Beyond The Limit (3 page)

“Really? Well,” Cali murmured as she sat back down, hoping her tough, bluff tactics would work with him, “we'll see, won't we, Major? Have you ever handled a construction project like this with a woman at the helm?” Despite her steely exterior, she wondered if he'd heard the gossip about her. The construction world was large, but talk circulated. Cali's bad choice in men had nearly cost her company this job. No matter what, she had to make this project work.

Cali Roland had come out firing. Pete scowled and put a check mark by her name. “I've been an assistant company commander, Ms. Roland, and led men and women Marines. I was able to deal fairly with both genders without trouble.”

Cali's smile twisted. She couldn't afford to make an enemy of Trayhern. After all, they would be working at one another's elbow, nonstop. “I wonder if your company commander was a woman, then?” Might as well get him used to the fact that she wasn't subordinate to him. As winner of the bid, her company was the most major player on this site. And Roland would then turn around and hire all the subcontractors who would then do the work under her and her company for Major Trayhern, the “owner” of this project. It was a fine line, Cali realized.

On the one hand, she was Trayhern's subordinate in that she wasn't financing the project, but the contractor who had to make it happen. The relationship between the site construction superintendent and herself required a delicate balance. They'd be like a king and queen from different countries working side by side to get the project done. Cali knew that if her company didn't meet the contract requirements, Major Trayhern could make her life miserable, and Roland Construction could lose a helluva lot of money—millions, maybe. He was her boss, but she was boss of the entire construction operation.

And if he was aware of the mess she'd created at her last job, that could be why he was looking so damn uncomfortable right now.

Biting back the urge to ask, Cali was afraid. Afraid that he knew she'd screwed up big-time. And yet, if he didn't know, she didn't want to bring it up. Her gut twisted painfully and she brushed her stomach area unconsciously in response. Feeling trapped, Cali stared back at him.

“No, my CO was male. But if it had been a woman, I'll have adjusted. I'll get over my shock, Cali, don't worry,” Pete stated. Tough. She was tough. But she was beautiful, too, in a natural way he liked. Yet liking Cali for her feminine attributes wasn't in the cards. Not on a work site. And not with his bad track record with women.

“Good to hear, Major.” Cali decided to stay on respectful military terms with him now. To call him Pete was premature.

“You will find that Cali Roland is one of the bright stars in the global construction field, Major Trayhern,” Elliot said. “Roland has a permanent office here in Kabul. They do a lot of business in the region.”

“That's reassuring,” Pete murmured. “Why not introduce me to the rest of your team, Cali?”

Her heart pounded with anxiety. Cali hoped the men she worked with stayed loyal and didn't gossip about her last project.

She turned to her right. “Ray Billings is our general foreman. He's the man that puts the muscle into getting things done.”

Pete saw the forty something-year-old grin proudly, revealing missing teeth. His face looked like a road map from having obviously been exposed to a lot of harsh elements. “Mr. Billings, nice to meet you.”

“Same here, Major,” he growled.

Billings was built like a pit bull. He was shorter than Cali, his shoulders broad, his chest wide and narrowing into a slight potbelly just above his belt. His hands were square and scarred, the complete opposite of Elliot's pampered ones. Pete immediately liked the look in Billings's small, wide-set blue eyes. His nose had been broken in the past and hooked slightly to the right, and Pete decided he seemed like the type who had gotten into plenty of barroom brawls in his youth. Pete also noted how Billings's eyes softened whenever he looked at his boss.

The longer Cali watched the major, the more complex he seemed. Despite his military bearing and muscular frame, she could see compassion in his eyes. He was probably a good assistant company commander. The fact that he let himself show boyish embarrassment over his mistakes suggested he didn't mind revealing vulnerability. And he didn't get prickly when he wrongly assessed a person. She was pleased, for she knew a bad boss could be hell personified. In this industry, structures got built with the help of a lot of antacid tablets if it was the wrong “marriage” of titans. So far, she held out hope that she and Trayhern could hammer out a peaceful working relationship.

The bigger issues would be making sure Trayhern didn't learn about her bad judgment, and proving to her father that she was worthy of a second chance. Her family name was on the line, and she wasn't about to let her father down again.

As the rest of her team introduced themselves, her gaze strayed back to Trayhern. He had nice hands. Workman's hands. Cali could tell he was used to being out in the elements from the dark tan there and on his face. She was curious about his relationship status, but decided to table those questions. His personal life was none of her business. Was he just like Russ, the mechanical engineer she'd fallen for? He never wore a wedding ring, either, but the bastard was married with three children. Gun-shy, Cali swallowed any attraction and stuffed it deep within her.

