Everywhere and Every Way(30)

She scrunched up her face and thought. "Usually I don't charge by the  hour. More like the entire project, depending on what you like, what you  don't, and what I can provide."

"A real businesswoman, huh?"

"I guess."

"If you were forced to break down your fees, though, into an hourly wage, how much?"

This conversation was getting way too weird for her. She decided to just  throw a figure at him. "A lot. I guess maybe around two hundred per  hour."

The guy whistled. "That's a fancy house. What if I'm not happy after paying so much?"

She hiccuped. Put down her Rumba Martini and figured she'd order some  water before leaving. What a lightweight. She bet Sydney and Raven could  double her two glasses and never even sway on their feet. What had this  man asked? Oh, satisfaction. "I've never had a client complain. I give  you the best of everything in service and satisfaction. Trust me, you'll  never have a better builder."

Robert gave a little laugh. "Boy, you're good at this. Okay, you sold me. Build me a house."

Oh, yeah, he was way drunk. Still, she felt sorry for him. Poor man  probably had no one to talk to. "You want me to build you a house, huh?  When?" she teased.

His voice dropped. "Tonight. Right now. You in?"

Where the heck was Sydney? She looked around the bar. Raven was at the  far end, trying to deal with the rowdy crew, and Sydney was nowhere to  be found. She kind of wanted to leave and get away from this guy. "How  long do I get to build it?"

"I'll give you the night. What the hell."

Morgan forced a laugh. "Build you a house in a night, huh? Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Will five hundred do it?"

Morgan waved her hand in the air and finally got Raven's attention.  Raven nodded and made a motion to bring over the bill. "Five hundred is  fine."

"So, you're saying clearly we have a deal, Morgan? I pay you five hundred dollars, and you stay with me for the night?"

What had he said? Raven reached her and slid over the bill. Morgan  fumbled for her purse, desperate to get some distance. No wonder her  mother didn't want her to hang out in bars. Weird men frequented them.  "Whatever you say, Robert. We have a deal."

As if. Morgan tossed some cash for Raven's tip on the bar and took out her Visa card.

"I'm glad you've been so accommodating. Made my job a hell of a lot easier."

His words still made no sense, so she basically ignored him. The click  of Sydney's heels echoed over the plank floors and relief flooded  through her. "Oh, there you are. I got the bill, and I'm ready to get  out of here."

"I bet you are," Robert stated. "But you won't be building any houses tonight, sweetheart."

She cocked her head. "I'm afraid I still don't understand you."

Robert grinned and stood up. Opening up his suit jacket, he took out a  pair of handcuffs and some black machine that looked like a recorder.  Uh-oh. Was he going to try to blow up the bar? Oh, my God, he was a  terrorist. Morgan thought furiously about her next move, but it was too  late. He'd grabbed her wrist and locked a cuff around it. Cold  satisfaction carved out his nondescript face. "You're under arrest."         

     



 

Her mouth gaped open. Sydney shrieked. "Arrest? For what?" Morgan managed to yelp.

"Prostitution."

Raven whistled. "Dude, I had no idea. That's not cool in my bar."

Her mind spun, and she felt as if she'd stepped into a sci-fi movie that  had gone straight to DVD. "I'm not a prostitute!" she yelled. "I build  houses!"

"Sure you do. Let's go. I'm taking you to the station."

Sydney jumped in front of him. "You made a huge mistake, Officer. Let her go unless you want a lawsuit on your hands!"

The cop frowned and jerked his head at Sydney. "Wanna come, too? Just say the word."

Sydney gulped.

"Thought so."

As Morgan was dragged out of the bar, Sydney's voice echoed loudly  behind her. "Don't worry, Morgan, I'll meet you at the police  station-I'll fix this!"

Oh, this was very, very bad. The fake man named Robert settled her in  the backseat, turned on the flashing lights, and drove. How was she  going to explain this if anyone found out? Her mama would freak. The  Rosenthals.

And Caleb Pierce.





chapter eleven







Caleb pulled up to the curb, got out of the truck, and watched her walk toward him.

