Mysterious Mountain Man

Rebecca gripped her briefcase tighter and approached the woman behind the counter.

“Good afternoon, miss,” the woman said before Rebecca could speak. “Are you here for lunch?”

Intent on her mission, Rebecca paused, feeling a little off-balance. For the first time in several hours she realized she hadn’t eaten since she’d left home. She took in the room in another sweeping glance before replying.

“I—uh—yes, actually, that would be nice.”

She was a little irritated with herself for not thinking about eating here. The woman must think her ridiculous to appear surprised to be offered a meal in a café. What, after all, had she expected? She certainly hadn’t walked into a lending library!

Rebecca noticed an empty booth in the back and had started toward it before she realized that she would be sitting near the cowboy. She certainly hoped he didn’t think she was trying to get his attention!

Taking another firm grip on her briefcase, she straightened her shoulders slightly and continued toward the back of the room without looking at anyone.

“Hello, Rebecca,” a deep voice drawled from somewhere close by.

She spun around, almost losing her balance. How could anyone here know who she—? Only one person could possibly recognize her. Her gaze darted around the room before she made eye contact with the cowboy, who continued to watch her without moving from his comfortable, laid-back position.

For the first time since she’d entered the café Rebecca really looked at the man leaning his chair against the wall.

“Jake,” she whispered almost to herself as she stared at him. Her breath seemed caught in her throat. Whatever her expectations had been for this trip, finding Jake within moments after her arrival had never crossed her mind.

He took his time looking at her, allowing his gaze to wander from the top of her head, lingering over the trim-fitting suit, before pausing on her now dusty pumps.

Eventually his gaze met her eyes. “What brings you to these parts?” he drawled. “Did you make a wrong turn somewhere?”

In the year since she’d last seen him, Rebecca had forgotten how his low voice had always caused her spine to tingle in a most unexpected and unprofessional way. The tingle was back, darn it, and they’d barely exchanged any words. She stood taller in an effort to combat her unwanted reaction to the man.

The waitress spoke from directly behind her. “You can sit anywhere, miss. Just pick a spot and light.”

Rebecca glanced around at the waitress just as she heard the other two legs on Jake’s chair hit the floor.

“She’ll take the back booth, Betty,” he said, straightening in slow motion to his full height. “Bring her Mel’s special. Let’s show the city lady what down-home cookin’s all about.”

Gently he touched Rebecca’s arm and guided her over to the booth. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she numbly slid onto the bench seat, staring at him as he sat down across from her.

This long-haired, unshaven cowboy was Jake Taggart? She could scarcely believe the evidence of her own eyes. What had happened to the man in the business suits and ties with the professionally styled hair and freshly laundered shirts?

Nothing about this meeting was going as she had planned. She hadn’t tried to guess how she’d find him or where a meeting between them would take place but this unexpected encounter had left her reeling. All of the remarks she’d carefully planned to say to him had left her mind.

While she was frantically searching for a light remark, Jake said, “Betty, I’d like you to meet Rebecca Adams. She works for CPI Enterprises in Seattle.” He glanced at Rebecca out of the corner of his eye before adding, “Besides being the head of the personnel department, she’s the boss’s daughter.”

He glanced back at her, no doubt waiting for her reaction to his remark. Since he wasn’t the first person through the years to imply that she held a responsible position in the company only because of her father, she chose not to comment.

She really didn’t care what Jake Taggart thought of her. She knew she was good at her job. She didn’t owe anyone any explanations or apologies for the position she held.

When she remained silent, he continued. “Betty and Mel own the restaurant. They serve the best food west of the Mississippi.”

Rebecca noticed the older woman—Betty had he called her?— blushed like a schoolgirl. But then, Jake seemed to have that effect on most women—even her, darn him—despite her determination to keep a professional distance between them. How could she have forgotten this man’s charisma? Hadn’t she once accused her father of being unduly influenced by Jake’s magnetism as well as his professional expertise?

