His leashed power seemed to throw women off, but Sydney just turned her cool gaze on him like he was an annoyance. “I took care of it already. And did you check under Andersen with an e? It’s not spelled with an o.”
Tristan looked frustrated, and an odd energy burned between them. Odd. “Fine. I’ll look again. Are you going to lunch?”
“No time.”
His lips flattened to a thin line. “It’s past two. You need to eat. We pay you for lunch.”
“Thanks, but I can take care of myself. Been doing that a long time.”
Whoa. Tristan stubbornly refused to be dismissed, flicking his gaze back and forth between each of them as if trying to decide how to frame his response. Morgan cleared her throat. “Tristan, can I steal you for a few minutes? I need to confirm some final decisions on flooring.”
He treated Sydney to one more heated look, then nodded. “Of course. I have some time now.”
Sydney kept her face impassive. “Morgan, let me know if you need anything.” Then she turned her back on Tristan and left.
Tristan’s face reflected frustration, but he didn’t try to stop her. They walked into the conference room, and she began setting out her laptop, clipboard, and bulging files of paint chips, samples, and fabrics. “Dalton and I went over the fixtures and picked out the floor finishes, but the terrace materials need to be confirmed. Do we go with traditional pavers or flagstone? I’m thinking about a matching wall on the adjacent left corner of the property.”
His long fingers tapped the table in a steady rhythm. His figure hummed with a quiet energy that hinted at his complete focus. “Bluestone,” he finally said. “We skip the pavers and go for bluestone, then river rock to do a matching wall.”
Excitement lit her blood. “Yes, but will the river rocks be too neutral?”
He continued tapping. “We can do rainbow rock to pick up the color of the bluestone.”
“I love it. Can we get the stone in time?”
“I’ll start working on it. Confirm with you tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I’m speaking with the Rosenthals in a few, so I’ll let you know if we need to incorporate any changes.” Of course, Morgan rarely had to change her initial ideas. What made her so good at her job was her ability to transform a client’s dreams and wishes into reality. She had an instinct that had never failed before, and she didn’t intend it to now.
“You picked out a beautiful piece of property,” Tristan commented. “Land is shrinking and becoming overvalued here. I just hope Pierce Brothers never runs out of places to build.”
Morgan studied him. She knew he had an affinity for real estate and turning a piece of property around. “How come you’re not flipping?”
A frown marred his brow. “Want to. I think we’re missing out on a critical piece of profit in Harrington. Problem is, Cal is focused on the building, and Dalton is mesmerized by wood.”
She smiled. It must be hard being not only the middle brother but also the business-oriented one. “Do you know that old farmhouse on Balance Street? The one with the crappy roof and shoe-box windows?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s for sale.”
He cocked his head. Considered. “It’s a crap house.”
“Exactly. Imagine what you could flip that for, since it’s on a dead-end street. A family with children would go nuts for that place.”
Those blue-gray eyes flickered with interest. “Who told you it’s up for sale?”
“Perry at the granite store. His sister’s in real estate and said it was impossible to sell. Seems they’re looking to dump it for a song.”
Tap-tap-tap. Morgan enjoyed the transformation on his face. Purpose carved out his elegant features, and she imagined his brain was short-circuiting with ideas. “Let me check it out. It’s small enough to renovate fast as long as the foundation and guts are still good. A project like that can funnel money easily into the business and open up new doors. I’ve been telling Cal this for a while now. Maybe it’s time I make him listen.”
Morgan didn’t want to involve herself in family dynamics, but it was obvious Cal liked things the way they were. Tristan was wasting his talent doing accounting and running back and forth to suppliers. She’d been out with him a few times already, and his knowledge of what would work in an empty room was pure magic. If he knew property as well, Pierce Brothers was sitting on a gold mine and didn’t even know it.
“Thanks, Morgan. I’ll let you know on the bluestone.”
“Great. Good luck.”
She spent the next hour organizing her materials, then finally dialed the Rosenthals for their meeting. The screen shifted to reveal the glamorous couple sitting on a white-cushioned lounge. Ah, they must be on the yacht. Water sprayed from the rail. The sprawl of stark white houses scattered on a cliff under an azure sky filled the background. Petra’s signature honeyed hair and bright red lips still managed to startle her. Morgan thought she could be termed the most beautiful woman in the world. Her eyes glowed almost violet, and her body was lean muscle without being unhealthy. At over six feet, she had legs that were insured at Lloyd’s of London for millions. A white floppy hat perched on her head, and her French-manicured fingers held a tropical drink.
Her husband, Slate, had taken Hollywood by storm for his part in a famous gangster movie that earned him an Academy Award nomination. The film taking place in Harrington was his next project, and critics said it was crucial he excelled as a main lead. His dark hair and brooding Latin looks were the perfect complement to Petra’s golden aura.