Her mouth went dry. "You have rules?"
"That's right. When I'm working on a piece, no touching. Only I get to touch."
His eyes darkened with intensity, as if he was talking about something more than the bar. She struggled to ward off the sparks of sexual chemistry thrown from his figure. Holy Lord, this man was hot when he got all grumpy and OCD. No intelligent answer came to her brain, so she went with the only word she could remember. "Okay."
"This includes my tools."
Oh. My. God.
Had her gaze dropped to his crotch? Had he caught it? The flared light in his eye said maybe.
"My tools are sacred, and they can be dangerous if misused. I also have a careful system, and I dislike when things are out of order. I like to know exactly where my tools are at all times so they can be used to benefit everyone involved. Understood?"
Was he playing her? Raven snapped her teeth together and decided she wasn't brave enough to find out. She took a step back and threw up her hands. "Fine! I won't touch the bar or your tools, crazy man. Can we take it down a notch and eat now?"
"Yes. As long as we understand each other."
She fought a shudder and marched back to the table, sliding into her seat. He washed his hands and joined her there. He switched back to his easygoing way again. "This is really nice of you," he said. "Not many clients offer up lunch. I usually bring my own, but I rushed out this morning and forgot."
Shame burned. She'd only done it to have an opportunity to grill him, and now he made her feel bad. Dammit. "It's no big deal, I own a restaurant. You made a lot of progress already."
He dug into his sandwich, groaning with ecstasy. "Why does food taste so much better when someone else makes it?"
"That's why I make a profit."
"Your bar is magnificent."
She chuckled at the haze of lust in his eyes as he uttered the words. "Bet you say that to all the girls."
"I don't fool around with wood."
"God, there's so many things I can do with that statement."
His gaze flashed with humor. "The mahogany is pristine; it's only the surface that's stripped, I don't have to go down too many layers. There's a solidness and bulk to the piece that's known with antiques, but this is by far one of the best I've ever worked on."
She watched his face light up with excitement and took a few more bites of her sandwich. "You really love what you do," she said quietly. "The way you work is quite beautiful."
"You were watching me?"
Ah, shit. Raven tried not to back off too fast or she'd slide right off the cliff. "I watch every worker I contract," she retorted. "Especially in my restaurant."
He could have challenged her, but he chose to retreat. "Fair enough."
Her breath released. "When did you know woodworking was your career path?"
"My future was Pierce Brothers Construction-there was no getting away from that. My grandfather was well known as a master of woodwork. He carved out a name for himself in Harrington, and I seemed to have picked up his skill. I was always tinkering with stuff, even when I was little. It was kind of funny, actually. Cal would build the house, I would work the wood, and Tristan would decorate the damn thing and try to sell it for a profit."
"Grandfather on your mother or father's side?" she asked casually.
"Mother."
"But the business was your father's, right?"
He reached for his water, taking a few long sips. "No, it was passed down from my great-great-great-grandfather on my mother's side. When she became pregnant with Cal, she changed the legal name to Pierce Brothers Construction. Guess she had a premonition she'd have more boys."
Raven tried to ignore her pounding heart. "Sounds like you had a close-knit family. Your parents must have made a great team."
He shut down. The light in his eyes disappeared, and his face grew tight and expressionless. "Not really," he said shortly. "I've learned not to trust surface images anymore."
"What do you mean?"
His grin was quick and held a bit of cruelty. "Marriages don't mean happily ever after, Raven. In my opinion, love has a certain death the moment you put rules on it."
Startled, she drew back, filing the hint away in her mental computer. His parents hadn't been happy. Was that why Diane Pierce stalked her father? Got him to fall for her so she didn't have to deal with her husband? Whatever had happened, Dalton still held a ton of resentment. Was that where he'd gotten all his cynical ideas about love?
Maybe they weren't so different after all.
She lightened the tone. "You seem to be happy about your brother getting married."