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He turned, his gaze lingering on her for a heartbeat longer than professional courtesy required. "And the blueprints?" He smiled, a rare, genuine expression that didn't

A soft knock at the mahogany door preceded Clara, his lead architect. She was thirty-eight, a woman who moved with the confidence of someone who had long ago stopped trying to please everyone and started pleasing herself. She wore a deep emerald silk blouse that caught the light, and her dark hair was swept up, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. His thumb brushed against the skin of her