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protest. “The design is wonderful. You’ve more than met my expectations. My capital is the limiting factor. I have to run the numbers again before I give you an answer. I’m sorry to keep you waiting but—”
    “No problem, Zoe. I do understand. Been there myself.” He stood and put out his hand. When she followed suit and clasped his, he felt a tingle zing up his arm. Seeing her eyes widen, he wondered if she’d felt something, too. Nah. Wishful thinking. He picked up the empty case and slid the strap over his head. He dreaded going home to tell Jen his grand plan might have gone down in flames.
    As they walked through the empty room toward the front door, Jeff commented, “I’m impressed, Ms. Silvercreek. You accomplished a lot in the forty-eight hours since I was here last. I bet you’ve got some sore muscles in those arms.”
    “They’re absolutely killing me,” she admitted. “But it seems if I’m going to make this dream of mine a reality, there are going to be a lot more sore muscles in my future.” She gazed up at him thoughtfully. “Tell me, Jeff. How much trouble would you have with me working alongside you for the renovation? Are you prejudiced against women doing manual labor?”
    “I’m pretty liberal about most things. As long as you wouldn’t insist upon doing something that I felt was truly beyond your abilities, I don’t think I’d have a problem.”
    “Okay. Good to know.” She smiled.
    “Of course, as far as the actual working arrangement goes, I’d be the boss. Would you have a problem taking orders from me?”
    The smile disappeared. “As long as I decide what we’re going to do, I’m willing to let you decide how we’re going to accomplish it. Deal?”
    He nodded. “Deal.”
    “Good. I’ll get back to you by tomorrow afternoon, Jeff. Thanks for coming in.”
    He put on his helmet and started his bike. The next twenty-four hours were going to go by too slowly. Patience was not one of his virtues. But he had no choice except to wait for Zoe Silvercreek’s decision.
    “Miss Adams? Zoe Silvercreek. I hope I haven’t caught youat a bad time?”
    “Not at all.” A silvery laugh came over the phone line. “I only wish I could say that I was very busy.”
    “Good. I wondered if you might have some free time this afternoon to meet with me. I realize this is very short notice, but I have some decisions to make and need some financial advice. I’d like to take you up on your offer from yesterday.”
    “That’s wonderful. I have the entire afternoon free, Zoe, so choose a time that’s best for you, and I’ll be there.”
    “Perfect. I have some painting to finish, so will three o’clock work for you?”
    “That would be fine. I’ll meet you at the gallery at three, then?”
    “Yes, thank you. I’ll see you then.”
    Zoe undid the plastic wrap from around the paint roller and poured fresh paint into the pan. She sized up the walls the way a fighter did his opponent. The second coat would be a done deal by three.
    While she worked, Jeff’s plans danced before her eyes. They were wonderful. She had to figure out a way to make them a reality. She hoped Amanda Adams could help her with that.
    When she’d made the deal with Fredrick, her plan was to use his money for the down payment on the mortgage and the renovations, then, once the gallery was renovated and bringing in some money, she’d go to the bank and get a business loan to pay him back. That would guarantee her sole possession of the gallery, and the painting her mother had loved so much. She’d been unable to secure any other financing for her business, which the banks told her flatly was too risky for their taste.
    She worked steadily until noon, gratified to see the primer had obliterated the underlying colors. Painting walls didn’t require a lot of concentration, so her mind was free to think about how nice it might be to work side-by-side with Jeff Petrosky for the next few months. Zoe felt a warm