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“Hasn’t the designer arrived yet?” I ask.

“The designer’s been here since 12 p.m., when the meeting was supposed to start.”

The answer reaches me from somewhere behind the crowd. I turn toward the voice, but I can’t immediately tell who spoke.

“And where is he?” I press, unable to hide the irritation creeping into my tone.

I’m already late. I don’t have time for pointless remarks reminding me of it.

“I’m right here.”

The reply comes from a woman standing beside a large table covered with carpet samples.

At first, all I see is her back.

She’s wearing a black cape that drapes almost to her knees, concealing most of her figure, while a pair of impossibly high pink heels accentuates her tanned legs.

Then she turns around.

For one suspended heartbeat, the entire room seems to fade into silence.

The cape hangs open at the front, revealing a dangerously short purple dress that hugs every curve without apology. A color catalogue rests against one hip, her phone and a box cutter are balanced effortlessly in the same hand, as though she has no idea how breathtaking she looks carrying construction tools dressed like that.

Or maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing.

My gaze betrays me immediately. It drops to her legs before I can stop it.

Smooth, sun-kissed skin disappears beneath the hem of that tiny dress.

Christ.

I force myself to look higher.

Two impossibly long braids fall over her shoulders, reaching almost to her thighs. It’s not the length that catches me off guard.

It’s the color.

Purple.

Not the artificial shade that looks ridiculous on most people.

On her… it works.

Hell, it looks incredible.

Then our eyes meet.

Large.

Dark blue.

Bright enough to command attention even in the middle of a construction site.

There’s the faintest trace of amusement dancing across her face, as though she’s already noticed exactly where I’d been looking.

My pulse stutters.

Every rational thought evaporates.