When Dalton had brought up her next job, his gut clenched and he fought to keep his shit together. She seemed to hesitate, as if she struggled with her decision to leave again as much as he was struggling to see if she’d stay. He didn’t have the answers, but Cal knew he’d do anything to make it work. She completed him. Oh, God, he was channeling stupid Jerry Maguire, but it was damn true. He liked the man he was around Morgan Raines. He saw a bright future that was completely cliché and wonderful. Dogs, children, chaos, having fights, making up, making love, building houses. He wanted it all. He wanted it with her.

“Morgan?”

“Yeah?” Her voice was tinged with the thread of sleep. Her warmth seeped into his skin.

“I love you.”

She stiffened. His heart banged against his chest, and dizziness threatened. Cal hadn’t said those words to anyone besides Felicia. Oh, crap, he was so stupid. Women didn’t want to hear that type of declaration after sex. They wanted it in the daylight, in a romantic setting, with more of an explanation of why he loved her. He’d screwed up. Could he take it back and tell her later? No, it was done. Ruined. He squeezed his eyes shut and trapped an aggravated groan. This was bad.

“I love you, too.”

The words hit his ears and his heart at the same time. A quiet joy settled into him, found a home, and stayed. She loved him. And they’d work out the rest later.

She didn’t say anything else after that. She didn’t have to.

Cal held her tight and they lay together in the dark.

chapter twenty-one

Yes, I’ll expect you here tomorrow afternoon,” Morgan said briskly. “I’ll pick you up from the airport and take you straight to Harrington . . . No, everything’s in order, and you’ll be ready to spend the first night in your new house . . . Good. Call me if there’s any questions or issues. Safe travels.”

She clicked off the phone and dragged in a breath.

It was almost showtime.

They’d worked tirelessly and nonstop over the last weeks as all the final details pulled together to create a livable home. Morgan stood on the newly paved path¸ looking up at the gorgeous blending of brick and stone, the two giant columns that set off a wraparound porch. Two smaller decks were strategically placed above the porch so an onlooker’s eye would be drawn to the center and caught in the impression of sheer power and grace. Each precious curve and piece of wood had been lovingly picked and it seemed to show in the aristocratic lines of the house.

Purple plums, rosebushes, African grass, pear trees, and an array of distinctive landscaping swirled through rainbow rock to a private deck with a hot tub and a gorgeous cedar-built sauna and outdoor shower. Elegant French doors opened up to the back of the house and led to a private circular staircase connected to the master bedroom. The Rosenthals could easily leave their own oasis in secret and be straight at the hot tub without walking through the house.

Morgan pressed the remote in her hands and watched windows and doors slide open on command with just a whisper of sound. The alarm had finally been installed and the cable company had spent days working on having everything wireless—not a cord in sight.

She walked through the heavily carved mahogany door inspired by Cal’s home and looked around in the hushed space. The grand staircase and floating balcony overlooked the open kitchen, which was a dream for any type of cook. Gorgeous precious-metal pendants lit up the marble countertops in a huge horseshoe, with a built-in stove top and cabinets shimmering with the richness of cedarwood. Cushioned stools lined the countertops, and Dalton had constructed a table with special carvings in the legs and matching benches. The golds, tans, and muted wine color blended together to soothe the eye but also startle as bursts of vivid orange and sunny yellow showed within the accents, from the mix of sculptures and four-foot vases filled with exotic florals.

Her gaze assessed the subtle green walls, cocktail tables, and vintage coffee table Dalton had restored. Beveled crystal glass mirrors shimmered, and muted oriental carpets were thrown carelessly in seemingly random patterns that set off the artsy chairs she’d lovingly reupholstered in lipstick red. The punch of color was needed to pull together the aesthetics of the open brick fireplace, wood, and neutrals.

A smile curved her lips as she took in the grandfather clock on the far wall. It was the true centerpiece of the room, with the Rosenthals’ initials stenciled in place of the numbers. The soothing ticktock brought a life to the room that would’ve made it more of an art show. Morgan had made sure each room had a particular item that carried the decor. For the main living room where people would gather, it was the clock, representing the passing of time, the preciousness of moments that tick by, and the reminder to spend them well.

As Morgan toured the rest of the house, a strange worry and restlessness coursed through her blood. This was her client’s house, but so much of herself beat through the soul of every room. How many times had she struggled not to cross the line of what she envisioned this house to be and what the Rosenthals expected? She’d never had that problem before. Morgan followed the rules. But this one time she’d taken a bit of a gamble. From the herb garden on the back patio, to the stark white lounge chair that was both comfortable and stunning, to the jewelry armoire lined with velvet and embossed gold knobs, she’d picked every piece of furniture and accent that would add to the spirit and beauty of the house.

It had to work. She’d done what Cal had urged and gone with her gut. Surely her years of experience and knowledge would shine through. The Rosenthals would see what she saw in this house and fall in love. Then she’d score another large client and move on to the next house.

Morgan stopped as the thought held her. Was she going to leave? Maybe she could stay in Harrington for a while. Take a mini vacation to recharge, and see if they could build a life here. It was possible. Anything was possible.

He loved her.

She hugged the knowledge to her heart. That night, his simple words had buried deep inside her and claimed her forever. He wasn’t a man to give love easily. But once he did, Morgan knew she’d be his own personal queen, because that was the way he made her feel every day and every time he looked at her.

“Morgan? Are you up there, baby?”

His voice echoed through the house. She climbed the stairs and looked into his beloved face. His dark tan had lost some of its color from the turning of fall but was still a golden brown. Tiny lines bracketed his eyes and mouth, confirming his nonstop schedule and little sleep gotten within the past weeks. His T-shirt was dusty, and his jeans had a hole in the knee.