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The Honeymoon House
Patty Salier






“Paul, Let’s Pretend This Is Our Honeymoon House,” (#uf3cb4a7d-3499-598e-bea9-104ca6c1cfe8)Letter to Reader (#u25ae7e72-2848-5366-8d21-da320235dbb4)Title Page (#ue44f613a-ef46-5abb-874c-1164dd5da590)About the Author (#u93c6dfa7-2c5a-5b34-917a-bce60132b0c9)Dedication (#udce2d7d1-72fc-5231-990c-bb56f94819ab)Chapter One (#u319f8b65-d195-5c16-a9ec-fe56f723f2b0)Chapter Two (#u292cce65-4366-5da1-a84e-223df62958e6)Chapter Three (#u02440fa4-9f39-5330-a138-4dd45aee7313)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“Paul, Let’s Pretend This Is Our Honeymoon House,”

Danielle said. “Just for tonight.”

Paul swooped her up in his arms. “Like this?” He brought her back outside into the darkness. Then he carried her over the threshold, like a groom with his bride.

Danielle felt a burst of joy. “I feel like we’re marr—” She stopped herself. She couldn’t spoil the beautiful moment between them. She didn’t want to scare him off. Not when he was feeling so close to her.

“Let’s do it the right way,” Paul whispered as he carried her up the winding staircase to the master bedroom....


Dear Reader,

This month we have some special treats in store for you, beginning with Nobody’s Princess, another terrific MAN OF THE MONTH from award-winning writer Jennifer Greene. Our heroine believes she’s just another run-of-the-mill kind of gal...but naturally our hero knows better. And he sets out to prove to her that he is her handsome prince...and she is his princess!

Joan Elliott Pickart’s irresistible Bishop brothers are back in Texas Glory, the next installment of her FAMILY MEN series. And Amy Fetzer brings us her first contemporary romance, a romantic romp concerning parenthood—with a twist—in Anybody’s Dad.

Peggy Moreland’s heroes are always something special, as you’ll see in A Little Texas Two-Step, the latest in her TROUBLE IN TEXAS series.

And if you’re looking for fun and frolic—and a high dose of sensuality—don’t miss Patty Salier’s latest, The Honeymoon House. If emotional and dramatic is more your cup of tea, then you’ll love Kelly Jamison’s Unexpected Father.

As always, there is something for everyone here at Silhouette Desire, where you’ll find the very best contemporary romance.

Enjoy!






Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo. NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609. Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3


Patty Salier

The Honeymoon House










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


PATTY SALIER

Born and raised in Gravesend, Brooklyn, in New York, Patty credits her mother for her keen logic and her father for her curious, creative mind. She has been a published writer for many years. To Patty, her wonderful husband and two great children are everything she could want in life. “I’ve got so much to be thankful for.”


For my wonderful husband, lover and best friend,

Edward, and for my extraordinarily gifted children,

Diana and Jeff.


One

Danielle Ford swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as she sat on the black leather sofa in Mr. Harrington’s Century City office in Los Angeles.

Danielle was so anxious about the job interview that her panty hose stuck to her legs like seaweed. She yearned to remove the moist nylon and set her bare legs free.

“Danielle, the original architect I hired to design the honeymoon house I plan to build for my wife has fallen ill,” began Harwood Harrington, a graying businessman in his early fifties. “Your sister, Lisa, who as you know is my real estate broker, told me that you’re the perfect architect to take his place.”

Danielle’s stomach fluttered with excitement. “Mr. Harrington, I’ve got great ideas for your honeymoon house.”

Did she ever! Her sister and roommate, Lisa, had told her that Mr. Harrington wanted a cozy, romantic home for his young bride, with a cute nursery for the baby he dreamed of having with her.

“May I see your portfolio, Danielle?” Mr. Harrington requested in a warm but professional tone.

Her hands were trembling. “Sure, Mr. Harrington.” She anxiously handed him her portfolio, praying he’d hire her.

Mr. Harrington studied her work and frowned. “Lisa didn’t tell me that you only have two houses under your architectural belt.”

Danielle nervously clasped and unclasped her hands. “Yes, only two, but the owners were extremely pleased with my work. I can give you their phone numbers for references.”

She suddenly felt ill. She didn’t dare tell Mr. Harrington that there was a third house she had designed in her budding career as a junior architect.

The Tilden house had been her very first project, and a total disaster. But it wasn’t all her fault. The building contractor, Paul Richards, whom she’d never met, had ruined the project for her.

She shifted nervously on the chair, feeling her panty hose bonding like glue to her skin. If Mr. Harrington found out about the catastrophe, she’d never get the job. Nobody knew except Paul Richards.

Danielle yanked at her panty hose when he wasn’t looking.

Mr. Harrington leaned forward on his oak desk. “Danielle, your sister, Lisa, has gotten me terrific deals on real estate for the past few years. I owe her many favors. But I must be honest with you. I’d prefer working with an architect with denser experience.”

Danielle’s throat went dry. “Mr. Harrington, I’ve made a computer sketch of the most romantic honeymoon house you could ever dream of,” she quickly said, giving her last push. “Please let me show it to you. I’ve got the disk right here.”

As she frantically searched her black leather briefcase for the disk, the telephone rang. It was Saturday and his secretary wasn’t in, so Mr. Harrington answered the phone himself.

Just as she found the disk, he hung up.

“Danielle, I’ve got to drive to West L.A. to resolve a business problem.” He rose from his desk. “I should be back in forty-five minutes or so. Feel free to set up your architectural program on my computer. I look forward to seeing your vision of my house.”

Danielle’s spirits rose as he left the office. She still had a chance. She ran to his computer and inserted her disk. What he didn’t know was that it wasn’t just the honeymoon house job she wanted.

Her sister, Lisa, told her that Harrington was planning to build a new children’s library in Santa Monica.

Danielle sucked in her breath. A children’s library. She’d promised her parents, dedicated elementary-school teachers, that someday she’d design a children’s library in their honor. When her mother and father were killed in an automobile accident a few years later, she’d vowed to keep her heartfelt promise to them.

That’s why she had to get this job. If Mr. Harrington hired her, he’d see what a great architect she was. Then he wouldn’t be able to resist hiring her as the architect for his new children’s library.

Danielle’s heart soared as her design of Mr. Harrington’s contemporary honeymoon house appeared on the screen. As she pulled the chair closer to the computer to get a better view, her panty hose caught on a sharp edge of the desk. A huge, gaping hole appeared in her nylons.

“That’s it!” she called out. “You’re coming off!”

Danielle ran out to the reception area. She searched the secretary’s desk for the ladies’ room key. But the desk was locked.

She glanced out the office door into the fifteenth-floor hallway. The hall was deserted on that Saturday. She returned to Harrington’s private office, closed his door—and realized there was no lock.

She remembered he had said he’d be back in forty-five minutes or so. She had time. So she quickly lifted her skirt and began tugging down her panty hose.

In the multilevel Century City underground parking structure, Paul Richards drove his faded green van, looking for a parking space. He was so eager to talk to Mr. Harrington that he was forty minutes early for his appointment.

He was just about to turn into a spot, when the engine sputtered and died.

“You did it again,” he groaned, shaking his head. His van had stalled out on him fifteen times in the past month.

He pulled out a wrench from his construction tool belt lying on the worn passenger seat. He got out and yanked open the hood of the van, then tinkered with the valves to get the engine going again.

He needed a new van. He needed to pay his mortgage on his small cottage in Santa Monica. And he needed his general contracting business to grow, because residential building was at a record low.

