His acerbic wit was almost fun. Almost. Her instincts screamed that he was lying to her. He wasn’t booked up. He just didn’t want the project. A faint smile coasted over her lips. “You knew from the first you wouldn’t take on this job, didn’t you? Why are you so against it?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I like building houses people will actually want to live in and settle into? Houses they can actually love? I know what your clients really want. They want a cushy home to settle into rather than a cold hotel. They’ll spend buckets of money, move in, and stay six months. Then the novelty will have worn off, and they’ll move on to the next interesting location, and all my blood, sweat, and tears would’ve been for nothing. Sorry, not interested.”

Fascinated, she leaned in, studying the distaste on his face. Goodness, he was more passionate about his work than she’d imagined. A faint pang of regret coursed through her. He was right. Her celebrity clients didn’t really care about a home they could raise children and build a history with. It was a means to an end, and when the film wrapped up, they’d probably move back overseas to Europe or to sunny, perfect California.

Morgan hardened her heart against such silly emotions. Her job was simple. Only Pierce Brothers would be able to take on such a complicated project and do it perfectly. She’d done the research. In the Northeast, they were simply the best, their reputation spreading far and wide even after losing their father, who had been the patriarch and main force behind the company. Already time was ticking, and they needed to break ground soon to meet her deadline.

She needed to change Caleb Pierce’s mind. Fast. All obstacles had to be removed so that he had no other choice but to take this job.

“Thank you for being honest with me, Mr. Pierce.” Standing up, Morgan reached over the desk to offer her hand. He jerked a tiny bit in his chair, obviously surprised at her sudden change of tactic, then slowly held out his hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

His fingers closed over hers in a firm, warm grip. For a stunning second, Morgan felt completely caught up and surrounded by him, as if his very presence pressed down upon her, lighting up her nerve endings and at the same time soothing her.

Goodness gracious.

Morgan dropped her hand, startled. She’d never felt such a connection by a simple touch, man or woman. Usually she was even a bit reserved, preferring to use verbal rather than physical communication. Yet, in a matter of moments, Caleb Pierce made her crave more. Goose bumps broke out on her arms, which were thankfully covered by her proper suit jacket.

His gaze was laser sharp, taking in her reaction. Morgan quickly gathered her composure and made sure to keep her pace even and steady, ignoring the pain as her heels clicked smartly on the polished floor.

“Do you want to leave your card for other referrals?”

Her hand paused on the knob. “No need. I’m sure you’ll change your mind by the end of the week and take the job. I’m staying at the Hilton. Penthouse.”

Morgan shut the door before he had a chance to respond.

Take that, Charming.

Now she had to get to work.

Caleb stared at the closed door and wondered what the hell had just happened.

His head pounded from a crap day and the fight with his brother, so he fell back into the cushy leather chair and took another stinging sip of bourbon. She was a slip of a thing, all Southern proper, until she opened her mouth and turned into a little spitfire. He’d been dealing with so many various people in his career, Caleb believed there was little that surprised him anymore.

But she had.

He remembered her proposal, and her multiple follow-up calls he’d transferred immediately to Sydney, his assistant. Name-dropping didn’t impress him like it had his father, and he intended to take on only the clients he wanted to for the future. Sure, the company was struggling, but he was sure it would come around. With Jet McCarthy on board, he’d finally get to sink his teeth into a meaty environmental construction project. As a huge proponent of Green properties, Cal intended to build a home completely eco-friendly, demanding all of his time and effort. The money was good, too, so it would go a long way to paying off the piled-up bills he hadn’t seen coming after his father’s death.

The will was a real bitch. In addition to having to run the company with his brothers, all previous jobs were yanked from contributing to the bottom line of profit. Basically, Cal was starting out with almost a brand-new business that he had to prove would make money in a year. Only a month had passed since his brothers had all moved in together, and they were sinking fast.

He swiveled around in his chair, stared out the window at the rolling acres of green grass, and brooded.

Problem was they didn’t want to work together. Cal had been so damn hopeful after their conversation on the porch. But the moment they began working on a job, each of them wanted to do separate things under the umbrella of the company. Tristan focused on property and renovation, Dalton tried to fill each house with a staggering amount of expensive cabinetry and built-ins to show off his technique, and Cal just wanted to put up the houses. Old resentment still stirred in the air, so they tried to avoid each other, and when they were in the same room for too long, a damn fistfight almost broke out.

Not a great foundation for making a business profitable. The news of Christian’s death had also taken a chunk out of their clientele, with many who had been loyal to his father dropping out, thinking the company couldn’t get the job done in time. Cal knew that, like anything in life, reputation was half the battle. If people believed Pierce Brothers was successful and dynamic, the clients lined up. The moment they caught the scent of failure, his competitors were laughing their asses off all the way to the bank.

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.