Everywhere and Every Way(26)

His muscles stiffened, almost like he caught her musky scent of arousal  drifting on the breeze. Her cheeks flushed, and she was about to yank  her foot back when he began wrapping the broken strap of her sandal once  around her ankle, then neatly tucked the frayed end into the center.  She looked dumbly at him, not knowing if she wanted to jump in his arms  or punch him for allowing this new mixture of emotions out of the  bottle.

So she did nothing.

"I didn't want you to trip," he said simply. His fingers lingered,  pressing into her skin like little pinpricks of electricity. He growled  low in his throat, seemingly torn about something before he gently  placed her foot back on the ground. "All done."

She said nothing.

Cal narrowed his gaze. "This is the deal. I want you. I can tell from  the kiss you want me, too. I'm not following my dick on an impulse  decision. I've been thinking about you for a while now, and I think we'd  enjoy each other very much. Not just the physical but also our  conversations. Company during meals. A midnight skinny-dip. You've  managed to get under my skin, Morgan Raines."

She smiled and he smiled back.

"Think about it. I won't push. But I won't go away, either."

"I'll think about it," she said. "But I may push back. And I'm not going anywhere, either."         

     



 

His laughter pumped through the air and gave her way too much pleasure.

Morgan didn't get much sleep that night.

She hoped he didn't, either.





chapter ten







Morgan walked into Sydney's office and stood by the desk. She smiled as  Sydney nodded for her to wait, talking crisply into her Bluetooth while  sifting through a massive pile of papers on her desk with one hand and  tapping out something on her keyboard with the other. These tasks were  completed with a mixture of booming male voices echoing in the air.  Seems there was a heated argument going on over an episode of Game of  Thrones right outside the door.

Morgan took a seat, giving a sigh of relief at the temporary easing of  her aching feet. The thought of the hotel hot tub was getting her  through the day, but the past week she'd fallen asleep before room  service had even delivered her meal. She was in crunch time, and Morgan  tried to remind herself that she went through this at every job.  Coordinating the massive amount of electricians, plumbers, and  construction workers was a bitch to deal with. The skeleton was now  firmly wrapped, the windows and doors were finally installed, and now  they were at the delicate part of the project: the time when supplies  went missing, workers never showed up, fights broke out, and general  chaos was the order of the day.

Fun, fun, fun.

So far, though, Caleb had impressed her. His competence, no-nonsense  manner, and self-deprecating humor made him a well-liked boss who  everyone seemed to want to please. That level of respect was hard to  reach, and Morgan was forced to put another check in the benefits  column.

The benefits of having a short affair with Caleb.

Since that night, they seemed to dance around each other with the  question being the oversize pink elephant in the room. Cal never pushed,  but with every long stroke of his gaze over her body, he told her again  and again what he wanted. At first, she was worried the crew would pick  up on those looks, but he was careful to treat her with a friendly  distance when they were around anyone.

Morgan finally admitted she was playing the denial game. She also  wondered how long he'd wait until he pushed the issue. Or, more  importantly, if.

God, she wanted him to. How screwed-up was that? An independent,  financially secure, ambitious, kind of sexually experienced woman  waiting breathlessly for the man to grab her fiercely and kiss her  senseless, thereby ending her denial in the most pleasant of ways.

So. Embarrassing.

Sydney clicked off and got up from her desk. "Sorry, Morgan, it's been  kind of hellish around here lately." She jerked her thumb toward the  loud guffawing down the hall. "And they're not helping." Her gorgeous  red hair streamed down her back, and she wore an apple-green suit that  showed off her eyes. The freckles scattered over her face and warmly  curving mouth softened her appearance enough so most women couldn't hate  her for being so damn beautiful. In the time she'd spent here, her  chats with Sydney were sometimes one of the highlights of her day.