At his last meeting with Mr. Harrington, Paul had handed him a business proposal. Harrington had the finances, and Paul had the construction talent. Paul hoped to create a partnership with Mr. Harrington to construct commercial buildings.

“Paul, I like your idea of a partnership,” Harrington had told him. “With me as the financier, you as the general contractor and Victor Horton, the architect you recommended, we could make an unbeatable team.”

If only Harrington would make his final decision, Paul wouldn’t be sweating it out anymore. As he slammed down the hood of his van, he anxiously glanced at his watch, wanting to hurry up to Mr. Harrington’s office.

A few minutes later, Paul quietly entered Mr. Harrington’s reception area. He wished he’d dressed properly for the meeting. He’d rushed from a construction site and was sweaty in work shorts and a T-shirt.

Paul noticed that the door to Mr. Harrington’s private office was closed. Mr. Harrington had told him many times to just walk in without knocking when he came by on a Saturday.

He wiped his perspiring hands on his shorts, turned the doorknob and barreled into the office.

“Mr. Harrington—” Paul’s words caught in his throat.

Standing in front of him was a shapely female holding up her skirt in one hand and panty hose in the other. His gaze landed on her tanned bare legs and pink bikini panties.

“What are you doing in here?” Danielle shrieked. She yanked down her skirt. Her cheeks turned bloodred with embarrassment.

Paul leaned against the door, unable to take his eyes off her. Her black hair flowed down her shoulders like silk. “Exactly what are you doing in here?” he asked, glancing at the nylon hose in her hand.

She immediately stuck the panty hose in her briefcase. “I—I have some work on the computer that I need to show Mr. Harrington when he returns,” she stammered. “So if you will please leave...”

“Leave?” Paul repeated, incredulous. “I’m here to see Mr. Harrington, too.”

“You can wait outside.”

“Are you throwing me out?”

She stared at him with bold turquoise eyes. “Listen, Mr. Whoever You Are, if you don’t get out of here in three seconds, I‘ll—I’ll—”

He was definitely intrigued. “You’ll what?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll do something!”

Paul smiled. “I’m open to all possibilities.”

“You’re—you’re impossible!”

Danielle felt exasperated, embarrassed, but most of all, she was frustrated at herself for being so attracted to him.

His charcoal gray eyes twinkled mischievously at her. He had curly brown hair that gave him a boyish quality. His green T-shirt hugged the hard muscles of his broad chest. She had to force her eyes away from the ample bulge in his denim shorts.

“Tell me,” he began. “Who are you? I’ve been here hundreds of times. I definitely would’ve remembered you.”

His steady gaze made her knees grow weak. “You first,” she insisted.

No man had ever thrown her off balance the way he had. She had to sit up on the edge of the desk to steady herself.

“Okay,” he began. “I’m—”

Just then, Mr. Harrington entered the office. “Paul, good to see you!”

Danielle immediately jumped off the oak desk, feeling like a complete fool. “Mr. Harrington, we were just talking.”

“Danielle Ford meet Paul Richards,” Mr. Harrington said. “Paul is the building contractor on my honeymoon house. And, Paul, Danielle is an architect interested in designing my house.”

“Paul Richards?” she repeated, incredulous. It couldn’t be. Paul Richards was the building contractor who’d ruined her first project, the Tilden house. And to top it off, he’d later given her an awful reference when a potential client of hers had inquired, even though he’d never even met her.

“Danielle Ford?” Paul asked.

The knowing twinkle in his charcoal eyes told how he obviously recognized her name.

“What a superb pleasure to meet you.”

Danielle was suddenly aware of Paul’s strong hand closing over hers. Though her mind fought it, she felt an electricity rush from his masculine hand through her entire body.

“Have you two ever worked together?” Mr. Harrington inquired curiously.

Danielle gulped. One word from Paul about the Tilden house, and her dreams of designing the honeymoon house and the children’s library were over.

“Hmmm...now, let me see,” Paul began with a teasing glint in his eyes.

She held her breath, begging him with her eyes not to say anything to Mr. Harrington about the Tilden house.

“While you two are thinking,” Mr. Harrington said, “I’ll take a look at Danielle’s computer sketch.”

As Mr. Harrington sat down at the computer to study her work, she felt panicky at not knowing what to do.

Paul leaned over to her and asked in a whisper, “You didn’t tell Mr. Harrington about your botched-up job, did you?”

“My botched up job?” she repeated. “You were the one who constructed the house all wrong!”

“No way!” he shot back in a hushed voice. “You designed a humongous house on a tiny piece of property. Your kitchen measurements were totally out of whack, and the kitchen ended up being larger than the living room. And you forgot to draw plumbing plans, so the bathroom had no pipes!”

Her hands shot to her hips, and in a low whisper she retorted, “Really? I saw pictures of the house after your construction. The windows you installed were lopsided. The floorboard was put in crooked. Nails popped out from the drywall. Great work, Mr. Richards!”

Paul flinched as though she’d truly insulted him. “Okay, okay,” he finally murmured in exasperation. “I took on too many jobs at the time. I was building three houses at once and ended up exhausted in bed for two months with pneumonia. I admit, I didn’t oversee the Tilden house properly. What’s your excuse?”

She nervously glanced at Mr. Harrington. Her hopes rose as he put on his spectacles to look more closely at her design.

“I was just out of architectural school,” she replied in a super-hushed voice, moving closer to Paul. “The firm that hired me was short on experienced architects. Just as I was completing the plans, the project was accidentally taken away from me before I could check for errors.”

Paul’s rugged face was so near that she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. His gaze went down to her lips. For a crazy second, she felt he was mentally kissing her And she wanted to kiss him back.

Danielle quickly stepped away from him. She could never get involved with a man she worked with ever again. Not after what had happened with her ex-boyfriend Kevin.

She forced her words out in a whisper. “If you knew the Tilden house was partly your wrongdoing, why did you give me such a poor job reference after that project? One client wouldn’t hire me because of what you told her.”

Paul held her eyes with his. “How could I lie about your inadequate plans?”

“You could have said it was your fault, too!”

“The client was questioning your architectural competence, not my workmanship.”

“Lucky for you!”

“Hey—”

Mr. Harrington got up from the computer. “Paul,” he said, “do you think you could work with Danielle on my house?”

“Mr. Harrington, do I have the job?” Danielle hesitantly asked, praying she’d heard right.

Mr. Harrington pointed to her computerized architectural sketch. “Your version of my honeymoon house is exactly what I have in mind. Now I need Paul’s expert opinion, since he would be the one working directly with your plans.”

Danielle held her breath. Paul’s charged eyes were on her. Her skin grew warm. The powerful attraction she felt toward him scared her. She had to keep business and her personal feelings far, far apart with Paul.

“Let’s do it,” Paul said, his gaze never leaving her.

“Wonderful!” Mr. Harrington said.

She was exhilarated straight down to her toes. “Thank you, Mr. Harrington!” But as her eyes held Paul’s, she felt an instant set of reservations. How could she work with him, when all she kept thinking about was how incredibly sexy he was?

“I must admit,” Mr. Harrington continued. “I like the idea of my honeymoon house being planned and built by a man-woman team. However, I have one stipulation.”

“Sure, Mr. Harrington,” Danielle quickly said, not wanting anything to spoil her job.

“I need my architect and general contractor to work very closely on this project. The house is a gift of love to my new wife and our future family. I’d like a lot of love to go into the building of it.”

Danielle’s gaze mingled with Paul’s. Her heart thumped in her chest. What was he thinking? Did she see an intimate glint in his expression, or was it just her fantasy?

