And it all hinged on her.
She leaned back, removing her hand, and tried to process. Her pulse skyrocketed in a bit of a panic. She didn't want this. Didn't want an emotional stake in a business deal that was supposed to be cut-and-dried. Dammit, that was the reason she avoided relationships on the job-the stakes were way too high.
"You're getting spooked again," he said drily, taking a sip of beer. "This has nothing to do with you, Morgan. This is about me."
A mess of emotions roiled and rose. "How can you say that? I had no idea this house was a make-or-break deal. Oh, my God, and I put pressure on Jet McCarthy to decline your bid! I played a game to win, not realizing what was going on. I'm
sorry."
Sparks shot from his eyes. His jaw clenched, and he lowered his voice to a commanding tone that still gave her shivers. "Stop it. Don't you put this crap on yourself. You protected your clients to get the best deal, and that's your job."
Guilt tinged her tone. "I know, but I was ruthless about getting what I wanted."
His lips twitched. "Tell me the truth. Even if you'd known about the will and I declined your project, would you have played your hand differently?"
She thought about it hard. And as much as she hated to admit it, Morgan realized she would've done the same exact thing. "No," she said miserably. "I still would've bribed Jet and forced you to build my house."
He grinned. "Good. That's the right answer. There's no blame here, Morgan. I told you for a different reason."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to tell the truth to someone who gives a shit." He gave her raw honesty without flinching or sugarcoating it. "Because you mean something to me, and I don't want to hide stuff from you. That's all. I don't want pity or rage or for you to solve the problem. I just wanted you to listen."
In that moment, something shifted within her. A need to give him everything and anything he wanted surged inside, crashing through her like a tsunami until she closed her eyes, fighting to keep control. He was a proud man. A good man. A strong man. Sharing the details of the will allowed her entry into his secrets and his motivation behind the tension with his brothers. They chose to stay for Cal, but the resentment still beat in their blood. She didn't know how it would end with them. Would they stay? Move on without a glance back? Make peace with each other?
Only one fact revealed itself like a flawless oyster pulled from the sea.
Her link with Cal was so much more than sex. They were building their own relationship with each swing of the hammer. Already the thought of leaving him tore her apart, but when it was time, there would be no choice.
Right?
Morgan hesitated. She ached to tell him her own truth. But if she told him she couldn't have children, would Cal break it off immediately? Would he care? Was he falling for her as fast and hard, or was this just a satisfying fling? The questions swirled in her brain and gave her a headache. She hadn't thought this far, but things were changing, and she'd have to make a decision soon.
Not tonight. She needed more time. Time with nothing holding them back. No guilt or responsibility. She just wanted Cal to want her for herself.
"I understand," she finally said.
The tension between them eased. He nodded and gave a half smile. "Thank you."
"No, thank you." She cleared her throat. "For trusting me. I don't know what your brothers will choose to do at the end of this project. They love you, Cal. I see it when you're together, but it's like you're all trying to find each other again." She paused, wanting to show him how much he meant to her. The lines had already been crossed. The best she could do at this point was help them both succeed. "I promise you this: I will do everything in my power to make sure we both win and get what we need. At all costs."
His eyes darkened. Heat blasted from his gaze, wrapping her in sizzling warmth. "You already did, baby. You already did."
Words failed her, so Morgan looked into his eyes. Smiled.
And prayed he was right.
chapter sixteen
It's gorgeous," she breathed, stepping back to admire the richness of the cabinetry and marble. "This kitchen is a stunner."
Dalton unfurled himself from his position on the floor and wiped his brow. Thank God the central air was cranking. The late-summer weather had been brutally humid, and working with power tools wasn't the best way to cool off. "Thanks. I've always liked a Tuscan type of kitchen, but the way you created a circular pattern opens it up." He motioned to the lighting fixtures that dangled from the ceiling. "And these pendants are unique. I've never seen anything like it."
Morgan grinned. "It's a small lighting place back in Charleston that does all my work."
He raised a brow. "Is that why you got into a war with Tristan about not purchasing it at his place?"
Morgan shook her head, grabbed a clean cloth, and began wiping off the thick layer of dust that had settled on every surface. "Tristan is too stubborn, so we made a bet. He ordered his lighting, I ordered mine, and we'd decide who was right."
Dalton laughed, grabbing his bottle of Dasani. "I'm gonna assume his shipment went back?"
"Damn right. He also owes me a statement."
"What type of statement? Didn't he get his money back?"
She shot him a wicked grin. "I made him write up a formal apology acknowledging me as a better design artist than he is."
Dalton burst out laughing. "Holy shit! That's so childish. I'm surprised at you."
"Childish, yet effective. He'll never question me again."
"I like you, Morgan Raines."
"I like you, too, Dalton Pierce. Even if you do cause havoc with the females on-site."
Over the past weeks, she'd grown closer to Cal's younger brothers. Once Dalton stopped flirting and realized she belonged to Cal, they fell into an easy camaraderie, almost like siblings. Their shared love for woodworking and transforming old junk into treasures built a mutual respect. With his surfer hair, his stunning blue eyes, and the artistic ink scrolling over both biceps, the man seemed able to mesmerize the female species. He was also charming enough to actually get women to forgive his many indiscretions, which fascinated her. He was dating Ashley again and another lady from the textile store. Thank goodness she'd already gotten her deliveries and installation before Dalton could break another heart. The time frame for him to gain forgiveness was way too tight to handle.
"Hey, I've been a good boy, according to Cal. No more catastrophes. Still on schedule. What could we possibly have to worry about?"
And right on cue, Tristan came stomping through the door.
Uh-oh.
Dressed in a smart charcoal suit, red tie, and silver cuff links, he cut an impressive figure. His Italian loafers squeaked as he marched toward them, his elegant features twisted in a pissed-off grimace. Giving her a polite nod, he turned full force on his brother. "Did you have a fight with Sandy Harper's father?"
Uh-oh.
Dalton stretched like he didn't give a care in the world. "Who's Sandy Harper?"
"She's the real estate agent over at the Sand Acre mall. Her father is Jack. He hired us to redo his deck. Remember that job?"
Dalton scratched his head. "Oh, yeah. What a nightmare. I kept telling him we needed to do redwood maple, but he was stuck on some cheap Trex imitation wood. Does he think we're, like, fucking Home Depot or something? Of course, I refused until he agreed to let me show him how the redwood would look."
Tristan ground his teeth, reminding her of Cal's habit. He practically hissed the words out. "You can't refuse a client because you don't like their choices! I was just negotiating a property and ready to close with a huge profit margin. Until Sandy Harper walked in and said her client refused. When I asked why, she said her father has a pile of wood and no deck and she didn't trust me. What the hell did you do, Dalton?"
Dalton narrowed his gaze. "I ordered the sample so I could show him how it would look. He's gonna love it and book me for the job. I planned to go out there tomorrow. I'll handle it."
Tristan raked his fingers through his hair. The strands fell back in perfect precision. So different from Cal's, who always had hat head or looked like he had rolled right out of bed. Of course, it made him look so sexy, she hid his combs. "You always say you'll handle it," Tristan said bitterly. "You're not Michelangelo, and sometimes you need to suck it up and do what the client wants."
"Even if it's wrong? If I didn't think he'd go for the redwood, I would've shut my mouth and given him the Trex. He doesn't want the Trex. He wants to be impressed and in love with his new deck. When did that become wrong? I do my job with pride."