Mountains Apart (Mills & Boon Heartwarming)

by Ross, Carol

  “Really?”

  “Yep, as a teenager—I think I was seventeen or eighteen. I was an assistant to the roustabout on an oil rig and I—”

  “You were what?”

  Bering looked both intrigued and doubtful. She wanted to assure him that she was no stranger to hard work, but she knew better than to tip her hand in that way. It had been impulsive to share that much with him as it was. She rarely talked about her personal life, unless she could see it as a direct benefit to the job. And intuition told her that there wasn’t anything personal she could relay to this man that would change his mind about the job she was here to do.

  “The roustabout is the maintenance person who keeps things clean and running smoothly on the platform. I worked for him as an assistant. The pay was good, but it was hot and busy and I forgot to take my breaks. I ended up dehydrated and I passed out then too.”

  She wanted to laugh at the look of shock on his face.

  “Wow...I imagine it was hard work.”

  His tone was filled with admiration, and for some reason Emily felt herself warm at the quasi-compliment.

  “It was.”

  “Where did this take place?”

  “Texas,” she said.

  “I thought you were from California.”

  “I am. But I worked summers in Texas oil fields to help pay for college.” She left out the part about her stepfather setting up the jobs for her so she could learn everything about the industry she would eventually be a part of. She’d even worked a stint in one of their mines.

  “Is that how you became interested in the oil industry?”

  “Basically,” Emily said, and hoped he’d leave it at that.

  “Where were you born?”

  “Crescent City, California.”

  “But now you live in San Diego?”

  “Yes, I moved there when I was young.”

  “Hmm. What kind of food do you like to eat?”

  She answered even as she wondered at the subject change. “The dessert kind,” she said.

  Bering grinned. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth myself. Chocolate?”

  “Sure. And pastries and pretty much anything with frosting.”

  “Dogs or cats?”

  “Oh. No. Please don’t tell me you eat those here, too?”

  He laughed, and she said, “I like them both, but I don’t have time for pets.”

  “Favorite color?”

  “Red.”

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  “One brother—half brother.”

  “Were you close growing up?”

  “Yes, as close as we could be. He’s three years older than me. We had the same dad, different moms. So we didn’t grow up together—he lived in southern Oregon with his mom and I grew up in San Diego with my mom and stepdad. We did see each other, though, as often as we could. Aidan’s mom was great about arranging that.”

  “Where does he live now?”

  “Um, Oregon, when he’s not traveling for work.... Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  “I’m curious.”

  He flashed her another smile, and the thought popped into Emily’s mind that she liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Curiosity, huh? What did that mean? She knew she couldn’t get involved with him, so why she was even speculating, she didn’t know. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. And, she reminded herself, either way, it was not professional behavior and certainly not professional thinking. And more than likely he was trying to learn about her for the same reason she planned to learn about him....

  “Oh, um, why?” she asked, forcing herself back into the moment.

  “Because you’re new in town, and here in Rankins we are known for our hospitality toward newcomers?” he jested.

  Emily made a snuffling sound of amusement and disbelief. They both knew that the welcome she’d received as a representative of Cam-Field had been anything but hospitable.

  “Okay, maybe not so much in your case. But I do know that we, meaning you and me, didn’t get off to the best start, so I was thinking maybe we could start over.”

  “Why?”

  “I get the feeling that you could use a friend in this town.” he suggested.

  “Right,” she returned sarcastically, “like we could be friends—me working for Cam-Field and you...well, not.” But she had to admit that he did seem a lot different than the hostile man she’d first encountered. Had she dreamed up the fierce opponent who had confronted her in her office a few mornings ago? He was clearly a kind, compassionate and thoughtful guy, as evidenced by his behavior toward her the past couple days. And she had been dehydrated, drugged and delusional, and he seemed so harmless now. She met his eyes again and felt a jolt of awareness course through her. Okay, maybe “harmless” was understating the matter slightly. She recalled the passion he had displayed for this town a few mornings ago and his ultimate intentions where Cam-Field was concerned.

  “I don’t see why it has to be a problem,” he said.

  “Again, in case you missed it the first time, we are clearly on opposite sides of a very tall fence here.”

  “But that’s just business.”

  “Just business?”

  “Yes, business—it’s not personal.”

  Emily flicked her eyes toward the ceiling.

  Bering chuckled. “What?”

  “People always say that and it’s just such nonsense.”

  “What?”

  “That business isn’t personal, but that’s really just a way to explain away actions that otherwise would make them feel uncomfortable. The truth is that business is personal. It’s one and the same.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  But Emily wasn’t joking. Her work was her life, and she’d been working her entire life. As a child she’d begun doing yard work and other odd jobs for money. By the age of twelve she’d had her own paper route, at thirteen she’d begun working with the janitorial staff at Cam-Field and at fourteen she’d landed a job in the mail room. And on it had gone: from assistant roustabout to training coordinator to her eventual position in Cam-Field’s upper management. She’d never stopped working.