Her voice came out shaky. “I—I have no problem with that.”

“Mr. Harrington, I’m ready to start,” Paul added without hesitation.

Mr. Harrington slapped his hands together. “Paul, I want a full-size trailer set up on the construction site, and I want the trees cleared off the property immediately.”

Danielle was so overjoyed that she couldn’t remember picking up her briefcase. “Thanks again, Mr. Harrington.” Her body was bursting with joy. “I think you’ll be very pleased with my work.”

Mr. Harrington shook her hand. “I’m positive of it.” He opened his office door for her. “Send me your entire plan. I’ll make my changes, and we’ll get it to the building department for approval. I want the house completed without a moment’s delay.”

Danielle’s heart was soaring. “I’ll get it to you immediately.”

She practically floated out of his office. Now that she’d gotten the job, she was one step closer to talking to Mr. Harrington about his choosing her as the architect for his children’s library.

However, as she got into the elevator, a sudden attack of anxiety overwhelmed her. Anxiety about working with Paul Richards.

She couldn’t erase from her heart what had happened at the architectural firm where she and her ex-boyfriend Kevin had been employed. Working together had destroyed their relationship and ruined a job she’d wanted more than anything. She wasn’t going to let that happen with the honeymoon house. She vowed to keep emotionally clear of Paul Richards, no matter how incredible a man he was.

Mr. Harrington closed the door to his private office and turned to Paul with a concerned look on his face. “Paul, I hired Danielle Ford because I owe her sister a huge favor. Danielle’s got talent, but I don’t want to see any mistakes due to inexperience.”

Paul felt uneasy. He remembered the Tilden house. He couldn’t afford to make even one infinitesimal error on Harrington’s honeymoon house, not if he wanted that partnership with him.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Harrington,” Paul assured him. “The construction will go smoothly.”

“I’ll be honest with you, Paul,” Mr. Harrington went on. “The only reason I feel comfortable with my decision is knowing you’re in charge of the construction. That’s why I’m asking you to monitor Danielle’s work on the house.”

“Watch over her work?” he asked. The idea of monitoring Danielle’s plans felt totally wrong. “It’s kind of an awkward situation for me, Mr. Harrington.”

“I know,” he replied. “But you’ve never worked with Danielle’s plans before, have you?”

Paul anxiously looked away. He barely knew Danielle, yet he felt an immediate allegiance to her. He didn’t want to risk her job with Mr. Harrington.

“I’ve never met her before today, Mr. Harrington,” he forced himself to say. He was telling the truth about that.

“That’s why I’m depending on you, Paul,” Mr. Harrington continued. “I want my house to be flawless.”

“I’ll make sure of it, Mr. Harrington.”

“I knew I could count on you, Paul.” Mr. Harrington sat at his shiny oak desk. “By the way, I’m still intensely interested in your partnership idea.”

Paul beamed with hope. “I’m glad to hear you say those words, Mr. Harrington.”

“However, I want to get this project going first,” Mr. Harrington went on. “I also want to discuss my new children’s library with you.” The telephone rang. “I definitely want you to build it, Paul. I particularly like your recommendation of Victor Horton as the architect for my new library, especially since the three of us might go into a partnership together.”

Paul’s spirits rose to the sun. “Victor’s a creative architect. I know you’d enjoy working with him on your library.”

“We’ll talk more about Victor when I get my requirements for the library together,” Harrington said as he picked up the phone.

Paul extended a warm, thankful hand. “I look forward to building your honeymoon house and your children’s library, Mr. Harrington.”

Though the partnership deal still wasn’t signed, Paul knew he was on his way.

Danielle hurried into her small architectural office on Main Street in Santa Monica. She threw down her briefcase and excitedly phoned her sister, Lisa, at the real estate office.

“Lee, I got it!” Danielle gushed when she heard her sister’s voice. “All because of you!”

“I knew it!” Lisa replied with joy. “Mr. Harrington loved your computer sketch, didn’t he?”

“Just like you said he would.” She was still spinning with joy. “To celebrate, when you get home from work tonight I’m cooking your favorite Italian dinner.”

“Oh, no, I’ve got to work late,” Lisa said, disappointed. “Then, before I leave the office, I have to phone Manny before it gets too late in New York. You’ll probably be in bed when I get home.”

“That’s okay, Lee, we’ll do it tomorrow night.” Danielle knew how much Lisa looked forward to talking to her boyfriend, Manny, who had temporarily moved to New York for his job.

“I’m so happy about your new project!” Lisa added enthusiastically.

The moment Danielle hung up, she spread out her plans on the drafting table. She’d drawn a contemporary but warm two-story house in Malibu, near the ocean, with picture windows in the front facing eucalyptus, orange and lemon trees, and two large windows in the back facing a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

She made a quick list on a pad. First, she had to call a structural engineer for the framing plans. She wanted the honeymoon house to have a strong foundation because of L.A.’s earthquakes.

She also had to draw up the electrical and plumbing plans. She couldn’t forget the bathroom pipes! She was so excited she could barely write.

She’d show Paul Richards she was a good architect.

Paul Richards. She fingered the plans. She knew Paul could have easily told Mr. Harrington about her part in the Tilden house catastrophe. Why hadn’t he? Was he as attracted to her as she was to him?

Her stomach fluttered just thinking about working closely with Paul. The sensual way he looked at her in Mr. Harrington’s office had made her momentarily forget about work.

She put down her plans and drank a cup of cold water to calm her insides. She couldn’t allow her sexual attraction to Paul Richards to take over her senses. Hadn’t she learned the hard way that getting involved with a man she worked with only ended in emotional disaster?

As she drank the cool water, she remembered when she’d met Kevin three years ago at the architectural firm where they’d worked together. Kevin had been selfconfident and fun, and when she’d fallen in love with him, she’d shared her secret dreams with him.

She’d told Kevin she wanted to design a modern, high-tech house. She was sure a project of that magnitude would move her career ahead in their firm.

Her chance came. A wealthy client appeared in the office, seeking an architect to design his ultra-contemporary home. She excitedly told Kevin she was going to talk to the owner of their company right away and request that she be chosen for the job.

Kevin advised her to wait a little while. She listened to his advice because he loved her. He supported her. And she trusted him like family.

A few days later, she spotted Kevin talking privately with the owner. She was thrilled. She was sure he was recommending her for the job.

Then, one afternoon while Kevin was at a construction site, Danielle couldn’t find her drafting pen. When she searched Kevin’s drafting table for one, she felt the breath knocked out of her.

Hidden underneath other plans was Kevin’s sample design of the wealthy client’s modern, high-tech house and a letter to the owner of their firm requesting the prestigious job for himself.

She was crushed by his betrayal and devastated when she found out that the owner planned to move his architectural company to Chicago and wanted to take one talented, aggressive architect along with him. Kevin made sure he was that architect. He gave up their love as if it never mattered, as if she never mattered.

Danielle crumpled the paper cup and hurled it into the trash can. She’d learned one thing from Kevin. She’d never again fall in love with a man she worked with.

The next day, after doing some final finish work on a new home, Paul sped his faded-green van toward home. He felt troubled about the idea of keeping an eye on Danielle’s work. An architect had the right to privacy, and a good builder had to trust her creative judgment.

Paul made up his mind. Even though Mr. Harrington had insisted on his being a watchdog, he knew he couldn’t do it. He’d make sure Mr. Harrington’s house was built to perfection, but he’d never insult Danielle by interfering in her work.

