Janice Johnson - Everywhere She Goes

He hoped she wasn’t a disappointment. He’d interviewed two candidates so far and been underwhelmed by both. Her, he had a good feeling about—unless she was Colin McAllister’s sister, a relationship bound to taint their association.

He rose from behind his desk just as she walked in. Tall, slim and beautiful. Stunned, he probably gaped. Hair cut short to lay in feathery wisps around her face was darker than honey and sun-streaked. She wore heels, black trousers and a formfitting, short royal blue blazer over a simple white camisole. Gold hoops in her ears. Her stride was lithe, her smile pleasant and luminous gray eyes wary.

And—hell—he knew those eyes, color and shape.

“You have to be related to Captain McAllister,” he said.

Her smile didn’t falter. “That’s right. He’s my brother.”

“Ah.” He held out his hand anyway.

She studied it for a moment that stretched a little too long before allowing him to envelop her much more slender hand. It was unexpectedly chilly to the touch. Resisting the temptation to hold on, maybe take her other hand and warm both, Noah let her go and nodded toward the grouping of chairs around a low circular bird’s-eye maple table that gave him a comfortable place to hold long conversations.

“Coffee?” he asked. “Or tea or water or...?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

He waited until she chose a chair and sat before doing the same himself. They looked at each other for a long minute. He wondered how she saw him. He wasn’t a handsome man. The face he saw in the mirror every morning was downright ugly, in his opinion. Maybe unfortunately, it suited his aggressive, straight-to-his-goal, probably brusque personality. On the other hand, he’d never had any trouble getting women. This one had to have heard an earful from her brother, though.

Yeah, so? he asked himself, irritated. This was a job interview, not a date. If he didn’t hire her, she wouldn’t stay in town. If he did, he’d be her direct supervisor. Coming on to her wasn’t an option.

Ignoring the inconvenient attraction, he started with the usual chitchat. She had lived in Angel Butte only until she was ten, she explained, at which point her parents had divorced and she had moved away with her mother. Yes, she had to admit that her brother’s residence here had something to do with her interest in the advertised position.

Noah hesitated, but he decided to get this out of the way before either of them wasted any more time. “Are you aware that your brother and I have our differences?”

“Yes.”

That was all. Yes. Even her expression didn’t alter.

He pushed a little harder. “Is that going to be a problem?”

One sculpted eyebrow quirked slightly higher than the other. “It won’t be unless I take the position and you fail to back me up when I need your support.” The emphasis on “me” was there, but subtle enough he couldn’t call her on it.

Annoyed for a different reason now, he met her challenging stare. He’d have had no trouble labeling her as an ice princess, except that her eyes were the furthest thing from cold. There was one hell of a lot going on in her, but she was repressing it. Only those big, shimmering gray eyes gave her away.

He didn’t see what he could do but nod although he felt his jaw muscles spasm. “All right. Let’s talk about your background.”

They dived right in. Her dissertation had to do with the cultural assumptions that led, and sometimes misled, urban planning. She had the academic stuff down pat—she talked about natural resources, engineering, public decisions, leadership and the conflicts inherent in those elements.

Insofar as he understood what the position entailed, he aimed his questions at finding out how practical her knowledge was versus ivory-tower theory and idealism. She got right down to the nitty-gritty, talking about planning, sure, but also code compliance, her ability to evaluate complex data, read and interpret plans, specifications, maps and engineering drawings. They ended with a heavy focus on the people-management component. She would be directly supervising an assistant director, chief of building inspectors, administrative services manager and others. She claimed understanding the real needs of citizens was her first priority, followed by balancing the goals she set with the reality of dealing with politicians, developers, landowners, protesters. They talked about the frequent presentations she’d be giving to city council committees, civic groups and more.

She asked about those committees, and he tried to give her a sense of city council personalities and how they related to the Infrastructure Advisory Board, the Arts, Beautification and Culture Committee and Economic Development Committee, all of which would demand her involvement.

Cait McAllister remained poised, articulate and knowledgeable. She never faltered. She was so damn cool, he tried to shake her, jumping topics from zoning to budgets, EPA requirements, water reclamation, citizens versus tourists. Nothing. She jumped with him.

She’d driven around town this morning, she told him, and already had some observations.

“I admit,” she commented, “that I was dismayed by the, er, shopping strip that was my first impression of Angel Butte.”

“All that was county until an extensive annexation took place a year ago.”

“I imagine that was good for the tax base.”

“Yes and no.” He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the scrape of whiskers. “The campaign for the annexation was intelligently run. Unfortunately, nobody did any planning to speak of for handling the newly annexed areas. Your brother may have talked to you about the challenge it provided the police department. Our former mayor and a good part of the city council were opposed to expanding the number of officers in the department. Instead, they were spread so thin, in no time problems arose. I imagine it goes without saying that we’ve had plenty of other similar issues.”

Her eyes had widened. “I can imagine. Sewer, water, fire department... I’ll bet there’s a huge backlog in approving building permits.”

Noah smiled grimly. “Two city council members are major local developers. You’d think they’d have foreseen the problems, but apparently not. Now they’re unhappy.”

A flash of humor on her face almost took his breath away. “I have yet to meet a happy developer,” she murmured.

He chuckled, a rusty sound. “Now that you mention it...”

Her smile lit her face. He stared for too long; the smile died and her gaze became wary.

“What do you see as priorities for new projects?” he asked gruffly to cut short the moment.

“I can only address the obvious,” Cait pointed out. “There may be urgent need for storm-water projects or the like. I see Bend is expanding their water reclamation facility, for example.”

He nodded. “We have some of the same issues. I’ve been looking at possible sites for a new sewer treatment facility. But go with the obvious. What jumps out at you?”

“Some visual mitigation of the less than appealing approach to town,” she said bluntly. “Broader streets, landscaping, at the least. It’s great to have those kinds of businesses, both for the convenience of citizens and visitors alike and from a tax standpoint. But it’s ugly. Not an appealing first impression of what proves to be a charming town. We might even consider a bypass route.”

He nodded. That was on his list, too.

“Second, if Angel Butte is to continue to draw tourists in the numbers I saw this morning, I’d recommend major infrastructure work aimed at improving bicycle and pedestrian traffic. Right now, parking downtown is an exercise in frustration. You’ve got people jaywalking everywhere, and I’d be scared to ride a bike on most of the existing roads. You don’t want people staying at local resorts and inns to have to get into a car to go out for dinner, for example. They may end up irritated, and they may even decide to drive up to Sunriver to eat instead. Looking to the future, I’d argue that this would be an economically intelligent direction.” A wry smile flickered. “You might prevent some traffic fatalities besides.”