  She’d worked all through high school and college until she’d graduated at the top of her class. And then, while earning her MBA, she’d begun climbing her way up Cam-Field’s corporate ladder. She’d nearly reached the top, too, until Jeremy had begun climbing and elbowing his way upward, and as with any good ladder, there’d only been room for one person at the top. Which was why she was here and Jeremy was in San Diego lounging around in her corner rung, er, office.

  In spite of her stepfather’s wealth, working hard had been the best way of gaining and then maintaining his approval. The only people she’d ever really had relationships with, friendships or otherwise, had been people she worked with. Even Amanda, whom she considered her best friend, was also her assistant.

  Now she stated simply, “No, I’m not.”

  Bering was quiet for a moment before he finally said, “Well, then, Ms. Hollings, I think it’s time someone finally showed you the difference.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “EMILY, THESE ARE AMAZING. You’re like a real artist, you know that?” Amanda was busy flipping through some sketches Emily had done. Since her laptop was still down, she couldn’t generate any computer models, so she’d spent a good part of her last two doctor-ordered recuperation days drawing up some illustrations of Cam-Field’s proposed development of Rankins. Amanda had emailed Jeremy another request for an arrangement of stock photos they sometimes used in their presentations but she hadn’t heard back from him. Emily knew that Jeremy had them on his computer, because she had put them there herself. She had a speech to give the next day to the Chamber of Commer
ce and she needed something to show them.

  She smiled at Amanda’s compliment. “I wouldn’t go that far, but thank you, Amanda.” She did love to draw. It was her one indulgence.

  “I love this one of the town and the bay that you did from above. It looks just...idyllic,” she said wistfully. “Like a place where anyone would dream of living.”

  Emily peered over her shoulder to look at the sketch. She had drawn it after a stop at the museum, where she’d learned about the town and its fascinating history: Theodore Rankins, an enterprising businessman, had come to the area during the early gold-rush days. He’d constructed a large rough-hewn cabin and hung a sign above the door that read simply Rankins. He set up shop and the miners who flocked to the area soon came to rely upon Rankins for needed supplies. It was probably inevitable that the town itself would come to share his name, as well.

  Theodore had chosen the location wisely. The bay was relatively protected by several small outlying islands yet the deep water allowed access for trading ships, and marine life seemed to be thriving in the cold, nutrient-rich waters. The Opal River carved its way through the rugged mountains that served as the town’s backdrop. The river slowed and widened before emptying into the waters of the bay, creating marshy wetlands that provided prime moose and waterfowl habitat. The land reaching inward toward the mountains was richly forested with spruce, hemlock, cedar and hardwoods, interspersed with lush meadows making it a haven for wildlife.

  With mining claims widely established in the surrounding area, Rankins became an essential outpost. Homesteaders moved in and began to utilize other resources that the area had to offer—trapping, hunting, fishing and logging. The settlement continued to prosper and grow into the quaint and picturesque town that it was today.

  In a burst of inspired spontaneity, Emily had attempted to capture some of the charm of the historic town with her pencil and paper. She was strangely happy that Amanda could see it, too.

  “Unfortunately” Amanda added, “it is totally not useful for our purposes here. This really is a beautiful little town, though.” She gave the sketch another admiring glance before setting it aside. She picked up another. “But this one of the community center is perfect. The mom with the kids out front—nice touch. It really humanizes the scene. We can use this.”

  Much of the initial groundwork had been laid for this project in advance of their arrival, including obtaining federal and state offshore approvals. It was now their job to secure a majority vote from the town council for the remaining permits for the necessary construction within Rankins. After this final step was achieved, Cam-Field would come to town in force: build an offshore oil platform, pumping facilities, a pipeline, oil storage tanks and support structures in the town.

  Because of Rankins’s unique location, bordering both the river and the bay, all onshore facilities would be constructed within the city limits. The pipeline itself would not only travel through the town but would also transverse the entire length of the valley before eventually connecting to the Alaska Pipeline.

  In an effort to make all of this construction more palatable to the townsfolk, Cam-Field would implement “community-improvement projects” in the form of new and improved infrastructure, parks and attractive buildings like the community center she’d drawn, which was slated to include a state-of-the-art gym, rock-climbing wall and competition-size swimming pool.

  “Yeah, but I wish I had some real photos to show,” Emily said. “Do you think it could be Jeremy?”

  Amanda executed an innocent one-shouldered shrug. “I would go so far as to say that old Jeremy is undoubtedly having one heck of a time trying to get anything accomplished right now.”

  “Amanda...what did you do?”

  “What? Me?” she replied innocently.

  “Amanda—”

  “Oh, Emily, don’t worry. I didn’t have to do anything. The entire staff can’t stand him and it certainly isn’t my fault if they’ve rather suddenly and collectively come up with a bad case of incompetence.” She shrugged again and suggested, “I hear it’s contagious. I would even be willing to bet that they caught it from him.”

  Emily stared at Amanda for a few seconds, eyes wide, mouth agape. Her lips were forming words of disapproval, but instead she burst out laughing. She had gotten tired of constantly holding Jeremy’s hand herself; she could only imagine how the busy, mistreated staff at the home office felt.