Danielle Ford. She was spunky, determined and very sexy. He remembered her standing in Mr. Harrington’s office with her skirt up in the air, her tantalizing legs gleaming at him and her pink bikini panties in full view. He felt his body react just thinking about her.

Just as he drove past the Santa Monica baseball field, a baseball shot into the street in front of his van. He pulled his vehicle to the curb, got out and threw the ball back to the Little League players in the field.

He watched the kids practice before their game started. A rush of warmth filled him. He loved being with kids. But he knew he could never have a family of his own. He didn’t even know what being in a close family felt like.

A sadness overwhelmed him at the sight of the Little League kids’ mothers beaming with pride at their sons. He’d never known his mother. She’d died when he was born. A few years later, his father had married his stepmother, who had had two children of her own, but he’d barely known his father when he passed away of cancer. Paul had been three years old.

Paul had been raised by his stepmother, who had only seemed to care about her own two children. The sole person Paul had felt close to was his best friend, Lucky. He’d run to Lucky’s house whenever his stepmother screamed at him that he was always in her way. Lucky was the one who saw him cry when his stepmother told him that she wished his father had never left him to her.

When Paul had turned seventeen, he ran away for good—where nobody, even Lucky, could find him.

“Let’s play ball!” the umpire called out.

The words brought Paul back to the present. He glanced at the parents cheering in the bleachers for their kids. Family life belonged to others, not him. Never him.

When Paul returned to his small, steamy cottage in Santa Monica, he pulled off his T-shirt.

He banged on his window air conditioner to get it going, but not a whir could be heard from the motor. Maybe with the honeymoon house job, he’d be able to buy a new one.

His stomach grumbled for dinner. He looked in his refrigerator. Empty as usual. He grabbed a clean T-shirt and headed out.

At the supermarket, Paul went straight to the frozen food aisle. He yanked open the glass door. Ice-cold air hit his bare arms. What precooked delicacy was he in the mood for?

None, he thought. Sometimes he envied the construction workers he hired who were married and went home every night to their wives and kids to share a hot dinner and loving feelings.

He couldn’t remember ever having a warm family experience.

Paul pulled out a frozen lasagna dinner from the shelf and hurled it into his shopping cart. He rounded the corner on his way toward the vegetable and fruit department for his ready-made salad, when he suddenly slowed down his cart.

Standing a distance in front of him was Danielle Ford. She was bending forward, reaching into a display of ripe red tomatoes. Her tight white shorts accentuated her moonshaped buttocks. He halted his cart, unable to take his gaze off her. Her long, bare legs winked out at him.

He squeezed the chrome of the cart handle, imagining caressing the silken flesh of her thighs and gliding his palms up to her firm buttocks.

An elderly customer accidentally banged into him with her cart, waking him up from his sexual fantasy.

At the tomato stand, Danielle lightly squeezed each tomato for the perfectly ripened ones. She was excited about cooking Lisa an Italian dinner. She had just pulled out a red winner from the middle of the stand, when suddenly several tomatoes started falling down the display.

“Oh, no!” she whispered as an avalanche of tomatoes began tumbling to her feet. She frantically pressed her body against the display to stop the onslaught.

Just as she grabbed several, a strong hand collided with hers to help stop the tomatoes. She looked up to see Paul Richards’s charcoal eyes on her. The warmth of his masculine hand made her skin heat up in the icy airconditioned produce department.

For a moment, she forgot what she was doing and backed away from the display. “Paul, what’re you doing here?”

Suddenly, a huge batch of tomatoes rolled down the counter and splattered to the floor. Before answering, Paul immediately bent to catch the next batch of falling tomatoes in his open palms.

As Danielle swiftly stepped back from the counter to grab more plunging tomatoes, her foot slipped on tomato juice. She lost her balance and slammed into Paul, pushing him backward, then fell smack on top of him on the supermarket floor.

Her lips were close to his. She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. Her breasts were crushed against his hard-muscled chest. She felt his broad palms against the small of her back. Desire raced through her veins.

Eventually, she realized that customers were trying to help them up. She rose with red-stained white shorts.

Paul’s shirt was filled with tomato skins. His curly hair was moist with red juice.

“Paul, I’m sorry,” she said, feeling that she was starting their working relationship on a terrible note.

Paul wiped off the skins. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Besides, I enjoyed taking a tomato bath with you.”

He said it with a smile, but his voice was deep and sexy. She felt a sizzle between her legs.

She quickly grabbed her shopping cart. “I’d better pay for these items.”

He eyed the food in her cart. “Some lucky guy is going to have a great dinner tonight.”

“Oh, no, I’m single,” she instantly replied, then frowned. Why had she told him that? Was she trying to let him know she was available? “I mean, I’m cooking dinner for my sister tonight. If it hadn’t been for Lisa, I would’ve never had the interview with Mr. Harrington.”

Paul’s gaze was steady on her. “Thank her for me, too.”

He turned to his shopping cart. “Well, I’d better get my Italian dinner into the microwave before it melts in the cart.”

“Why don’t you stick that frozen dinner into your freezer and come over and eat with us?” she heard herself ask before she knew what she was saying.

His eyes lit up. “Really? I don’t want to cause more work for you.”

“I owe it to you for the tomato mess,” she immediately added. “Besides, I always cook way too much Italian food for me and Lisa to eat.”

“When should I come over?”

Her pulse was racing. “Dinner’s at seven-thirty. Here’s my address.” She searched for a piece of paper in her bag.

“Tell me the number. I won’t forget.”

“Twelve-oh-four Beethoven Street in Santa Monica,” she replied, flattered and totally taken with him. “Apartment 2A.”

“I’ll be there.”

Mesmerized, she watched Paul walk out of the supermarket toward his van, when she suddenly realized that she’d just invited the man she was going to work with to a dinner date at her apartment!

What am I doing? she thought. She had vowed to maintain a professional-only relationship with general contractor Paul Richards. Why was she giving him a personal invitation into her heart?

With a bag of groceries in her hand, she ran out to the parking lot after Paul, hoping she could make an excuse to cancel. But she caught the red taillights of his van disappearing out of the lot.


Two

In the shower at his cottage, Paul washed the tomatoes out of his hair. He wondered if Danielle was soaping the red juice from her skin.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her lying on top of him on the supermarket floor. The turquoise of her eyes. The sweet smell of her hair. Her firm breasts against his chest. Her soft body pressed against his manhood.

His loins ached.

What a glutton for punishment you are, he thought. He turned off the shower. Can’t you remember what your relationship to Danielle Ford really is?

He dried his aching, naked body with the bath towel. Danielle was the architect who stood between his success or failure with Mr. Harrington. If she made one mistake on the honeymoon house that he didn’t catch, goodbye partnership.

He hurried into his bedroom, zipped up his jeans and put on a clean white shirt. He glanced at the clock.

Who am I kidding? he thought. He couldn’t wait to be with Danielle again. That’s what scared him. He knew he wasn’t destined to have a permanent relationship with her. A female friend, sure. But how could he be platonic friends with a woman as sensitive and sensual as Danielle Ford?

The doorbell rang. He buttoned his shirt and opened the door to his construction supervisor.

“Butch, you have lousy timing,” he said with a grin as he shook his hand.

“I try to,” Butch replied as he sauntered inside. He wore a gold earring and black motorcycle jacket and carried a helmet. He was divorced twice, with no kids and no responsibilities except to himself, and was an old-timer at building houses.

