Her skin tingled. Talking business was her favorite thing to do. It was like getting to play hard in a controlled environment. “Agreed. I’m hoping you decided to take the job?”

He nodded, allowing her to pretend it was a question rather than a statement. “On consensual terms.”

“Of course.” The word consensual was matched with a tiny smirk. She ignored the tickle of awareness in her lower half.

“Add thirty percent to your initial proposal in cost,” he said.

Ouch. He’d gotten the first hit. “Absolutely not. That’s criminal and insane. The original price stays because it’s fair. We can incorporate bonuses for early completion, and scales for specialized supplies we require.”

“Not good enough. You stole a job that would’ve given me more than just money. I could’ve built my reputation as an environmentally competent builder. Instead, I get stuck with a house that will hardly be lived in.”

Her nail tapped faster against her glass. “You’ll get exposure by publicity and a featured spread in Home Style magazine.”

“In this town, everyone’s going Green. It’s the new thing. Not overpriced, oversize mansions on the water that scream I’m better than you. Welcome to the new century.”

She seethed, more because he was right. Kind of. Green building techniques were blowing up everywhere, and she’d snatched that prize away from him. She wished the Rosenthals cared about social consciousness, but they didn’t. They wanted a huge, ostentatious house that said they had arrived, without openly bragging. It was a fine line she had been hired to walk. Morgan hated feeling guilty, but a tiny bit seeped in. Pursing her lips, her brain clicked away at the percentages, the financial breakdown, and her cushion that she’d automatically thrown in.

“Twenty percent. I won’t go higher.”

“Done.”

The smirk made her realize she’d been conned. He would’ve taken 10 percent. Damn, damn, damn. That mistake would never happen again. To make herself feel better, she snapped through the list of needs she’d memorized. “Completion must be in six months. Turn-key ready. My specs were clearly listed on the original plans and triple-checked with some of the best architects in the world.”

He snorted. “Don’t care until Brady says it’s doable. We go by my architect or no one at all.”

She knew that would be the case, and had already anticipated agreement. Again, she’d researched Brady Heart, and he was top-notch. “Fine. I have final say in all decisions. The Rosenthals trust me to bring them a home completed perfectly to their expectations, and the only way to deliver is to be on-site the entire time.”

“You like white, huh?”

She looked up from the glass she’d been tapping. “Huh?”

He jerked a thumb toward her outfit. “White. Second time I’m seeing you in that color. Not a great look for a site, you know.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Mr. Pierce, I’ve been to over a dozen building sites and know exactly how to handle myself. And what to wear. This is my choice of outfit for business meetings and personal events only.”

“Like hanging out at home? Were you just relaxing here or waiting for me to storm the gates of your castle?”

Oh, he saw too much. She’d need to be at her smartest to take him on. The sizzle of challenge flowed in her blood, making her feel alive and whole. It was pretty much the only time she felt like that. Negotiating. Dealing with obstacles. The moment before she revealed the house her clients had trusted her to complete. She loved the hit, wondering if there was anything in life more fun than her job.

So far, sex had come a distant second.

Then again, she didn’t even have an item ranking third.

Morgan made herself smile easily. “Relaxing.”

“Huh. In that? You look like you’re ready to host a tea party for some stuffy churchgoers. And you’re wearing shoes. High-heel shoes.”

Confusion marred her brow. “And your point is?”

He grunted. “You hang out and kick back in a white linen suit with frickin’ heels on your feet? Do you know what that says about a person?”

She gritted her teeth and kept her smile. “That she’s well prepared for anything?”

“No. It screams you don’t know how to let go.” He paused and looked suspicious. “I bet you don’t know how to have any fun, either.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I know how to have plenty of fun! And you’re not one to talk about letting go. Something tells me from first sight you’re a bit of a control freak yourself.”

His gaze raked her over, and he gave another disgusted snort. “Your clothes don’t even have a wrinkle. Look, princess, we’re stuck with each other. You forced me to take this job by playing dirty, so don’t expect me to treat you with pristine white kid gloves. We’re looking at six months for completion. This means overtired workers, a hundred decisions every hour, and stressed-out suppliers. You say you’ve done this before, but never like this, and never with me. Be warned—I’m going hard-core. Understood?”

Oh, she wanted to curl her fingers into fists and stomp the floor and hiss. He insulted her appearance and her personal life and made snap judgments that enraged her. But she sensed he wanted her to get mad. He’d give her that little smirk and feel as if he’d won.

Hard-core.

Morgan was taken aback by the sudden vivid image of his hard naked body slamming hers against the wall, rubbing up against her, and getting her very, very dirty.

Oh, no. Not with him. Not for any reason. He’d only respect her if she exhibited a professionalism and took everything he gave while she politely asked for another. Please.

Time to reverse the direction of his little game.

Morgan closed the distance between them. Her own gaze flicked over his body in analysis and a cool dismissal that she hoped stung. “Now let me warn you about something. I’ve built fifteen houses for some of the most demanding clients you’ve ever met. They make you look like a sweet little pussycat. I’ve gone days without sleep, camped out at the site for a week to catch the thief stealing our precious koa wood, won a catfight with one of our construction workers’ wives who insisted we had had an affair, and dealt with more sexual harassment and discrimination than you can imagine. So, Charming, don’t talk to me about being hard-core.” She pursed her lips and dropped her final words. “I invented hard-core.”