His thoughts flicked back to the woman. Morgan. He loved her Southern accent, a rich, sensual twang that stroked his ears and other parts of his body. He'd tried not to smile at the proper way she stood before him, as if she were a female David to his Goliath, with her eyeliner smudged, mud on her skirt, and pieces of dog hair stuck all over her expensive jacket. Petite, but she packed a punch with all those gorgeous curves. He was so tired of stick figures on women, and as a rough lover, he enjoyed being able to grab, lift, and position them during sex without worrying about breaking them.
Huh. Where had that thought come from?
Her appearance screamed pampered Southern belle. Straight, silvery blond hair. Big china-blue eyes. Pretty pink mouth. But she'd managed to surprise him.
She'd called him Charming.
Damn, it had been hard not to laugh at that one. He deserved it, of course. He rarely talked down to anyone like that, but she'd caught him off guard and in a pissy mood. Even Sydney, who'd worked for him for years, would never have tried that. Morgan Raines didn't hold much fear of him-or, he suspected, most people. It had been a long time since he'd sparred verbally with a woman who was that intelligent, too.
But it didn't matter. He wasn't taking that fluff job, and he refused to be told what to do in his own company. Dealing with her on a daily basis would be the stuff nightmares were made of. She struck him as the stubborn type. Cal shook his head, imagining her fierce cat claws during negotiations and the challenges of picking out every feature on an endless search for perfection. All for a client he'd never really meet.
Why would she want that type of job, anyway?
He finished his drink and placed it back on the blotter. Had to be money. Probably liked working for famous people and being involved in the inner circle. She seemed to dress and act the part, with her conservative designer clothes and her polite drawl and her confident manner.
Charming.
Cal bit back a laugh, put her out of mind, and got back to work.
chapter four
I'm sorry, Cal. I decided to sign with someone else."
Caleb stared at Jet. This wasn't happening. He'd come over to Jet's, contract in hand, to finalize the deal that would take some of the strain off the business for the next few months. He kept calm, nodding, as if this happened all the time. "Look, Jet, this is a big project. I know I don't have the usual background in Green technology, but I'd never take the job if I had any doubts. My architect finished up the plans, and I know you're going to love them. Can we go inside and talk?"
Jet McCarthy was well-known for his work with environmental conservation and was a huge investor in multiple Manhattan properties. He liked to acquire land and build eco-friendly buildings, but this was for a personal home in Harrington. He wanted a home base to commute back and forth to, like so many of the residents in a town known to be Green in other ways. Cal figured Jet had just gotten spooked over the massive project, and he needed to be persuaded.
Even now, the older man rocked back on his heels, dark eyes peering over a trendy pair of black glasses. He kind of reminded Cal of Einstein, with his shock of crazy silver hair and compact build. When he got caught on a thought, he'd just check out of the conversation¸ and Cal never knew when he'd come back. The guy was a genius and was well respected.
Shit. Cal needed this job. Bad.
"I'm not hiring anyone local. Decided to bring in some people I know who've done some work with me on previous jobs."
Cal looked him dead in the eye. "You don't think I can handle it?"
Jet dropped his gaze, looking uncomfortable. "Actually, Cal, I thought you'd do a great job. I feel bad about this."
Caleb frowned. "I don't understand. What happened to change your mind?"
"I got a call. Morgan Raines. She explained how the Rosenthals needed you to build their house on a tight deadline, and we had a long conversation. I've been looking to get more celebrity awareness regarding environmental conservation, and they agreed to hold a large fund-raiser for me. It was a win-win. Besides, my guys have done this before, so it'll free you up to spend all your time with their project."
The burning hot poker of anger prodded him like a matador bent on torturing his bull. Caleb blinked through the red mist of his vision and tried to salvage the mess. He gave a fake laugh and nodded, as if he knew Morgan well and had been involved with the situation. "Oh, I think you misunderstood, Jet. I decided not to take on the Rosenthal job. They'll be working with another company, so no worries. I apologize for the misunderstanding."
Jet shook his head. "I already made the arrangements, Cal. My team arrives tomorrow morning. Besides, Morgan said you'd tell me that because you felt bad and were trying to take on too many jobs. I think it's best this way. You'll build them a tremendous house." Jet patted him on the back, and his eyes got the familiar distanced look. "I'd better go-got some work to do. Thanks again."
Cal opened his mouth, but Jet was already trudging away, lost in his thoughts of spectacular visions of clean energy and recycling and saving the earth.
Son of a bitch.
He was going to kill her.
Cal got back to his truck and drove, allowing his mind to contemplate all the ways he was going to make that woman pay. Unfortunately, he was afraid it was now too late to book the job. Jet had his mind made up. The only revenge he had left was to show Morgan Raines that her plan had backfired. Now he was more determined than ever not to take the damn job, under any circumstances.
His cell phone blasted on cue, and he hit the speaker button. "Yeah?"
Tristan's voice clipped out, "We got a problem."
Caleb barely managed not to grit his teeth. The last time he'd visited the dentist, he was told that if he didn't stop the stress habit, he'd have no enamel left. "Surprise, surprise. What is it?"
"Are you close to the house? Dalton's here with me."
"On my way."
Caleb hit the accelerator and drove through town, wondering what was going wrong now. He'd run Pierce Brothers without a hitch for the past five years, other than dealing with his control-freak father. In a matter of one month since his brothers had returned, they'd lost clients, blasted through money, and averaged a fight a day if they happened to all meet in the same room. In a strange way, Cal had thought maybe being forced to be together would help them start rebuilding their relationship. Instead, close proximity made it worse. They'd always been an affectionate, roughhousing type of family, but after Mom died, everything changed. Now they seemed able to communicate only by yelling. Sydney and Brady usually played referee, and already they were claiming exhaustion, refusing to get involved in future epic battles. He bet his father was laughing his ass off up there.
Or down below.
He pulled up the driveway and got out of the pickup. Two flashes of monstrous fur whizzed by him, ready to pounce, and he barely managed to get out the command in time. "Stay!"
Gandalf and Balin froze in midair. Gandalf fell to the ground in his dead-man pose, and Balin managed to get half a butt to the ground, the other half wiggling madly. Okay, at least they hadn't tackled him today. That must mean he was making progress, right? He leaned over and scratched.
"Go play," he said, finding the sweet spots and grinning as their matching legs thumped up and down in ecstasy. "Stay out of the mud, though; I'm tired of using the hose on you every day."
Dismissed, they bounced away like they were two Chihuahuas rather than giants and disappeared. Cal walked into the house, snagged a bottle of water, then headed toward the office.
The faint pang of memory stirred. Other families went to baseball and football games on the weekend. Other families took exotic summer vacations.
But Cal learned early on that free time was to be spent at the building site with his brothers, learning the business from the ground up. They worked through high school, and after graduating college, each of them returned to run Pierce Brothers and take their rightful place. They'd never had a choice, but then again, they never questioned their future. And his mother instilled pride in who they were and what they could accomplish together, as a family.
Every morning, they'd hold a casual meeting in the kitchen over breakfast. Mom had insisted that bonding over a meal to start the day was critical to success. Bacon frying in the pan, coffee black and thick, they'd huddle around the high marble countertops arguing over ideas, laughing at his mother's bad jokes, listening in rapt attention to his father's booming voice always lecturing on contracts, profit, or potential clients.
The office was a place for cold, calculated business. The kitchen broke the barriers and turned them into a real family. He may have sensed his parents' distance between each other but never wanted to think about it much. Because when they were all together, he'd been happy. Normal. Part of something bigger, from the blood that ran in their veins to the future of a company that bore their name.