“Man, I just heard the horrendous news,” Butch began. “Danielle Ford’s gonna be the architect on Harrington’s honeymoon house. Remember the Tilden house catastrophe? She’s major bad luck for us, man.”

To his surprise, Paul felt a jolt of protectiveness toward Danielle. A feeling he’d never had for a woman before.

“Don’t sweat it, Butch. The honeymoon house will go up smooth as velvet.”

Butch leaned on one leg and stared at him. “What’s with the change in attitude toward Danielle Ford?”

Paul avoided his gaze. “What change?”

“After the Tilden mess, didn’t you say you’d quit contracting before ever working with the woman’s plans again?”

Paul hedged. “Yeah.”

“I don’t get it,” Butch said, confused. “Are you glad she’ll be working with us?”

“I didn’t hire her,” Paul quickly replied. “Mr. Harrington did, and I’ve got to make it work.”

Butch shook his head. “I still don’t like the idea.”

Paul glanced at his watch. Seeing that it was getting late, he grabbed the bottle of Chianti off the counter, which he’d picked up on his way home.

“Hey, man, who’s the hot date?” Butch asked, taking in the red wine.

Paul reached for his keys from the coffee table. “You never met her.” He wasn’t lying. Butch never had met Danielle.

“Falling in love, are we?” Butch added with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. “I recognize that gushy feeling when a special woman turns you on.”

Paul opened the cottage door. “She’s just a friend.”

“Cow dung.”

Paul nudged Butch out of the cottage. “Finish up the last-minute stuff on the Barry house. Then start the grading on Mr. Harrington’s property and get the site prepared for construction.”

Paul locked the door with an unsteady hand. Butch had hit a sensitive chord. He did have a gushy feeling about Danielle. He’d better curb it fast if he was planning on a platonic relationship with her.

In the kitchen of her apartment, Danielle tasted the tomato sauce in the pot, wanting it to be perfectly spiced. Would Paul Richards like it with more oregano or garlic?

She cut her thoughts short. What was she doing? She was making an Italian dinner for Lisa, not Paul. Yet he’d permeated her mind ever since she’d met him in Mr. Harrington’s office.

She glanced at the small, magnetized photo of her parents on the refrigerator door. Mom, Dad, I’m one yard closer to making my promise to you come true, she happily thought.

That’s why she couldn’t let her attraction to Paul Richards interfere with her ultimate goal—the children’s library.

Just then, Lisa walked into their apartment.

“Lee, I hope you’re starved,” Danielle said excitedly.

Lisa didn’t answer. She set down her briefcase, plopped into a chair and nervously fiddled with the breadbasket on the table.

Danielle looked at her, feeling worried. “What’s wrong?”

“I was talking to Mr. Harrington’s secretary on the phone today,” Lisa began hesitantly.

Danielle’s stomach tightened. “Did he change his mind about hiring me?”

“Not really.” Lisa got up, washed her hands and began cutting tomatoes for their dinner salad.

“Tell me, Lee. I’m dying inside.”

Lisa stopped chopping. “He likes your plans for his house.”

Danielle suddenly felt uneasy. “But?”

“He’s asked someone to oversee your work.”

“What do you mean?” Danielle asked, feeling queasy. “Who did he ask?”

“His name is Paul Richards.”

Danielle’s legs suddenly felt weak. “But Paul is a building contractor, not an architect.”

“I know, but Mr. Harrington’s secretary told me that Paul Richards wants to form a partnership with him,” Lisa hurriedly explained. “And Paul can’t take a chance on your screwing up on the plans.”

Danielle couldn’t breathe. “You mean, if Paul Richards is displeased with my work, he could tell Mr. Harrington and then I’m off the job?”

“I don’t know, Sis.”

She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it. “I knew it was a mistake.”

“What?”

“I invited Paul Richards over for dinner tonight.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“I bumped into him at the supermarket.” Bumped? Her cheeks flamed as she thought about his hard body under her on the store floor. “He had a frozen dinner in his cart. I felt sorry for him.”

Lisa’s right eyebrow shot up. “Wait a minute. Is Paul Richards single and cute?”

Danielle cleared her throat. “Well, yes, he is.”

“Wow!” Lisa exclaimed. “Now what’re you going to do?”

“Don’t worry,” Danielle said in a shaky voice. “I won’t get involved with him.”

“But you’re attracted to him, and if you work closely with him, what if—”

“I won’t let that happen, that’s all.”

If she was so sure, why was her hand trembling as she washed the lettuce in the sink? And why did she feel crushed at learning Lisa’s news about Paul?

Was it that she didn’t like Paul being her watchdog on the job? She shook the water out of the lettuce, feeling anxious and upset. Or was Paul Richards already more to her than just a co-worker?

As Paul drove his van toward Danielle’s street in Santa Monica, Butch’s words echoed in his mind: “Falling in love, are we?”

He shook his head. How could he be falling for Danielle? He’d just met her. Besides, being in love meant sharing his life, didn’t it? He had no idea how to blend his solitary existence with a woman like her.

He found himself pulling into a mini-mall at the corner of Wilshire and Barrington. He got out and walked straight into the flower shop.

Danielle Ford is the architect on the honeymoon house and that’s all, he silently reminded himself.

The elderly saleswoman came up to him. “Are you looking for a bouquet for your girlfriend or wife?”

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “For a woman—I mean, a friend—I mean, a woman friend.”

“I understand,” she said with a knowing smile, and led him to the roses.

In her bedroom, Danielle glanced anxiously at the digital alarm clock on her bedstand. Paul was scheduled to arrive in fifteen minutes.

Her stomach felt jittery as she slipped on her silk, melon-colored dress. She fluffed her hair and lined her lips with hot-pink gloss. Though she tried convincing herself that she was getting dressed up to celebrate her new job, she knew better.

No matter how hard she denied it, Paul’s coming over excited her. She knew how difficult it would be to fight her powerful attraction to him.

The telephone suddenly rang. She stared at the phone, hesitant to answer it. Was Paul canceling? She realized how disappointed she’d be if he was.

“I’ll get it!” Lisa called from the living room.

Danielle heard Lisa pick up the phone. She nervously waited for her sister to say it was for her. She heard Lisa laughing and hurried into the living room.

“Who is it?” Danielle whispered.

Lisa’s eyes were aglow as she mouthed, “It’s Manny from New York! He misses me!”

Danielle sighed with relief. Paul was still coming. Even though she was stung by the idea that he was going to monitor her plans, her hands were perspiring just at the mere thought that he’d be at her apartment any second.

In the kitchen, she stirred the meatballs in the tomato sauce with a wooden spoon. She checked the lasagna and foil-covered garlic bread baking in the oven, wanting it to be perfect for Paul. Paul? The dinner was for Lisa, Lisa, Lisa! What was going on with her?

She boiled the water for the macaroni. You invited Paul over because it was the polite thing to do, she told herself over and over again.

Just as she put the macaroni into the pot of water, the doorbell rang. Her heart hammered. She apprehensively touched her hair and smoothed down her dress.

She glanced into the living room, hoping Lisa could greet Paul, instead of her. But Lisa was oblivious as she whispered love words to Manny into the phone.

I invited Paul over for good business, business, business! she repeated in her mind.

Danielle took a deep breath and opened her apartment door. Paul’s charcoal eyes lit up at the sight of her. He looked handsome in his snug jeans and white shirt with the top two buttons open, revealing his tanned chest.

She grew warm inside, totally forgetting her resolve. “Paul, you’re a few minutes early.”

“I couldn’t wait to see y—I mean, eat your Italian dinner.” He took in a whiff of air as she let him inside. “Ummm,” he hummed. “Your sauce smells delicious.”

