Chapter Four
July 22, 12:09 p.m.
P aloma pulled up to the Thompsons’ lakeside property, her car gliding smoothly over the pristine cobblestone driveway. The afternoon summer sun bathed the front of the house in a warm glow, highlighting the elegant architecture and casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. She spotted an unfamiliar dark green truck parked near the three-car garage. Parking next to it, she read the company’s name and grinned at the wordplay—MaxScape Designs.
Stepping out of her car, a cool breeze carried the faint scent of lake water from behind the house, reminding her of the hidden beauty just out of sight. In the distance, a loon’s haunting call echoed across the water. She grabbed her portfolio and tablet from the passenger seat. The grand front door swung open, and Max emerged with a state-of-the-art laser measure in hand and a camera around his neck.
“Afternoon!” he called, the word carried on a rush of eager breath. “I hope you don’t mind I got here early to start the site analysis.”
“Not at all,” she replied. Her stomach did that maddening flip-flop thing it had started doing around him. She forced her gaze away from his faded jeans that hugged his thighs, to the worn patch on his knee that somehow made him look more rugged rather than shabby. At least he’d made it clear that night at The Hill he wasn’t interested in her. This one-sided attraction wouldn’t go anywhere. But it didn’t hurt to look. “Eager to get started?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners in the most adorable way. “I’ve been tracking the sun patterns since dawn,” he said, clicking on his camera and showing the time-stamped photos. Then, he pulled a notepad from his back pocket. It was filled with detailed sketches. Small arrows marked the changing shadows across his precise drawings “The eastern exposure is intense—we’ll need to coordinate on window treatments that protect both your interior finishes and my plantings.”
“Could you show me?” she asked.
“Of course.”
Their footsteps echoed in the cavernous entryway, and Paloma matched his quick stride. She pulled up her documentation app, capturing the intricate crown molding while he talked about light patterns. He moved on to shadow studies, and she cut in, “Wait—did you account for the seasonal changes? The sun angle shifts dramatically here in winter.”
“Already modeled it,” he said, setting down his camera and notepad on the stairs, trading them for his tablet. “Look at how the light moves across this space in December versus June.”
Paloma stepped closer, studying the rendering. “This is brilliant,” she murmured, mentally rearranging her furniture placement. She pulled up her preliminary designs. “If we shift the seating area two feet east . . .” Her fingers flew across her tablet, adjusting the layout. “See how it creates better flow around your garden space?”
“And leaves room for larger specimens in the corners,” he finished her thought, adding potential plant locations to the shared render. His shoulder brushed hers, sending warmth through her .
Moving under the massive stairs, he said, “Let me show you the lighting issue.” His fingers danced across the screen, bringing up a 3D rendering. “See this area, facing the street?”
She leaned in, her arm pressing against his as she peered at the screen. The brief contact sent a small shiver through her, and Max sucked in a breath. She glanced at him, catching a flicker of something in his eyes. Before she could name it, he quickly refocused on the tablet.
“Yes,” she said, a touch softer than she’d intended, almost sounding breathy. “Will it be difficult for plants to thrive in that dark space?”
He nodded. “It could be, but I might have found a solution. Take a look at this simulation I’ve run.” He tapped the screen, shifting, and the movement made her hyper-aware of his presence beside her. His cologne was amazing—a sophisticated blend of cedar and amber brightened with citrus notes. The way it mingled with his natural warmth created something magnetic, intensifying every time he moved close.
“The windows here create an interesting light pattern. If we install a series of reflective surfaces here and here,” he pointed, tracing the path with his finger, “I can incorporate some hearty vines that thrive under low light, creating a dynamic, welcoming entrance.”
“That’s clever,” Paloma said, her mind shifting to the job, and racing with ideas. She reached out, her hand hovering over the screen. “I planned on replacing outdated railings. You could help me pick ones that complement your vision.”
He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d be happy to help,” he said, his voice low and warm. “We could explore some designs that not only complement the lighting but also add to the overall aesthetic.”
He zoomed in on the 3D rendering, his fingers brushing against hers as he adjusted the view. “Maybe something with a subtle metallic sheen to enhance the light reflection? Or we could go for a more organic look to tie in with the vines.”
She leaned in, her bare arm pressing into his forearm. His grip tightened on his tablet, making his muscles bunch and flex. It was hard to look away, but she managed. Barely. “What if we combined those ideas? Perhaps a material with an organic texture but a faint metallic undertone. It could catch the light in intriguing ways while still harmonizing with the natural elements,” she suggested, her excitement at the idea building.
He nodded. “That’s . . . wow. It’s like you’ve peered into my thoughts and then woven them into something even better.” His gaze lingered on her, eyebrows raised slightly. He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, then tilted his head. “You have such a knack for this. What made you get into this?”
She paused, considering. It was a simple question, but something in his tone made her want to give a real answer. “I guess I’ve always been fascinated by how spaces affect people. How the right design can change not just how a room looks, but how it feels.”
They continued talking through their designs, and electric sparks danced through her veins with each interaction, not only from working together, but from the accidental touches and wafts of his delicious scent
“I like it.” She shifted to face him, finding his gaze already on her. There was a spark in his eyes that went beyond professional admiration, a glimmer of something that knocked her off-balance.
For a heartbeat, the world beyond their shared tablet ceased to exist. The air between them seemed to hum with potential, like the moment before a summer storm breaks.
Max swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His gaze darted between Paloma’s eyes and lips before he seemed to catch himself. “We, uh . . . we work well together,” he said as if reminding himself of work .
“We do,” she agreed, surprised by the husky quality of her voice. She took a small step back, grounding herself in the familiar territory of professionalism. “Your ideas complement mine perfectly. The Thompsons will love what we can create.”
Wrapping up their consultation, she couldn’t shake the lingering awareness of him—the way he moved through the space, how his enthusiasm for the project matched hers, the natural rhythm they’d already fallen into. Their professional chemistry was undeniable, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface, something that made every accidental touch feel like a spark threatening to ignite.
Walking back to her car, she took a deep breath of lake-scented air. The Thompson project was too important to complicate with attraction, no matter how magnetic. She’d have to find a way to channel this energy into their work.