Worth the Risk Page 2

  And just like that, he remembered he didn’t want a long-term relationship. That work came first. Was what he looked forward to every day. The look on her face when they’d said good-bye had hurt him down to his core, but a few weeks later she’d reminded him to never waver on wanting his independence.

  So why was jealousy nearly choking him now? Why was he clenching his hands? When he’d noticed her gripping the magazine, he hadn’t seen a ring on her finger, but only a fool would think she’d stayed single all these years. In his case, just looking at her made him ache to get lost somewhere remote so they could spend all day and night touching each other.

  “I work for Global Site now. I’m here to meet with your father. You’re not here for the same reason I am, are you?” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, but she looked more apprehensive than confident.

  “So you’re my young, gorgeous competition.” He watched her cheeks redden further. “My contacts at Global Site speak very highly of you.”

  She shifted her weight, crossed her legs at the ankle. “I doubt they included those exact adjectives, but thank you anyway. And you’re the hotshot environmentalist who’s going to give me a run for my money.”

  “That your assessment or does my reputation precede me?”

  “Considering I didn’t know it was your company after the account until a few minutes ago, you can rest assured I haven’t given you any thought until now.” A smirk crossed her face, entangling him in a situation he both relished and regretted. Dean excelled at what he did. And nepotism aside, he was the best man to tackle the Route 66 project. After all, he’d learned from the best, having worked for his father for so many years. But he wished it wasn’t Samantha he’d beat.

  And he’d bet it all she had thought about him over the years. He’d certainly thought about her.

  With more clarity than ever before, he recalled picnicking with her in Jasper National Park. They’d eaten slowly, sipping on champagne after every bite. When Samantha dropped tortellini covered in red sauce down her white shirt, he’d quickly suggested she take it off. It wasn’t the first time she’d dropped something down the front of her shirt, and he’d always tried to coax her out of the messy article of clothing.

  At the sight of her silky skin he’d reached out, touched her shoulder, traced his fingertip down her arm, and circled back up her abdomen before landing at the generous swell of her breasts. She was curvy in all the right places, and over the course of the month they’d spent together he’d memorized every slope and angle. Navigating her body with his fingers had sent a rush of heat through him. The only thing better was tracing her with his tongue.

  She was always so susceptible to his touch, her body responding to him like he’d had a magic wand. He wondered if he’d have the same power over her now.

  “Dean?” Snapping fingers broke him free from his recollection. “You still with me? I completely understand if you need to gather your thoughts and prepare for your presentation. Don’t let me keep you.”

  “Presentation?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, back in the present where, goddamn it, he’d stay from now on. “I was just thinking maybe you’d like me to give you a few pointers on what to expect from my old man. I could fill you in on what he’s looking for. Level the playing field.” Teasing. He was teasing.

  The look of betrayal on her face told him she didn’t think he was needling her. “I don’t need any inside information from you. In fact, I hope you won’t have any objection to my kicking your ass and securing the job for my employer.”

  “Have at it,” he said. This Samantha was feistier than before. He liked it. He liked it a lot. But it also made him a little nervous. Sam was smart, persuasive, capable, and if he weren’t on top of his game, she’d win the contract.

  The chance to work with his father again, to mend some of the hard feelings between them, was the biggest reason he was after the deal. He knew he’d never get another chance like this one.

  “I mean, I’d hate to think you’d use your family ties to get the account. And I’d like to believe your father wouldn’t have invited me here if I didn’t have a chance of landing the deal.”

  “You’re right—”

  “So you can keep all those thoughts to yourself, Dean. I’m perfectly capable of getting down and dirty on my own.”

  Blood rushed to points south. No way in hell did he want her getting down and dirty on her own. He wanted to do it with her. Preferably without clothing. Shit. In the course of five minutes, Samantha Bennett had emotionally and sexually hijacked him, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  “You’re right that my dad wouldn’t meet with you unless he thought you offered something top-notch.” He fell back against the chair, relaxing. At least on the outside. Inside, he felt tied up in knots. “And for your information, I had to fight for the chance to give a presentation. My dad was ready to—”

  Damn. He’d said too much. He didn’t want her knowing how close she’d been to a done deal before he’d convinced his dad to give him a chance. He’d shamefully used his mother’s birthday on Sunday as a reason to visit this weekend, and then told his father that while he was here, what harm would there be in hearing him out? His ideas for Route 66 were good. Incomparably good.

  Sam’s eyebrows lifted in a most appealing way. Not the look she wanted, he knew, but every move she made seemed to capture his interest in a seductive manner. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but if you think I had your dad committed over the telephone, just wait until I get him in person.”

  This time confidence radiated off her in waves, making him admire her more. He gulped. She’d not only gotten prettier, but much more brash.

  “Excuse me, Miss Bennett?” Gloria said from behind the reception desk. “Mr. Malloy apologizes for the delay, he was stuck on an international phone call. He’ll be right out to get you.”

  “Thank you,” she responded, moving her gaze over Dean’s shoulder for the first time since he’d sat down and gotten her attention.