His deep, gravelly voice sent a tingle across her skin as his gaze remained on her. Why did she feel he was talking about her?

She swallowed. “Make yourself at home, Paul.”

From behind him, Paul pulled out a bottle of Chianti and a vibrant bouquet of yellow roses surrounded by baby’s breath.

Her heart swelled. “For me?”

He shrugged, looking shy and slightly embarrassed. “I happened to pass a liquor store and flower shop.”

She was thrilled. “The roses are beautiful.”

She set the Chianti on the kitchen counter and slipped the sweet-scented flowers into a crystal vase.

“Paul, sit down,” she invited. “I’ll pull Lisa off the phone so you can meet her.”

As Paul sat on a kitchen chair, his eyes never left Danielle. He watched the silk of her dress cling to her bouncing breasts and shapely hips as she left the kitchen. He swallowed and nervously tapped his fingers on the edge of the already set table.

Remember the word platonic, he reminded himself. Don’t ever let it leave your brain.

Just then, Paul heard a loud sizzle. He turned to the stove. White foam was overflowing from the pot with the macaroni. He jumped up and quickly turned down the flame. He picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the macaroni in the boiling water, hoping Danielle wouldn’t mind.

He noticed the flowery wallpaper in her kitchen and the stack of food-stained recipe books piled on the side of the counter. Pot holders hung from a nail on the wall. A magnetized picture of an attractive elderly couple hugging was on the refrigerator door. He wondered if the people were Danielle’s parents.

Like home, that’s what her apartment felt to Paul. His muscles relaxed. He felt he could kick off his shoes, unbutton his shirt and let all his anxieties go.

He tasted the macaroni to see if it was ready. Not yet. He’d let it cook a few more minutes longer. His eyes caught the magnetized photo again. He pulled out a magnet from his pocket. It was in the shape of a hammer, with Richards General Contracting printed on it. He stuck his magnet on her refrigerator door.

In the living room, Danielle nudged Lisa to get off the telephone. “Paul’s here!”

She glanced anxiously toward the kitchen door. She could see Paul’s yellow roses beaming from the vase on the table. Her heart leaped: he was in the kitchen waiting for her!

“Manny, I love you!” Lisa moaned into the phone. “I love you!”

The moment Lisa hung up, Danielle whispered in her ear, “Don’t say a word about Mr. Harrington or the honeymoon house.”

Danielle knew that her sister had a tendency to open her mouth when she shouldn’t, and Danielle wanted to make sure that Lisa didn’t with Paul.

Before Lisa could respond. Paul stuck his head into the living room. “Dinner’s ready.”

“The macaroni!” Danielle rushed into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” Paul said. “Everything’s taken care of.”

Danielle’s mouth dropped open. Paul had set the steamy macaroni in a large, flowered bowl he’d found in the cabinet. He’d put out the lasagna and garlic bread on the table, too.

Her cheeks flamed. “Paul, you’re our guest. You shouldn’t have—”

“Did I do it the way you want?” he asked, a bit worried.

“Perfect,” she replied.

The pleased smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes made her melt inside. Why did it feel so natural having him in her apartment, when she had practically just met him?

Lisa entered the kitchen. “Paul Richards?”

Her voice had a mischievous tone that immediately bothered Danielle.

“Mr. Harrington has told me so much about you.”

“Really?” Paul said, glancing at Danielle. “Exactly what did he say about me?”

“Well—” Lisa began.

“Lee, get the salad, will you?” Danielle immediately cut in, shooting her sister a warning look that she’d better not say a word about Paul’s watchdog role in her honeymoon house plans.

Paul took it all in. “From Danielle’s reaction, sounds to me like Mr. Harrington didn’t give me any gold stars.”

Danielle quickly took the salad bowl from her sister’s hands and set it on the table. “I’m starved,” she said, determined to change the subject.

Lisa gave her a secret smile and then sat at the table. “I’ve been waiting for this treat all day.”

Danielle went to the utensil drawer to get serving spoons. She didn’t want to think about Paul’s relationship with Mr. Harrington. She just wanted to enjoy being with Paul for a little while, even though she knew the feeling would end the moment they started working together.

At the kitchen counter, Danielle suddenly sensed Paul behind her.

“Danielle, did I do or say something to upset you?” he asked.

She could feel his warm breath on her hair. “No, not at all,” she nervously replied.

His eyes caught hers. “Are you sure?”

For a split second, she knew he would never hurt her, that he really cared how she felt. She wished she could forget that he would be spying on her work.

“I’m positive,” she told him as they sat down at the table. “Enjoy your dinner.”

Lisa passed Paul the lasagna, studying him. “Paul, how well do you know Mr. Harrington?”

Danielle kicked her sister under the table to shut her up.

“A few years ago, I built a house for a friend of his,” Paul explained. “Mr. Harrington liked my work and hired me on a couple of his housing projects.”

“Has he ever fired an architect you’ve worked with?” Lisa inquired.

Danielle stopped eating. Paul looked at her worriedly. She knew he knew why Lisa was asking that question.

“Just once,” Paul replied a bit uneasily. “In the middle of construction, Mr. Harrington was dissatisfied with the architect’s work and hired another architect to take over the job.”

Danielle suddenly felt ill. Was that going to happen to her when she worked with Paul?

Just then, Paul’s beeper went off. “I’m sorry,” he said as he set a slice of garlic bread on his plate. “I should’ve left my beeper in the van.” He glanced at the number on his beeper. “Can I use your phone?”

Danielle pointed to the telephone in the living room rather than the wall phone in the kitchen. “You’ll have more privacy,” she said.

“Please forgive me,” he said again.

In the living room, Paul dialed Butch’s phone number, impatiently tapping his foot on the carpeted floor. He glanced toward the kitchen door. He’d upset Danielle by telling her about Mr. Harrington’s having fired another architect. Somehow, her sister had found out that Mr. Harrington had asked him to watch over Danielle’s work.

When Paul saw the anxious look on Danielle’s face about the fate of her job, he wanted to draw her into his arms and tell her not to worry. He’d make sure she kept her job right to the very end, no matter what Mr. Harrington had requested of him.

When Butch’s upset voice came onto the phone, Paul knew it was trouble. “Man, somebody broke onto the construction site at the Barry property,” Butch said.

“Damn!” Paul muttered. “What’d they take?” He dreaded hearing. He’d wanted the Barry project to finish smoothly like all his other assignments. Why at the last moment did something horrible have to happen?

“The owners moved in half their belongings and furniture yesterday,” Butch said. “The vandals cleaned them out.”

Paul’s jaw muscles tightened. “Jeez!”

“You want me to call the Barrys?”

“I’ll tell them myself,” he replied. “You contact the insurance company. Then meet me at the Barry house.”

Paul hung up feeling as if his insides were about to explode. He’d made sure that the construction site had been fenced and locked. The owners had been very pleased with their remodeled house. They were planning to move in tomorrow.

Now Paul had to break the disastrous news to them. The vandalism made him feel he hadn’t done an adequate enough job for them. He should have protected the property better. But how?

He heard Danielle’s voice behind him.

“Paul, what’s wrong?”

He turned around to find her staring at him with a concerned look on her face. Her soft voice was like a peaceful drug that soothed his insides. His agitated, frustrated feelings slowly subsided.

“Danielle, I’ve got problems at a construction site,” he began. “I can’t stay for dinner. I spoiled your great Italian meal and I’m—”

“Hungry,” she finished for him. “I’ll pack you some meatballs, lasagna, garlic bread and salad. You can take it along.”

