Mountains Apart (Mills & Boon Heartwarming) (16 page)

For the most part, she and Bering had managed to avoid discussing the issue beyond a lighthearted teasing about who was winning the public favor. But underlying the new level they had reached in their relationship, the topic still simmered. Emily tried to tell herself that it didn't matter, but the persistent ache in her heart reminded her otherwise.

Laurel had been more than fair in presenting Cam-Field's side in the
Rankins Press.
She was going to be publishing her editorial in favor of Cam-Field's development at the end of the week. Laurel had become a friend and Emily was sure that she was also a big part of the reason that they hadn't been run out of town.

And that was why she had agreed to sit for an interview. Laurel thought it would help her case if people knew more about her as a person. But for some reason Emily was nervous. There wasn't that much to know about her. She was afraid that people would see how uninteresting she really was, because compared to life in Rankins, hers seemed so mundane. Her plan was to try to stick to the issues surrounding Cam-Field's presence in Rankins as much as possible.

“So, now that you have been here for a month or so, how do you like it in Rankins?” Laurel asked as she pushed a button on her recorder and set it on the desk.

“I do like it,” Emily said without hesitation. And she realized with a start that she really meant it. “And in spite of what some people may have you believe, Laurel, I want to preserve all the core aspects that make Rankins such a unique and special place. But let's be honest here. Rankins hasn't seen much growth in recent years. We'd like to change that—to help ensure that Rankins can continue to exist, and not just exist like it has been doing. We'd like to see it grow and thrive.”

“That's a pretty strong assertion and the implication within that statement is that Rankins
needs
Cam-Field. But as I'm sure you're aware, Rankins has existed since the gold-rush days.”

“Unfortunately, the gold is gone now, Laurel. But what is here is a wealth of oil deposits,” Emily pointed out. “And Rankins only stands to benefit from that. But without utilizing that resource, the projections for the future economic growth of Rankins for the next decade show little to no growth. But with Cam-Field's help, those numbers head in the exact opposite direction.”

“The citizens of Rankins will have a chance to voice for themselves what kind of growth they'd like to see next Sunday at the town-hall meeting, correct?”

“That is absolutely true, and if the community involvement that I've seen since I've been here is any indication, we're going to have a packed house.”

“You can count on that. But why is Cam-Field so concerned with what the community thinks? It's really only the town council who votes on the permit approval.”

“That's a really great question, Laurel. We, at Cam-Field, believe that what we do is more than just provide jobs and dollars for a community. Our goal is always to collectively improve a way of life. Economic growth doesn't mean much in a town if the people aren't benefiting from it. If Cam-Field intended to come in here and rob Rankins of its valuable resources, as some members of this community have been suggesting, then that would only be benefiting Cam-Field. We believe that business of this kind should be a give-and-take. That's why we've pledged the millions of dollars that we have to improve this community—for the hospital, the school and in the construction of the community center.”

“Okay, that is all very important information, but it's also information that's already out there. You have done a great job of letting this community know what Cam-Field can do for it. What I'd like to do now is find out more about the face of Cam-Field, so to speak. You have been here for about a month now and you've met a lot of people and participated in numerous community events. And I've been out there, too, and I have talked to a lot people, and what I've discovered is that the citizens of Rankins are curious about
you,
as well as Cam-Field. Where does Emily Hollings call home?”

“Well, I travel an awful lot, but when I'm not on location like this, I live in San Diego.”

“What do you do with your spare time?”

“What spare time?” Emily joked. “I work pretty much all the time, although I have picked up a new hobby since I've been here in Rankins....”

“Oh, really? What's that?”

“Halibut.”

“Fishing?”

“No, eating.” She laughed and added, “I've also discovered that I enjoy snowshoeing and...”

It continued on in this manner for another ten minutes, and Emily found that it was easy for her to talk about the things she liked about Rankins. She knew that Bering and others would probably think she was only saying them in an attempt to earn their favor, but she hoped she came across as sincere, because she was.

