"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm being kind of bitchy-we had a long day. I just wanted to get a jump start on some of the design because of our tight schedule."
He relaxed. "Nah, I'm being whiny. Let's go pay, and I'll buy you a wine. Or a champagne. Or whatever you nice Southern girls drink."
She looked interested. "A Chardonnay sounds perfect."
Yep, just as he thought. Another white type of drink. Who was the real Morgan Raines? The cool, collected executive who controlled every aspect of her life, read literary classics, and was always color coordinated? The mussed-up, sharp-humored spitfire who swung a mean hammer? Or the sexy, half-naked woman who had accepted his dare and kissed him with everything she got?
He followed her to the cashier. Definitely the first. He had to stop thinking of her outside the business realm. She wasn't his type. He liked women who kicked back, drank a beer, and didn't care if their makeup got smudged in the making-out process. He didn't like women who not only wore white but drank it.
And then he noticed her shoe.
The silvery chain thingy had broken off and trailed behind her. The white strap sadly dragged over the dirty tile and ruined her flawless appearance.
And just like that, Caleb decided he wanted to get Morgan Raines in his bed.
Something had changed.
Morgan sat at the Oyster Bank under a cheerful red umbrella and studied the man across from her with suspicion. The lamp was safely by her side-she'd bartered a bit and finally gotten a decent price. One moment he was all pissy and gorgeous, doing that alpha male thing because he didn't want to be stuck shopping, and the next he was staring at her like she was Gettysburg and he was Robert E. Lee.
Morgan really, really hoped she didn't lose this war.
Her skin prickled with awareness, so she kept up some inane chatter and drank her Chardonnay. The offer for a drink had seemed okay at the moment, but now there was so much tension in the air, she wished she'd declined. She should be back in her safe, boring hotel room and get a good night's sleep. She needed to stay far, far away from men like Caleb Pierce and sour cream and onion potato chips.
They were so good at first. Then they turned real bad.
So, here they sat, Cal staring at her with all that yummy seething sexiness she'd only read about, and Morgan doing a fine imitation of Scarlett O'Hara before the war and heartbreak made her more interesting. Ah, the hell with it.
"Why are you looking at me all googly-eyed?" she asked.
He choked on his beer. Morgan remained patient as he gathered his composure and narrowed his gaze. "You know, every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me."
Normally his statement would be a high compliment, but she didn't trust his intentions. "Maybe you don't have to figure me out," she said.
"Can't help it. See, princess, you've got me intrigued."
She crossed her legs and shook her foot. "And why do I care again?"
He laughed. "Never give an inch, do you? Gonna tell me you haven't thought about that kiss?"
Oh, Lord. He'd really gone for it. Emotion rioted inside her, a crazy mixture of relief to have him voice the truth and anger because he voiced the truth. She'd been counting on his general dislike and touch of surliness to keep his distance. She'd bet her cool disregard for the whole scene would slam him in the male ego hard enough for him to forget the entire encounter. Now, after one damn lamp-shopping trip, he'd decided to eat the damn potato chips.
No. She refused to eat the chips. No regret for her. Things were perfect, and nothing was worth screwing it up.
Even one wild night with this man.
Morgan crossed her arms in front of her chest. She was going to have to play hard ball. Cool as a cucumber, but polite enough not to get him pissy. She kept her voice calm and even. "I wouldn't be human if I told you I never thought about it. So I won't lie. It was a good kiss. But I'm not going to sleep with you."
Oh, no. He looked delighted by her response. Was it that chase thing that was turning him on? "A great kiss," he corrected. "You said no lying."
"Fine. A great kiss."
"Why not? Aren't you curious?"
She lifted a brow. "I don't intermingle with my business partners. Ever. It's bad for me, you, and business."
"Intermingle, huh? I like that word. Very proper. Problem is, I'm not thinking very proper thoughts when I look at you. I keep thinking about messing you up. Getting dirty. Making you scream. Stuff like that."
