“Have you been there as well?” Samantha asked. “It’s a spectacular place.”
“I haven’t. But I’ll be sure to make a mental note of it.” If he’d caught any sort of connection between herself and Dean, it didn’t show on his face. “And the one place you must see before you die?”
“That’s easy. Machu Picchu.”
“Ahh. The Incan settlement in the Andes Mountains is breathtaking. I was there many years ago when the Temple of the Sun made it onto our Watch List. We sent a team to reinforce the infrastructure and to help the people there come up with a conservation plan.”
Samantha sighed. She wanted to visit Peru and so many other places around the world. If she could make her job with Global Site permanent, it guaranteed she’d travel far and wide as an advocate for the preservation movement.
“I imagine you’ve been to hundreds of out-of-the-way places.” She reached for her portfolio, nervous about answering more personal questions. She didn’t want to appear rude, but the sooner she started with her presentation, the better. She’d poured her heart and soul into the proposal, and she knew her ideas were good. But even with the full backing of her bosses, she still hadn’t been in the business as long as Dean. An unwelcome feeling of doubt had wormed its way into her thoughts after their exchange in the waiting area.
“Too many to remember.” He looked to McCall. “But I’m not getting any younger, so this guy’s racking up the frequent flier miles now.”
“With pleasure,” McCall said.
“Well, Route 66 will probably add more driving miles than anything else. Would it be okay if I shared Global Site’s vision for how we can work with you to revitalize the highway and landmarks along the historic route now?”
“Sure,” Mr. Malloy said.
Samantha pulled out two reports and handed them to the men. “Since you added Route 66 to your Watch List of places in jeopardy, Global Site has taken an active interest in it as well.”
Despite the cool office temperature, a trickle of sweat slid down Samantha’s lower back. She had to land this contract. Had to keep her job and paycheck. She stacked her own papers neatly in front of her and sat up taller. The deep breath she tried to be discreet about didn’t go unnoticed by McCall, and he gave her a closed-mouth smile. The gesture reached his pale green eyes and gave her the silent support she needed to kick some cultural heritage ass.
“Let’s hear what you have in mind.” Mr. Malloy didn’t bother with the report. He sat back and gave Samantha his full attention.
“We’d like to start in Chicago and head west. By combining our forces with yours, we estimate covering the two-thousand-plus miles will take approximately twenty-four to thirty-six months. We can’t possibly cover every mile, so we propose targeting abandoned and fire-damaged original buildings, bridges, and highway remnants that can once again open to transportation independently or by incorporation into current highways.”
Mr. Malloy nodded. “That sounds logical. You think tackling the project in a linear fashion is best?”
“We do. We’ll reach out to local preservation organizations as well as community groups in a piggyback method that we believe will result in greater and greater word of mouth and state participation as we make our way to California. Sort of like a Conga line.”
Both men chuckled. Samantha had debated over whether or not to use that line, but a coworker had told her not to forget to add it just before she’d left the office for her flight. She was happy to find her belief that environmentalists had a good sense of humor to be true.
“How do we decide which areas to skip?” McCall asked.
“We’ll give our attention to the more populated sectors, but also to rural spots with currently dilapidated markers or signs that may attract attention. If we can resurrect some of the charms of the route, we think we’ll get more people interested in exploring the country from the road less traveled.” Samantha pulled several photos and diagrams from her pile and spread them across the table. “For example, we’d like to repair the Twin Arrows Trading Post in Arizona.”
She singled out the picture of the structure as it looked now and introduced a drawing detailing her company’s ideas. “We see huge potential to attract tourists with families here. We’ve researched the family vacation, and expensive airfare combined with a tough economy means people are sticking closer to home and exploring nearby states by car rather than traveling to tropical destinations or overseas.” Samantha paused to catch her breath. “I remember when I was young how wonderful it was to stop at these interesting posts and find souvenir treasures that took me forever to decide between.”
“I was partial to rocks and fossils myself,” McCall said, his hand smoothing over one of the photos like he could wipe something away and see beyond the trading post.
“Dean loved to collect arrowheads.” Mr. Malloy grinned at the memory. “He’d get one, come home, and immediately hunt for a rock so that he could try his hand at carving a matching one. I think my wife still has his collection somewhere.”
At the mention of Dean, Samantha’s heart thumped with longing, as if an old habit—a really good, never-want-to-give-it-up habit—had returned. “Some things are hard to part with.”
“Indeed they are.”
Samantha heard the hurt in Mr. Malloy’s voice as well as felt his regrets, as if an invisible wave of emotion fluctuated between them. Dean’s departure from World Heritage Fund still pained him, yet his love and admiration for Dean was obvious. She didn’t want to think about how much their father-son relationship had suffered because of Dean’s business decision. Not when her own father had made it clear that once she left his company, she meant nothing to him. In truth, even before she left, she’d meant little.
“Global Site envisions resurrecting many, if not all, of the trading posts along the historic highway,” she said. “Roadside culture is as important as the highway itself, and for those posts still operating, we see sending a team of specialists to assist in helping to design a conservation plan and strategy.”
