Heart Of A Hero. Debra & Regan Webb & Black

Heart Of A Hero - Debra & Regan Webb & Black


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closest to what you have in mind?”

      Reed Lancaster had made it clear from the moment he’d walked in that money was no object. His precise though relaxed appearance gave her an impression of significant wealth to back up the statement. His cashmere sweater, perfectly creased and cuffed khaki slacks and stylish shoes told the story. She imagined he spent a small fortune to keep his hair trimmed, and the gray at his temples added distinction. It was pointless to guess how much he’d shelled out for the Rolex on his wrist. She hoped he had the sense to leave it in his hotel safe rather than wear it on the excursion they were planning. Now, if they could just agree on where he wanted to go and the top three objectives he wanted to get out of the hike.

      “As I explained in the email, my team deserves a break. I want to build on our momentum and camaraderie. The three-day hike into the mountains sounds ideal.”

      “We’ll make sure your team is bonding while they’re having fun,” Clint said.

      Mr. Lancaster ignored him, focusing on the paperwork in front of Charly. “Ms. Binali, I’ve done the research, read the reviews and asked around since coming to town two days ago. Your company has a reputation as the best.” He removed his reading glasses—no drugstore cheaters for Mr. Lancaster, these were designer frames.

      “Your specific reputation—” he looked directly at Charly “—is what brought me here.” He tapped the small table. “I’ve taught everyone who works for me that to settle—on anything—is equal to defeat. With every project, every day, we strive for excellence. We are the team that sets the bar others try to reach. I won’t give them less than the best experience possible. That means I need you.”

      “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” She gave him a smile and while she gathered the proposals into one stack, putting her favorite mountain hike option on top based on his decision, Mr. Lancaster reached into his coat and withdrew a long, slim wallet.

      He’d said there were two hobby photographers on his team. While there wasn’t a bad view on any of the routes she and Clint had chosen, Lancaster insisted on the mountain options despite the weather risks.

      “The mountains will give you stunning views, crisp air and opportunities for teamwork from the campsites to the hike itself.” She forced herself to keep talking as he counted out cash. “You’re sure everyone on your team can handle the physical exertion?”

      He added more bills, hundreds, she noticed, to the stack. “Fitness is another requirement to stay on my team, Ms. Binali.”

      “All right.” The guy struck her as a tough boss. It would be interesting to meet the people who chose to work with him. “Clint and I will get things together.”

      Lancaster’s gaze slid to Clint and back to hers. “You’re sure two guides are necessary?”

      She willed Clint to keep his mouth shut. “Two guides will guarantee you and your team get the most out of the excursion and the challenge course experiences we’ll provide.”

      Lancaster dipped his chin in silent acknowledgment, though his lips were pressed into a thin line. “What needs to be signed?”

      She offered the basic waiver and contract and explained the maps on the page, highlighting the parking and load-out areas. “We can meet at eight—”

      “We’ll start at seven o’clock. Tomorrow.”

      The customer is always right. It took a few repetitions to believe it. “Okay, we can do that,” she agreed reluctantly. “This is the list of gear and waivers for each member of your team. I’ll need them back by—”

      “I have them here,” he said, cutting her off again. He opened a leather portfolio and produced the documentation for each of the six people on his team. All men, she noticed, though he hadn’t specified that detail. “I printed them from the website to save time. The photos were cropped from our company picnic last year.”

      She handed the pages to Clint, who skimmed them and gave her a small nod, confirming the required information and signatures were all in order.

      “We won’t need rental gear,” Lancaster added. “Everyone has been outfitted according to the resources posted online.”

      Efficiency must go along with being the best, she thought. She couldn’t fault him. Those lists covered the basics and were up-to-date. “Does that include tents and personal camping gear?”

      “Yes.”

      “Great.” She tried to show some excitement, but Lancaster’s rigid determination to have everything his way got under her skin. The increasing profit margin should make Clint happy. “Does anyone on your team have food allergies?”

      Mr. Lancaster shook his head.

      “Then it seems we’re set. Binali Backcountry will provide the necessary gear for the team challenges.” She wanted to be absolutely clear on that point. It was standard procedure, for convenience as well as liability. Relieved he didn’t try to convince her he was bringing that along, too, she stood. Lancaster and Clint followed suit and they all shook hands. Since she hadn’t been expecting to head out tomorrow, she’d need the rest of the evening for preparation.

      “He’s a tough bastard,” Clint murmured, watching Lancaster climb into a glossy Mercedes crossover parked across the street. “You think that’s a rental?”

      Charly picked up the stack of cash and counted it. “For that guy? No way.” She shook her head. “He probably bought it just for this trip.”

      “Is the money real?”

      “Yes,” she said with a tight laugh, retreating to her office. “Can you get started on the gear and packing?” Clint nodded, leaning against the doorjamb. “Great. Thanks.” It was short notice, but just as Mr. Lancaster had said, Binali was the best. They could make this happen. “I’ll send Tammy to make the deposit and pick up groceries.”

      “Sure thing. Just as soon as the mail comes,” Tammy replied absently as she flipped through the waivers and photos, putting the information into the folder that indicated a booked excursion. “The best part of this job is getting a daily dose of superhunk.”

      Clint’s face clouded over as he turned to face Tammy. “Lancaster? He’s old enough to be your father.”

      “First, age is only a number,” she scolded. “Second, ick,” Tammy finished with a mock shudder. “I meant the mailman. The Lancaster dude is way too uptight for me. Good luck with him on the mountain.”

      “We’ll be all right,” Charly said. “He paid cash, all of it up front, and I know we’ll surpass his expectations.” She ignored the unanimous eye rolling. “Come on, both of you. Get busy. I have a schedule to adjust.”

      Clint disappeared into the back, and her butt had barely landed in her desk chair when she heard the chime on the front door. Judging by Tammy’s warm greeting, Will had arrived with the day’s mail.

      Charly paused long enough to hit Print for the standard grocery list and then walked out to join the conversation. Tammy had signed for the box, her fingers tracing the corners while she flirted shamelessly with Will. Charly told herself it didn’t matter. Tammy could enjoy the view of Will’s body, but she sure as hell wasn’t Will’s type.

      The catty assessment startled her as Charly watched them. What did she know of Will’s type? Technically, she didn’t have a claim on the man. They’d only been out on a few friendly dates. They hadn’t even exchanged any romantic physical contact yet.

      “Hey there, Charly.” Will’s smile lit up his silver-blue eyes.

      “Hi.” Her knees felt weak. How silly. “Having a good day?”

      “Good enough.” He nodded to the big box he’d set on the counter. “New gear?”

      “Ball caps,” she said. “We sell them—” she tipped her head toward the display in the front window “—but we give


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