Emily could sense the interview was wrapping up. Soon Laurel thanked Emily for her time and snapped off the recorder.

“So, how'd I do?” Emily asked.

“Great. It's obvious that you've done this before.”

“Is that your way of telling me that I lack a certain amount of candidness? Is that a word? Candidness?”

“No. Well, I suppose it is. And yes, it's a word, but I didn't mean to imply anything negative about you. I just meant that you are very polished.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“Can we talk off the record for a minute?”

“Of course.”

“How's it going with you and Bering?”

Emily decided it couldn't hurt to answer the question—off the record. “We're good, I think. At least from my side, we are. Why? What have you heard? Or maybe I should ask what Piper has heard.”

“No, it's nothing like that, and I know this is none of my business. It's just that you guys seem like you're getting rather, um...close and so...how are you guys going to reconcile everything? It's no secret that one of you is going to win this thing and one of you is going to lose.”

Emily had no idea how to respond to that concern. She already couldn't imagine her life without Bering. He had taught her so much about
how
to live. Sure, she'd seen the world and had some adventures, but she knew now that she'd just been going through the motions. She'd eaten the halibut, metaphorically speaking, but she hadn't really
savored
it. There had always been a motive behind her actions, a means to an end, a job to do.

But Bering seemed to savor everything about life, he was incredibly generous in sharing it with her, and she was loving every minute of it. He didn't have an ulterior motive like she usually did, and she couldn't believe that someone could be so giving of himself without asking or wanting anything in return. Anything beyond her time, that was, which Emily was more than happy to give.

She had no idea how to define their relationship. Although her experience with relationships was dismal, albeit much of that was her fault. She'd never invested the time before—had never wanted to—but the time she spent with Bering was exactly how she'd dreamed things should be, better than she'd dreamed.

Her dreams before had centered almost exclusively on her career. And now, when she thought about it, it seemed crazy that she'd made such a drastic change to her thought processes so quickly. But it had happened without even trying. It wasn't as if she wasn't still working hard at her job. She was and she wanted to be successful; it was just that she thought about other things at the same time. Like people—Bering, Janie and her boys, his mom, his cousins, Tag and Shay, and even the friends she'd made....

She worried about Laurel, and Piper, and the other community members who were solidly in her camp. What would people think of them if they knew how hard they'd been working on Cam-Field's behalf?

Bering had somehow taught her this—this genuine concern for other people. She loved that about him and she was realizing how satisfying it was to allow that kind of empathy to flourish in herself. Bering had done that, too—he was making her a better person.

“I don't know, Laurel. But I do want you to know how sorry I am in advance if any of this makes your life more difficult.”

Laurel grinned. “I'm not worried about my life, Emily. I'm a reporter. I thrive on conflict. I am worried about you, though. I know we haven't known each other that long, but I consider you a friend. And Bering is my friend, too—you know that, but...”

“But what?”

“This is all off the record, and honestly, I really don't know anything concrete, but I can feel it in the air—something's brewing. Haven't you noticed it? This town is essentially in the midst of a civil war and yet things have been so calm the last week or so. Remember what it was like when you first arrived? People were half-crazed and everyone had an opinion. And now it's like, I don't know... People are still worked up, but it's different. And Bering—he seems so blasé about it all lately. I mean he's going through the motions, but I don't see the fire that I did at first. And maybe it's because of your, um, relationship but I don't know...”

Emily felt a gathering of fear in the pit of her stomach. Laurel was right. And she hadn't seen it. She'd believed that people were more at ease and respectful because of her relationship with Bering and other members of the James family. And she'd thought that things had mellowed between her and Bering for the same reason. But what if that wasn't the case? What if they knew something she didn't? But on the other hand, wasn't it also possible that she'd managed to sway the majority to Cam-Field's side and people were accepting—even embracing—the inevitable? But no, not Bering—he would never accept it. She wouldn't if she were in his place. She needed to think.