“Pleased ta meet cha, Ms. Adams. What would you like to drink?”

“I think I’ll have—”

“They don’t have any of your herbal teas, ‘Becca, and the coffee is chock-full of caffeine,” Jake drawled, deliberately baiting her.

Ignoring him, she smiled at Betty and said, “Coffee sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

Betty hurried away, presumably for a cup since she was still holding the pot of coffee in her hand. Jake, meanwhile, turned sideways in the booth—his back resting against the wall, his elbow on the table, and his long legs stretched along the length of the bench seat.

Rebecca folded her hands together on the table and studied them in an effort to organize her thoughts.

“You never said what brings you to these parts, ‘Becca.” The slight tilt of his mouth revealed his awareness of her efforts at control.

She lifted her gaze to meet his. Thankfully, to her, her voice sounded steady when she replied, “That should be obvious, Jake. I came looking for you.”

Two

Jake studied her for a long moment. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but then, she never could. This man continued to be an enigma to her. Despite her working knowledge of human nature, she’d never been able to figure out what made Jake Taggart tick.

She knew she was at a disadvantage with him and that she would have to call on everything she had to convince him to do what she so desperately needed him to do. She’d come this far. She couldn’t blow it now.

She took a deep breath, prepared to make her pitch, when he said, “I’m downright flattered, ‘Becca.” There wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in his voice. “I’ll admit to being surprised to see you here.”

Now that she could believe despite the fact that he’d concealed his surprise well. She looked toward the dusty windows and beyond to the brightly lit sky. “West Texas is certainly different from Seattle, I must admit.” She turned back to face the man across from her. She’d always found him formidable. “Did anyone tell you that we’ve been trying to contact you?”

He opened his mouth as though to answer her, then paused, glancing past her shoulder. Betty arrived with a cup of coffee. She set it in front of Rebecca before turning to Jake. “You want some more coffee?”

“No, thanks. Water’s fine.”

Betty smiled at Rebecca, her eyes reflecting her curiosity. “So you came to see Jake, did ya?” she asked, making no attempt to hide her interest.

Rebecca was surprised. She wasn’t used to having a server make personal conversation. “I—uh—” She stopped, not knowing how to respond. She was out of her element and wasn’t certain what was called for here, according to proper etiquette.

“It’s all right,” Betty said, her voice filled with sympathetic understanding. “He’s used to women chasing after him.” She turned to Jake. “So. You expectin’ to hang around here overnight, or do you intend to git back home?”

Jake lazily stretched before replying. “Haven’t decided yet, Betty.”

“Well, we always keep your room ready for ya,” she said casually, before returning to the cash register where the other diners were waiting to pay for their meal.

Rebecca knew it was none of her business, but she asked, anyway. “Are you related to Betty?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

She nodded, more to herself than anything. “I wondered about that when I saw them listed in your personnel file. It was our only lead to your whereabouts.”

After straightening the knife, fork and spoon that Betty had placed in front of him, Jake picked up the spoon with his thumb and forefinger and began to flip it, tapping one end on the table, flipping it, then tapping the other end, as though he had nothing better to do than to make a repetitive noise no doubt designed to irritate her. She glanced at his long fingers, then away.

“Well, now you’ve found me. So what do you want?”

She took a sip of the coffee, her mind racing with questions and comments. She mentally replayed what Betty had said just now and surprised herself by verbalizing the least important question flitting through her mind.

“Is that true?” she asked.

“Is what true?”

“Are you used to women chasing after you?”

He twitched his shoulders and gave a quick shake of his head. “That was Betty’s way of pulling my leg.”

She dropped her gaze to the steaming liquid. She was stalling and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to bring any order to her thoughts at the moment. To immediately find the man for whom she’d been prepared to make a diligent search had thrown her off her stride. She needed a moment to regroup and to marshal all her arguments.

“What do you want, Rebecca?” he repeated, impatiently. “Did Brock send you?”

