The Legacy of Buchanan's Crossing Read Free Page A

how much Cumberland’s voice had dulled his niggling doubts until he scratched an itch on the ring finger of his right hand. A couple of things hit him immediately. The first was a memory flash of the peculiar copper ring he’d picked up off the floor at HandiMart; the next pushed that and everything related to it aside.
    How could he have missed it? All of the genial comfort surrounding him was nothing more than another kind of set-up; this one designed to lull the unwary. Well, he was too hungry for this contract not to be wary. And he wasn’t dumb enough to think Cumberland wasn’t fully aware just how desperate he was, either. For the CEO of a multi-national corporation, the little man did seem awfully happy to be meeting the humble owner of a small struggling construction company.
    Only a fool would walk into a lion’s den with his eyes closed, no matter how much that lion resembled a tabby cat.
    Clint kept his expression on the cool side of neutral. “Thank you, Mr. Cumberland. I’m sure you can imagine how happy I am to hear you say that. Before we break out the champagne, though, I have a few questions.”
    Cumberland was frowning at Clint’s hand, the one that had itched, when a knock on the door announced “sweets’” arrival.
    She deposited the tray on a side table. “May I get you anything else, Mr. Cumberland?”
    “Not right now. Thanks.”
    She left and closed the door softly behind her.
    Cumberland coughed and winked. “She makes excellent coffee, too.”
    He’d been busted trying not to ogle Cumberland’s secretary while she’d bent over right in front of him to fuss with the cream and sugar. Her skirt had slid up those sky-high legs far enough to reveal a scrap of red lace. What Cumberland didn’t know was, instead of appreciating the view in front of him, Clint had been brooding over another pair of thighs, not nearly so long, trim, or suited to his future.
    Whether the display had been a planned distraction or not, the result had served to remind Clint he couldn’t afford to take his eye off the prize: ultimate success.
    “Mr. Cumberland—”
    “Dean, please.” Again, Dean nailed him with that grin.
    It didn’t make it any easier for him to ask what he had to. “Okay, Dean. As long as we’re being open and friendly, you won’t mind if I ask, why Green Man Construction? Why offer a contract prior to meeting me? A company the size of J. Milton doesn’t need an outfit like mine to build a mall, even a cutting-edge green one. You could hire your own people to do it, or work with someone you’re already familiar with.”
    “I knew I was going to enjoy doing business with you. I appreciate someone who gets right to the point. Since you’re being up front, allow me the same. You’ve obviously done your homework. I’m guessing a smart man such as yourself was able to discover a few, shall we say, issues involving J. Milton and some rather radical environmental groups.”
    “Issues” was an understatement. And no matter how desperate he was Clint couldn’t allow Green Man’s reputation to become associated with those kinds of issues. So he had to test Cumberland, throw him enough rope and hope like hell he wouldn’t hang the whole deal with it.
    Clint led with, “When you put it that way…”
    “I’m not saying some of those complaints might not have had a degree of legitimacy. But that was the old J. Milton Developments, the one my father founded and ran. I want—no, need—to separate myself from that. To make it clear the company is in different hands now, caring hands.”
    Nice save. Dean did look pretty puny sitting behind the massive desk. It didn’t take much imagination to picture him getting pounded on a lot as a kid, no matter what school he’d gone to. Clint would lay a fifty this was as much about Dean wanting to make a name for himself as it was about his company’s bottom line. He understood the drive to succeed. Before becoming a recluse, Dean’s old man,