Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,2

flattery was always nice—but Matt wasn’t sure the future was where Halifax, Nova Scotia wanted to be. Anything he designed was going to stick out like a sore thumb in a city that dated back to the 1700s, and whose tourism industry relied heavily on promoting its Historic Properties district. He had visions of the Nova Scotia Association of Architects picketing the project.

Matt headed for the small office trailer near the entrance to the construction site, where all visitors were required to check in. He knocked on the door, then pushed it open when a woman called out, “Come in.”

It took his eyes a second to adjust to the dingy, ill-lit interior. At first glance, there didn’t even seem to be anyone inside. A drafting table stood in one corner, with a battered desk and laptop in another. There was a slight movement in the shadows, and he bent over to peer beneath the desk, where he was treated to the sight of a well-rounded, and very feminine, denim-clad posterior. Matt recognized the shirttail covering it.

He contemplated his opening line. Hey baby, I brought it—where would you like me to put it?

“Hello,” he said, opting for a more professional greeting.

The sound of something connecting with the underside of solid wood made him wince. Her head popped up on the other side of the desk, and velvety brown eyes widened in recognition as they met his. A slim hand rubbed the back of a mass of coppery, auburn hair tied in a long, thick braid. Stray wisps clung to her cheeks. With her other hand, she held up a tiny object.

“Sorry. I dropped the back of my earring,” she said.

Her soft voice made the nape of his neck tingle. Matt had to work hard not to smile. This wasn’t at all the type of woman who’d need to whistle at strange men to get their attention. He watched in growing fascination as she slipped her earring back in place, then extended a hand to him. She had a firm, no-nonsense grip—he liked that in a woman.

“Well, this is awkward.” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “Eve Doucette, project manager.”

“Matt Brison. Bob Anderson told me I might find you here.”

Dismay crossed her face, and he wondered if she recognized his name. If so, she didn’t seem like a big fan of his work.

“Sorry for that little incident outside,” she said. “I was trying to prove a point to the men and made an error in judgment.”

He felt a flicker of sympathy. Being a woman giving orders to a bunch of men on a construction site couldn’t be easy. He didn’t blame her for wanting to fit in with the guys.

Besides, she really was cute.

He pasted on his best smile and let a little interest slip into his eyes. “No need for apologies. I was flattered by the attention.”

Her expression cooled, wariness creeping like a shadow over her face. It seemed she wasn’t into flirtation. Duly noted. He wondered if that was because she was married. He checked. No ring.

Then, he examined her more closely.

She wasn’t very tall. Matt estimated she stood about as high as his shoulder, but then again, he was a big man. Her skin was olive-hued and looked as if it might tan easily. She was thin—too thin, really—and her wide, long-lashed eyes had dark smudges under them, an indication she probably worked too hard. That wasn’t unusual in an industry that often demanded twenty-three of the twenty-four hours available each day. Based on her job, she had to be in her mid-to-late twenties, but if he had to guess at her age on appearance alone, he’d swear she was too young to drink.

All things considered, she was attractive—in a wholesome, girl-next-door kind of way. Sexy, if one was attracted to the type.

He definitely could be. Lately, though, he’d taken to assessing the women he met for more than their sexual potential. That was still important, of course. At thirty-five, he wasn’t dead. But he was starting to think about his future and where he saw himself by the time he was forty—and who he’d be sharing his success with. His ideal woman would be more comfortable in an evening gown than a hard hat—although that might be classed more as a job requirement than a priority since Matt entertained clients a lot. And she’d have to make a great mother because he wanted lots of kids. Being an only child had sucked.

And while Eve Doucette was cute—he was