His By Design by Karen Ann Dell

Ms. Silvercreek. I’m afraid I was the cause of the delay this morning. It won’t happen again.”
    “It’s not a problem, Frank. And please, call me Zoe. We’re on a first-name basis here.” She smiled as Jeff handed her the sack. “Your son discovered my weakness for sweet rolls and has been feeding my addiction ever since we started working together. Come on back to the office and we’ll have some.”
    “You go ahead and have your danish. I’m going to take Dad upstairs and show him around so he’ll have a better idea what connections he’ll need to make.” Jeff pointed his dad in the direction of the stairs.
    “Wait. I’ll come with you.”
    “No need. We’re already late getting started. We’ll only be a few minutes.” He nodded toward the cup in her hand. “Don’t let your coffee get cold.” Without waiting for her reply, he herded his father up the stairs.
    Zoe took a sip of her coffee and watched them disappear. She shrugged. While she didn’t need to go up with them, she had wanted to see what his dad thought about Jeff’s design. Oh well, she would have plenty of time to chat with Mr. Petrosky over the next few days.
    By noon, Zoe was ravenous as usual. Jeff had finished up the last of the new outlet boxes, which for the first time in a week brought him in close proximity. As she sanded the trim around one of the windows, her stomach rumbled loud enough for him to hear. She glanced up and noticed the smirk that turned up one corner of his mouth. It put a dimple in his cheek and her appetite increased exponentially, but not for food. Her gaze went from his dimple to his eyes, to find them studying her.
    Was that genuine interest she saw in those blue pools? Or where they shark tanks, home to the eyes of a predator? She wet her lips and his pupils dilated a bit. Heat built in her belly. Her fingertips tingled with the urge to touch his arm, run her palms over his incredible biceps, lift his hand to her mouth and suckle one of his long, strong, fingers.
    “Why don’t we order pizza for lunch today instead of you going out to eat?” Her voice sounded unusually high-pitched. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Donatelli’s will deliver since we’re so close. That way I can talk to your dad and find out all those embarrassing secrets from your teenage years.” She gave him a wicked grin.
    “Yeah, that’s really nice of you to offer, but, uh, we’ve got to pick up a few more things at the hardware store. I thought we’d do that over the lunch break so we’d be able to start right in up here this afternoon.”
    “But—”
    “Hey, we were late this morning. You know how you’re always saying time is money and we don’t have any to waste.” He spread his hands out. “I’m only trying to make up for lost time.”
    “Well, your attitude is commendable but, once in a while we could bend the rules a bit.” Heck, he made her sound like Simon Legree, always cracking the whip.
    “No. I agree with your plan to get this renovation done on time and, if possible, under budget. Don’t worry, we’ll be back before you know it.”
    He unhooked his tool belt and shrugged back into his flannel shirt. She pretended not to watch him while she gave a few more half-hearted swipes to the windowsill with her sandpaper. His work boots clattered down the stairs and she heard him talk to his dad. A few moments later they were both out the front door and into the truck.
    She tossed the sandpaper on the windowsill and marched down the stairs, the sudden warmth she’d felt quenched by his obvious desire to spend as little ‘free’ time with her as possible.
    That was the way she wanted it though. Right? She’d been worried that he would make a play for her so she’d kept their relationship strictly workman-like. Pleasant, but not . . . friendly. Impersonal. Her conscience gave her kudos for that.
    But, dammit , the man was gorgeous. Tall. And strong. Yet somehow even tearing up flooring, he had