“So this is your team from Roland,” Elliot said as Pete sat down after all the introductions. “Cali is legendary as a project engineer, as I told you. She's brought in all her jobs on budget and on time.” Elliot raised his thick, silver brows and held Pete's gaze. “That's impressive, Major. We know how much can go wrong at a job site—unexpected weather, worker tiffs, delivery delays, equipment breakdowns. So many things influence whether or not a project stays on schedule.” Elliot smiled briefly. “And Cali's been building structures in the Middle East for the last six years. She's actually Roland's point person on any project in this part of the world. Cali is fluent in the major languages of Afghanistan and knows goat-grab diplomacy. So, Major Trayhern, you're one lucky guy.”

Nodding, Pete said, “I feel very fortunate.” That was a lie. He couldn't, in fact, see
any
woman handling such a job in a place like this. Still, he was familiar with the term “goat-grab diplomacy.” It meant a person knew not only how to maneuver and survive, but to flourish in this ancient Middle Eastern way of life—an important skill to have.

Afghanistan was an ancient tribal country struggling to bring in democracy. Women were not tolerated in positions of authority, although Pete knew that the present Afghan government was working hard to change that. Still, one didn't take a religion-based edict that women should remain covered in a chadri from head to toe, and alter it overnight. The Taliban hadn't allowed women to hold any jobs, preferring they remain at home, barefoot and pregnant. Pete wondered obliquely if Cali had been chosen for this assignment precisely because she was female and therefore a potential role model for local village women. Probably not, because this was a U.S.A.-sponsored project and any gender bias wasn't tolerated.

Still, having a woman on his team didn't make his job easier. Pete knew that local workmen would make up the bulk of their employees. How would a male Afghan villager take to this red-haired vixen telling him what to do? Pete could see the potential problems. “Sir, with all due respect, I don't speak any of the languages in this country. Oh, I'm a bit familiar with Farsi because of my one-year command at Kandahar, but…I know we're going to be working in the northern provinces, where people speak Pashto, a language I don't know. Do you have an interpreter I can use?”

“Of course, Major. I've hand-picked Ahmed to be your translator and driver. He's highly trustworthy and I know his family. Right now, he's down at the motor pool getting a Toyota Land Cruiser to drive you to the site. A bright young man. His English isn't flawless, perhaps, but he is intelligent and I'm sure he will be able to pass your orders to the Afghan workers.”

“Sounds good to me,” Pete said, as he checked off that question from his list.

Cali leaned forward. “Kerwin, I'm more interested in who we're going to be employing. Can you fill us in with a briefing of that area of Afghanistan? I have my own info, but anything you can add will help us immensely.” Her eyes locked with Trayhern's and automatically, her skin tingled. Damn! How could that happen, when she fiercely fought the reaction? She felt a moment of panic.

“Be glad to, Cali.” Elliot took six folders that had been stacked on his desk and passed them around. “This is your dossier on the region you're going to. Ahmed will lead the convoy to Dara-i-Suf, the nearest city and your jump-off point for where the plant will be built. You will be working in the Samangan Province. The regional warlord, Sheik Baider Hesam, is the man you'll be dealing with. Arm wrestling, more likely. I've already made contact with Sheik Hesam, letting him know you'll want an audience with him as soon as possible. Because Hesam is the tribal chief of this province, nothing goes on without his knowledge or approval. His official residence is in the city, though he prefers to live in his village when he can—and near the project site.” Elliot frowned. “Hesam is an enlightened leader, you will find. His family has ruled the area for nearly five hundred years, and the people love and respect him. He's got great curiosity about Americans and is pro-U.S.A. In fact, he's done more in his province to support education of boys
and
girls than any other tribal leader in the country.”

“Sounds like a good man,” Pete said approvingly.

“Well, yes and no,” Elliot countered. “He's a despot at times. He's king and he damn well knows it. Anything you need for your plant site must go through him first. You want workers, you seek an audience with Hesam. You have employee problems with a local villager, you take it to Hesam. If you try to leave him out of the core and take over, never forget he has a military on horseback that could easily murder every contractor and subcontractor onsite, including yourselves, with just a flourish of his hand. His people are loyal to him first, last and always.”