Blistering heat scorched her veins and turned her blood to lava. Goodness gracious, he wasn't playing around when he wanted someone. Morgan knew he'd be the type of lover to put all her previous ones to shame. Caleb would refuse to let her put up walls or hide. He wouldn't have sex with the lights off, either. Why did that turn her on instead of scare her? Oh, no, don't eat the chips, don't eat the chips . . .
Her voice cranked out a bit rusty but passable. "Well. That was quite . . . descriptive. It's a lovely offer, but I'll have to say no, thank you."
Cal leaned over the table. "Fascinating," he murmured. "You turned down great sex like you would a tea party invite."
She blinked. "You're not going to get weird on me now, are you?"
He grinned and tipped his bottle back to take another pull of beer. "First thing I'll make clear. Our business is separate from this." He motioned back and forth with his fingers. "Nothing between us leaks onto the job, so it would be kept under wraps. Second, you can tell me straight-out if you're uncomfortable and want me to leave you alone. There's nothing that turns me off faster than an unwilling woman. Finally, this was my scenario. We have about five months ahead of us. We agree to some rules we're both comfortable with, and we enjoy each other while you're here."
Morgan tried to utter the magic words that would make him go away. I'm. Not. Interested. "I don't do casual sex," she said. "I can't get comfortable with someone who sleeps around."
His brows shot down. "We'd only be sleeping with each other," he said. "I don't share, either. I'm talking about a monogamous relationship for five months."
Huh. She'd never been approached in this capacity. Most men she was attracted to on the job just wanted a quick one-nighter to try out the new girl. But Cal had set guidelines ready. She loved rules. No one could get hurt that way, right? Reality suddenly hit her. No, it never worked like it should on paper. Hadn't she seen enough Lifetime movies to know this? "It won't work," she insisted.
"Why not?"
A sigh escaped her lips. She took a sip of wine. "We could get tired of each other within the week. That conflict could spill over to the site, and suddenly we're both screwing up on the job. I can't risk it."
"You don't think we can handle this like two reasonable adults who lay out the terms?"
"There's too many liabilities in the plan," she pointed out. "What if you fall in love with me and I want to break up after a month?"
His eyes widened with shock. A laugh sputtered from his lips. "Damn, you're hard on a man's ego," he muttered. "Okay, I'm a big boy. Past high school hormones. I'd bury the hurt and pain and work through it."
"I don't know."
"What if you fall in love with me? Can you handle it?"
She waved a hand in the air. "Bless your heart. I'm not worried about that. We're way too different for long-term. But if you enrapture me, I'm also a big girl. I should be able to handle it."
"See, this could work. People mix business with pleasure all the time. The key is to be smart and lay the groundwork."
She shook her head slowly. "Still, too many variables. We'd fight."
His eyes glittered hot charcoal. "We'd make up later."
Morgan wanted to laugh but fell short. The way his gaze stripped away her clothes and laid her bare thrilled her. How addictive to become one of those women who was empowered by sex instead of always running away or trying to fit it into her busy schedule. How delicious to imagine her body taking over instead of her very rational, very proper mind. Still . . . Caleb Pierce was out of her comfort zone.
She finished her wine, blotted her mouth with the cocktail napkin, and folded her hands in her lap. Morgan opened her mouth to say thank you but no. Instead, strange words popped out. "I'll need to think about it."
Now, where on earth had that come from?
His carved lips kicked up in a satisfied grin. "Good enough for me, princess. Now, put your leg up here."
"Excuse me?"
"Damn, I'm gonna wonder if you're this polite when I make you come."
"What!"
He chuckled, leaned over, and grabbed her ankle. With one quick motion, he lifted her leg so her foot was propped on his jean-clad knee. Morgan gasped as his hands slid over her bare ankle, the steady throb between her legs begging him to make a detour up, up, and Yes, just keep going, please.