  “Well, I can surely attest to your charms in person,” Dean said. “I remember many a day we wiled away in various stages of—”

  “Dean!” The way her face alighted with delight, passion, and embarrassment all rolled into one convinced him she remembered everything, too.

  He lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “Come on. Remember Vernal Falls? The truffles we had for dessert?” He hadn’t been able to look at one since without remembering the way he’d straddled her hips, nudging the bulge in his boxers between her legs and pulsing ever so slightly while he’d rolled the chocolate down her neck, then bit it in half and poured the liquor inside down her bare upper body, aiming between her breasts and trickling down to just below her belly button.

  Her eyes darkened, and he noticed her chest rise and fall. “I remember.”

  While his tongue had lapped up the warm liquid spread over her skin, he’d slid her panties down, haphazardly discarded his boxers, and slipped inside her. Outside. Under a blue sky littered with puffy white clouds. The memory stood as crystal clear now as it did then.

  “I haven’t had one since.” Or wanted one. Not without her.

  “Me neither.” She looked at him with such intensity, he suspected she could see into his soul. “I also remember eating some disgusting fish you caught and some weird berries that you insisted were an aphrodisiac.”

  “Hey, I was young and trying to charm the pants off you however I could.”

  “I seem to recall you didn’t have much difficulty in that department.” She batted her eyelashes—he knew it was unintentionally, because whenever she’d gotten a little nervous with him during that summer, she’d blinked repeatedly.

  Her adorable anxiety had melted his heart then. As it did now. Maybe she wasn’t as immune to him as she’d like him to believe?

  “You had a few tricks up your sleeve, too,” he said coolly.

  “I did not!”

  “Really? You don’t remember
the time we skinny dipped in Lake—”

  “Sam Bennett. Sorry to keep you waiting. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Samantha quickly stood and reached out an arm to greet the deep, masculine voice coming from behind Dean. The magazine she’d scrunched in her lap fell to the floor and Dean couldn’t help but take in every inch of her tall, curvy-in-the-right-places frame.

  “Mr. Malloy. It’s so nice to meet you in person.”

  Dean rose with a little dodge to the side so as not to intrude on their handshake. He stepped back, then turned to face his dad.

  The old guy looked surprised to see him. “Dean? What are you doing out here?” He looked from him to Samantha, his brow furrowing. “You haven’t been bothering this young lady, have you?”

  “I don’t think so, sir. Just a little friendly conversation. I understand she’s ready to knock your socks off with a killer presentation.” He winked at her. He truly wanted her to do well. Knew she’d do well. But knew he’d do better. If he didn’t take the cocky approach, he wouldn’t stand a chance against her.

  Samantha graced him with an appreciative tight-lipped smile, her eyes sparkling, before returning her attention to his dad.

  She’d dazzle his father, Dean had no doubt of that. But worse, so help him God, he wanted her again. He thought after five years he’d purged her from his system, but truth be told, she still held a special spot inside him, her effortless ambush of his body and mind testament to that.

  Dean was in deep shit.

  “Worried?” his dad asked him, a bit of playfulness in his tone.

  “Just a little.”

  “Well, I’m anxious to hear what she’s got to say, so let’s head on back to my office, shall we?” He gestured Samantha to his side. “And call me Bill.” The two walked away without a second glance back at Dean.

  When they reached the reception desk, Dean decided he had to do something. “Hold on.” They paused, looked over their shoulders. Dean stepped beside the desk. “Mind if I have a quick word with Samantha?”

  For a moment Dean thought he’d be denied. His father wasn’t the most patient man, and a frown worse than a dagger to the heart crossed Sam’s face.

  But when his father said, “That’s up to the lady,” in a warm voice, he knew Sam couldn’t deny him a moment without looking inconsiderate, rival or not.

  “Sure,” she answered with less enthusiasm than Dean would have liked. Of course, she had to be businesslike in front of the president and CEO of World Heritage Fund.

  “Why don’t you bring her back to my office when you’re finished?”

  “Will do.” Dean turned to Gloria as his father stepped away. “Can I use your pen?”

  “What in the world are you doing?” Sam whispered as he took her elbow to steer her away from the desk, and from listening ears.

  Dean steadied himself on the back of the couch. Touching her sent impossibly hot pulses through his veins, knocking him completely off balance. “I wanted to know if you’d have dinner with me tonight.”

  “Dean.” The sound of his name on her lips made him determined to get his way.

  “Look, I know we’re competing against each other here, but I’d love to spend a little more time with you. Catch up.” Her worried eyes told him she didn’t know what to do or say. He couldn’t blame her. He’d hurt her when they’d parted ways. He would hurt her again when he got the contract.

  “How about a drink, at least? There’s a great bar I go to when I’m in town.”

  She kept him waiting for a few torturous seconds, their eyes tangling with memories, regrets, anxiety…and questions. Finally she said, “Okay. One drink.”

  “Great.” He lifted her hand and, pulling the cap off the pen with his teeth, wrote a set of numbers on her palm. A breathy chuckle left her lips before he replaced the pen into the cap with perfect precision.

  “That’s my cell phone number. Call me a little later and we’ll work out the details.”