  * * *

  JEREMY STRATHOM WAS PACING in his office, back and forth, back and forth across the two-hundred-dollar-a-yard pressed-wool carpet. Normally he’d be concerned about the destructive impact of such an action upon said carpet and vary his path to avoid an obvious wear pattern, but not now. Not today. His future was at stake here and it was a future which had taken him nearly two years to carefully scheme and meticulously craft.

  And now it seemed as if it was all about to tumble down around him like a house of cards in an unguarded sneeze. He walked over to his desk and opened the drawer, extending it nearly to its full length. He stared down at the small velvet-covered box. He’d nearly had everything. He still didn’t understand how this had happened. What he did know was that somehow he needed to get Emily back—back into his arms—and more importantly, back into the office.

  He’d had no idea that his getting the promotion over her would result in this silly, impulsive breakup. He’d certainly never anticipated her taking off for places far-flung and nearly unreachable. It was unacceptable. The consequences of her actions were nearing disastrous proportions. She wasn’t answering his texts, his calls were going straight to voice mail and her emails were strictly business-related.

  Jeremy slipped out the door and walked toward his uncle’s office. He’d always enjoyed the sound that his handcrafted Italian leather loafers made as they clicked on the marble floor of the hallways at Cam-Field headquarters. And never had he enjoyed it more than the day, a few short weeks ago, that he’d been made senior vice president. But the fact had not escaped him that at some point during the past week the sound had begun to get on his nerves. Clack, clack, clack—it now seemed as if even the floor was mocking him.

  “Jeremy, I’ve heard it through the grapevine that you haven’t yet sent the simulations to Emily for her first presentation in Rankins. It seems they are having some equipment trouble up there and she needs them ASAP,” Franklin Campbell barked as Jeremy entered the man’s huge corner office. Franklin leaned back in his chair and tapped the fingers of one hand on the scarred oak desk in front of him. The man seemed to constantly be in motion and apparently never ran out of energy, a trait he’d noticed that, in spite of there being no common DNA between them, Emily shared.

  Jeremy crafted his face into a look of bafflement. “She hasn’t received them yet? I asked Kim to email them,” he lied smoothly. How did his uncle figure this stuff out all the time? Did he have spies everywhere in this place? Cameras? Bugs? Access to email accounts? What? “Maybe they didn’t go through. The internet has been a little unreliable up there, too, from what I understand. I’ll be sure to check on that again today.”

  The truth was the photos hadn’t even been put together yet. He’d asked someone in the graphics department to compile them, but no one seemed to know what it was he was asking for. These people were idiots. Not for the first time he wondered how Emily managed to get any work out of them at all, much less the abundance that she did.

  “How is the job going up there anyway?” Jeremy asked, changing the subject and hoping that Franklin would say terribly, but knowing that Emily was handling it like she did everything—perfectly. The woman had always made him feel inadequate, and now that she was gone, instead of making it better as he’d hoped, it was worse—much, much worse. He hadn’t realized how difficult this job was going to be without her.

  “Fine, just fine,” Franklin responded flatly, but Jeremy could sense the pride behind
his tone.

  “Wonderful! ” Jeremy said and nodded happily as if delighted by the news.

  He caught a glimpse of something in his uncle’s eyes. Something, Jeremy thought, like confusion or skepticism. It dawned on him then that he shouldn’t have asked how Emily was doing in Alaska; he should have already known. Was that why his uncle was sitting there silently staring him down? What was the old man thinking? It was impossible to tell. Jeremy swallowed nervously as Franklin continued with his wordless scrutiny.

  He finally shifted in his seat and his features seemed to soften slightly. Then he spoke. “You must miss her terribly.”

  “Yes, yes, I do,” Jeremy replied soberly. You have absolutely no idea, old man....

  “You’re sure she’s going to say yes?”

  Jeremy smiled smoothly even as his stomach twisted and knotted painfully. His nerves seemed to have a direct link to his intestines lately. “Absolutely.” Another lie—they hadn’t ever talked about it, but he couldn’t imagine that Emily wouldn’t say yes. She had to say yes. He’d already assured his uncle that it was going to happen. And it would. As soon as he could get her back here...

  His uncle’s tone was suddenly sharp as he asked, “You’ve got the projections ready for the meeting with Argot tomorrow, I assume?”

  Jeremy shifted nervously. “Nearly there. Very close.”

  “No problem generating the graphics, then?”

  Jeremy nearly groaned aloud. Graphics? He hadn’t even managed to get the final numbers together yet. He had delegated most of it to two accounting people, but they obviously hadn’t communicated with each other, because what they’d given him seemed to be from two entirely different sets of data. And in total it appeared to him to be nothing more than a tidy summation of gibberish. Now he was going to have to find someone to stay late to do the graphics? He hadn’t been able to get the graphics department to do anything beyond making a new sign for his office door, which now read Jermy Struthorn. He figured that said it all.

  * * *