He’d need at least two more of those before he’d feel anywhere near himself.
“Are we gonna sit around and stare at each other all night or are we actually gonna get some shit done?” Michael asked him as the waitress put a beer in front of him.
“Keep your panties on,” Sean said. “Jesus, you’re testy tonight. How’d you play today?”
“Would have played a lot better if you wouldn’t have called me every few holes with more bad news from the office.”
Sean took another pull of his beer. “Just wanted to keep you apprised of the situation, old man. Didn’t want you thinking that I up and changed things when you took a day off.”
Michael rolled his eyes, grumbling something unintelligible into his beer.
They’d had a foreman quit in the middle of a job today. The asshole just walked off the jobsite. As if that weren’t bad enough, the project was already a week behind schedule, and the client was breathing down their necks about it.
Then there was the ongoing mystery of who was using the break room computer to look at porn. Someone had been doing it for weeks.
Turned out that someone was their receptionist. He’d had to fire her for gross misconduct right after lunch, before she got a chance to complete the payroll.
He really should have planned that termination a bit better. If he’d waited till the end of the day, at least it would have saved him the three hours it took to fumble through the payroll software. Missing a payroll would have been catastrophic.
But the big kicker was that a building permit for a townhouse complex they were set to break ground on was getting held up because some goddamn architectural historian complained their construction plans would impede on the ongoing preservation of a nearby historic landmark. If the county ruled in favor of the historian and their permit fell through, their project was fucked.
All of this while his partner was off for the day playing golf. Why did this shit always happen on his watch?
Sean put his now empty glass back on the table and motioned for another one from the waitress. She must have been anticipating it because she had stood nearby, watching him the entire time.
While he waited, he looked around their table.
Michael sat next to him nursing his beer. On the other side of him sat two of their senior crewmen who would be working on the hotel project. Charlie Powers, his main procurement specialist, sat directly opposite Sean at the other end of the table. Darcy sat next to him, followed by Rhys, and then another member of their construction crew.
He was confident that they had a strong team. If everyone’s reputations were to be believed, there was no one at the table who was a weak link. Charlie was trustworthy. Rhys was supposed to be the best at his firm. And Darcy was… well, she was Darcy. He’d trust her with anything.
The noise in the pub was loud, and he couldn’t hear what Darcy and Charlie were talking about at the other end of the table, but he noticed that Rhys seemed extremely interested. Charlie must have made a joke because Darcy smiled. Not one of her full-face, blindingly radiant smiles that he was able to coax out of her every once in a while, but an amused grin that would make Charlie feel like a motherfucking king, nonetheless.
Her hair was much longer for sure. He’d never remembered her being able to tie it back before, although he couldn’t help but notice the strand of hair that kept falling from behind her ear.
She looked like a different woman altogether. He didn’t quite know what to make of professional Darcy in her blue skirt and shiny top. And she walked on those high heels as if she never took them off. Since when did she wear sky-high heels?
Besides the clothes and the hair, there was an energy about her that usually wasn’t there when she was relaxed. He hoped she wasn’t feeling uncomfortable or nervous. He wished she were down at his end of the table. If it weren’t for Rhys pulling out that chair for her, she probably would be.
Michael cleared his throat loudly, and Sean forced his eyes to leave Darcy and focus on his partner. Right, he should definitely start the meeting now.
Sean rapped loudly on the table with his knuckles to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone have their drinks? Mind if we get the business part of the evening out of the way?”
Everyone at the table turned away from individual conversations, and all attention was on him. This was undoubtedly his biggest project bid. It would be high on the list of biggest profits for the firm if they could pull this fish in. There was always that little bit of doubt that he felt going into each new project meeting, and he could feel it now, stewing in the pit of his stomach.
Taking a sip of his beer, he locked eyes with Darcy. He wondered if she saw the self-doubt when she looked at him. She raised her brows in a mocking way as if to say, We don’t have all night. And just like that, he was grounded and that poison churning around in his gut dissipated.
“Hyde Wellington is our potential client. Somehow, the lucky Brit got his hands on the piece of property right next to the New England Aquarium. Every hotelier and restaurateur in Boston has tried to get their hands on that property. Wellington has ended up with it, and he wants to build a boutique hotel. It’s a project that his wife has convinced him to do, so it wouldn’t surprise me if his wife is pulling some strings on this.”
“With Wellington,” Michael interrupted, “money isn’t an issue. But he’s a shrewd businessman, and he wants the most for his pound.”
Sean saw nods from those at the table.
“Rhys Clarke has worked some preliminary prints,” Sean continued. “We have a few slight adjustments we need to discuss, but otherwise, we can run with it. Rhys, you’ll have to have a sit-down with Darcy to go over the designs for the inside.”
Rhys nodded in agreement before turning to Darcy. He watched the man’s lips move but couldn’t hear what he said. Darcy’s mouth shaped the word sure before she moved her eyes back to Sean.
“Have we been given any parameters to work with? Did he say how many rooms he wanted?” Darcy asked.