She stiffened for a moment before answering him. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Tension filled the silence between them before he continued, his tone mocking. “As I recall, you never went out of your way to spend much time in my company when I worked at CPI, so it’s hard for me to guess what prompted this little visit.”

Rebecca lowered her cup, carefully replacing it on the table. He certainly wasn’t making this meeting an easy one. What, after all, had she expected? Before she could comment on his remark, he continued by saying, “You think I never noticed how studiously you managed to avoid me?” His mouth curled slightly. “I was aware I wasn’t your idea of a corporate executive. Well, don’t worry. After a few years I came to the same conclusion, myself. Guess I don’t have the necessary killer instinct.”

She controlled her surprise at this unexpected glimpse into the way his mind worked. “On the contrary, Jake. I thought you were an excellent executive. Since my father planned for you to take his place in the company, his views were obvious, as well.” She paused, searching for an explanation of something she’d never before attempted to put into words. “As for me, I’ll admit that I never went out of my way to get to know you, that’s true.” She forced herself to meet his dark-eyed gaze before saying, “I’m not particularly proud of the fact, but the truth is, for some time I was jealous of you.”

His eyes narrowed and he quirked one of his eyebrows at her, but he made no comment.

She shrugged. “Hopefully I’ve gotten over that rather adolescent reaction to the fact that my dad treated you like the son he never had.”

“And that bothered you?”

“It shouldn’t have, of course. There was no rational reason for me to see you as a threat. I never had any interest in learning to run the company. I much prefer working with the employees and leaving the rest of the business to the engineering and business majors. I never made any secret of my professional preferences.”

“But you aren’t talking about professional preferences now, are you?”

This wasn’t the topic she’d intended to discuss with him. Somehow, she’d lost control of their meeting before she’d had an opportunity to state her reasons for being there. He’d gotten a reaction from her. He was good at that—causing a reaction without giving anything of himself away.

She sighed and shook her head. “I’ve had the past year to look at my behavior, to recognize and face how childish I was acting by distancing myself from you.” She glanced away before forcing herself to meet his gaze. “However, you have to admit you’re not an easy man to get to know, even in the best of circumstances.”

“I had a job to do. I was never out to win any popularity contests...with you or anybody else.”

She couldn’t resist a quick look at the way he was dressed. He still wasn’t attempting to impress anyone. Not that it mattered to her what he looked like or how he treated her. However, it would make her mission much easier if they could find a common ground.

She needed his help, yet she resented having to ask for it. There’d been so many upheavals in her life lately, so much over which she had no control. She hated to ask anyone for anything. She’d grown up independent and self-reliant, traits her father admired, traits she’d continued to foster as she grew from the idolizing child to the adult who better understood her own motives.

Her studies of human behavior and her degrees in psychology had helped her to deal with many of those unresolved childhood issues. What they hadn’t taught her was how to deal with an attractive man whose dark gaze managed to affect her pulse rate despite her understanding of chemical attraction and the theory behind opposites attracting. She didn’t want to be attracted to this man. She wanted her interest in him to be strictly a professional one.

“I never understood why you left CPI,” she said, hoping to prod him into explaining more about who he was and what made him tick. Knowing his motives might also assist her in finding the most positive way to suggest he return to work for the company. “You were good at what you did. You had a bright future with the company.”

He picked up his glass of water and took a drink from it. After he set the glass down, he murmured, “My reasons for leaving don’t really matter after all this time.”

She straightened, placing her hands in her lap, hoping to downplay her nervousness. “Perhaps not,” she said carefully. “I suppose the more pertinent question to ask you is, what can I offer you to get you to return to CPI?”

He made a chopping motion with his hand. “Is that what this is all about—what you’re doing here? Do you think Brock is going to allow me to walk back into the company and take up my old position? You should have checked with him first before you came running to me with any offers. Brock Adams knows what I think of the policies and procedures in that company. He knows exactly why I left and why I won’t go back.”

