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much better his plan was. So, not all hot air and ego, after all. Let’s hope his skills matched his vision.
    “I’ve got to admit your plan is much better than mine, Mr. Petros”—the small shake of his head stopped her—“Jeff. And I completely missed the need for a second restroom on the first floor as well. Needless to say, I want to keep the cost down up here. Bare bones functionality for now. Standard fixtures and surfaces. I’m not into glamour anyway. We’ll spend the beauty dollars downstairs. What little there’ll be of those,” she finished ruefully.
    “I understand but I don’t see you living in a cardboard box either. Let me see what I can come up with that doesn’t bust your budget.”
    “All right. Let’s go down to the main attraction and talk about that disaster area. I imagine you’ll come up with more good ideas down there.”
    This time he took the lead and she purposely did not look at his butt or that gorgeous head of hair or the broad shoulders which stretched the plain white T-shirt taut across his muscled back.
    Nope, she didn’t look at any of that.
    Jeff led the way into the main space and they talked about the basics first.
    The electrical panel appeared to be sufficient for adding the mini kitchen and outlets in Zoe’s apartment as well as some additional track lighting in the showroom.
    “Okay, let’s see if we get lucky with the floor.” He pried up the quarter-round molding from a section of baseboard and looked over at Zoe who stood with fingers crossed and eyes shut as she chanted, “Please, please, please . . .”
    He tugged at the edge of the linoleum till it finally gave way.
    “Hot damn! We’re golden.”
    Zoe opened her eyes, blew out a long breath, and rewarded him with a dazzling smile and a high-five slap.
    “Looks like the original flooring, which is great, but you do realize we’ll have to refinish it, right?”
    She nodded. “Still, it’ll be cheaper than putting in a whole new floor and that will help my budget a lot.”
    He continued his inspection, jotting notes on the clipboard as he went. The drop ceiling had some stains, most likely from water damage. His guess would be a leak in the ductwork from the air conditioner. Best bet there would be to pull all the tiles down, fix the leak, and spray paint everything up there a matte black so it would visually disappear. He’d have to get somebody to look at the heat and air and, although it pained him to do it, he’d have to call his dad to do the plumbing. Considering that he hadn’t spoken to the man in over two years that call would be . . . difficult.
    On the positive side of the ledger, he’d be working for the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Following her up the stairs had been an exercise in self-control. She’d left her hair down and it fell, smooth and straight, almost to her waist. A silky river of brown so dark it was almost black, it gave off the scent of exotic flowers and made him want to gather fistfuls of it to bury his nose in. His fingers itched for his sketch pad and pencils. And his mouth . . . yeah let’s not think about what my mouth wants to do .
    No doubt about it, the next few months were going to be a treat and a torment, all for the same reason. Meanwhile, if he wowed her enough with his remodeling skills she might be more understanding when he let his other secret out of the bag.
    “Want to help me take the measurements?”
    “Absolutely. Just so you understand, I plan to be hands-on throughout this entire project. You have the knowledge and expertise but there will be plenty of grunt work I can do.” She took one end of the tape measure and walked toward the far wall. “Besides, demolition is my specialty.”
    We’ll see about that, Ms. Silvercreek. There’s a lot of back-breaking work to be done here and I’m thinking you’ll bail after one day in the trenches.
    By the time their inspection was done it was just past noon. Let’s see if I can