Read Online Breaking the Greek's Rules by Anne McAllister - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne McAllister
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her to meet the two at the drafting tables. A young dark-haired woman, Naomi, was deeply involved in whatever she’d been assigned and barely glanced up to smile. But the other, an intern named Steve, had some questions about his project, so Daisy was able to take some shots of Alex and Steve, leaning over one of the drafting tables, studying blue prints.
Then, while Alex answered Steve’s questions, she wandered around, taking other shots of the room, of Alex on the job.
It was just the way she’d imagined him—in his element, his easy competence apparent. He drew her gaze as he bent over the table, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he pointed out something to Steve. She snapped off a couple of shots. But even when she lowered the camera, she couldn’t seem to look away.
“Sorry,” he said, coming back to her. “I didn’t mean to spend so long with him.”
“No problem. I got some good shots. Which is your table?” She nodded toward the vacant drafting tables.
“Upstairs. I’ll show you.”
He led her to a spiral staircase that ascended in one corner of the room. “We could use the elevator, but this is faster.”
It was also a treat. It had caught her eye earlier, a bit of wrought-iron frivolity in stark utilitarian surroundings. And yet it belonged.
“Was it original to the building?” It was a little added lagniappe, and she had already taken a number of shots of it.
“No. But I wanted something to catch the eye,” Alex said. “Something that was from the original period. I went to every salvage place in the boroughs, looking. I knew it when I saw it.”
“It’s perfect.” She motioned him to precede her up the steps. “Turn around,” she said when he was halfway up. She took several shots of him on the steps, and was seriously tempted to take one of his backside when, afterward, she followed him up. But she didn’t need any more reminders of how tempting Alex Antonides was.
His office was out of the mainstream, but connected to it. “I don’t let them up here,” he said frankly. “I need my space.”
“A perk of being the boss,” Daisy acknowledged. But she had to admit she liked his private aerie, too. The room in which he had created his office wasn’t large. Like the bigger room downstairs, it had tall, narrow, gothic arched windows and polished oak flooring. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves held vast arrays of architectural titles, books about design, and a lot of history, art and photography books. Daisy studied the titles.
It was disconcerting to find many of the same titles she had on her own shelves. So, whatever it was, it wasn’t just physical.
She wished it were. He would be so much easier to resist. Forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, she gave alittle wave of her camera, asking permission to take photos. “May I?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“I’ve heard that there’s a movement to minimize windows for energy conservation,” she said as she pointed the camera in his direction. “You obviously don’t believe that.”
“There’s a place for that. But light is good, too. And while you can conserve energy by building dark, I like light. So I try to make sure the windows are doing their job, too.” He stopped. “Sorry. Boring.”
Daisy lowered the camera. “It’s not, actually. And I’m a photographer. I like light, too.”
“Come on,” he said suddenly. “I’ll show you the best light of all.”
Without looking to see if she followed, he started up to the next level on the same spiral staircase. Daisy followed, expecting more office space. But when he reached the landing and unlocked the door, she knew better.
This was where Alex lived.
If he hadn’t said, “Welcome to my place,” she would have known it anyway. The light walls, the earth tones, the casual modern but not stark furniture, the plush dark rust and blue and gold oriental rug centered on the polished oak floor created a visual backdrop for the man she had
Then, while Alex answered Steve’s questions, she wandered around, taking other shots of the room, of Alex on the job.
It was just the way she’d imagined him—in his element, his easy competence apparent. He drew her gaze as he bent over the table, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he pointed out something to Steve. She snapped off a couple of shots. But even when she lowered the camera, she couldn’t seem to look away.
“Sorry,” he said, coming back to her. “I didn’t mean to spend so long with him.”
“No problem. I got some good shots. Which is your table?” She nodded toward the vacant drafting tables.
“Upstairs. I’ll show you.”
He led her to a spiral staircase that ascended in one corner of the room. “We could use the elevator, but this is faster.”
It was also a treat. It had caught her eye earlier, a bit of wrought-iron frivolity in stark utilitarian surroundings. And yet it belonged.
“Was it original to the building?” It was a little added lagniappe, and she had already taken a number of shots of it.
“No. But I wanted something to catch the eye,” Alex said. “Something that was from the original period. I went to every salvage place in the boroughs, looking. I knew it when I saw it.”
“It’s perfect.” She motioned him to precede her up the steps. “Turn around,” she said when he was halfway up. She took several shots of him on the steps, and was seriously tempted to take one of his backside when, afterward, she followed him up. But she didn’t need any more reminders of how tempting Alex Antonides was.
His office was out of the mainstream, but connected to it. “I don’t let them up here,” he said frankly. “I need my space.”
“A perk of being the boss,” Daisy acknowledged. But she had to admit she liked his private aerie, too. The room in which he had created his office wasn’t large. Like the bigger room downstairs, it had tall, narrow, gothic arched windows and polished oak flooring. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves held vast arrays of architectural titles, books about design, and a lot of history, art and photography books. Daisy studied the titles.
It was disconcerting to find many of the same titles she had on her own shelves. So, whatever it was, it wasn’t just physical.
She wished it were. He would be so much easier to resist. Forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, she gave alittle wave of her camera, asking permission to take photos. “May I?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“I’ve heard that there’s a movement to minimize windows for energy conservation,” she said as she pointed the camera in his direction. “You obviously don’t believe that.”
“There’s a place for that. But light is good, too. And while you can conserve energy by building dark, I like light. So I try to make sure the windows are doing their job, too.” He stopped. “Sorry. Boring.”
Daisy lowered the camera. “It’s not, actually. And I’m a photographer. I like light, too.”
“Come on,” he said suddenly. “I’ll show you the best light of all.”
Without looking to see if she followed, he started up to the next level on the same spiral staircase. Daisy followed, expecting more office space. But when he reached the landing and unlocked the door, she knew better.
This was where Alex lived.
If he hadn’t said, “Welcome to my place,” she would have known it anyway. The light walls, the earth tones, the casual modern but not stark furniture, the plush dark rust and blue and gold oriental rug centered on the polished oak floor created a visual backdrop for the man she had
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