“My father is dead, Jake.”

Her words hung between them as though taking on a life of their own, crowding the small space with sudden emotion.

Jake slowly straightened his slouching position. “Dead?” he repeated. “Brock?” His voice roughened. “When? What happened?”

She bit her lip in an effort to remain composed. Talking about her father’s death was still difficult. “Six months ago.” She paused and took a sip of water. “He died in his sleep. The doctor said it was his heart.”

Jake swung his legs off the seat and turned so that he was facing her. His face had been washed clean of expression. He stared at her blankly, his eyes unreadable.

“Was there any warning?”

“If there was, he never mentioned it. He began working longer hours after you left, rarely getting home before midnight. I tried to talk to him, tried to get him to rest, but he ignored me.” Her voice hardened. “If you hadn’t left the company, he might be alive today.”

Her words were as effective as a slap in the face...or a fist to his gut. Brock was dead. Only now, now that he’d learned that Brock was dead did he realize how he had viewed Brock Adams—as an Olympian figure, an immortal god who could not concern himself with the problems of mere mortals. Concerns about ethics and conscience and accountability hadn’t been as important as other considerations—growth, and returns, and happy stockholders.

Jake had been so angry when he’d left... angry, disgusted and frustrated. He hadn’t cared to listen to more of Brock’s explanations and rationalizations for his decisions. Jake had had enough.

Now Brock was dead and it was obvious from Rebecca’s determined efforts to contact him that the situation had not gotten any better since he’d left.

Now she wanted him to return to CPI. The idea was laughable. However, Jake didn’t feel much like laughing at the moment. After the shock of her news, he wasn’t certain what he was feeling.

Betty’s appearance with two platters of steaming food was a welcome respite from charged emotions.

The appetizing aroma caused Rebecca’s stomach to growl in anticipation.

Jake glanced at the plate in front of him, reminded of his earlier order. “This is a sandwich?”

Betty placed her hands on her hips. “Mel decided you might be hungrier than you thought.” She gave a sideways glance to Rebecca. “You’ve gotta keep up your strength, you know.”

He just shook his head and picked up his fork, knowing there was no winning an argument against the Abbotts. He glanced across the table. Rebecca must have been hungry. She wasn’t wasting any time on conversation, which was just as well. He needed some space to adjust to the information she’d given him.

He waited until she finished eating before he asked, “Who is running CPI these days?”

He watched her carefully blot her lips with the napkin. “As my father’s sole heir, I inherited his controlling interest in the company. I took over as chairman of the board, but at the moment there is no managing director.”

He remembered some of the sharks who were department heads and smiled. “I bet the place is experiencing a real feeding frenzy these days.”

Betty came and removed their plates, refilled Rebecca’s coffee cup and Jake’s water glass and left before she responded. She leaned her crossed arms on the table. “I always thought I was fairly competent at reading and understanding people, until I had all this dumped into my lap. I freely concede that I’m in way over my head at the moment. I don’t have the training, the ability or the personality to take over the helm and run the place, not the way you do. Obviously you can see why I’m here, why I wanted to talk to you, to explain what’s happening.”

“Ambition and greed aren’t difficult to identify, ‘Becca. You can find it in every business endeavor. Hell, it’s part of the human experience.”

“There’s more going on, Jake. Since Dad died we’ve had what I believe to be acts of sabotage taking place in the plant—shipments delayed, bills of lading misplaced, equipment breaking down. Somebody’s working hard to make us look bad. And it’s having the desired effect.”

“What do you think I could do about it?”

“My father had a great deal of confidence in you. He never told me why you left. In fact, he refused to discuss you with me at all, but I well remember how pleased he was earlier with the way you justified the decision he made to hire you. If you had a falling out with him then I think we need to look at the present picture without allowing the past to distort the situation. You are the only person who knows the business well enough to be able to step in and pull it through this crisis. The company needs you.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. Rebecca forced herself to remain quiet, hoping she’d said enough, hoping she hadn’t said too much to turn him off the idea. She was convinced that Jake Taggart was the only person who could help save the company.