“Great question, Darce. Yes, he wants no more than twelve rooms, but no fewer than seven. However you can work them into the design is up to you both,” he said, nodding to Rhys and Darcy. “He does want a bar area, but no restaurant. Darcy, the entire inside is yours from the rooms to the lobby to the bar.”
She nibbled on her lip as she nodded. The action distracted him for only a millisecond before he regrouped and moved on.
“Charlie, once we get a game plan, we’re going to ask you to work with Rhys, Darcy, and the lead foreman on getting quotes for the materials.”
“Will do, boss.”
“What kind of timeline are we looking at?” Rhys asked.
“I’d like to meet again on Saturday morning so that you and Darcy can give us a briefing of what you’re thinking,” Sean said.
He heard Michael mutter something under his breath, apparently not liking the idea of working on a Saturday. Unfortunately, time was of the essence, and with the importance of this project hanging over them, Sean would make them all work twenty-four hours a day if needed.
“Our meeting with Wellington is in two and a half weeks. Once we agree on a plan this Saturday, that will give everyone two weeks to finalize their presentations. We reconvene to have a final walk-through, and then we pitch.”
“What about budgets?” Rhys asked, pushing his chair back and resting his elbow along the back of Darcy’s chair.
Sean’s chest tightened as he stared at the man’s arm resting against Darcy’s shoulder. She leaned forward to reach for her glass, putting some space between herself and Rhys.
Sean forced himself to swallow, not sure why he was so thrown off. “Ah, we have some budgetary constraints set up for each element. We’ll hand those out individually after Saturday’s meeting once we get an idea of where we stand.”
“Do we know who else is bidding on the project?” Darcy asked.
Sean smiled at her. “Yes, we are one of three. Michael, you want
to talk about that?”
Michael cleared his throat. “One of the firms that's bidding, Williamson & Gates, is a UK-based contractor that’s worked with Wellington in the past. Their portfolio is massive, but so are most of their projects. This would be a small project for them, maybe one of the smallest they’ve done. We feel we’d have an edge on them based on the fact that we’re local and have knowledge of the municipal building codes.”
“I’d like to see those British guys maneuver their way through the permit process,” Charlie joked.
“Exactly,” Michael continued. “The other firm is out of New York. Manuel Anthony’s outfit is a good one. Very similar to us in a lot of ways. We see him as our main competitor.”
Rhys, whose elbow was still propped on the back of Darcy’s chair, leaned forward toward her and whispered something into her ear. Sean narrowed his eyes in their direction, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The man was way too close to her, and he didn’t like it one bit.
Jesus, where was this possessiveness coming from? How many beers had he had?
“Any more questions?” Sean asked, his voice coming out almost like a growl.
Everyone shook their heads, and the individual conversations started back up around the table. Sean continued to stare toward the architect, who was talking animatedly with his massive hands to Darcy and Charlie. Between Charlie, who could stand to drop a few pounds, and Rhys, who was built like a fucking muscle factory, Darcy must have felt claustrophobic.
He noticed she smiled politely at both of them but didn’t participate in the conversation. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. And so help him, if Rhys was coming on to her, he’d pull his ass off the project so fast…
The line of thinking came to an abrupt end when Sean realized that, at this point, he couldn’t afford to pull the architect off the project. The initial stages of their bid all hinged on the architectural design. All the other pieces, big and small, would fall into place after the design was finalized. Looked like he was stuck with Mr. Stout, Bald, and Talks-Too-Goddamn-Much-With-His-Hands.
The waitress started delivering their meals, and Sean asked her to bring another round of drinks.
“You might want to slow down, son,” Michael mumbled to him between bites of his steak.
“What are you talking about? This is only my third.”
“You get too polluted, your friend will be catching a ride back alone with the big fella over there.”
Sean stabbed a potato on his plate and shoved it in his mouth without answering. The old man had a point. He didn’t understand why Rhys’s behavior was rubbing him the wrong way.
It wasn’t like Darcy couldn’t take care of herself. It was probably the fact that they were all here on a business assignment, and they all better act business-like. And it wasn’t very professional to hit on the interior designer. And she wasn’t just any designer.
She was Darcy.
Michael followed Sean’s gaze down the table.
“Jesus Christ, how does a person’s neck get that big?” Michael whispered.
Sean grunted out a laugh and quickly looked down at his plate. “Goddamn it, Michael.” He chuckled after swallowing what was in his mouth. “You almost made me choke.”
“Bet he doesn’t ever choke on anything,” Michael continued.
“Bet he can’t find a tie that goes past his chest either,” Sean said.
“Can’t even think about a bow tie. Unless it’s a clip-on.”
“All of his shirts and sweaters have got to be ruined after he tries to fit his head through the neck.”
Michael laughed at Sean’s statement, causing Darcy to look in their direction. She pulled in her lips, trying not to smile at him. He just twisted the side of his mouth up in a goofy grin and winked back.
Chapter 4
A loud knock at the door sent Darcy bolting upright in bed. She clutched at her silk pajama top as she tried to calm her racing heartbeat and slow her heaving breaths.
