Northern Fires. JENNIFER LABRECQUE

he’s a good choice, not the easy-on-the-eyes part.”

      “I thought we covered the easy-on-the-eyes part, too,” Merrilee said, obviously teasing.

      Alberta looked at Juliette. “Sven and I go back a long way. He’s good people. I think you’ll like what he can do with his hands and his imagination.”

      Juliette had plenty of her own imagination and it zoomed from zero to sixty as to just what those hands would feel like trailing against her skin, sifting through her hair, stroking against parts that hadn’t been stroked by anyone other than her in a long time. Juliette redirected her wayward thoughts. Plywood. Fabric. Paint. That’s what Alberta meant.

      This was what made Sven Sorenson dangerous. The man wasn’t even in the room and simply the thought of him set her pulse racing. How on earth was she going to work with him?

      “He has to check on some things over at the spa, but he said he’ll drop by afterward so you can bring him up to speed. Does that work for you?”

      There was nothing left to say, no protest to mount without looking like a total idiot. “Sure. No problem.”

      She could focus and tingle all at the same time, couldn’t she?

       2

      SVEN DROPPED IN THE last hinge pin on the supply door. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard Jenna behind him.

      “Oh, yeah, that looks better,” she said. “Thanks so much.” She threw arms wide as if encompassing her entire space, her smile as big as her embrace. Neither was, however, as big as her very pregnant belly. Sven made a concerted effort to keep his mouth from gaping open. Jenna’s tummy was bigger than her chest these days and that was saying something … actually, that was saying a lot. He hadn’t spent much time around pregnant women. He’d kind of wondered if his sister-in-law might explode before her due date. Jenna was in the same boat. “Aren’t you just loving it?” she said.

      He nodded. “It’s awesome.” Sven had built Jenna Rathburne Jeffries’s new day-spa facility and her living quarters upstairs. Actually, he’d built it twice. The first time around it had burned down when there was a fluke problem with a junction box. They’d had to wait on the spring thaw to rebuild it.

      It was Jenna’s first home and it had turned out great. The spa on the ground floor and the living space above imparted a sense of tranquility, with large windows offering views of the evergreens, distant mountains and the sky. A built-in waterfall in the reception area lent the sound of running water throughout the ground floor. Speakers piped the original recordings of a Native musician throughout the rooms. It was soothing and elegant without being pretentious. He was just knocking out the final punch list while his crew worked on their new primary project, a huge house a couple of miles out of town for a mysterious new owner. All the plans had been via an attorney, fax and secondary email.

      Jenna’s cat, Tama, bumped against Sven’s legs. Sven leaned down and ran his hand over the cat’s thick fur. “Hey, big guy.”

      Jenna had been a dream to work with. Actually, Jenna was pretty much a man’s dream in and of herself—blonde, curvy in all the right places, fun, easygoing and outgoing. Just about every man within a five-hundred-mile radius had been despondent when she’d married Logan Jeffries. Sven, however, hadn’t been despondent. He’d been more along the lines of confounded with himself. Jenna was exactly the kind of woman he’d always been attracted to. He and she had even sort of given it a try. Early on they’d kissed. While he liked her and she liked him, there’d been absolutely nothing close to a spark.

      No, instead, he had to be plagued with some crazy-ass attraction to Juliette Miller, which he’d done his damnedest to deny, considering she had complicated written all over her and had never given him the time of day.

      “So, you’re taking over the set design for the play?”

      Sven wasn’t remotely surprised Jenna already knew. He didn’t even question how. News spread faster in Good Riddance than the clap in a low-rent whorehouse.

      “Yeah. I’m heading over to meet with Juliette as soon as I finish up here.”

      “You’ll love her.”

      What the hell? First Alberta with her off-the-wall prognostications and now Jenna. “I’m just going to finish up the set and it’s not as if I don’t know her from around town.”

      Jenna peered at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I know. I did the hair and makeup last year and I’m doing it again this year.” She patted her enormous belly. “Well, maybe. Some people can’t tell you what they want, but Juliette can. She and I were talking the other day about the play, which makes it so much easier. That’s what I mean—you’ll love working with her.” Comprehension dawned. “Oh … you thought I meant you’d love her. Well, you could be onto something there.” She tilted her head to one side, nodding. “You’re right. The two of you would make a cute couple.”

      “I’m not onto anything and I didn’t say we’d make a cute couple.”

      “But you would.”

      “She’s not my type.”

      “Well, what’s your type?”

      “You.” Although he suspected Jenna’s waters ran a little deeper than he’d first thought, he liked his women like a clear mountain stream, and Juliette was more like a dark, still lake and who knew what was going to be beneath that surface.

      Jenna laughed unselfconsciously. “Yeah, well, we see where that got both of us.” She rubbed her tummy again. He wished she’d quit doing that—he had nothing to do with her present state of impending motherhood, but Jenna was known for switching more than just a few train tracks in a conversation. “You might’ve thought I was your type, but I wasn’t really your type. So, it’s this mistaken notion of what your type is that’s got you still single now.”

      Did all women study the same sound track to throw back at men?

      “I like being single.” Not the whole-truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth, but he was feeling cornered by crazy female talk.

      “Then why are you talking about falling in love with Juliette?”

      The mere notion gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his gut. But then again, it would probably affect any guy that way. God help him. If it was anyone other than Jenna, who he knew tended to talk in circles…. “I’m not. You are.”

      “You are too because you’re talking to me and that’s what we’re talking about.”

      He gave up. “I’m just going to work on the set. Nothing more. Nothing less. I don’t even know her.”

      “Do any of us really know one another until we’ve put in a little effort? And tell me you’re not curious about her. But then again, I doubt you’re her type.”

      “What the hell does that mean?”

      “Well, I think Juliette’s pretty particular, because in the year and a half I’ve lived here I’ve never known her to date anyone. For that matter, I’ve never seen her at any of the karaoke nights or the exercise classes at the community center. She’s nice and she’s not unfriendly, but she keeps to herself.”

      “Okay. But how does that mean I’m not her type?”

      Jenna shrugged. “I dunno. She just strikes me as kind of serious—”

      That struck a nerve. Just because he was easygoing it didn’t necessarily mean he was a lightweight. “I can be serious.”

      “Wow, okay. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sure you can.”

      “But what? There’s a but there.”

      “Well, don’t take this the wrong way—” that never boded good things to come “—but she really hasn’t shown the slightest bit of interest in