Ah, shit.
Every instinct he owned screamed and bitched in rebellion, but he knew there was no other choice. He needed to go visit Morgan Raines. After the stunt she’d pulled, he’d do anything to come up with another alternative, but he needed something fast, and this seemed to be the answer. His head pounded, and he held back a groan. He needed a flawless approach, so she didn’t think he’d rolled over like his dogs and surrendered. He’d make sure his terms were met and Pierce Brothers had a shot at survival after he took his punishment.
And, boy, this would be some serious punishment.
Each word that fell from his lips was another push down the plank. “I may have a solution.”
“Dissolve the company and let us go home?” Dalton asked.
“No. I’ll take a recent job I was offered. A big job. Some celebrity clients—the Rosenthals—bought property in Harrington. Gonna film some big movie here or something. Anyway, this woman, Morgan, wants us to build the house for them. We have to deal directly with her, but from what I remember, it’s a pretty big house. Lots of custom furnishings. The three of us can all work on it together, and we can ask any price we want.”
Tristan nodded. “Nice. This sounds like what we need to keep afloat. If we all focus on this project, we can complete it and get paid in full within eleven months.”
“They want it in six.”
Dalton winced. “Damn, that’s tight. Did you show Brady the plans yet? How is this Morgan to work with? Pain in the ass?”
Caleb let out a dry laugh. “Yep. Seems she never makes a mistake and thinks she’s goddess of the builders’ world. Brady will be on board; he’s as invested in this company as the rest of us. I’ll go see her tonight and close out the negotiations.”
“Don’t push too hard,” Tristan warned. “We need the job.”
“I’ll take care of it. I just need to make sure if we take it, you’re both with me. Since we moved in together, we’ve kept our jobs separate. I think it’s been the wrong move. If we work together on each project, we can streamline our productivity and show a united front to the town.” His brothers shared a look, but Caleb had reached the end of his pride and his patience. If this didn’t work, he’d lose Pierce Brothers. He raised his arms in the air. “I know we’re not comfortable with each other. I know sometimes I act like a dick. This one time, I’m asking to put aside our crap and build this house together like the old days. Do this for me, and I swear to God, I won’t ask for anything else again.”
He tried to keep his face reflecting a calm he didn’t feel. His brothers were stubborn and did what they wanted. Funny, never before had he thought Dalton and Tristan would have the power over his business. After all the decisions he had made to keep it intact and push them away, they were the only ones who could save him.
“One last time,” Tristan repeated. “We do this job and give it our all.”
Caleb nodded. “Agreed. Dalton?”
His little brother took his time, but he finally gave a sharp jerk of his head. “Fine. But we’re equal partners in this. You can be the main point of contact with Morgan, but our feedback needs to count. Got it?”
“Got it.”
The deal had been struck. Relief coursed through him. The company was safe for now. He needed to get a contract signed that would give them the advantage and make sure this house was move-in ready within six months.
Yeah. No problem.
“I’ll meet with Brady in the morning and go over the initial plans,” Cal said. “For now, I’m going to pay Ms. Raines a visit.”
“Hey, is that the blonde I saw in the hallway?” Dalton asked. “She’s cute.”
Cute? Morgan was so far from cute, it was ridiculous. Caleb doubted she had ever giggled in her life. She struck him as competent but a know-it-all. A Southern belle who got transferred into Yankee territory and intended to get her way with a charming smile and sexy little accent. Caleb had a hard time finding the right adjective to truly describe the woman. At least not in polite company.
“She’s a manipulator, and we have to keep a sharp eye on her. I don’t trust her, but right now, we need her.”
His brothers agreed.
And Caleb headed out to see her.
Morgan refused to pace because it only showed weakness. Instead, she pulled her linen pants tight so they wouldn’t wrinkle and settled on the sprawling sofa in her hotel suite. Soothing music piped in low through the Bluetooth. She sipped her glass of water with lemon. And pondered.
The others had been less stubborn. It didn’t bode well for the future of the project, but she’d had no choice. She waited in her hotel room most of the day, but he hadn’t come storming over. No text. Not even a scathing email. Nothing but silence.
He’d have to take the job. She’d done her homework. Called in her favors. Pierce Brothers needed her more than she needed them. After studying the client profile, Morgan knew immediately that Caleb Pierce was the only one to make this house work. The Rosenthals were her most demanding clients, and nothing less than perfection would be accepted. Her entire career had grown steadily, her reputation impeccable. She got the job done and never faltered. Soon, celebrity clients lined up so she could build their houses, allowing themselves to trust her with the most intimate of projects, but when the Rosenthals came knocking, Morgan knew it was a turning point.
If she did a good job, she would be the darling of Hollywood. People listened to the powerful couple, and even Brangelina were no longer the crowning glory. They had been officially replaced.
Morgan was used to flying all over the country at her clients’ beck and call, but it was always nice to settle in a town for those few months and feel a part of something bigger. She missed her Southern roots and the closeness of the community, but her mother had encouraged her to follow the road to greatness. Her job might be a bit eclectic, but she’d come from a long line of well-established decorators in South Carolina, and she hadn’t wanted to stick around to be overshadowed. Her mother hadn’t wanted that, either, having already claimed the main role as queen. And of course, Daddy always followed her mother’s lead.
She let out an impatient sigh, glanced at her tasteful silver-and-pearl watch, and decided to order room service.
A low buzz echoed in the air. She pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”
“Mr. Pierce here to see you, Ms. Raines.”
“Send him up, please.”
A smile fought for victory, but she just stood on her three-inch cream heels, smoothed down her hair, and waited for his knock.
She reminded herself not to enjoy the upcoming encounter too much.
She opened the door a few moments later. “Why, Mr. Pierce, how lovely to see you,” she drawled. She waved him inside, her poppy-pink nails flashing in the air. “Come in.”
He didn’t budge. Just stared at her, his gaze stripping all her bullshit and veneer aside and probing underneath. Scruff darkened his jaw. Dirt marred his meaty biceps. There was a hole in his black T-shirt, and he had a rip in his faded jeans. He looked sulky. Pissed.
And hot as a summer day in Charleston.
She tried to swallow and found she had no spit. Desperate to get out of his close range, she went to the bar and poured him a glass of water, dropping a few cubes of ice in, and handed it to him. “Here you go. It’s hot out there. Shall we talk?”