Before he could protest, she hurried into the kitchen, with him right behind.

The phone rang again, and he saw Lisa jump up from the kitchen table.

“It’s Manny!” she said excitedly. “Paul, you’re the shortest dinner guest we’ve ever had, but it was great meeting you!” Then she was out of the kitchen.

“Danielle, I didn’t mean to mess up your evening,” Paul apologized once more.

“Forget it, will you?” Danielle insisted. She packed him a scrumptious dinner in a pan with tinfoil covering. She even added a plastic spoon, fork and knife.

She handed him the hot bag. “Just like my mother used to do for me when I had late classes at architectural school.”

“You’re lucky,” he admitted. “Nobody ever packed a lunch or dinner for me.”

Danielle looked surprised. “Not even your mother?”

He felt a sudden cold void inside. “My mother died when I was a baby,” he explained. “And my stepmother—she didn’t have time for me.”

Danielle’s turquoise eyes held his, almost as though she could feel his pain.

“I’m glad to be your first time.”

He felt an instant closeness to her. “Me, too.”

Danielle walked him out of her apartment into the hallway. He held her warm package of food in his arms, wishing he didn’t have to leave.

“Danielle, I want you to know something,” he began. “You don’t have to worry about your job at the honeymoon house.”

“I don’t?” she asked in an anxious voice. “How do you know?”

“Just trust me,” he whispered.

Danielle appeared so vulnerable. Her silk-covered body was close to his. Her pink lips looked so tempting. Paul wasn’t thinking. He leaned his face to hers and covered her mouth with his. Her lips tasted sweet like honey, and he wanted more.

His tongue caressed her mouth. She parted her lips, welcoming him inside. His tongue gently danced with hers and he wanted to let her know that he was with her, not against her.

He impulsively moved his body closer to hers, aching to feel her womanly curves. But the bag of food in his arms became crushed between their bodies.

Her lips formed a smile against his. He gently released his mouth from hers.

“Your dinner is steamy hot,” Paul whispered, meaning more than her food.

Her turquoise eyes twinkled at him. Her cheeks flushed. He could still taste the honey of her lips.

“Don’t let it get cold,” she said in a shaky voice. “The meatballs, I mean.”

Being close to her, nothing felt cold on his entire body. “Danielle, I wish I didn’t have to go.” He wanted to spend the rest of the evening with her.

“Another time,” she whispered back.

He touched her cheek. “I’ll see you at work.”

“As soon as I get the honeymoon house plans approved by the building department.”

“Yeah.” He had to force himself to finally leave.

Inside her apartment, Danielle leaned against the closed door, touching her lips where Paul had kissed her. Why had she let him kiss her? Didn’t he have the power to hurt her on Mr. Harrington’s project? But Paul had said to trust him. Isn’t that what Kevin had told her?

Lisa entered the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me that Paul Richards was a hunk!” She nibbled on a slice of garlic bread. “He seems nice, too. Why don’t you forget what Mr. Harrington’s secretary told me?”

“I can’t,” Danielle said, plopping into a chair. “Why do I always pick a man whose career is entangled with mine?”

“Don’t compare Paul with Kevin,” Lisa advised. “I don’t know why, but Paul feels honest to me.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “In fact, if I wasn’t going to marry Manny, I’d go after Paul Richards myself.”

“Marry Manny?” Danielle repeated. “Did he ask you to be his wife?”

Lisa nodded, bursting with joy. “Manny’s moving back to Los Angeles in a few months for our wedding!”

“Oh, Lee, what great news!”

Danielle hugged her, remembering Lisa and Manny falling in love in college when he was still living in Los Angeles. When Manny transferred to a university in New York, their love never ended. Manny had promised to come back and marry her. He’d kept his promise.

Paul Richards flashed in her mind. Could she ever risk getting close to him, when he had the power to destroy her career?

“Danielle, will you be my maid of honor?”

Lisa cut into her thoughts. A lump formed in her throat at her sister’s request. “I can’t wait.”

“I’m calling Manny to tell him!” Lisa quickly picked up the wall phone in the kitchen.

Danielle went into their shared bedroom and closed the door to give her sister privacy. She opened the bureau drawer and pulled out her lavender nightgown.

In a few months, her sister would move out of their apartment. She’d be living alone, with no family around to share her thoughts and feelings. She loved living with her family. When her parents were killed, she’d been so thankful to still have Lisa.

You’ll get used to living alone, she told herself as she stripped off her clothes in the bathroom to take a bath. Many women enjoyed living alone. But she knew she wasn’t one of them. She was a family person, and she hoped to someday have a family of her own.

So far no man had felt like family to her. No man except Paul Richards. Having him at her apartment was so natural, almost as though he were living with her.

She caught her naked reflection in the bureau mirror. She wondered what it would feel to have Paul Richards’s strong hands caress her breasts. Her bare nipples grew hard at the thought.

Stop fantasizing about Paul, she ordered herself. Don’t repeat what happened with Kevin.

But lying in the bubbly warm bathwater, she couldn’t get Paul Richards out of her mind. She visualized him climbing into the bath with her. She could almost feel his powerful masculine body sizzling against hers. She quickly turned on the cold water to startle her body back to reality.

At the burglarized construction site, Paul held in his frustration as he showed the Barrys, a young married couple, the damage inside their remodeled house. Butch began repairing the built-in drawers in their bedroom bureau that had been yanked out, scratched and thrown to the floor.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barry,” Paul began, feeling at blame for the entire situation, “my company’s insurance will cover everything that’s been stolen. Tonight, I’ll have my men spick-and-span your home until it’s shiny clean. We’ll even repaint the nicks in the walls and have the new carpeting steam-washed. Whatever you want. You just tell me.”

When Paul saw a hopeful smile on their faces, his muscles relaxed a little. Though burglaries occasionally happened on construction sites, Paul hated seeing his customers unhappy. He guaranteed superior construction and worked on their houses as if they were his own. His goal was for his customers to move into their new or remodeled homes totally satisfied with his work.

When the owners left, Paul put on his leather tool belt and joined Butch and two laborers to make the house brand-new again.

At three o’clock in the morning, an exhausted-butsatisfied Paul finished painting and cleaning up. As he packed his tools into his van, his mind drifted to Danielle. He wished he could have stayed at her apartment longer.

Butch put on his motorcycle helmet. “Going back to your new lady’s place?”

Paul climbed into his van. His normal reaction to Butch would have been an easy no. He liked his independence. He didn’t need to feel connected to anyone. But with Danielle, he was aware of a yearning that he didn’t quite understand.

“I’m going home, Butch.” He started up the van’s engine, relieved that it didn’t sputter out.

Paul drove toward his Santa Monica apartment, knowing he needed to get some sleep, but he found himself diverting his route a few blocks and ending up on Danielle’s street.

He slowed his van as he neared her apartment building. He stopped at the curb a few yards away from her complex and turned off the engine. Her apartment on the second floor had a small balcony. The Monterey pines somewhat blocked his view.

His heart quickened when he noticed that her living room lights were still burning. Her glass balcony door was open, letting in the summer evening’s cool breeze.

He wondered how late he would have stayed at her apartment if he hadn’t been forced to leave. He felt the sudden urge to ring her doorbell and ask if he could come in for a little while.

Paul knew he was thinking crazy. He regained his senses and was just about to start up his van, when Danielle appeared at her balcony door.


Three

Paul’s fingers froze on the ignition key as he watched Danielle walk over to the railing and look up at the star-filled sky.

