Page 11 of Her Holiday Heartthrobs

Her mouth pulls into a small pout, but a small glint flashes in her eyes. “Sir.”

I nearly growl, wanting to show her what calling mesirwill get her, but I frown instead. “Jake,” I insist.

A teasing smile fills her eyes with mirth, even though her mouth hardly twitches. “Paige,” she retorts.

Touché. I refuse to smile back. I want to though, and that strikes me oddly. Most people get on my nerves in a matter of seconds. Minutes if I’m lucky.

“You need something, Miss Monroe?”

Finally, a small smile. “Yes. I—can I pick your brain, sir?”

Pickmybrain? Usually, project managers want to keep me out of as much as they possibly can, except to gain my approval on their budgets, which almost never happens the first go around.

“Sure. Have a seat.” I gesture at one of my chairs.

Paige steps in and partially closes the door. Her scent is headier, like she recently devoured an entire bushel of apples. It hits me hard as she sits, and I have to clench my fists under my desk.

I’m in serious trouble.

PAIGE

Jake looks like he’s ready to commit murder for the interruption, although he’s trying to play nice. I don’t seem able. I remember him being quiet but nice at my dad’s house. You know, on the occasion I had to come out of my room for something.

I sit on the edge of my chair, portfolio propped on my knees. Sensing he will appreciate my getting straight to it, I do. “I have three very specific ideas, and I hope to save time by getting equally specific calculations before I plan. I don’t want to think too big if I don’t have the budget for it.”

He narrows his eyes, like I’m playing with him. “I laid out our budget in the meeting.”

“Yes, I know, sir.” That has the muscle in his jaw twitching again. Calling himsirseems to set him off. For some reason, it makes me want to say it more. Instead, I push on to avoid pissing off one of my new bosses on day one. “But I don’t have vast experience with construction prices, and I’m sure you have people you prefer to work with that I could pull realistic quotes from.”

Jakes slow blinks at me. Have I sprouted an extra head or something?

I wait, and he snaps out of it with a sharp nod.

“I can provide you with that. The more you can tell me, the better I can help.” He doesn’t sound so happy to help, but I won’t turn down the offer.

Finally, I offer him a small smile. “That I can do.”

He thaws the more we get into the nitty-gritty numbers. But every time I drop asiron him, he bristles, glares at me, and takes a second to reboot. The further I get down my list of budget details, the more he seems to ease—posture not as rigid, the tick in his jaw only flaring occasionally, his voice less cutting.

I’ve worked with his personality type before, so I plow on and don’t take offense to any of his broodiness.

Some of the numbers I expected are way off. I have more leeway for accent pieces if I keep a certain theme for the floors and use carpeting to create the unique experiences and color schemes I want for the redesigned rooms. The bungalows can all have the same basic structure with small variances in not only the decor but in windows and front-facing architecture. Landscaping is another element I can utilize for variety.

Jake has so many ideas that play off of my own. I genuinely appreciate his help because now I have a list of digital catalogs to comb through to accurately judge what we can accomplish.

“Anything else?” He isn’t driving me off, but I’ve gone through everything on my list and more. With this due in the morning, I have to get my first draft done before I go home. I won’t have time to do more than review it after Paxton goes to bed tonight, so priorities.

As I poise to stand, I shake my head, unable to help myself. “No. That’s all. Thank you, sir.”

His jaw clenches and so do my thighs. I stand to cut some of the tension, but it’s thick.

“Paige.” His voice rumbles low, dark, and I imagine him punishing me for the insolence. It’s an unfortunate thought that has my nipples pinching.

I mean, couldn’t these guys have aged a little worse for wear? Did he have to be more attractive than when I was going through puberty and obsessively thinking about the few men who were nice to me? Not like anyone my age had been all too nice. Or interested.

Now, I’m a mom, a college graduate and a project manager. But I still have a dangerous crush on the three men who modeled what I wanted in one.

God, the way he’s looking at me. I try for innocence. “Sir?”

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