“I see what you mean. Like a calm before the storm kind of thing?”

Laurel nodded. “Exactly, and maybe it's the reporter in me—seeing conspiracy everywhere. But I just want you to be careful, Emily. I don't want you to get blindsided or...”

Heartbroken.
Emily finished the sentence silently as a cold feeling of dread spread through her. And Bering, she realized suddenly, had definitely acquired the ability to break her heart.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

J
EREMY
 
WAS
 
READY
 
to blow his top. He could feel the veins bulging and pounding in his neck as he scanned the model in front of him. He picked up a tiny stick of fake debris and then set it back down on top of the tiny pile. He'd asked the graphics department for a mock-up of the building that Cam-Field was proposing to have built for the new Argot & Co. headquarters.

Argot had become a veritable cash cow of oil and gas deposits located off the coast of Louisiana before the last hurricane hit. The petroleum deposits were all offshore and thus still in perfect shape, but the platforms had suffered extensive damage and the onshore infrastructure had been blown to bits. The company was hugely in debt and in danger of going under if someone didn't invest in its recovery. Cam-Field intended to be that someone and had made an offer to invest a substantial amount of money in exchange for a share of the company.

It was a simple request, he'd thought, of the graphics department. But what he was looking at now was apparently a replica of the post-hurricane destruction along the coastline of Louisiana.

“Doug? It is Doug, right?” Jeremy asked as calmly as he could manage.

“Uh, yes, sir,” Doug said with a wide grin. He stood at attention in front of Jeremy's desk with two other members of his team.

“Fine, yes.” Jeremy went on, “Doug, what is this?”

Doug bobbed his head up and down, and answered proudly, “It's Louisiana, sir. And this—” he pointed at a miniature little funnel blob of fake crystals and sequins “—is Hurricane Lula before she hit the coast. We thought it would be a nice touch to show her path across the ocean, too.” He trailed his index finger over the bright blue faux ocean.

“Mmm-hmm.” Jeremy nodded. “But why?”

“Well...I'm not a meteorologist or anything, but it's my understanding that when a tropical storm hits an already moist weather disturbance, a hurricane is often the result,” Doug explained soberly. “And the winds and stuff are a serious bummer.”

“I know that,” Jeremy managed to utter through his stiffened jaw. “But why is it sitting on my desk?”

Doug furrowed his brow and looked down at the model. “Did you want it in the conference room, sir?”

“No!” Jeremy nearly shouted. It took all of his effort to lower his voice. “No. What I meant was,
why
did you make it? And where is the mock-up of the new Argot & Co. headquarters?”

“Whoa,” Doug said with wide eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘whoa'?” Jeremy barked.

“I'm sorry, dude, er, I mean, sir, but I'm pretty sure that you asked for a muck-up.”

“A muck-up?” Jeremy repeated incredulously.

“Yes, sir, you asked for a muck-up of the coastline where the Argot headquarters is located. So I thought you meant you wanted to see the post-hurricane destruction. You know,” he said and added finger quotes, “‘the wrath of Lula'—that's what we've been calling it. I think that's dope, don't you? And here it is.” Doug beamed proudly and gestured at their work. “Boy, that storm really did a number on that building. See?” He pointed at a pile of painted toothpicks. “That's it right there.”

Silence gave way to tension as Jeremy stared into the faces of the morons made up Cam-Field's graphics staff and wondered how they could possibly be so stupid. He'd seen their work before and it had always been brilliant. Emily was always bragging about how they had the best graphics staff in the industry. She'd also warned him to tread carefully around the quirky, eccentric, but extremely talented bunch.

You needed to be patient, she had explained, and you had to communicate
exactly
what you needed, she'd advised, and if you could do that, they'd do anything for you. They could make gold out of yellow construction paper, she'd added proudly. Of course, he hadn't really taken her words to heart. Like the rest of the advice she'd given him, he'd pretty much blown it off. Well, he was paying for that now.

