Worth the Risk Page 10

  “You two talked this afternoon?” he managed to say. That must have been the call she’d received while they were shopping. The news made him want to punch a hole in the wall. Sam had lied to him.

  Bewilderment flooded Dean and he felt his stomach twist. Questions stormed his mind, littering his head with rubbish he didn’t know how to process. Why didn’t Sam tell me the truth? Has Dad told her she got the job? Is he offering her something more?

  His dad turned, Samantha at his side, an apologetic look on her face. Her eyes beckoned for him to understand, but he stood frozen. Confusion toiled with longing. He needed an explanation before he said or did anything more.

  “We did,” his father said. “I had to clear something up.” He glanced back and forth from Samantha to Dean, scrutinizing them like he couldn’t decide what to say next. Silence stilled the air between them and the hum of a medical machine droned in the background. “I didn’t realize how well you two knew each other.”

  “Oh, we don’t know each other that well,” Sam said, her voice passing off their relationship as mere acquaintances.

  “Well, I need to get back to your mother,” his dad replied, stepping toward the room. He slapped Dean on the shoulder. “Come on in. She can’t wait to see you. She’s so upset dinner was ruined, and with your leaving tomorrow, we’ll have to make due bedside.” Pausing at the door, he looked over his shoulder. “Sam, why don’t you join us?”

  “Oh, thank you, but I was just leaving.”

  “I insist you come in and say hello first. If my wife finds out you stopped short in the hallway, she won’t be happy.”

  Dean tried not to choke on his father’s invitation. He wanted to settle things with Sam privately before he saw his mom.

  His dad gestured for them to follow with a sideways nod of his head. Shit.

  Samantha darted another apologetic glance at him. Her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. “Just for a minute,” she said, then stepped around him.

  “Dean!” his mom said, her eyes less bright than normal. Seeing her in a hospital bed pierced Dean’s heart with worry.

  “Hey, Mom.” He wrapped her in a gentle embrace. She felt whole, thank God, and she squeezed him back with the same fierceness she always did.

  When he stepped away, his mom’s eyes settled on Sam and Sam’s settled on hers. Damn if Dean didn’t think some weird female comprehension passed between them. Like an instant camaraderie that turned strangers into friends for life.

  “This is Sam Bennett,” his dad said. “She works for Global Site Preservation.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Malloy. I’m so sorry about your accident.”

  “Thank you.” She extended her left arm and squeezed Sam’s hand. “It’s nice of you to stop by. I’ve…” She glanced at Dean. “I’ve been hoping for more visitors.”

  Dean closed his eyes in silent thanks that his mom left it at that. She knew about Samantha. He’d told her about their relationship after he’d gotten home that summer, and no doubt his astute mom realized this was the same Sam.

  “There’s only so much Food Network television I can take,” his mom added, lifting her chin toward the television hanging on the wall.

  He and Samantha looked up. “Oh, I love Cupcake Wars,” Samantha said.

  “I do, too. But now I’m craving a chocolate cupcake with whipped cream frosting.” His mom smiled at Sam.

  Sam smiled back. “Maybe we can sneak one in for you?”

  We? Dean clenched then unclenched his hands. If Sam’s goal was to confuse him, it was working.

  “I would love—”

  “You can have a cupcake when you get out of here,” his dad interrupted. “Inside a hospital, you eat hospital food.” He put his hand on his wife’s arm and looked at her tenderly. “It’s for the best.”

  Sam watched his parents. Then she looked up at him. The connection lasted a few seconds, until his mom cleared her throat and said, “Dean, please help me out here and tell your father I cannot survive on hospital food.”

  His mom’s plea put his focus back on her. “I think Dad might be right on this one, Mom.” Dean eyed the IV, then took in his mom’s pale complexion. She’d just been through a big trauma and probably shouldn’t be eating too much sugar.

  She huffed. “Samantha, surely you can come to my rescue. I need someone on my side. I’m outnumbered with these two.”

  “Umm…” Samantha made a panicked face.

  “We girls have to stick together, you know.”

  “True,” Samantha agreed, a small closed-mouth smile spreading across her face. “I don’t know what I’d do without my sister and mom. But maybe Bill can have a box of cupcakes waiting for you at home?”

  “Done!” Dean’s dad grinned at Samantha.

  Dean’s stomach knotted. It hurt to watch Sam’s charm and friendliness when he wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or his dad’s.

  His mom winked at Samantha. “A girl after my own heart.”

  “Well, I really should be going now. I hope you feel better soon, Mrs. Malloy.” Sam took slow steps backward. “Bill, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks for stopping in,” Dean’s mom said. “It was delightful meeting you.”

  Dean followed Samantha out, the tension between his shoulder blades only slightly lessening now that they stood back in the hallway.

  “Your mom is really—”

  “We don’t know each other well, huh?” The words Samantha spoke before his father interrupted them still resonated.

  “I’m sorry. But you didn’t say anything, so I had to say something. I didn’t want your father’s decision clouded by a relationship he thinks we might have. That could hurt both of us. I came to Idaho to get the Route 66 account and nothing more, Dean. I represent Global Site Preservation and unfortunately, I think I lost sight of that this weekend. Your father’s opinion of me matters whether I’m in his office or in a hospital room.”

