Chapter 1

Jessa

"Hey, you can't park there, lady!" A construction worker had the nerve to yell at me as soon as my driver opened the limousine door.

He waved a tube of architectural plans at Jeffers. My poor driver stepped back, his hands up as if he was at the point of a sword.

"He's not parking here. He's dropping me off," I yelled, totally perplexed.

The construction worker peered inside, his blue eyes widening when he saw me. He popped his mouth shut and helped me out, but the truce didn't last long.

"This is an unloading zone for my trucks. See? I can't have a cement mixer double-parked," he said.

"Then you better get someone to help me with my bags," I told him.

"Whatever, lady. Let's just get you out of the way." He waved down the security guard at the front desk. "Where's all this going?"

"My father's office is the penthouse."

The worker was attractive when he stopped scowling, but I was beginning to think that expression was semi-permanent. He scraped back wavy brown hair and let out a deep sigh that sounded more like a growl towards the end. It changed to a string of swear words when Jeffers opened the limousine trunk and revealed my dozen or so shopping bags.

The head security guard, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised. He had radioed two other guards to come assist him, and they grabbed handfuls of shopping bags, crushing the delicate tissue paper wrapping.

"Is your father getting a whole new wardrobe or something?" the construction worker asked with sarcasim.

I met his not-unpleasant blue eyes again. "Excuse me; I wouldn't want to block traffic any longer."

I brushed past him, feeling a little thrill as he didn’t back off and our bodies swept close by each other. I knew his type, and our conversation was certainly over. Seeing as the construction worker wore a well-fitting but faded pair of jeans, I doubted he would appreciate the fine art of high fashion shopping. Someone like him wouldn't understand that weekly shopping trips, and then lunch had become one of the only traditions held sacred in my family.

My father put up with both my mother and I ascending to his penthouse sanctuary once a week to compare new fashions before he made his customary excuse and we went out to lunch without him.

Of course, this time I had gone a little overboard with the Autumn collections and the three burly men weighed down with my shopping looked somewhat ridiculous. I could be sensitive to how spoiled my life appeared. Just not with someone watching me with such judgement and irritation.

Who was he to judge me? I was Jessa Lauren, of the San Francisco Laurens, and I had nothing to be embarrassed about. I was proud of my family's fortune and standing.

With that in mind, I tipped my nose up in the air and marched up the front steps of my father's corporate headquarters. I loved the historic building, all marble and Art Deco accents, but it was currently engulfed in major renovations. Scaffolding marred the beautiful facade, and workers crawled all over it like an dirty infestation.

I was surprised to see the complaining construction worker had somehow beat me to the top of the steps and was calling up to a man balanced above the arch of the front doors.

"Hold your horses, Pete. We've got a parade coming through," he called out.

Pete shot my dozens of shopping bags a dirty look, but his expression changed when he saw me. Instead of some snarky comment or calling me a princess, the man just let out a long, low whistle.

I decided to take it as a compliment. My new cashmere sweater was quite perfect.

"Cut it out, or you'll get a fine," my blue-eyed construction worker snapped up at Pete.

I was shocked when Pete gave the man a jaunty salute and locked his eyes back on his work. In the few moments it took me to get up the front steps, going slow in new Jimmy Choo's, two other workers asked the blue-eyed man his advice, and he responded to three walkie-talkie calls.

He was definitely in charge.

Despite his shoddy clothes and his loud-mouthed manner, the man seemed to be commanding the entire renovation.

"You've got thirty seconds to get this pallet where it's supposed to be, or you'll be back on dumpster duty," he barked at a gangly young man.

I was fascinated and almost scuffed the toe of my new shoes on the front steps.

His thick brown hair was untidy, and he kept running his hands through it. There was a tear at the hem of his dusty button-down shirt that hung out untucked. Still, he was the one that every other construction worker looked to, deferred to, and answered to as he surveyed his work site.

"Time's up, lady. Get out of the way!" he barked at me.

I stopped cold on the steps, one hand on the diamond pin that decorated my new cashmere sweater. "Are you talking to me?" I asked.

"See a lot of other ladies dawdling around here?" he shot back.

I blinked and stood my ground. "You might want to rethink your tone when addressing me. I'm not one of your workers."

His blue eyes flashed with anger, but it dissipated faster than a lightning bolt. Then he tossed back his head and laughed. "Exactly, lady. I wouldn't let you within two miles of my work site if I had the choice."

I dropped my hand, and my fingers curled into an insulted fist. "I have every right to be here."

He moved so fast I was on my feet before I could blink. Behind him, a puff of dust exploded, and it wasn't until it cleared that I saw the large chunk of plaster heaped where I had just been standing.

