Chapter 3

Morgan Brewer finished tying the laces of his work boots and patted the bare ass of—What was her name again?—before pushing himself off the hotel bed and reaching for his sports coat. He knew Neal would already be waiting down in the lobby for him. Neal Rutherford never arrived on time to meetings. He was early. “Being punctual is your first opportunity to prove you’re honest and respect the other person,” the founder and owner of Rutherford Construction always said. “If you can’t be on time to a meeting, how will they believe you can finish a project on time?” Neal Rutherford always met his deadlines. It was one of the reasons his company was so sought after throughout Florida.

After slipping his coat on, Morgan popped three Tylenol into his mouth and drank half a bottle of water to wash them down. His head throbbed as he ran a brush through his hair, trying to bring order to the almond-colored mess. He needed a shower, but he had needed sleep more. While Neal made sure they arrived the night before, so they wouldn’t be cutting it close, Morgan decided a free night meant it was time to hit the casinos and try his luck at the machines as well as the skirts. Striking out at the craps tables, he had won big in the skirt department, and the two of them had found consolation over his gambling loss in a bottle of Captain Morgan and Morgan’s bed. That morning the Captain was exacting his due while the skirt drooled on his pillow.

Morgan gave himself a once over in the mirror and shrugged. It is what it is. Leaning down, he kissed the sandy blonde on the cheek. Telling her to let herself out when she was ready. He then slipped out of his room and into the red-carpeted hallway. He had faced meetings in worse condition and pulled it off; he’d make it through this one. Besides, he hadn’t met a lady yet who could resist Morgan Brewer’s charms. That’s why I’m probably divorced and without a relationship now, he thought as he pushed the button for the elevator. He gave his charms away to every pretty smile when he should have left them at home. Ah well, some men are just not meant for marriage. The downside of that, however, was he could never really spend time with his four-year-old son, Dustin. That was Morgan’s only regret.

As he expected, Neal was in the lobby, sipping coffee from the cardboard cups they put in the rooms. When he saw Morgan crossing the lobby, he made a point of checking his watch, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “I’m impressed. I thought for sure you would be late.” He made no move to stand.

Morgan smiled. “I know your feelings about punctuality.”

Neal nodded. “Almost makes me wish I hadn’t given you the wrong time.”

Morgan stared at the man, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “The wrong time?” Neal Rutherford was not a man to play practical jokes, so as Morgan stared at the older man, the dark hair turning to silver around the edges and salting his mustache, he wasn’t sure what to make of his comment. “I don’t understand.”

Neal’s face practically sparkled. Whatever was going on made the man quite sure of himself. “I knew that, while I went to my room to study the proposal sent to us by Jacqui Karston, you wouldn’t be able to resist the casinos or the free alcohol they pass out while you’re playing.” He shrugged after taking another sip of his coffee. “So, I told you a half hour earlier than I needed you down here just to be safe. From the look of your eyes, I’m guessing I’m accurate on how you spent your night.”

Morgan raked his fingers through his wavy hair as he took a deep breath. “I was wondering why we were having a lunch meeting so early. Perhaps, then, we have time to grab a coffee before we leave.”

Neal chuckled. “C’mon. I’ll buy.”

The casino had a Starbucks in the plaza area that stretched between the hotel and the casino. Both men purchased a coffee—black and strong—and made their way to the parking garage and Neal’s rental car. As they walked, Neal handed Morgan the file on the Maggie Karston Community Center. “I assume you haven’t glanced at this, yet. Browse over it as I drive. When we meet with Jacqui Karston, I’ll do most of the talking. You just put on that famous charm of yours. This project could help us get into Mississippi.”

Morgan glanced over at Neal. “How’d we get this far?”

“Brent Wellington’s an old friend. He’s been keeping an eye out lately for the perfect project to sink our company teeth into. He’s worked with Jacqui for years, and when she came to him with this community center to honor her daughter, Brent thought it would be a nice bridge for us to cross with. Now, we just have to convince Jacqui we’re the company for the job.”

“You think that’ll be hard to do?” Both men slid into the car and buckled up their seatbelts. Neal shrugged as he started the engine. “Jacqui Karston usually only hires local people. Her heart is to keep the money and progress in the area. It’s a tradition her late-husband started. We’re the outsiders. It’s our job to convince her we’re good for her local economy, as well.”