  Or in bed with me. He hadn’t really expected her to share how she felt about him with his father, but hearing her declaration out loud still stung. “And what about the phone call?”

  “What about it?” Remorse passed over her face as she took a step toward him.

  He took one back.

  “Does anything matter more to you than the job?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened. “You’re asking me that?”

  Maybe it was the stress of his mother’s accident. Maybe it wasn’t. But he didn’t want to remain in the same air space with her any longer.

  “I should go.” He turned around.

  “Dean, wait a minute.” Samantha grabbed his arm. “Please.”

  Heat rushed through him at her touch, her fingertips eliciting desire that came from both his head and his heart. He looked into her eyes and wanted to lose himself in the tangle of her hotel sheets, lock the two of them away and forget that anything else in the world mattered.

  But with careful intent, he removed her hand from his arm. A shiver coursed through him and cold waves returned to his unnerved body. “You lied to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You lied to me about the phone call. And now I don’t know if I can trust anything you’ve said to me. Was it all part of a plan? Were you hoping maybe I’d slip some valuable World Heritage Fund information to you? Give you the leverage you’d need to retaliate in case you lost the account?”

  “I never lied to you.”

  He shot her what he hoped was a don’t play me for a fool look. “You sure as hell did.”

  “Okay. I lied about one silly phone call. But not about anything else.” She pulled him into the vacant room beside his mother’s and in a hushed tone added, “Dean, I’ve completely lost myself with you.” A deep breath heaved her chest up and down, while an audible sigh blew out her mouth. “I came here this weekend for the meeting, never thinking I’d run into you, let alone that you’d be vying for the same job. And then there you were, and so many feelings came flo
oding back to me that I thought I’d drown in them. Don’t think for a second that I didn’t mean everything that happened between us.”

  He searched her eyes and saw the truth in her words. But dammit, he was pissed off. He hated, too, that he couldn’t help but wonder what else might be lurking behind her careful expression.

  Maybe what tore them apart five years ago resonated as too great an obstacle to overcome. She wasn’t the same naive girl, but a woman with a purpose backed by determination he didn’t think he could crack. Not with what he knew about her father.

  “But,” she continued, “the bottom line is I came here to get a job for my employer, and we both know that come tomorrow whatever this is between us will end.”

  He wondered if she truly believed that or if she was speaking out of self-preservation. “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve got no delusions about you, Dean. Your aspirations and dreams are the same as they were five years ago.”

  Dean understood her words and they left a bitter taste in his mouth. Damned if he wouldn’t hurt her again and she knew it. But things were different this time. He was different.

  And yet, she didn’t see it. That hurt just as much as her lie.

  “Did my father give you any indication that you’d won the account when he spoke to you on the phone?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, then. It looks like you’ve lost.” Dean watched Samantha squirm and knew his declaration stung. He had no idea if he’d actually won the account, but he had to say something hurtful before he said something stupid. Something personal. He needed to take the focus off their relationship or he would crumble. His heart ached. His head throbbed. And when he swallowed, it hurt. As much as he wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything was okay, it wasn’t.

  “That cockiness always work for you? Or are you holding out on me now?” She took a shaky breath. “I knew I shouldn’t trust you.”

  “Huh? You’re throwing trust back at me? My methods are tried and true, sweetheart. You don’t like them, get out of the fire.”

  A look of defeat crossed her face, like her lifeboat had just capsized. She stopped beside him and reached out to touch his arm before leaving the room. “Thanks for putting things in perspective for me.”

  He stepped away, not wanting her touch to dictate his feelings. Running a hand through his hair, his eyes on the cold gray floor, he said, “No problem.”

  Chapter 11

  “Happy birthday, Mom,” Dean said, bending to kiss her cheek good-bye.

  “Thanks, honey. I’m sorry about the cafeteria food for dinner. If I can convince them to let me out of here in the morning, you’ll stay an extra day and come over tomorrow night for Maurice’s chicken parmesan. Okay?”

  “You know I can’t resist Maurice’s cooking. Count me in.”

  Her face lit up at his agreement. “Hey, are you sure everything’s all right?”

  “Leave the boy alone, Mags. He’s fine.” Dean’s dad stepped around the hospital bed and nudged him toward the door. “But because I know you won’t get any rest unless I get some answers for you, I’ll walk him out.”

  Dean gave his mom a smile over his shoulder and followed his dad out of the room.

  “Thanks for spending a few hours with us. Not the ideal place to celebrate a birthday, but she really misses you. Having you here meant the world to her.”

  “I wouldn’t have been any place else.”

  As they moved down the hallway, most of the patient doors had closed and a heavy quietness filled the air space. Dean slowed his footsteps, as if something invisible wanted to postpone his exit. When he noticed a vacant waiting room behind a large glass window, he knew he wanted—no, needed—to talk to his dad before he left the hospital.

  “Got a minute before I go?” Dean asked, nodding toward the room.

  “Where do you think I’m headed? I can’t go back to your mother without a report.”