With a project as large as Route 66, Samantha could only give an overview of Global Site’s plans, and she hoped she’d struck a chord. Her report went into great detail and she imagined both men would give it careful consideration over the weekend, making the many sleepless nights and countless hours she’d spent perfecting the written presentation worth it.
World Heritage Fund had to agree to a partnership with Global Site. The project would not only pump life back into Route 66, but into her own existence as well.
Silence filled the office space as the three of them studied the pictures and plans strewn across the table. Samantha had flown to many spots along the famous highway to see firsthand what challenges lay before them. With her camera around her neck and a notepad in her hand, she’d explored miles and miles of land. A shiver raced through her as she remembered finding old alignments of Route 66 in sparse desert brush a few hundred feet from existing highways. Every discovery was part of her own treasure map and with each, she wanted more and more to land this contract.
“You all right?” McCall asked.
“Yes.” She took a deep breath at his notice. “Just remembering a few of the places I scouted and how excited I was to find parts of the Route.”
“So you’re the great photographer behind these pictures,” Mr. Malloy said, studying a shot of Canyon Padre Bridge, a monument not far from the Twin Arrows Post.
“I am.” Samantha gave a silent thank-you to her photography class. Her teacher had urged her to sign up for his advanced course next month, but she hoped to be in the field and unavailable by then.
McCall pushed back from the table. “I’d venture to say we’re only seeing a glimpse of your talents, Miss Bennett.”
“Please, call me Sam.”
He smiled. “Sam.”
The first person to call her Sam had been Dean. She’d been adamant about using her full name since kindergarten and would correct anyone who did otherwi
se, but when Dean had shortened her name, everything inside her went soft. She never knew which version of her name he’d use—how exhilarating that was!—and forgot all about her preference. When she’d started law school, she’d discovered “Sam” garnered less unwanted attention (and a few gender mistakes, which didn’t hurt in the competitive world of law), so she’d kept the abbreviation in business as well.
At the moment she longed to hear Dean say it. To whisper it in her ear. To tease her with it while his hands slid to places that hadn’t felt a man’s touch in far too long. McCall’s pronunciation paled in comparison to Dean’s.
“And thank you,” she said, forcing thoughts of Dean away. “I think you’ll find a convincing and top-notch proposal in your report. I know I speak for everyone at Global Site when I say we’d be thrilled to partner with you.”
“I wouldn’t have invited you here if we weren’t serious about partnering,” Mr. Malloy said, “but I do have another presentation to consider.”
Samantha swallowed the lump in her throat. “Of course.”
“I’ll read this carefully over the weekend and have a decision by Monday morning.” Mr. Malloy lifted the report and then stood. “Are you free to come by at ten?”
“Absolutely.” Samantha rose to her feet. When she’d agreed to the interview, she had been told she’d get her answer on Monday, so she’d already planned to stay the weekend. But the next seventy-two hours would be torture.
“Great. I’ll see you then. McCall, would you mind seeing Sam out? I’ve got to step down the hall.”
McCall nodded. “No problem.” He helped her gather her materials, then put his own report under his arm.
“Thank you,” Samantha said, stepping through the office door McCall held open. She wanted to ask him his initial thoughts on her presentation, but she held her tongue. It wouldn’t do any good to appear too eager, not when her arm accidentally brushed his and he looked pleased by the contact.
“I’ve got some free time this weekend,” he said as they walked toward the lobby. “How about I show you some of the best-kept secrets in Idaho?”
Samantha wasn’t sure what to make of McCall’s overture. Was he simply acting on behalf of World Heritage Fund and extending courtesy while she was in town, or was his interest more personal?
Either way, it didn’t matter. She had no plans to drop her defenses around good-looking men who devoted everything to the environment. She’d read enough about McCall to know he was just like Dean. He traveled the globe finding and preserving treasured sites, and if a woman happened along who sparked his interest, then great. McCall’s online friends included far more women than men. Not that she’d checked up on his personal as well as professional life.
“That’s really nice of you, but I’m behind on an outline my boss has been asking for, and I really need to finish it. Thank you, though.”
“Dinner, then? You’ve got to eat, and I know this great sushi place.”
His voice was a mixture of sexy and sincere that made for a killer combination. Plus, she loved sushi. But… “I really can’t,” she forced out.
McCall paused and plucked a business card and pen from the reception desk in the lobby. He flipped the card over and wrote something. “Tell you what, here’s my cell phone number if you decide you need a break from work.” He handed her the card. “Feel free to call anytime.”
Samantha almost—almost—caved under his incredibly charming smile. But then without her permission, the smile she most longed to see ambushed her thoughts. And once again memories of Dean made it difficult to move on.
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Samantha stepped toward the elevator, retrieved her umbrella from the metal bin, and pressed the down button. “’Bye, McCall.”
“’Bye, Sam.”
The elevator doors opened and Samantha stepped inside. When she turned she found McCall still standing at the desk. She smiled at him, but just before the doors closed, she caught sight of Dean. Their eyes met and her heart skipped a beat.