Through the trees, he could see that she was wearing a flimsy nightgown. The light from the living room filtered through the fabric. Her breasts jutted out against the material, and he could barely see her nipples protruding.

Paul held his breath. He forgot he was in his van, parked on her street. He was aware only of Danielle’s naked hourglass form silhouetted under her nightie.

His hands were perspiring as he held the steering wheel. He slowly opened the van window to let in more air so he could breathe. His body became wide-awake.

Just then, Danielle leaned over the railing and peered down at the street. Paul’s heart hammered against his ribs. He was invading her privacy. He hoped she didn’t see his van through the Monterey pines lining the sidewalk.

On her balcony, Danielle stretched her body and breathed in the sweet, pine-scented evening air. Then she went back into her apartment, locked the balcony door and leaned against the glass door.

Was that Paul’s van she’d seen in the shadows of the pines and the streetlights? Her skin tingled under her nightgown at the thought that he might have been watching her.

What a crazy idea, she silently told herself as she drew the white curtains across the balcony door. Why would Paul Richards be parked outside her apartment at four in the morning, watching her? Was this just another of a zillion fantasies she was having about him?

She went to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of cold orange juice to cool her heated body. Paul Richards had been permeating her mind all evening. That’s why she couldn’t sleep and had gone out on the balcony. No wonder she thought she’d seen his van parked under the trees, as he admired her from afar.

When she put back the orange juice, she noticed the hammer magnet Paul had left on the refrigerator door. Why had he put his magnet on her door? Did he feel as close to her as she felt to him? She gently touched the metal, as though caressing him.

She quickly brushed away her sensual thoughts and returned to her bedroom, where Lisa was lightly snoring. She quietly climbed into her twin bed.

As she lay on her back, she felt an aching in the tender area between her legs. She couldn’t get rid of the vision of Paul watching her standing in her nightgown on the balcony.

She closed her eyes and pictured Paul’s warm palm snuggled between her thighs, caressing her to ultimate pleasure. She didn’t remember falling asleep.

At her architectural office, Danielle anxiously checked the coffeemaker to see if her mocha java brew was ready. Her plans for Mr. Harrington’s honeymoon house had been approved by the building department, but she had a couple of small revisions she wanted to discuss with him. A meeting had been arranged for that morning.

She set up two chairs at her petite conference table. She constantly shifted them to get the perfect angle to talk to Mr. Harrington. She glanced at the digital clock on her desk. He was expected at any moment.

She couldn’t wait to tell him about her new ideas for the interior of his house. She flipped through the spec sheets she’d written designating the specific details, such as white metal windows, recessed lighting, a marble floor in the entry, thick beige carpeting upstairs in the master bedroom and plenty of custom-made closets. She’d listed high-quality everything.

She knew that the more she pleased Mr. Harrington with her work the closer she came to asking him if he could select her as the architect for his children’s library.

The loud knock on her office door startled her. She held her breath and excitedly opened the door.

“Mr. Harrington, I—” Her words caught in her throat when she saw Paul Richards standing there. “Paul, what are you doing here?”

“Am I late?” he asked, looking a bit concerned. His muscular arms were filled with folders and papers that were about to spew out on the floor.

She leaned out the door frame. “Where’s Mr. Harrington?”

“Didn’t you get his message?”

“No,” she replied, panicking.

As Paul struggled to balance the stack of materials, she glanced at her answering machine. The message light was blinking. She’d been so nervous and excited about her meeting that she’d forgotten to check her machine.

“Mr. Harrington had an emergency out-of-town business meeting.”

She felt totally thrown off balance. “Does he want to reschedule the meeting?” She needed to keep the momentum going with Mr. Harrington so he’d see how prompt and efficient she was.

Paul grabbed a couple of papers that almost fell to the floor. “He sent me in his place.”

She stared at Paul in disbelief. “You’re going to sit in for him?”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

She nervously clasped and unclasped her hands. “No, no, it’s fine.” But it wasn’t fine. She needed to show her architectural talents to Mr. Harrington, not Paul.

Her stomach knotted. She knew why Paul had been sent. He was there to guarantee that she didn’t make any mistakes. Mr. Harrington still didn’t completely trust her abilities.

Paul’s muscular arms strained from the weight of the folders. “Is there anywhere I can set these down?”

“Oh, sure. Right here.”

As she moved behind him in the tiny space to get to the conference table, her breasts brushed against his broad back. A hot sensation rushed up her legs.

As Paul put down the folders, her eyes met his. He’d felt the electricity, too. How was she going to have a serious meeting when her mind was ensconced in her fantasies about Paul?

Just then, her telephone rang, jolting her out of her momentary sensual reverie about Paul. “I—I’ll be right back,” she stammered.

When she picked up the phone, Mr. Harrington was on the other end.

“Danielle, please forgive my last-minute change of plans,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem working closely with Paul.”

“Of course I won’t, Mr. Harrington.”

She glanced at Paul, who was sitting in a chair, sorting out papers on his lap. His royal-blue T-shirt hugged the muscles of his massive chest. His broad shoulders ached to be touched. His long legs were spread, and his powerful, muscular thighs glared out at her.

She quickly turned away from him, unable to think straight.

“Danielle, I told Paul my ideas for the master bedroom,” continued Mr. Harrington. “Please go over every detail with him. He’s aware of exactly what I like and may make a couple of suggestions of his own.”

“Mr. Harrington, when can I discuss the information with you?” she asked, needing to create a working relationship with him directly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be in touch with you later in the day.”

“Sure,” she said disappointedly. “You’ll be pleased with the results of my meeting with Paul.”

Danielle’s hands felt cold as she hung up the phone. She’d wanted so badly to show Mr. Harrington how creative and competent she was.

“Is everything straightened out?” Paul asked, concerned.

“I think so,” she replied, feeling upset.

Paul walked over to her. “I’m sorry Mr. Harrington sent me over. I know you’d prefer working with him.”

Paul’s sensitivity to her feelings surprised her. “Why don’t we get to work?” she suggested, wanting to smooth things over. “I’m going to need a few more weeks to finish the spec sheets and make a few revisions on the approved framing plans.”

“Fine,” Paul said. “I’ll start framing when you give me those changes.”

She spread out her floor plan on the conference table. “Here’s the location of the master bedroom and master bath. As you’ll notice, I drew two large bedroom windows facing the Pacific Ocean.”

Paul shook his head. “I don’t think there should be two windows.”

She stared at him. “What’re you talking about? I’m putting in two windows.”

Paul spread his hand across the air. “I see floor-to-ceiling glass facing the blue sea.”

“Absolutely not!” she protested. “Mr. Harrington and his wife need privacy for when they—they—”

“Make love?” he added in a husky voice.

His charcoal eyes melted into hers, and she couldn’t think about her work anymore.

She bolted from her chair. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

At the coffeemaker, she could barely concentrate on pouring the brew into two cups. How could she work when Paul kept reminding her of how much she needed and wanted a man—that man being him!

Paul walked up behind her. He rested his large hand on the wall beside her. Her fingers trembled as she poured the coffee.

“Danielle, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She turned and looked up at him. He was inches from her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“I need this project to go smoothly, Paul.”

His eyes drowned in hers. “Danielle, I have the same need as you do.”

Stop fantasizing about kissing him! she silently shouted at herself.

“Paul, you’ve already established your working relationship with Mr. Harrington,” she added in an unsteady voice. Her entire being was concentrated on how physically close he was to her. “I want to create a good rapport with him, too.”




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