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.

“Morgan, darling! I cannot wait to hear the updates on the house. It’s like a big Christmas present I’m dying to unwrap.”

Morgan smiled. “I’m confident you’re going to love it. We’re right on schedule, and I’d love to go over some samples.”

Slate leaned over his wife and waved his hand in the air in dismissal. “We’re on the Greek islands for the next few days. I’d like to spend as much time as possible with Petra before we begin shooting, so let’s keep this short. Besides, that’s why you’re the best. You already know what we want.”

Petra laughed. “Slate is afraid I’ll become overwhelmed with such a project and ignore him. Silly man.”

“Slate is right. There’s no need for you to stress about anything. I guarantee you will love your new house,” Morgan said confidently. She pushed the array of samples out of the way from the screen. “I’m moving ahead with no troubles. Just wanted to touch base to see if you had any questions or concerns.”

“We’re doing complementary shades of blue for the bank of guest suites, correct?” Petra asked.

Morgan paused. She’d picked out coordinating green for the three suites and had even placed orders. Blue? How had she missed that—she’d been sure green was Petra’s signature color. “Yes, of course we’re doing blue,” she confirmed. Her stomach twisted. She’d never gotten a color palette wrong. It was one of her strongest skills. Okay, no need to panic. It was just one tiny error easily fixed.

“Wonderful. Oh, I attended a party at Anne Hathaway’s friend’s and went simply crazy over her entertainment room. Minimalist decor. Red walls, sleek black furniture, clean sculpture. I’d love to reflect the tone but make it unique. Lord help me if she visited and discovered we tried to copy her! But you’re probably doing something similar, right, darling? You know how I adore that type of sharp expression.”

Her heart began to pound. She’d missed this, too. How? She’d done a complete and thorough profile on her clients, and that type of scheme wasn’t even in her notes as a possibility? They were as far from minimalist as a hippie was from a CEO. Were they kidding? Sweat pricked her forehead. Her mind sifted through the design mock-ups and furniture she’d placed on hold. Maybe they’d just changed their mind after seeing someone else’s house. Sometimes clients thought they wanted a look even though it didn’t fit them to live with it long-term. She couldn’t doubt herself now. They’d sense doubt and go in for the kill like a shark.