When he finally spoke, she was shaken by his response. “I want no part of that life,” he said in a flat voice. “I’m content where I am.”

Rebecca couldn’t afford to accept his decision. She glanced around the room, which had fallen silent with the departure of the other diners. She could hear the couple who ran the place talking in the kitchen. Her gaze went to the grimy windows and, looking past them, to the desolate landscape.

In an effort to buy herself needed time to think of a different approach, she asked, “This is where you grew up?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s rather isolated, isn’t it?”

His small smile was lopsided. “Yep.”

“What is there here for you to do?”

The fact that he’d been asking himself the same question during the past few days didn’t endear her to him. “I don’t need much to survive.”

“My father used to say that you thrived on challenge.”

He nodded toward the window. “There’s challenge enough.”

“Is there?” She tilted her head slightly and looked at him. “Physically, I suppose there is. But mentally? Emotionally? What kind of challenges are you finding here?”

“What is this? A new form of job interview?”

She nodded. “That’s exactly what it is, Jake. CPI needs you and your talents. You must know that. Your leaving was a blow to the company as well as to my father, whether he ever admitted it or not. I don’t think either one fully recovered from your absence. If you’d been there, none of this would have happened. The transition after my dad’s death would have been orderly and without the turmoil we’ve been going through.”

“No one’s indispensable, ‘Becca.”

“True. But some positions are more easily filled than others.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card he’d placed there earlier. He gave a flip to his wrist, and the card landed between them. “Who’s Woodrow Forrester?”

She didn’t need to read the card. “He’s in charge of accounting. Dad hired him not long after you left. He’s the one who pointed out the urgency of the situation we’re in. When I told him about you and what I felt you could do for us, he volunteered to come looking for you.”

Jake drummed his fingers on the table. Then he ran his fingers through his hair. “It wouldn’t work,” he finally muttered.

“Why not?”

He just shook his head, refusing to say anything more.

Her chest ached and she realized that she’d been holding her breath. She forced herself to fill her lungs with much-needed air, praying for inspiration. She’d counted on the fact that once he knew how serious the situation was, he would be willing to return.

Regardless of her personal reaction to him, she knew that Jake Taggart was exactly what the company needed.

“Is it because of me? I mean, what you said earlier about my appearing uncomfortable around you? Is it that you don’t want to work for me?”

“I’ve never given a thought about your opinion of me, one way or the other. As far as I was concerned, we both worked for the same company and had similar goals. We didn’t have to like each other.”

She glanced down at her clasped hands. “It isn’t that I dislike you, Jake,” she said slowly, searching for words that might make a difference to his decision. “I used to feel— That is, there were times when I felt as though you could read my mind, as though I had no secrets where you were concerned.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “Let’s face it. You can be rather intimidating at times.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he waited until she looked up at him before he said quietly, “You’ve got a very expressive face, ‘Becca. It isn’t difficult to tell what you’re thinking most of the time.”

She kept her gaze steady. “Then you must know how badly I need your help at the plant. I’ve tried these past few months to keep everything together. I’ve taken on more staff, mostly in personnel, to free me for other areas. I never wanted to be the one running things. My father understood that, which is why he trained you for the job. He’d intended to retire and—” Her voice broke and she couldn’t go on.

Jake looked around the small café, feeling uneasy about the turn in the conversation. He’d told her no, hadn’t he? He’d told her that he was happy where he was, but was he being completely honest with himself? Hadn’t CPI been his focus for several years?

Leaving the company had been one of the toughest things he’d ever done. He’d felt betrayed by Brock Adams and the choices the man had made despite Jake’s warnings. Jake had expected more from Brock than that. Hell, he’d looked up to Brock, admired him, wanted to be just like him...until the day Jake realized that his own integrity was more important to him than his ambition.