Barefoot in the Sand by Roxanne St. Claire Page A

payment?”
    “Credentials.” He whispered the word, making it sound like pure gold to him. Maybe it was. Maybe becoming “official” mattered more than cash.
    “So, you want to work for free.” She reached up to close her hands around his so she could uncloak herself from his arms, but he just gripped her tighter.
    “I want to work for you,” he said, honey over gravel inhis voice. “I won’t take a dime until your resort is profitable. How does that sound?”
    Very, very slowly she managed to turn in his arms, brushing his body as she did, painfully aware of every masculine inch, every hard bump, every relentless angle, but forcing herself not to let the amazing sensation cloud her brain. He wasn’t asking for sex; he was asking to work on spec, for the experience.
    “It sounds tempting.” Like everything else about him. “But I need you to be perfectly straight with me. Why would you do that?”
    “I need this project in order to prove to the Arch Board that I can sit for the exams,” he explained. “So it’s a win-win for everyone.”
    “Why couldn’t you just take the exams? How can they stop you?”
    He stabbed his fingers in his hair, hesitating as he considered his reply. “I need one significant project under my belt,” he said slowly. “I left my dad’s firm before I got it. After seeing this place and what could be done here, I know that this is the project I not only want to do, but I’d love to do. Enough that I’d do it for free. And that solves some of your money problems.”
    Some, not all. “It also makes me wonder if I’m getting a good enough architect.”
    “Fair enough. You can fire me at any time and keep all the work I’ve done to date. I need the project and you need a partner who can give life to your vision.”
    She gave him a slow smile. “Except sometime in the last ten minutes, it became your vision.”
    “It could be our vision, Lacey.”
    “It could be,” she agreed. She did want a partner. Shedid want a vision. She did want something as big and bold as he described, especially if she didn’t have to attack that challenge alone.
    “I guess it’s possible.”
    “Anything is possible, Strawberry.”
    Right then, with this man holding her in the sunshine, giving her strength and ideas and throwing reason and excuses out to sea, she actually believed that.
    “C’mon, I want to show you something.” He took her hand again and pulled her back down the hill, toward her property, while she dug for a reason why she shouldn’t follow him.
    For once in her life, she couldn’t think of a single excuse.
    Clay almost ran down the sandy slope, light from the weight that had just left his shoulders. When the idea to work pro bono hit him, he didn’t even have to think about it. This was the perfect solution to his problem. He needed a significant project to take to the board, exactly like the one he visualized. No one could claim nepotism, no one could suggest that anything untoward had happened, and no one could deny him the chance to get the licenses he needed to move forward.
    Lacey Armstrong offered a way out of the Catch-22 he’d been caught up in, and he wanted it. Okay, he hadn’t told her everything, but he’d told her enough. And he would give her the whole ugly story, but only after they’d established a level of trust and a deeper connection. Which felt inevitable.
    But now he had to close this deal. And he knew exactly how to do that.
    He’d left his tools on the picnic table at the edge of her property, situated in the small bit of shade from atree too stubborn to give in to the storm. Sitting on top of the table, he took out his pencils and pad and gestured for her to sit across from him on the tabletop while he worked.
    “I’m going to draw, Lacey,” he said. “And you can ask me anything you want. This’ll be that job interview you wanted so much.”
    “Can I watch you work?” She leaned up to look over his sketch pad.
    “No.” He moved