He barked out a short laugh. “Got no problem with strong women. Just ones who lie. I have the same problem with men, by the way.”
She grabbed her own glass for something to cling to and raised her chin. “Aren’t we being a tad dramatic here? A bit over-the-top? I’m offering you a valid job, and your client has what is called free will. How is this suddenly blamed on me?”
He shook his head and tunneled his fingers through his hair. She watched the nutty strands stand up and settle back in delicious messiness. There was still a slight flattened ring circling his head. From wearing a favorite ball cap? Funny, she’d never been so obsessed with a man’s hair before. Maybe because it was streaked with blond and very thick, brushing low on his collar. But he had hat hair! How was that so damn yummy?
Her last comment must’ve pissed him off more, because then he started pacing like a wild animal in his circus cage. “Unbelievable. Did you take lessons on how to deflect responsibility? What did you have to promise Jet McCarthy to get him to dump me?”
She tapped a nail against the rim of her glass and regarded him steadily. “Not much. Which tells me he had doubts about you on the project. I just offered him a bit of extra funding, but nothing that would’ve made a huge difference if he really wanted you.”
His mouth fell half open at her direct hit. “Lady, with you in my corner, I don’t need enemies. Next time you want someone this bad to build your house, I have a great idea: be nice.”
“I was. It didn’t work.”
They stared at each other, but Morgan didn’t retreat. The foundation was being set. They circled around like boxers, trying out jabs, looking for weak spots, because they were complete strangers. She expected him to start yelling or zinging insults, but he surprised her again by letting out a laugh and shaking his head. “Now that we’re all warm and fuzzy with preliminaries, why don’t we talk business?”
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.