He'd had all he could take. He banged his fist on the desk. “Out! I want you all out of here. Now!” he screamed and pointed at the door. He so badly wanted to fire them all, but knew that he'd not only be looking at a wrongful-termination lawsuit, he'd also have no graphics staff. “And when you come back it had better be with a mock-up! Do you hear me, you imbeciles? I want a mock-up! A mock-UP of the
new
Argot & Co. headquarters building that we are proposing to build for them. Do you understand? A model—a mock-up.”

They scampered out of the room and Jeremy slumped back into his chair. He needed a new game plan and he needed it quickly. Emily.

* * *

B
ERING
 
BROWSED
 
THROUGH
 
his notes in preparation for the impending conference call that would give him the latest update on the halting of Cam-Field's business here in Rankins. He looked at his watch impatiently; just a few more hours and he would be meeting Emily at her house.

Bering was trying not to let his feelings of guilt spoil his time with Emily. It was important, he kept telling himself, to continue to show her what an amazing place Rankins really was. The fact that their relationship had escalated to something beyond friendship was irrelevant. The fact that he felt confident that he would prevail in preventing Cam-Field from taking over the town was also beside the point.

And to all appearances, he and the Save Rankins Coalition were still fighting hard. The two sides had had a busy few days of back-and-forth. First there was Bering's rescheduled rally. And although Evan Cobb had been unable to attend, one of Bering's former environmental-sciences professors had come instead. He'd given a very compelling speech and an even better Q and A. Bering had been pleased with the turnout, although, as expected, Emily had responded with a successful venture of her own.

She had arranged a book giveaway and signing by Robert Galleon—a scientist who had written a bestseller on the importance of American oil independence. He was the perfect advocate for Cam-Field's cause because he appealed to the energy-independence crowd as well as to the business-minded.

Bering had gone to both events and had counted more town-council members at Emily's event than had been at his. But when he'd learned that neither one of them had anything planned for this evening, he'd suggested they spend it together. Emily had agreed without hesitation. She hadn't even seemed to give work a thought....

His phone rang; he looked at the number and noted with surprise that it was two hours early. He picked up the receiver.

“Bering, glad I reached you. It's Jack.”

“Hello, Senator,” Bering said and they exchanged a few pleasantries.

“Look, Bering, I've got some news for you that I think you'll be happy to hear. The conference call is off.”

“That's good news?”

He explained, “I think you'll find it so in this case. Not only are we going to be able to shut this thing down, we are now headed in a whole new direction. And we have started an investigation. We've been looking closely at some of the other projects that Cam-Field has been involved with over the last few years. Some shady things appear to be going on. It seems Cam-Field has always been very meticulous with environmental reviews—until the last year or so.”

The senator quickly filled Bering in and they said goodbye, but Bering sat gripping the phone for several minutes as he allowed the ramifications of the senator's words to sink in. “Probable fraud...” He should have been thrilled by what he'd heard, but instead the news filled him with unease. A month ago he would have been ecstatic to hear that Cam-Field might be embroiled in legal trouble. But that was all before Emily.
Emily.

As he gently replaced the phone into the cradle, he worried about how this investigation would affect her. Would she lose her job? Would she blame him? He tried to tell himself that she was a big girl, that she could handle it. She'd been working for Cam-Field forever, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time a roadblock, or even a bomb, had been thrown in her path. He knew it wasn't even the first time that Cam-Field had been investigated for one thing or another. Why didn't that make him feel better? And if she did lose her job, was there any way that she would ever stay with him?

Obviously she wouldn't stay with him—she would probably never speak to him again. And even if, through some kind of miracle, she didn't hold it against him, she was still leaving. She worked for Cam-Field, and she was going to be heading for the next job soon, the next little town like Rankins to come into Cam-Field's crosshairs. But that offered no comfort, because what he really wanted was impossible—he wanted to save Rankins, but he wanted Emily, too.