Morgan grinned. "Well, you're not going to be happy with me. I'm adding  to the hellish day." She opened her briefcase, slid out her famous  clipboard-which she'd probably be buried with-and handed her a huge  file. "Invoices, checklists, receipts, and a bunch of other nameless  tasks."

Sydney sighed. "Not your fault. I'm so used to being buried in work, I  probably wouldn't know what to do with myself if I had five minutes to  think."

"Any possibility of hiring an assistant?"

Sydney wrinkled her nose. "Nah, I'm a control freak, anyway. Would spend  all my time trying to tell him or her how to do things."

"From one control freak to another, I hear you. Can I use the conference  room? I have a Skype appointment with my client, and then have to wait  for a few calls from the West Coast."

"Of course."

Tristan walked through the door without knocking. Morgan got an  impression of lean height, wavy chestnut hair, and graceful features  that reminded her a bit of old-school Cary Grant. The man exuded  smoothness, grace, and a banked intensity hidden behind a chiseled  exterior. He intrigued Morgan, but she wasn't attracted to him the way  she was to Caleb, who made her burn. Still, she appreciated the charcoal  custom suit-complemented with a red silk tie and gold cuff links with  his initials-that framed his very fit body.

"Where's the Anderson file?" he demanded, stopping in front of them. "Hi, Morgan."

"Hi, Tristan."

Sydney's mouth tightened. "In the file marked Andersen. And good afternoon to you, too. Thanks for knocking."         

     



 

Did his cheeks flush, or was that her imagination? His words were  clipped and deliberate. "Good afternoon, Sydney. And the file isn't  there. I thought we finalized the final cost of the refurbishment and  new deck. We need to close the account."

His leashed power seemed to throw women off, but Sydney just turned her  cool gaze on him like he was an annoyance. "I took care of it already.  And did you check under Andersen with an e? It's not spelled with an o."

Tristan looked frustrated, and an odd energy burned between them. Odd. "Fine. I'll look again. Are you going to lunch?"

"No time."

His lips flattened to a thin line. "It's past two. You need to eat. We pay you for lunch."

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself. Been doing that a long time."

Whoa. Tristan stubbornly refused to be dismissed, flicking his gaze back  and forth between each of them as if trying to decide how to frame his  response. Morgan cleared her throat. "Tristan, can I steal you for a few  minutes? I need to confirm some final decisions on flooring."

He treated Sydney to one more heated look, then nodded. "Of course. I have some time now."

Sydney kept her face impassive. "Morgan, let me know if you need anything." Then she turned her back on Tristan and left.

Tristan's face reflected frustration, but he didn't try to stop her.  They walked into the conference room, and she began setting out her  laptop, clipboard, and bulging files of paint chips, samples, and  fabrics. "Dalton and I went over the fixtures and picked out the floor  finishes, but the terrace materials need to be confirmed. Do we go with  traditional pavers or flagstone? I'm thinking about a matching wall on  the adjacent left corner of the property."

His long fingers tapped the table in a steady rhythm. His figure hummed  with a quiet energy that hinted at his complete focus. "Bluestone," he  finally said. "We skip the pavers and go for bluestone, then river rock  to do a matching wall."

Excitement lit her blood. "Yes, but will the river rocks be too neutral?"

He continued tapping. "We can do rainbow rock to pick up the color of the bluestone."

"I love it. Can we get the stone in time?"

"I'll start working on it. Confirm with you tomorrow."

"Thanks. I'm speaking with the Rosenthals in a few, so I'll let you know  if we need to incorporate any changes." Of course, Morgan rarely had to  change her initial ideas. What made her so good at her job was her  ability to transform a client's dreams and wishes into reality. She had  an instinct that had never failed before, and she didn't intend it to  now.

"You picked out a beautiful piece of property," Tristan commented. "Land  is shrinking and becoming overvalued here. I just hope Pierce Brothers  never runs out of places to build."

Morgan studied him. She knew he had an affinity for real estate and  turning a piece of property around. "How come you're not flipping?"