"I'll take care of it. I just need to make sure if we take it, you're both with me. Since we moved in together, we've kept our jobs separate. I think it's been the wrong move. If we work together on each project, we can streamline our productivity and show a united front to the town." His brothers shared a look, but Caleb had reached the end of his pride and his patience. If this didn't work, he'd lose Pierce Brothers. He raised his arms in the air. "I know we're not comfortable with each other. I know sometimes I act like a dick. This one time, I'm asking to put aside our crap and build this house together like the old days. Do this for me, and I swear to God, I won't ask for anything else again."
He tried to keep his face reflecting a calm he didn't feel. His brothers were stubborn and did what they wanted. Funny, never before had he thought Dalton and Tristan would have the power over his business. After all the decisions he had made to keep it intact and push them away, they were the only ones who could save him.
"One last time," Tristan repeated. "We do this job and give it our all."
Caleb nodded. "Agreed. Dalton?"
His little brother took his time, but he finally gave a sharp jerk of his head. "Fine. But we're equal partners in this. You can be the main point of contact with Morgan, but our feedback needs to count. Got it?"
"Got it."
The deal had been struck. Relief coursed through him. The company was safe for now. He needed to get a contract signed that would give them the advantage and make sure this house was move-in ready within six months.
Yeah. No problem.
"I'll meet with Brady in the morning and go over the initial plans," Cal said. "For now, I'm going to pay Ms. Raines a visit."
"Hey, is that the blonde I saw in the hallway?" Dalton asked. "She's cute."
Cute? Morgan was so far from cute, it was ridiculous. Caleb doubted she had ever giggled in her life. She struck him as competent but a know-it-all. A Southern belle who got transferred into Yankee territory and intended to get her way with a charming smile and sexy little accent. Caleb had a hard time finding the right adjective to truly describe the woman. At least not in polite company.
"She's a manipulator, and we have to keep a sharp eye on her. I don't trust her, but right now, we need her."
His brothers agreed.
And Caleb headed out to see her.
Morgan refused to pace because it only showed weakness. Instead, she pulled her linen pants tight so they wouldn't wrinkle and settled on the sprawling sofa in her hotel suite. Soothing music piped in low through the Bluetooth. She sipped her glass of water with lemon. And pondered.
The others had been less stubborn. It didn't bode well for the future of the project, but she'd had no choice. She waited in her hotel room most of the day, but he hadn't come storming over. No text. Not even a scathing email. Nothing but silence.
He'd have to take the job. She'd done her homework. Called in her favors. Pierce Brothers needed her more than she needed them. After studying the client profile, Morgan knew immediately that Caleb Pierce was the only one to make this house work. The Rosenthals were her most demanding clients, and nothing less than perfection would be accepted. Her entire career had grown steadily, her reputation impeccable. She got the job done and never faltered. Soon, celebrity clients lined up so she could build their houses, allowing themselves to trust her with the most intimate of projects, but when the Rosenthals came knocking, Morgan knew it was a turning point.
If she did a good job, she would be the darling of Hollywood. People listened to the powerful couple, and even Brangelina were no longer the crowning glory. They had been officially replaced.
Morgan was used to flying all over the country at her clients' beck and call, but it was always nice to settle in a town for those few months and feel a part of something bigger. She missed her Southern roots and the closeness of the community, but her mother had encouraged her to follow the road to greatness. Her job might be a bit eclectic, but she'd come from a long line of well-established decorators in South Carolina, and she hadn't wanted to stick around to be overshadowed. Her mother hadn't wanted that, either, having already claimed the main role as queen. And of course, Daddy always followed her mother's lead.
She let out an impatient sigh, glanced at her tasteful silver-and-pearl watch, and decided to order room service.
A low buzz echoed in the air. She pressed the intercom button. "Yes?"
"Mr. Pierce here to see you, Ms. Raines."
"Send him up, please."
A smile fought for victory, but she just stood on her three-inch cream heels, smoothed down her hair, and waited for his knock.
She reminded herself not to enjoy the upcoming encounter too much.
She opened the door a few moments later. "Why, Mr. Pierce, how lovely to see you," she drawled. She waved him inside, her poppy-pink nails flashing in the air. "Come in."
He didn't budge. Just stared at her, his gaze stripping all her bullshit and veneer aside and probing underneath. Scruff darkened his jaw. Dirt marred his meaty biceps. There was a hole in his black T-shirt, and he had a rip in his faded jeans. He looked sulky. Pissed.
And hot as a summer day in Charleston.
She tried to swallow and found she had no spit. Desperate to get out of his close range, she went to the bar and poured him a glass of water, dropping a few cubes of ice in, and handed it to him. "Here you go. It's hot out there. Shall we talk?"
One brow shot up, but he took the glass and shut the door. "Damn, you got some nerve. Did you have fun with your criminal activities?"
She blinked. "What?"
"You know. Blackmail. Stealing my job, which I worked hard for, just so you can play the game of I'm more important than you. Is that how you roll?"
Heat rushed to her cheeks. Oh, she really didn't like him. He cut right to the bone at every opportunity. He needed a lesson on manners and civility. "Funny, if I was a man, right now you'd probably be thrilled to play a game of hardball. Is it because I'm a woman you don't respect that in business, sometimes you have to bend the rules to get what you want?"
He barked out a short laugh. "Got no problem with strong women. Just ones who lie. I have the same problem with men, by the way."
She grabbed her own glass for something to cling to and raised her chin. "Aren't we being a tad dramatic here? A bit over-the-top? I'm offering you a valid job, and your client has what is called free will. How is this suddenly blamed on me?"
He shook his head and tunneled his fingers through his hair. She watched the nutty strands stand up and settle back in delicious messiness. There was still a slight flattened ring circling his head. From wearing a favorite ball cap? Funny, she'd never been so obsessed with a man's hair before. Maybe because it was streaked with blond and very thick, brushing low on his collar. But he had hat hair! How was that so damn yummy?
Her last comment must've pissed him off more, because then he started pacing like a wild animal in his circus cage. "Unbelievable. Did you take lessons on how to deflect responsibility? What did you have to promise Jet McCarthy to get him to dump me?"
She tapped a nail against the rim of her glass and regarded him steadily. "Not much. Which tells me he had doubts about you on the project. I just offered him a bit of extra funding, but nothing that would've made a huge difference if he really wanted you."
His mouth fell half open at her direct hit. "Lady, with you in my corner, I don't need enemies. Next time you want someone this bad to build your house, I have a great idea: be nice."
"I was. It didn't work."
They stared at each other, but Morgan didn't retreat. The foundation was being set. They circled around like boxers, trying out jabs, looking for weak spots, because they were complete strangers. She expected him to start yelling or zinging insults, but he surprised her again by letting out a laugh and shaking his head. "Now that we're all warm and fuzzy with preliminaries, why don't we talk business?"
Her skin tingled. Talking business was her favorite thing to do. It was like getting to play hard in a controlled environment. "Agreed. I'm hoping you decided to take the job?"
He nodded, allowing her to pretend it was a question rather than a statement. "On consensual terms."
"Of course." The word consensual was matched with a tiny smirk. She ignored the tickle of awareness in her lower half.
"Add thirty percent to your initial proposal in cost," he said.
Ouch. He'd gotten the first hit. "Absolutely not. That's criminal and insane. The original price stays because it's fair. We can incorporate bonuses for early completion, and scales for specialized supplies we require."