basic triangles, rounding them off like the buildings he’d been looking at online last night. Almost immediately the bones of the structure started to appear.
“Any siblings?”
“A sister, Darcie, who’s a year younger than I am and still works at the firm.”
“She’s an architect, too?”
“No, a numbers person. Accountant, Web site maintenance, marketing, handles a lot of real estate and contract issues.”
“Are you close to her?”
“Yep.” He paused at the first window. Arched or square? He went for a soft arch and decided she should know he had more family than just Darcie. “I also have a brother, Elliott.”
“Oh, older or younger?”
He smiled. “He just turned one.”
“You have a one-year-old brother?”
“Half-. My dad remarried, and they have a child.” He congratulated himself on keeping the darkness and anger out of his voice. Maybe he was over it after all.
“And your mother?”
“She’s…” Coping. “Funny line of questioning for a job interview, Strawberry.”
Lacey laughed, lifting up her hair to get some air on her neck, looking so sexy and sweet he wanted to put down the sketch pad and kiss her. No, he wanted to sketch her. Just like that, hair up, guard down, eyes bright, smile even brighter.
“I’m just trying to get to know you. You give everyone a nickname?”
“Only if I really like them.”
Color darkened her cheeks. “You don’t even know me.”
“I like what I know of you so far. I know you’re a good mother, and I like that.”
“How would you know what kind of mother I am?”
He turned the pad to deepen the perspective of one wall. “You’da killed me if I’d gotten any closer to your daughter yesterday. How long have you been a single mom?”
She didn’t answer right away, just turned her profile to him. He stopped drawing to study the shape of her nose. Not perfect in a classical sense, but really perfect for her face.
“I’ve never not been a single mom,” she answered, still not turning to him as if the confession embarrassed her. “I didn’t marry Ashley’s father. I’ve raised her alone from day one.”
It did embarrass her; he could tell by the note of defiance in her voice. “You’ve done a great job,” he said simply. “I’m sure it’s been tough.”
“My parents are local, and they’ve helped, but, yeah, it’s a challenge. Especially now because she has an opinion on everything.”
“Did she have an opinion on me?”
She just laughed. “All of us had an opinion on you.”
“You mean your friends that were in the bar last night? What did they tell you to do? Run as fast as you can, Lacey; he’s got an earring and a tattoo?”
“No, that’ll be my mother when she gets back from New York. Of course, that’s not saying much because I’ve pretty much made a second career out of disappointing my mother. But my friends? They totally encouraged me to give you a chance.” She grinned. “Especially Zoe.”
“The blonde?”
“The pretty blonde,” she added.
He started to outline the balustrade, the vision so clear in his head he wasn’t even thinking as his pencil worked. “She’s not my type,” he said.
“What is?”
He glanced up. “Job interview question?”
“Curious woman question.”
“You’re my type, Lacey.”
“Oh, please. You’ve already said you’d work for nothing. You don’t have to throw in gratuitous praise to get the job.”
He stopped drawing and looked directly at her. “You are my type,” he repeated.
“I’m older than you are.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t obsessing over it. Ma’am.”
Laughing, she shook her head. “So you like well-endowed redheads who use the word can’t and have teenage daughters with too many opinions? Why do I find this hard to believe?”
“I like curvy, sexy, gorgeous strawberry blondes who are willing to take risks when something is important enough.” The fact that she was a single mother spoke volumes about what kind of woman she was, whether she realized it or not. “I also happen to think we’re more alike than you realize.”
He finished the balustrade, and considered showing her the drawing, but something was missing.
“Why are you frowning?” she asked.
“I’m not done yet and I can’t decide what I’ve left out.”
She leaned forward. “Can I look yet?”
“No. But…” He wanted to ask her to hold perfectly still, just like she was, with dappled sun turning her hair to spun gold and highlighting each little freckle on her nose.
“All right. I got it. Just keep talking. Tell me more about your mother who you constantly disappoint.”
She laughed. “You picked that up, huh? No. I’ll tell you about my dad, though. He’s