“It's a fiefdom,” Cali explained, looking down the row at Pete, whose forehead was creased in a frown. “Loyalty in Afghanistan is predicated upon the family, the clan, the tribe and, lastly, their imams, who are speakers for Islam. But the sheik is the core person around whom all this revolves. And we need his support.” Before she got too distracted by Trayhern's good looks, Cali turned away and focused on the entire group. “The first thing we have to do, Major, is get Baider Hesam on our side. He must be made to feel an integral part of what we're doing there. Otherwise this project is doomed from the start.”

“You've worked in the Middle East, so you should know,” Pete replied. He wondered if he could trust her experience. But then, who else
could
he trust? Kerwin Elliot was a political operative in Afghanistan, not a construction expert.

Trust Cali Roland? Pete's heart pounded once as if to underscore that vital question. His history with women was a thorny trail filled with disappointment and pain. How could he trust this woman? Torn, he swallowed his frustration. He never attracted women who believed in trust, at least not on a personal front. In the military, professionally, he'd had no problem with them because all the women he dealt with were subordinates, as well as patriots with one focused cause. But Cali Roland wasn't a subordinate; they were more or less equals on the project, with him having the slightest edge. Pete steeled himself. He felt like he was in the middle of a field of land mines at the moment, and Cali was one of them: lethal, explosive and dangerous.

He'd be riding with her shortly to the site. During that time, Pete hoped to get to know her a little. Maybe she was married, which would make his life a bit easier. Pete refused to get entangled with a married woman; it just wasn't his style. Cali had no ring on her left hand but that wasn't uncommon. Many hard hats never wore jewelry in the field because it could get caught in equipment and they could lose a finger, a hand or worse.

Gulping surreptitiously, Pete fought his attraction to this woman. She was trouble, all right. Why couldn't she have been unappealing? Older? Nasty? Cali was none of those.

Somehow, he was going to have to harden himself against her.

“P
ETE
?” A
S
Cali gently squeezed his broad shoulder, her fingers tingled. She moaned inwardly. Her attention to him was only getting worse, she realized in despair.

With Ahmed driving the Land Cruiser, they had just arrived at the site. The mighty Hindu Kush Mountains cast deep purple shadows across the plain where a number of mobile trailers sat. Truth be known, Cali had wanted an excuse to touch Pete. Ever since their contact earlier, at Elliot's office, Cali was fascinated by him. With his face pressed against the blanket resting against the window, his lips parted, he looked so damn vulnerable. Reaching out, Cali hesitated. She wanted to touch him again, but shouldn't. Diving once more into the fire, she squeezed his arm.

“Pete? Major? We're here. It's time to wake up.” Ahead of them, in the middle seat, sat Jake Barnes, the head of security. The ex-Special Forces leader was alertly looking around out of habit.

Cali's voice was like a soft spring breeze through Pete's drugged senses. Though barely conscious, he was vividly aware of her long fingers caressing his shoulder. It wasn't a sexual touch, he realized as he slowly sat up and tiredly rubbed his face. But it was sensual as hell. Delicious. Cali had a quiet strength to her, he was discovering, much to his unhappiness. She was confident in a rare way that was a real draw for him. She was something special.

Wiping his eyes, he yawned and tried to shake himself awake. He'd slept three of the four hours they'd spent traveling the rutted dirt road they called a highway in Afghanistan. So much for getting to know Cali Roland, Pete thought. And yet a part of him was glad he was so tired, because he couldn't feel that pull toward her when he was sound asleep.

“Here,” Cali said curtly, “hot coffee. Black. You need it. Jet lag is hell, isn't it?”

“It nailed me. Thanks.” Pete dropped his hands from his face and took the cup. Cali was all business.
Good.
That's what he needed. Giving her a crooked smile, he mumbled, “I was planning on spending this time getting to know you better. I didn't mean to go to sleep. You're already proving indispensable.” As he lifted the cup to his lips, the fragrant Afghan coffee filled his nostrils. The strong taste of it woke him up.

Cali felt heat rushing into her face as she poured herself some coffee. Why the hell did he have to give her that boyish smile? It warmed her wounded heart. Now if only she could see Pete as a virus, something truly harmful to her system. But she couldn't. As the seconds ticked by, it became more and more evident that the major was a decent guy. “Oh, I'm sure there will be times my face is the last thing you'll want to see,” she countered brusquely. “I won't be offering you coffee, just problems.” She gave him a long, searching look, as if throwing down a gauntlet between them.

The Toyota slowed as they approached the first terra-cotta-colored trailer. On the side was a sign that said Site Construction Superintendent. This would be Pete's home for the next two years. One end of the trailer was his sleeping quarters, the other end his office. In addition to being the color of the desert, the trailers were spaced well apart so that if the Taliban got close enough to launch a mortar attack, they couldn't strike all of them at once.

