earlier. She knew how to deal with it when men were blatantly interested in her. She could laugh it off and pretend they were joking, and no one was offended. But Matt was subtler than that. More charming.

And Eve was uncomfortable with this kind of attention. She had no idea how to respond.

“What would you have done differently?” she asked.

As Matt looked around, he appeared to be giving the question careful consideration. Then those blue eyes fixed back on her. Twin creases embracing the corners of his mouth made a brief, attention-grabbing appearance. “For starters, I’d have added a Starbucks.”

Eve wanted to laugh, but she wasn’t sure he’d meant to be funny. He was too hard to read, so she left it alone.

He walked with her back to the trailer, and the site supervisor came over to greet them. Eve introduced the two men, then she excused herself with a lame comment about mountains of paperwork to be done.

She dashed back into her office, leaving them to talk outside in the sunshine. Instead of digging into the invoices, however, she peered through a crack in the blinds and waited for Matt to leave.

She didn’t want to find Bob Anderson’s interloping, over-priced nephew reasonable, understanding, or most especially, attractive. She didn’t want to see the sympathy, or the interest, or even the humor, in his eyes. She’d fallen for his type before, and it had been a disaster.

She breathed a little easier once he was gone, then told herself to relax. She was being ridiculous. He was showing professional courtesy, nothing more. As long as he didn’t interfere with her doing her job, there was nothing for her to worry about.

She slumped back in her chair. Who was she trying to kid? She had yet to meet an architect who didn’t interfere with her job.

The phone rang, and Eve wished she could ignore it and stick her head under something dark and heavy. Instead, she answered it. “Hello?”

“Hello,