Everywhere and Every Way(34)

     



 

Fascinated, she tilted her head to study his gorgeous face. No man had  ever said anything like that to her before. She wasn't a woman to  inspire mad lust or impulsive kitchen-floor sex. "Is that a line?"

"I'll prove it tonight. I'm cooking you dinner."

She jerked back. "Tonight doesn't work. I'm busy."

His lower lip tugged. "No, you aren't. Six p.m. We need to talk about some things."

"I'm not sleeping with you," she burst out. Then clapped her hand over  her mouth. No, she hadn't said it aloud. Had she? Was she insane?

He looked delighted at the outburst. "Fine. But you're eating with me."

She squirmed. God, she wanted to. God, she didn't. "Can you actually cook?"

"Yes. Don't worry, I'll satisfy you."

Morgan frowned. "What an awful innuendo. I expected better of you."

His tiny grin widened. "When I'm ready to prove that, there won't be any innuendo involved, princess. Just action."

Her stomach dropped to her toes. "Says you."

He laughed out loud then, shaking his head. "Don't take on a challenge you're fated to lose. Oh, I have something for you."

Curious, she watched him head to where he'd dropped his bag with his  lunch pail and fish around in it. Finally he drew out a familiar  green-and-white bag that held the very essence of her own Kryptonite.

Sour cream and onion potato chips.

Her heart galloped in her chest. Her palms sweat. He walked back and  handed her the evil gift. "Here you go. Figured you could have it with  your lunch today and won't need to fight me for them."

Morgan swallowed hard. Stared at the bag. "You shouldn't have," she choked out.

He frowned. "What's the matter? Thought you loved chips."

Oh, God, she did. So much. Her mantra rose in her head and crashed over her. Don't eat the chips . . . Don't eat the chips . . .

How could she say no? It would be rude. She'd just hold them and think  about eating them. She didn't have to eat them. The gesture of the gift  told her what type of man Caleb Pierce was. He paid attention. He liked  to please, even as much as he liked to fight with her. It was an  intoxicating combination.

"Morgan?"

She fought off the voices and slowly took the bag. Her fingers trembled  slightly, and a rustling sound filled the air. "Thank you," she managed.  "That was very . . . nice of you."

"I can be nice." His eyes darkened. "Very, very nice."

She fought the blush. Hard. It was time to steer this conversation away  from chips and sex. "Maybe we should get back to the business at hand?  Are we ready for the inspector?"

His amusement should've pissed her off. Somehow it didn't. The  confidence of this primitive male trying to secure a date with her  pleased her way too much. "We're ready. Drywall is set to go, and we're  working on insulation."

"Good." Excitement shimmered as she looked at the shell before her.  Already the main guts of her new baby was done. They'd gotten through  the electrical and plumbing inspections, and now the house was fully  wrapped with the roofing, shingles, sewer lines, and main plumbing  completed. Sure, it had been a bit of a scare when the HVAC unit hadn't  worked and they'd lost a day reinstalling and tearing it apart. And the  stones they originally ordered to replace the shingles had been lost and  wouldn't be delivered on time. The three days of pouring rain had  caused some minor flooding, forcing them to slow down, and the  blistering argument with Tristan and the tile supplier over gouging  prices and wrong deliveries had been a challenge. But they were finally  moving forward and had made up precious time. Once the framing  inspection cleared, the house she imagined in her dreams would be a step  closer to reality. The skeleton before her was just that-bones and  organs that made up the heart of the house. The flesh emerged slowly, as  if a drawing where hair and clothes and body shape came into view and  the onlooker saw the full beauty of the completion. Her blood warmed,  and a surge of adrenaline grabbed her in its delicious grip, confirming  once again this job she had chosen was more than just work-it was a part  of her soul. Trusting her to make such an individual vision a reality  was a humbling gift, and she never forgot it.

Cal smiled as if he knew how the house affected her, and tugged on her hand. "Come on. Zach's here."