Pete knew from experience that Taliban members often hid among non-Taliban villagers. Some communities were all Taliban, but they had been disbanded or cleansed in the last few years by the democratic Afghan government and sheiks. Most villages, though, had some members left, fanatical men who had gone deep underground, working as moles and agitators.

While Taliban members blended into village life by day, at night they gathered in secret places, planned their attacks and did damage under cover of darkness. At dawn, they melted back into the fabric of daily life, once more invisible. The shoemaker by day became a grenade launcher at night. The local baker might sell bread in the plaza, but after dark he was setting out land mines. A farmer in the fields turned into an explosives expert after sunset, placing IEDs—improvised explosive devices—along well-traveled routes where American military drove their Humvees. Knowing that, Pete sensed that this project would have to rely on the local anti-Taliban warlord to help scout out the safest workers to hire.

Sipping the hot drink, Pete smiled briefly. “Thanks for the coffee, I needed it.”
Don't be too nice to her. Stay at arm's length. Be professional
. Wiping the smile from his face, he took another sip and nearly burned his tongue. Somehow, he had to divert his thundering heart and focus on impersonal things. He looked around at his new home.

Cali sipped her coffee as the Land Cruiser came to a halt. She wanted so much to make Major Trayhern realize she could do the job without any problems. That she had moved beyond her unfortunate past. Her instincts told her he didn't know about it, and if so, there was a good chance he might never know. Her foremen would certainly never tell him.

Ahmed turned around and said, “Major Trayhern, we are here. This is your trailer.”

Pete studied the long, prefabricated structure. Windows, two doors, two sets of wooden steps…Not fancy, but functional. Fancy didn't exist on a construction site. Frowning, he gazed around the flat, pebbled plain, now in shadow. There was scraggly vegetation here and there, lots of brownish-red dirt and millions of stones of all sizes, shapes and colors. “Where's the security fence?”

Cali stirred uncomfortably. “It's on its way. I'm having it flown in by commercial jet to Kabul.”

Pete didn't like the idea that ten trailers sat out on this plain without any cyclone fence or razor wire, to discourage Taliban intrusion. He knew from top-secret reports that terrorists were still very active in this province despite Sheik Hesam, who held power and wanted the fanatics eradicated. Glancing to his right, Pete saw the rugged Kush Mountains, part of the towering chain of Himalayas. Their white-capped peaks soared over fourteen thousand feet, their formidable slopes covered in creeping shadows as the sun set behind them. According to his intelligence reports, that was where the Taliban hid: in caves of those mountains. They could easily ride by horseback down into this wide, open valley and attack.

Cali saw Pete's brow scrunch as he finished his cursory inspection of the site. It was her responsibility to get that fence up and provide adequate ongoing security. Knowing he didn't want excuses, she added, “I've already talked to Barnes, here, and his mercenary team will be pulling 24–7 security around the trailers until I can get that fence up and in place.”

“Yes, sir,” Barnes said, turning around in the seat. “We've got horses from a nearby village and we'll be riding around the trailers during the night.” He hooked his thumb at two pickups following the Land Cruiser. His team of men, all ex-American military, were to be Pete's personal protection.

Giving Cali a glance, Pete said, “When is that fencing going to be here?” He didn't like utilizing his personal security team on this for too long. There weren't enough men for the job, and they'd eventually get tired of pulling long hours of duty. That's when terrorists would take advantage of the situation.

“Tomorrow at 1300,” Cali said.

“Why wasn't this security fence up when the trailers arrived?” he demanded, noting how her features hardened ever so slightly at his brusque tone.

“I don't want to offer you excuses, Pete, but it's late in arriving.” This was the man she wanted to deal with—the hard-nosed engineer.

“Let me decide if it's an excuse or not, Cali. What happened to the shipment?”

Cali said tersely, “We ordered the eight-foot-high cyclone fence material and concertina razor wire for the top. The commercial plane bringing it in had engine trouble and was diverted to Kuwait. We off-loaded our material, putting it on a second commercial flight that made it to Kandahar. The material was stolen out of the warehouse there before I could hire guards. The trailers, however, arrived by transport, and we got them here on time.” Cali shrugged. “So now a third flight, which is on time, will arrive in Kabul tonight with new fencing material. I'm having my own security detail meet the plane at the airport. We'll put the material on waiting trucks and get them out here by no later than tomorrow afternoon.”