Oh, she was pissed.

Royally pissed. Once again, he'd been wrong. Morgan Raines did have a  temper, and it was a glorious thing to watch. Of course, if he'd been  picked up for prostitution in error and dragged to a jail cell in front  of Sydney and the whole bar, he'd be a bit cranky, too. But anger wasn't  as sexy on him.

On her? Oh, yeah.

Her vanilla-colored skirt and matching lacy tank were a wrinkled mess.  Caleb bet her hair had originally been up in some sleek hairstyle, but  now it fell around her face in disheveled strands. She looked like she'd  had a wild night of sex and rolled out of bed. Those baby blues were  lasering firearms as she stalked toward him on ridiculously high heels,  her lush bubble-gum lips twisted in a half sneer. Her fingers were  curled into tight fists. Steam seemed to rise from her pores. Her  normally pale skin was flushed a gorgeous pink, the same exact color he  hoped she got when aroused. In those few seconds, he was hard and ready  to go, and he was standing in front of a damn police station.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. Damned if she didn't handle  herself like the queen of England even fresh from the slammer. "I have a  cab coming. Who told you?"

"Sydney called me. She wanted to come herself but had to get back to her  daughter, so I told her I'd handle it. Are you okay?" He kept his voice  soothing and low. For the first time, he didn't know what to expect  from her. It was exciting as hell.

She hissed like a cat ready for a full-blown fight. "No, I'm not okay,"  she snapped. "I've been humiliated and called a whore! I kept telling  him I built houses, for God's sake, and this idiot said I was using it  as a code word for sex!"

He pressed his lips tight together. If he laughed, or even gave a tiny  indication of humor, she might belt him. Southern women were not to be  crossed at certain times, and this was one of them. "I'm sorry, I really  am, but I spoke with the chief and the whole thing is being thrown out.  It was a new guy on the force who wanted to prove himself, and he got  carried away."

"Do I look like a whore to you, Caleb? Look at my outfit! I was having  dinner with Sydney, minding my own business, and the next thing I know,  I'm in a jail cell for telling him I'd build him a house for five  hundred dollars!"

Her accent deepened when she got riled up. His lip twitched. Uh-oh. She  stopped her rant, knitted her brows together, and nailed him with her  gaze. "Do you think this is funny?" she whispered.

Caleb shook his head. Hard. "No, of course it's not funny. I'm still in  shock. When Sydney called, I thought she was pulling a prank. It took  her a while to finally convince me."

She jammed her finger into the middle of his chest. "If this leaks out,  I'm going to have someone's ass in a sling. Does anyone else know?"

Was it possible he got even harder at her hint of violence? Man, he was  messed up. Who knew so much fire burned underneath all that white? "No,  it's not going in the blotter, and Sydney already called the bar owner  to explain what happened. The chief reamed out Robert."

"I'm gonna sue the whole lot of them," she declared. "Why the hell  wouldn't they listen to me? I told them I was working with Pierce  Brothers."

He tried not to wince. "They thought you were lying. Robert was under  the impression high-class call girls try to blend in and look  conservative. He came from Kansas. Guess he doesn't know how it works  out here."         

     



 

She blew an aggravated breath between her teeth. "I'm calling my lawyer  tomorrow. Right now, I need to get the hell out of here. I have the  stink of prison on me. Let's go."

God, she was magnificent. How had he missed such layers before this? This woman was fierce.

She got into his truck and he drove. It was only after a few miles that he noticed her solid veneer hid a hairline fracture.

Small white teeth clamped down on her very bitable lower lip. Tiny  tremors wracked her delicate shoulders, and her fingers twisted in her  lap. Oh, yeah, she was about to crash. The night probably wrung her dry  from the extreme ups and downs. He didn't want her to be alone in the  hotel. He wondered if he could convince her to stay at his house. As far  as he knew, other than Sydney, she had no friends in Harrington. No  family. Of course, with her stubbornness, she'd fight him like a  banshee, but he was gonna try.

Even though it was warm, he cranked up the heat and tried to make light conversation. "Did you have a nice dinner with Sydney?"