Her first thought was that she’d slept in and was late for her lunch meeting with Rhys. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand told her that she still had an hour and a half before her alarm went off.
It must have been a dream. She reached down to the fluffy duvet at her hips and was about to pull it over her head when the knock came again, followed this time by a drumming of fingers against the door.
Whoever the fuck is on the other side of that door better be ready to meet their maker.
Scurrying out of bed and shuffling toward the door in her bare feet, Darcy rose up on her toes to look through the peephole. She’d recognize that mop of blond hair anywhere.
With a heavy sigh, she slid the chain lock over, unlocked the deadbolt, and pulled open the door to see Sean standing in the hall with two coffees in a cardboard carrier in one hand and a white paper bag in the other.
“Morning, sunshine.” His lips twisted into an impish grin. “Did I wake you up?”
“Jesus Christ, Sean. It’s seven fucking thirty in the morning. Yes, you woke me up.” She sighed impatiently. Her head tilted to the side, her body not fully awake. The soft, warm bed she’d just crawled out of was calling her name.
“Darcy, are you always so lovable in the mornings or are you just happy to see me?”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Every time she saw Sean, she was happy to see him. Even at seven thirty in the morning. Even when she knew her hair was a rat’s nest, and there were probably crease lines on her face from her pillow.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I brought breakfast,” he said matter-of-factly, holding up the white bag.
He squeezed by her into the dark room. She smelled his aftershave, fresh and manly, the hint of sandalwood making her nose follow him inside.
Closing the door, she stood just inside the room watching him set the coffees and breakfast bag on the dresser before he flopped down on her bed, arranging the pillows behind his back so he could lean against the headboard. He grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned on the TV.
“Honestly, Sean. What the fuck?”
He gave her a sidelong glance before shrugging. “I get coffee and a scone every morning from Lulu Bakery. Guess what I got you?”
She raised her brow in question.
“A carrot cake muffin!” he said, throwing his hand up in the air as if it was un-fucking-believable that a bakery would make carrot cake muffins. “And a caramel latte. You like caramel lattes, right? I figured all chicks like caramel lattes.”
Although she would have gotten hung up on his assumption that all chicks liked caramel lattes (more than likely based on his vast experience with women and what they preferred after a night of mind-blowing sex that he so graciously provided) she was instead stuck on the possibility that he remembered carrot cake was her favorite flavor. Or was it sheer coincidence?
“Carrot cake is my favorite,” she said softly.
“Well, it was divine intervention that it happened to be the muffin of the day then.”
Right. Coincidence.
He reached his arm back to rest between his head and the headboard as he resumed switching channels. Walking to the dresser, she slowly opened the bag, and sure enough, there were two perfect muffins that smelled of cinnamon and allspice, each wrapped in a bright orange foil with a generous dollop of cream cheese frosting. She pulled them out, grabbed a couple tissues, and sat down in the chair on the other side of the nightstand.
“I would have seriously thrown your ass out if these hadn’t had cream cheese frosting,” she muttered, handing him his muffin.
He flashed a boyish grin that made her insides warm as he peeled back the foil on the muffin and took a bite. She did the same and closed her eyes as the comforting flavors melted on her tongue. Her muffin was still slightly warm.
“Mmmm. So good.”
“Now are you still mad at me for waking your lazy ass up?”
“Yes.”
Oh, if you only knew what I wanted you to do…
They finished their breakfast in companionable silence, while Darcy tried hard not to moan with epicurean pleasure. Carrot cake muffins and Sean McKenna stretched out on her bed was almost too much for a barely awake Darcy to comprehend.
He hung his feet off the side of the bed so his work boots wouldn’t get her sheets dirty. He wore jeans and a dark green Henley shirt with a button-down heavier knit tan shirt open over it. She could see the indentions of his pecs as his shirt stretched across his chest with the way he was sitting.
“Why don’t you hurry and get ready so I can take you to the hotel site?”
It dawned on her that she sat next to him in all his delicious gorgeousness in her purple silk long-sleeve pajamas with red polka dots. Without a bra.
Feeling her cheeks heat instantly, Darcy crossed her arms over her chest as she hurried to her suitcase. Using her body to block his view, she folded a violet satin bra and matching panties into a pair of jeans and clutched it to her chest as she walked to the closet to get a shirt. She stood there looking at her options, wondering which shirt to wear when he sighed loudly behind her.
“Tick tock, Darce.”
She turned and glared at him, noticing his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Piss off, Sean,” she said in the same cadence he used. He just kept smiling at her as she grabbed a long-sleeve black shirt and went into the bathroom.
Taking the fastest shower in the history of womankind, Darcy hurried to get dressed. Being bare-ass naked with only a shower curtain and a wall between her and Sean was more than she was comfortable with. After drying her hair and throwing on some mascara and blush, she stepped out of the bathroom to hunt for her flats, which she found underneath the room’s desk.
“Okay, let’s go.”
“About time. Let’s stop in the lobby to see if they can warm up our coffee for us.”
Not In My Wildest Dreams (McKenna Series Book 2) Page 4
