She glanced over as the eyeshadow palette she’d chosen lifted into the air. “Girl toys. Fun to play with. I’m going for smoky tonight, a hint of shine to go with a killer red dress and amazing shoes.”

She decided there were few women alive, or otherwise, who didn’t enjoy playing with makeup. To her way of thinking, those who didn’t missed one of the major perks of being female.

“Clare made me think how lucky I am today, to have this place, and my friends, to have Ryder and all the Montgomerys. To have you.”

She gave herself a critical study in the magnifying mirror, then stepped back for an overview. “Not bad, huh?”

She moved into the bedroom to dress, taking her time with it, enjoying the steps and stages of preparing for a big night out.

She sat to strap on the mile-high silver heels, and rose for another overview just as Ryder came in, grimy from work with a beer in his hand.

His forward motion stopped, mostly because she’d knocked the legs out from under him. The dress, in sexy siren red, clung to her curves, dipped low at the top, rose high at the hem. The long line of her legs ended in a sparkle of silver straps and needle-width spikes. She’d draped more sparkle around her neck, from her ears so she seemed to glitter and pulse in the light of the Tiffany shade.

“Nice,” he said.

She winged up her eyebrows, did a slow turn, gave him a sultry look over her shoulder. “Just nice?”

“Okay, you’re a fucking heartbreaker.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She smoothed the dress at her hips. “Hard day at the office?”

“Ha. Got hung up some.”

“But progress?”

He had to remind himself she wanted details, then had to search for them as she sprayed on the scent that drove him just a little crazy. “Rough-ins passed this morning, and we’re starting on insulation. On the exterior stone work.”

“That is progress.”

“Why are you dressed already?”

“I’m going over early to help out.”

“I’m not wearing a suit.” He said it like a warning, maybe a threat.

“Why would you?”

“Willy B’s wearing one. With a vest. And a tie. I’m not.”

“All right. Since I’m ready, I’m going to go over and see what I can do.”

“I’d like to get ahold of you. I’d mess you up.”

“You can get ahold of me later.” She stepped to him, leaned—but not so far any grime transferred from his clothes to hers—and kissed him. “I’ll see you over there once you’re changed into not a suit, vest, and tie.”

“Yeah.” He saw her, he thought, even after she’d shut the door behind her. Sparkling and pulsing and more beautiful than anyone had a right to be.