Chapter 4
“She’s off limits, bud,” Dean said, putting a hand on McCall’s shoulder. He didn’t know where the words came from—he had no claim on Samantha. But seeing her with McCall had triggered a goddamn volcano to erupt inside his chest, the idea of the two of them together threatening his very survival.
McCall’s body shook with amusement under Dean’s hand. “Really? Why’s that?” he asked, swallowing down the laughter Dean saw in his eyes.
“No reason other than it’s a bad idea.”
“Hell, Dean, she’s the best bad idea I’ve come across in a long time.”
Gloria cleared her throat from behind the reception desk. She raised her eyebrows and shooed them away with a flick of her hand.
Dean grinned at her and started toward his—or rather McCall’s—office. “No doubt. But are you planning on showing me the sites this weekend as well? How do you think the old man will react if he finds out you’re not playing fair?” Dean stopped and lifted the leg of his khakis to show off his calf. “Have you taken a look at these lately?”
“Not bad, Malloy. But the legs that just left this building could stop traffic. Yours might stop a convoy across the Sahara, but only because they’ve run out of gas.”
“Funny. You know if this gig doesn’t work out, you could do stand-up.” Dean didn’t bother letting McCall lead them into the office. He strode right on in and for half a second thought about sitting behind the desk. He settled for standing near the six-foot totem pole that had been a token of appreciation from the province of Victoria, British Columbia, some years ago. Dean had left everything of value—and sentiment—in his old office.
McCall filled the high leatherback chair at his desk and narrowed his eyes at Dean. The two had known each other a long time, and McCall liked to think that because he was older, he was wiser. “You know her. And you’ve never liked anyone interfering in your business.”
“I got you this job, didn’t I?”
“No. You recommended me for this job. I got it on my own.” McCall kept his unsettling gaze on Dean. “And I see regret written all over your face.”
Dean put a hand on the totem pole and concentrated on the grooves as he circled the piece.
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” McCall added. “To get back in.”
Yes and no. Dean’s company was thriving. He didn’t regret going out on his own. But he did wish his dad hadn’t taken his decision so hard. Now the chance to work with the leading international preservation organization and to mend fences with his father was an opportunity he’d sacrifice everything to achieve.
“I’m here to get a contract that will help my company as well as my father’s. I want a partnership. Nothing more.”
“And if you don’t succeed?” McCall lifted his eyebrows.
“I’ll succeed.”
“I don’t know about that. From what I just heard, your competition is going to be damn hard to beat. Plus, she’s a lot easier on the eyes.”
Samantha. Dean hated McCall’s interest in her and headed for the office door before he said something he would regret. Hell if she hadn’t capsized his even keel when it came to his temper. His body thrummed with tension, but while he wanted to lash out at McCall, he wanted to do something entirely different to Samantha.
“Guess I’d better go seal the deal, then. You coming?”
McCall shook his head. “Can’t. I’ve got a conference call this morning. I think your dad wanted to meet with you himself. He’ll fill me in later.”
“Okay.” Dean closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. He knew better than anyone what a hard-bitten man his father was. They’d tiptoed around each other for months, and now it was time to prove himself valuable once again. With the Route 66 deal his, he’d work side-by-side with his dad and take steps to eliminate the strain between them.
He strode into his dad’s office without reservation. “Hey, Dad. You ready for me?”
> “Sure. Have a seat.” He put aside the report in his hands.
Dean took the chair across from the desk and decided to spare any small talk. “Thanks again for giving me the opportunity to get the 66 deal. I know our joint efforts will revitalize the Route like no other two companies can.”
“I see you’re cocky as ever, but Global Site’s been around a long time, son.”
“Exactly. That’s why you need me. My staff is young, energetic. We’re looking at preservation in new ways. The climate is changing, and I mean that philosophically as well as environmentally. We’re working on and applying cutting edge ways to preserve monuments with sustainable resources.” Dean tried not to bounce in his seat, but talking about this got him fired up. “I’ve got interns with innovative course concentrations in architecture, project planning, advocacy, and fieldwork. The ideas they’re flinging at me are phenomenal.”
A small smile spread across his father’s face. “I never doubted you’d lead us into a future that keeps tradition but sets new standards.”
The compliment—the first in a long time—reminded Dean that when his dad wanted to, he could motivate anyone. Employees worldwide looked to him for guidance and respected his vast knowledge.
“I learned from the best,” Dean said.
“That you did.” He leaned forward onto his desk. “Now tell me the specifics.”
“The PowerPoint’s in your inbox. Want to pull it up?”
“I’ll read it over the weekend.”
A moment of disappointment hit Dean. He’d hoped for a quick answer. A “you’re hired” before they’d finished speaking. But that wasn’t realistic. Samantha had probably supplied a written presentation and it was only fair his dad give equal attention to both.
“We want to kick off in Texas with teams heading east and west simultaneously. With additional cooperation from the Route 66 associations in Arizona and Missouri, specialized teams will hit every National Register site, building, structure, object, and district.”
Worth the Risk Page 3