My heart took off like a polo pony, and I struggled to get a deep breath. If he hadn't been holding me, I might have fainted. My vision swiveled around and faded as I forced in a few long, slow breaths.

Then I focused on his blue eyes, darkened with concern. He had gold flecks all around his pupils, and I started to think his gaze felt like a sunny day.

"Are you all right, Ms. Lauren?" he asked.

"How, how did you know my name?" I struggled to get my spiny heels underneath me again and balance on my own.

"I'd have to be pretty dense not to put together you're the boss's daughter," his mouth curled wickedly as he stared. He set me on my feet and started to brush away some of the plaster dust.

"Is that why I almost got flattened?" I swatted his hands away and straightened out my clothes.

He chuckled. "No. You almost got flattened because you weren't listening to me."

I gave an exasperated huff. "I have no idea who you are or what you're doing here. Why would I listen to you?"

His bright smile gave me the sunny feeling again. "My name's Dayton."

"And, what? You're the foreman?" I smoothed my jittery hands down the front of my sweater and tried to get a handle on my skittish stomach.

"Something like that," Dayton said. He extended a hand for me to shake.

"Jessa Lauren." I put my hand in his out of polite habit but instantly regretted the gesture.

A surge of heat jumped from his wide palm and made my fingertips flutter. My normally firm handshake turned to a flopping fish in his hand. Up close again, Dayton was surprisingly handsome. His baggy, faded clothes hid his broad shoulders and strong grip that continued up his rock hard arms. The heat hit me again in a wave, and I couldn't believe what my body was trying to tell me.

There was no way I was attracted to a construction worker.

Foreman or not, I tugged my hand free and fought the urge to wipe it on the silk handkerchief tied to my purse. Jessa Lauren did not mix with blue collars.

He seemed to sense my warring reactions, and his only response was to squeeze my fingers tighter. "How about you let me walk you to the elevator. Just to make sure you get there in one piece," he offered.

The elevator dinged its arrival, and the head of security held the doors open with his foot as his hands were still loaded with shopping bags.

I brushed the dust off, unable to get my feet to move yet. "And just how long are you and your workers going to be hanging off the building throwing around things?" I asked.

Dayton gave me another dazzling smile. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll see each other a lot over the next few months. Renovations are not slated to be complete until Christmas time."

"And what's today?" My mind was a complete blank as he took my hand and led me to the safety of the elevator.

"This is still the first week of October," Dayton said. "I've got the whole schedule posted in my office over there if you want to see it."

I glanced at the trailer with a gaudy crane logo and let out a tight laugh. Was this man seriously flirting with me? Did he think I'd join him in that dirty little tin can?

"My father's waiting for me upstairs. I'm sure he's got all the information." I started towards the open elevator.

"Ah, yes. In the penthouse," Dayton acknowledged. "Great views from up there. Shame your father didn't take my advice about turning it back into a private residence."

I slowed down enough to scoff. "My father has no need of a cramped apartment."

Dayton replied as he caught up with me. "He does seem fond of spending long hours in his office already. I was just suggesting he would be more comfortable."

The innocent comment felt like a jab. I marched into the elevator and gave the head of security the go-ahead to shut the doors. "I highly doubt you understand what makes a man like my father comfortable," I asserted.

Dayton caught my hand one more time, forcing the security guards to juggle shopping bags and stop the elevator doors from closing on my arm.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Lauren," Dayton smiled. I felt a business card slide into my palm. "Next time have your driver call me. Just a quick heads up and I'll have the front entrance cleared for you."

I pulled my hand back and held the business card with two fingers. "Just don't ruin this building. It's a gem, and I'd hate to see your renovation take away all the charm."

"Don't worry," Dayton said. "I know how to do charm."

The elevator doors closed and I thought that was it. Unfortunately, the image of his blue eyes floated with me all the way to the top floor. And there was a little scar just under his lip that added a mischievous curve to his smile.

I shook myself and hoped my blushing cheeks cooled before I reached the penthouse.

What was wrong with me?

My friends had been teasing me lately about not seeing attractive men. They were forever noticing good-looking men at restaurants, the club, or even on the avenues. I was always the last to notice the men that made my friends swoon. They thought I was too in love to notice other men, but that wasn't true at all.

The truth was, I hadn't felt attraction, real heart-pumping, magnetic attraction to anyone in so long. Schoolgirl crushes and first kisses aside, I hadn't felt fireworks in my blood over any man.

Until now.

I let the scene, the flashes of Dayton's sunny smile, and the moment he caught me up in his arms play over in my head until I reached the penthouse floor. There I took a deep breath and left the attractive construction worker behind.

After all, he was downstairs on the dusty front sidewalk, and I was on my way into the pristine elegance of the penthouse office. Our paths were unlikely to ever cross again.