Nodding, Pete finished off his coffee and handed the cup back to her. “I'm not happy about this. Real life happens on a job site, and I know that. But next time, let me know the details sooner.” He saw her green eyes flare with frustration, then she quickly hid the reaction. His heart pounded briefly. Damn, but she was desirable.
Not now, Trayhern. Not ever.
He opened the door. “We're going to have problems all the time, and we need to pull together to solve them. I don't want to be left out of the loop.”

Cali nodded. “No disagreement.” Damn, Pete was excruciatingly good-looking even when he was scowling at her. Trying to recover, she said briskly, “I've worked with the good, the bad and the ugly when it comes to owners on a project. I didn't want you to think Roland was unconcerned about security. And I don't want to get off on the wrong foot with you.” Not after her last project. Cali couldn't afford that. One mistake was all she got, or her career would go up in flames.

“You haven't,” Pete said over his shoulder. “Let's go look at my digs, shall we?” The sooner he left her company, the sooner he'd be able to breathe. Maybe his heart would settle down then. His head knew the dangers of desiring this woman. On all levels. Pete was going to stay unreachable. It was the only way to survive two years with her. Surely, Cali had to be married. That would stop him in his tracks. How badly he wanted to ask if she was, yet to do so would be completely inappropriate.

Cali was more than willing to get out of the Land Cruiser after four hours on a bumpy dirt road less than four feet away from Trayhern. He was like a magnet to her vulnerable heart. Feeling disgruntled, she capped the thermos, pushed it into her backpack and got out. Barnes instantly followed, as did Ahmed, who triumphantly held out keys to Pete's trailer.

“Allow me, Major,” he said with a flourish as he mounted the steps. The man made a dramatic fuss about opening the door and stepping aside so Pete could enter. As he did, Ahmed handed Pete the keys to his new home and office.

His boots thunking hollowly on the three wooden steps, Pete automatically noted the construction of the stairs and enclosed porch. Roland was responsible for everything on-site, and that included little things like the setup of each preassembled mobile home that had been constructed to specifications in the U.S.A. and shipped here for use. The wood was thick, a number of sturdy nails had been driven into the planks, and on the whole, the entire structure was solid, not wobbly or made of cheap materials.

Pleased that it appeared Cali Roland's company wasn't skimping, Pete smiled and stepped through the door—and halted in surprise for a moment as he gazed into the trailer. Then he turned. Cali was standing behind him, an unreadable expression on her face. Was it a mask she wore? What was it hiding? Pete didn't know and had no business trying to find out.

“Looks like the Taj Mahal in here,” he told her.

“You're the king, Major Trayhern. I figured you'd need a palace of sorts out here in the middle of nowhere. Like it?” Cali could see a ruddy color flow into Pete's cheeks. He had a five o'clock beard that made him look slightly dangerous, in an attractive way. His delicious mouth crooked into that little-boy smile, and her pulse accelerated accordingly.

“Not bad,” Pete murmured, cleaning his boots before he stepped inside. The trailer was pleasantly warm, and he moved aside to allow Cali to enter.

She shut the door. “Well? Does it meet your expectations?” Her gaze ranged around the room. She had had her office do some homework on Major Trayhern. She knew he'd grown up in the rugged mountains of Montana, so she'd had the trailer office decked out with a wooden table and rolltop desk. It was definitely a man's place, not a woman's. Cali knew from experience that men didn't want frills out in the field. But she also knew they missed their home. On the rear wall of the office was a large picture of a creek flowing through a mountain meadow full of spring wildflowers.

Pete stepped into the living area at the other end of the trailer. It was state-of-the-art, with a two-burner stove, microwave and small refrigerator. Everything worked. That meant Cali had brought up gasoline generators to supply power for the complex. Running his hand across the white drain board, he eyed the square aluminum sink, dish drainer, towels, small dishwasher and plenty of cabinets. “I'm impressed,” he told her, twisting to look over his shoulder.

Cali stood with her hands on her hips, her mouth pursed and a rock-solid confidence radiating from her. She had the most alluring green eyes, and Pete found himself wanting to stare into them. But their relationship had to remain businesslike.

“Roland has a good name around the world, and I intend to hear only praise coming from your lips about working with us on this project.” She tried to ignore that pleased glint in his eyes. He did like his trailer, and that made her euphoric.

“I appreciate that.” Pete nodded. “I like all the pictures. They remind me of home,” he confided.

“I thought they would.” Cali followed at a respectful distance, as he explored the living area.