* * *

E
MILY
 
TOOK
 
A
 
QUICK
 
SHOWER
,
dried her hair and then dressed in a pair of yoga pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt and a fleece hoodie. She slipped her feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers and padded into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and began removing ingredients. Cooking seemed so overwhelming to her, although much less so than it had a couple weeks ago, as Bering had succeeded in teaching her how to make omelets, pancakes and grilled cheese.

Certainly she could do dinner, she told herself as she scowled down at the plastic-wrapped chicken lying on the counter. Couldn't she? She had called Janie and asked for some advice on what to fix—something she knew Bering liked, but that wouldn't be too complicated. Janie had been full of ideas and had even offered to come over and help, but Emily had declined, wanting to do this on her own. Now, as she studied the recipe Janie had given her for one of Bering's favorite dishes, she wondered if she should have taken her up on that offer. She glanced over at the clock and hoped the few hours she had would be enough to complete the task.

She had thought about Laurel's warning and decided that it didn't matter. Bering and his Save Rankins Coalition had been fighting hard, and if he had something up his sleeve, then so be it. She reminded herself that it wouldn't be anything different than she had encountered before. She would answer in kind and that would be it. This sort of sparring went with the territory. She smiled to herself. She knew that it really was becoming just a job for her. She was still committed to it; it was only her relationship with Bering that made things feel different.

Besides, she had her own long-term plans now, but she wasn't going to think about the repercussions of those, either. Tonight, she would do her utmost to enjoy an evening with Bering in exactly the manner he'd taught her—putting business aside.

After an exhausting wrestling match with a stubborn naked chicken, Emily felt like the victor. The disagreeable bird was now skinless and drowning in a buttermilk concoction as the recipe outlined and Janie had instructed.

Almost two hours later, she was rethinking her plan to include dessert in her menu. She'd also asked Janie for a dessert to bake. She'd never baked a cake before and now she stared down at the gooey mass she'd removed from the oven. She'd flipped it over onto a platter as per the instructions, but she doubted that was how it was supposed to look. She blew out a breath and wiped the sweat from her brow. The hoodie was long gone, her sleeves were pushed up and her hair was piled messily on top of her head.

Bering—and his sister and his mother and his aunts—made it look so easy, but cooking was difficult. And messy—she was glad she'd started early so she could clean up before Bering saw this catastrophe. He'd never let her hear the end of it. She reached over and poked at the cakelike substance. Maybe she could shape it back together somehow, because it didn't resemble any kind of cake she'd ever seen, and there were chunks still stuck in the bottom of the pan. Probably that wasn't supposed to happen. She chewed on her lip and perused the recipe once more. She flipped the little card over. Oh, dear, there was more on the back? Grease the pan? She'd missed that important detail. And apparently she was supposed to let the cake cool before she inverted it?

“Ugh!” She let out a groan of frustration.

“What are we doing here?”

Emily jumped and turned. Bering was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest, partially from being startled but mostly because of him. And she definitely didn't want him to see her like this.

“Bering, what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here for at least another hour.”

“I finished early,” he said. Something flashed across his face but was gone so quickly she didn't have time to identify it. A look of amusement transformed his features as his eyes darted around the kitchen, taking in the mess of pans, measuring cups, bowls and the pile of flour she'd spilled on the floor but decided to clean up after she got the cake into the oven. But then she'd started making the frosting and she hadn't had time to get the broom. Now as she looked around, too, she wondered how it had managed to travel and spread across nearly every surface of the kitchen.

He sauntered toward her and Emily felt her pulse begin to flutter. He looked on the verge of laughter.

Emily, feeling slightly embarrassed, tried to smile up at him. “I am cooking dinner for you, which includes dessert. I wanted to do something to repay you for everything you've done for me—and with me. But...”

He reached out a finger and trailed it across her cheek, which caused her blood to spike warmly and words to fail her. He withdrew his finger and held it aloft. The tip was white with flour. He blew it off and then draped his arm over her shoulder.