Finn shrugged off the thoughts. It had to be the spring weather—and the overabundance of lovey-dovey couples out enjoying the sunshine—that had him feeling so maudlin. He liked his life just the way it was. He didn’t need anything more than that.
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim room, and to take in the space. McGill’s had a warm interior—dark, rough-hewn plank walls, sturdy, practical tables and chairs and a worn oak floor that had been distressed by thousands of customers’ shoes. The food was hearty and good—thick sandwiches, handcut fries, stout beer. Finn and Riley came here often, and were waved over to the table area by Steve McGill himself, who was working the bar this afternoon.
Finn waved off the waiter’s offer of beer, opting for water instead. “The usual, Marty.”
Marty MacDonald had been there for as long as Finn could remember. He had to be nearing seventy, but he moved twice as fast, and had twice the memory of the younger waiters at McGill’s. Marty nodded, then turned to Riley. “For you?”
“I’ll have my beer, and his. No sense in wasting it.” Riley grinned. “And a corned beef sandwich on rye.”
Marty chuckled. “In other words, the usual?”
“You know me well, Marty.” Riley waited until their server had left, then turned back to Finn. “So what do you think went wrong with the grand plan last night?”
Finn’s phone rang. He signaled to Riley to wait a second, then answered the call. “Finn McKenna.”
“I wanted to update you on the Langham project,” Noel, one of Finn’s architects, said. “I heard that Park came in twenty percent lower than us. The client said they’re going to go with him instead. Sorry we lost the job, Finn.”
Joe Park, a newcomer to Boston’s crowded architectural playing field, and someone who often underbid just to get the work. Finn suspected it was the cost savings, and some residual damage to McKenna’s reputation that had spurred the client’s defection. Finn refused to let another client go.
“No, they won’t,” he said. “Let me give Langham a call. In five minutes he’ll see the wisdom of sticking with us.” Finn hung up with Noel, then called the client. In a matter of minutes, he had convinced the penny pinching CEO that working with the established McKenna Designs was a far smarter choice than a rookie newbie. He soothed the worried waters with Langham, and assured him that McKenna Designs would be on top of the project from start to finish. He didn’t say anything outright bad about his competitor, but the implication was clear—work with the unproven Park, and the work would be substandard.
After Finn finished the call and put away the phone, Riley shot him a grin. “I’m glad I’m not one of your competitors.”
“It’s business, Riley.”
“That’s not business, that’s guerilla warfare.” Riley shook his head. “Tell me you didn’t treat that gorgeous lady the same way?”
“No, in fact quite the opposite. I think I might have been too nice.”
Riley snorted.
“She turned me down. But I’m going to regroup, find another way.” Finn reached into the breast pocket of his suit. “I’ve got a list of pros and cons I’m going to present to her—”
Riley pushed Finn’s hand away. “For a smart guy, you can be a complete idiot sometimes.”
“This is logical, sound reasoning. Any smart businessperson would—”
“I’m sure you’re right. And if you have a month or three to go back and forth on pros and cons and heretofores and whatevers, I’d agree with you.” Riley leaned in closer. “But you don’t have that kind of time.”
Apparently Riley had been listening to Finn’s worries over the past year. Finn was impressed with his little brother’s intuitiveness. Maybe he didn’t give Riley enough credit. “True.”
“So that means you need to change your tactics.”
Finn had an argument ready, but he bit it back. Riley had a point. Negotiations took time, and that was pretty much what his list was. He was an expert when it came to the art of the business deal, but this was different—and he’d struck out with Ellie Winston in a big way. He needed a new idea, and right now, he’d take ideas from about anyone and anywhere. “Okay. How?”
Riley grinned and sat back. “Easy. Do what I do.”
“I am not sleeping with her just to get what I want.” Finn scowled. “You have a one-track mind.”
Riley pressed a hand to his heart. “Finn, you wound me. I would never suggest that. Well, I might, but not in your case.” Riley paused. “Especially not in your case.”
“Hey.”
“You are way too uptight and practical to do such a thing.”
“For good reason.” Nearly every move in his life was well planned, thought out and executed with precision. Even his relationship with his ex had been like that. He’d chosen a partner who was a peer, someone with common interests, in the right age range and with the kind of quiet understated personality that seemed to best suit his own.
It had seemed to be the wisest choice all around. The kind that wouldn’t leave him—or her—unhappy in the end. He’d been stunned when she’d broken up with him and worse, maligned his business and revealed she’d only gone out with him to get information.
But had that been real love? If he could so easily be over the relationship, at least emotionally? Was real love methodical, planned?
Or a wild, heady rush?
The image of Ellie in that figure-hugging maroon dress, her head thrown back in laughter, her eyes dancing with merriment, sent a blast of heat through him. He suspected she was the kind of woman who could get a man to forget a lot more than just his business agenda. For just a second, that empty feeling in his chest lifted. Damn, he really needed to eat more or sleep more or something. He was nearly a blubbering emotional idiot today.
Wild heady rushes didn’t mix with business. Wild heady rushes led to heartache down the road. Wild heady rushes were the exact opposite of Finn McKenna.
“The secret to getting what you want, especially from a woman, is very simple,” Riley said.
“Flowers and wine?”
Riley laughed. “That always helps, but no, that’s not what I meant.”
Marty dropped off their drinks, so quietly they barely noticed his presence. Marty knew them well, and knew when he could interrupt and when to just slip in and out like a cat in the night.
“You find out what the other party wants most in the world,” Riley said, “then give it to them.”
“That’s what my list—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Finn. Women aren’t into lists and pros and cons. Hell, who is?” Then he paused. “Okay, maybe you. But not the rest of the world. Most people are driven by three needs.” He flipped out his fingers and ticked them off as he spoke. “Money, love and sex.”
Finn chuckled and shook his head. Riley’s advice made sense, in a twisted way. Hadn’t Finn done the same thing in business a hundred times? Find out what the other party wants and offer it, albeit with conditions that benefited both sides. “Let me guess. You’re driven by number three.”
“Maybe.” Riley grinned. “One of the three is what drives that pretty little blonde you met with last night. Figure out what it is she wants and give it to her.”
“Simple as that?”
Riley sat back and took a sip from his beer. “Simple as that.”
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