  His father led the way and they sat on blue vinyl couches across from each other. The fluorescent lighting in the square room cast a yellowish tinge on everything.

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the morning,” Dean started, “but whatever does, I wanted to say a private thanks for the opportunity to partner on Route 66. I know I used Mom’s birthday as a way to get the chance, but I would’ve flown here to meet with you any time.”

  “I appreciate you initiating things.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d be calling.”

  His dad broke eye contact. “You’re probably right. I was mad, Dean. I—”

  “Was?” Dean interrupted.

  A sigh sounded from his dad. “Truthfully, I haven’t fully gotten over you leaving, but I understand it better now. I’m old. Stuck in my ways. You, on the other hand, are young and impulsive, and as long as you were working for me, you’d never be able to reach your potential. I’m proud of the man you’ve become and the environmentalist you’re hoping to be.” His eyes settled back on Dean.

  Dean gulped down the emotion threatening to make his voice crack. “Thanks, Dad.” He’d always craved his father’s approval and after leaving World Heritage, he didn’t think he’d ever have it again. “It wasn’t—” He paused to steady himself. “It wasn’t easy for me to leave, you know. But I had to break out on my own. I started to resent being here, and I didn’t want my memories of this place to be anything but good.”

  “You never said a word.”

  “Would you have heard me if I did?” Dean rose to his feet, paced. “I love the company as much as you do, Dad, and if I’d stayed it would’ve suffered. We would’ve suffered. Not that we haven’t anyway.”

  “I’m sorry, son.” He sunk into the couch, deflated. “I saw you were restless. Noticed you holding your tongue, and I didn’t do anything about it. I figured whatever was bothering you would pass. Because I’d molded you. I’d made you. It never occurred to me that you might leave. When you did, it was a slap in the face, and I behaved in a manner I’m not proud of.”

  Dean took the spot next to his dad, hoping his close proximity would pump some life back into the old guy. “I didn’t act that great, either. But I’ll tell you this. It’s because of everything I learned from you that I’m a success.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, but thanks.” He pressed up taller. “I think we’ve just made your mother’s day.”

  “She’s always been the one to stress the importance of good communication.”

  “That she has. Now tell me about Sam.”

  “Nothing to tell,” Dean said—too quickly. Too dismissively. His dad wasn’t a fool and Dean was sure he could read the lie on his face as if he’d just heard Dean claim dogs had wings.

  Raising his eyebrows, the older, and some might say wiser, Malloy said, “Bullshit.”

  Dean laughed. From frustration or hurt or nervous tension, he didn’t know, but his dad coaxing a laugh out of him made the pain in his chest slightly less sharp. “That transparent, am I?”

  “You’ve never been a good liar, son.”

  “I think I should spare you the details until after our meeting tomorrow.” Dean stood, ready to make an exit now. His feelings about Samantha were too raw, too private. He didn’t want to say anything he’d regret later on.

  “Good idea.” His dad rose and they headed toward the elevator. “I’ve made my decision, though, so seeing the two of you together tonight has no bearing on the contract.” He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I want you to know that.”

  Dean fought the urge to ask whom he’d chosen. Not that he’d get an answer. His dad had too much integrity to share something that important without Samantha present as well.

  “Thanks. I’ll see you at ten.” Dean entered the elevator and pressed the lobby button.

  “I always thought you’d take over for me one day,” his dad added quickly as the chrome doors slid closed.

  “Maybe I still will.”

  In the confines of the e
levator, Dean couldn’t stop thinking about Samantha. He’d made huge strides with his dad tonight, but he feared his gains would be Samantha’s loss. If he’d won the contract because of family ties, then he’d be considered a jackass. If he’d won because his company was the best team for the job, then he’d be considered shrewd. Either way, Samantha would see him as ruthless. The thought unsettled him to his core.

  He wanted the deal.

  She needed it.

  She hadn’t said as much, but he could sense that losing the account might have a negative impact on her freelance job. No doubt a defeat would cost her headway with her overbearing, narrow-minded father.

  Forget about it, Dean told himself. She’d told him where he stood.

  He got to his car and sat motionless behind the wheel for several long minutes, stuck. Stuck in the floral scent that lingered there, its notes stirring something inside him he wanted to remember. The summer weeks they’d shared, and the past weekend, were permanently engraved in his being whether he liked it or not. A girl like Samantha Bennett came around only once in a lifetime, and fuck if she didn’t make him want more.

  Both his hands slammed down on the steering wheel, and he put the car in drive. The bar was only ten minutes away. Tonight he’d drink his way to forgetting.

  “You look like shit,” McCall said, entering the office and taking the chair across from the desk Dean rested on.

  Dean lifted his arms from the glass top and leaned back into his seat. “Looks can be deceiving, pretty boy. I feel like a million.”

  “Hangover?”

  “You bugging me for a reason this morning?”

  McCall crossed his arms over his chest. “Your dad’s running a little late. He’s on his way from the hospital. I’m sorry about your mom.”

  Dean slanted a look at the clock. Nine fifty-five. “Thanks. She’ll be good as new. It’s my dad I’m concerned about; he already worries about my mom, but now he’ll be tense every time she gets behind the wheel of a car.”