They went to greet Zach Griffin, a grizzled, booming bear of a man with  crooked teeth, short black hair, and staggering height. Built like a  quarterback, he was sharp, relentless, and honest. Morgan knew Cal  respected him for refusing to take payoffs in his job and for making  some very unpopular decisions. He was adored by the majority of the town  and loathed by the rest. Another research tip she'd unearthed when  making her decision to choose a builder. A bad relationship with the  inspector was like rolling the dice at roulette. Morgan didn't like  playing that way.         

     



 

"Hey, Zach. Good to see you."

Morgan watched the inspector's face harden. His usual relaxed demeanor  had been replaced by a hard, accusatory light in his sea-green eyes.  Huh. Weird: supposedly he and Cal had always had a tight relationship.  He nodded curtly. "Cal."

Instead of spending a few seconds bullshitting, Zach stalked past them  and inside the house, beginning the walk-through and making notes on his  paper. An odd tension vibrated in the air, and she shot Cal a worried  look. Catching it, Cal cleared his throat and tried to make  conversation.

"Busy this season, huh? Any time for vacation?"

Zach didn't answer. Just grunted and scribbled, occasionally touching  the frames, checking sealants around the windows and doors, getting on  his knees by the front foyer stairs and pulling out a measuring tape.

Uh-oh. This was serious.

Morgan had been through hundreds of inspections and knew there was  sometimes a game involved. If the inspector wanted to be a hard-ass, he  or she could insist items be redone to meet code, but there was a large  gray area to be played with. Fortunately, Pierce Brothers didn't cut  corners, and Morgan had been personally impressed with the amount of  effort and time Cal put into every inch of the house, insisting on  starting over on certain things even when it cost them time.

Zach stopped by the upper loft entryway Brady had convinced her to  change for a more startling look. "Where's the beam for support here?"  he snapped out. Shuffling through his plans and mass of papers, he shook  his head.

Cal gave him a puzzled look. "No beam needed here, Zach. Brady changed  the original plans, they were approved, and we moved this wall so we  wouldn't need a beam here. See?" Cal motioned to her, and Morgan slipped  the finalized copy into his hands so he could hand it to Zach.

Zach ignored him. "Not in my copies. Needs a beam."

Sweat prickled on her forehead. No. This wasn't happening.

"It's an open loft. Here, look." He shoved the paper at Zach.

The man barely glanced at it, then shut his folder. Zach's gaze held  disgust as he looked up. "Never had an issue with your work before, Cal,  but since your father died and those brothers of yours came back,  work's getting sloppy. Put in a beam or get me new plans to approve and  I'll come back."

Morgan stepped forward with a smile. "I'm sure it's just a paperwork  snafu, Mr. Griffin," she offered. "I can call the office right now and  fix it."

"Sorry, I'm done here."

Cal moved toward the door to block his exit. "Zach, is something else  going on? First off, you know my work and reputation. It's obvious to  both of us no beam is needed, and if I put it in, we'd block up the room  for no reason. Here, let's go over it."

"I don't need to go over it, Cal. You'll have to call my office and schedule another inspection before you move any further."

Morgan tried to keep calm, furiously running over the schedule in her  head. "Okay, I'm sure we can have you back out tomorrow to fix this."

His smile was pure mean. "Going on vacation for two weeks, so my office is closed. Maybe the first of the month I can get here."

Cal shook his head. "Zach, we can't lose that much time. I'm asking you  to do me a favor here and work with me. Let me get Julie on the phone to  find out what happened."

"My assistant won't be able to help. As for favors, keep them. Your brother has already done enough."

Warning bells clanged loudly, but Cal was already ahead of her. "My brother? Who?"

The man struck as quick as a seagull snatching food. "Dalton. Seems he  took a liking to my youngest daughter, Ashley. Also seems he's a lying,  cheating scumbag who promised her a relationship and took advantage.  Does he think he's too good for her? Maybe he gets away with that crap  in California, but it doesn't work in my town." He threw his head back  and glared. "Ashley's a good girl. Spent all night crying her eyes out  because she thought she was in a relationship. Makes me sick. Is that  the type of man your brother's become? If so, you can tell him to stay  away from her or I'll beat him to a pulp."