  “All right.”

  They walked back to his father’s office in silence, but the electricity in the air between them crackled. Dean knew he was being a fool, knew he needed to stay focused on the job and landing the contract from his father. Not landing in bed with Samantha.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t help himself.

  Samantha Bennett still took his breath away. Still stirred a desire in him that no one else had come close to duplicating.

  He heard her take a deep breath as they reached the office door.

  “See you later,” she said, then disappeared before he had a chance to wish her luck.

  As the door gently shut, he remained rooted to his spot, thinking and breathing in the scent of her that lingered in the hallway. He didn’t regret walking away from her five years ago. How could he? He’d traveled the globe and worked hard for something he strongly believed in. He’d gleaned the experience and knowledge to move on to bigger and better things. Had established his own company at the age of twenty-eight. He’d always wanted nothing more than freedom and self-reliance. His mantra? Never surrender. And that applied to both his professional and personal life.

  But as fate would have it, the beautiful blue-eyed girl who he’d impulsively trekked through half a dozen states with, all while falling head over heels for, was back in his life.

  He was older now. Wiser. Or maybe not, considering that while he knew it wasn’t the best idea, he still wondered if she’d agree to rekindle things for the entire weekend. A reunion of sorts. But if she consented, could he walk away from her again?

  Chapter 3

  “Sam, this is Keats McCall, my president of field operations. He’ll be sitting in on our meeting,” Mr. Malloy said, standing and moving around his glass desk as Sam walked into the expansive, clutter-free office.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. McCall.” Samantha extended her hand and tried not to give away her surprise. She’d read up on Keats McCall because she’d wanted to know everything about World Heritage Fund. At thirty, with movie-star good looks and enough article bylines on heritage protection to garner international recognition, he ranked high on the short list of environmental preservation wonder boys. But she hadn’t expected to meet in person the man who’d taken over Dean’s position. Not yet, anyway.

  “No Mister necessary,” he said. “I go by McCall. And it’s nice to meet you, too.” He released her hand and gestured to a small conference table situated beside a floor-to-ceiling window. The view from the twenty-third floor revealed rays of sunshine peeking through the gray clouds.

  The three reached the table, McCall pulling out her chair. She gave a small smile in thanks and couldn’t help but notice his gaze linger on her longer than necessary. While his interest flattered her, Samantha had only one man on her mind.

  Remember the time we skinny dipped… Oh, she remembered all right. She remembered everything about her weeks with Dean Malloy. Every moment was etched into her psyche in high definition 3D.

  “Sam,” Mr. Malloy said, “before you launch into your presentation, I’d like to ask a couple personal questions. It’s procedure on my part. I like to know who I might be working with.”

  “Sure,” she said, pushing away any and all thoughts of Dean before they screwed up her meeting. Damn him for stirring emotions inside her she’d long kept tucked away.

  She put her leather folio case on the hardwood floor so it leaned against her chair leg. Her hands weren’t so easy to figure out. She clasped them in front of her, forearms on the table, but a second later slid her arms down to her sides and wrapped each hand around the edge of her seat.

  “Don’t be nervous,” McCall whispered, leaning into her personal space. “He started the same way with me.”

  “I’m not nervous. But I have a feeling Mr. Malloy already knows everything about me.” Samantha had done her research—she’d bet money he’d done his. Did he know about her brief relationship with Dean? Had Dean ever mentioned her?

  Her sister and cousin knew about that s
ummer and had helped wipe away more tears than Sam cared to admit. But she hadn’t told anyone else. When her father had pressed her for reasons why she wanted to pursue work in the nonprofit world of environmentalism, she’d kept to herself the man who had changed everything for her, the man who had opened her eyes to the really important stuff. She didn’t want her dad soiling Dean the way he’d soiled everything else in her life.

  As Mr. Malloy considered her words, he relaxed into his seat and laid his palms flat on the table in front of him.

  “Tell me the one spot on this planet that means the most to you,” he said.

  Simple words. Not a simple answer.

  She immediately felt her face flush as snapshot after snapshot of her escapades with Dean flashed in her mind. The adventures they’d had in some of the most beautiful spots in the country and the places where they’d stood hand in hand in awe, marveling at the scenery, were memories she’d carry with her forever. Nothing meant more to her than those few weeks.

  She glanced around the office, feeling no discomfort at taking time to contemplate her answer. Framed photographs of architectural projects from around the world decorated the charcoal-colored walls. While Samantha hadn’t been to any of them, she recognized the Taos Pueblo in New Mexico, the Funchal Cathedral in Portugal, Westminster Abbey Sedilia in the UK, and the Great Wall of China.

  “Boundary Springs in Crater Lake National Park.” The spot where she’d realized she was hopelessly in love with Dean.

  “That’s interesting.” Mr. Malloy’s gaze matched his tone of voice—curious, but not quite suspicious. “My son says that’s a favorite of his as well.”

  A woman less skilled at concealing her feelings would have cracked, but not Samantha. No matter how telling this piece of information was, she’d long ago replaced adoration for nonchalance where Dean was concerned—and she would cling to that decision no matter what.