Was he saying she had to move to L.A.?

“I agree that I should take over most of Parker’s duties,” Travis said. “But I think there are some things there Samara could also help with. A big part of Parker’s role was overseeing new business development from both the roaster and grower sides. I think some of the business development with our partners is something she could handle. We could take advantage of the family relationship to market the company since Parker was such a popular businessman. Also, she has the same passion for the coffee business as Parker did, and I think she’d do an excellent job of representing Cedar Mill when it comes to developing new partnerships. Simon, I’d ask you to work with her on some of those things.”

She stared at him. He wasn’t going to let her step in to the CEO role. He was taking that for himself. And yet, he wasn’t shutting her out. His praise and confidence in her abilities astounded her. She could only blink at him, hoping her expression was suitably professional.

“Who’s going to do the traveling?” Hank asked. “As you noted, Parker develops...er...developed...” He swallowed. “Developed new business on the roaster side as well as grower. We can work on business partnerships here at home, but he developed the grower relationships and coordinated supplier relationships from all the regional offices in Central and South America.”

Travis nodded. “I’m willing to take that on for the short term. Even long term, if need be.”

“I’m actually interested in that,” Simon said. “I traveled with Parker a number of times. I’ve learned at lot about growing, and I’d be willing to learn more. If we’re thinking long term.”

Travis nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his chin with his fingers. “That’s interesting,” he said. “Thanks, Simon. We’ll keep that in mind. At some point, we’ll need to formalize things. Whether we keep the new structure in place or figure out a better way as we go, I’m open to new ideas.” He looked at everyone. “You all know me, and you know how I work. Parker and I made decisions collaboratively, and that’s my preference. I won’t hesitate to make tough decisions, but I always want to ensure you’re all included.”

Samara could just feel the love in the room for Travis. She wanted to stand up and protest that he’d completely taken over, that he’d given himself the job she wanted, but she knew the others would support him. And she couldn’t help but be touched—and shocked—by the fact that he’d included her. He hadn’t shut her out entirely, which was what she’d been prepared for coming into the meeting.

She slowly let out a long breath, trying to relax tight muscles, and loosened her grip on the arms of the chair.

“So let’s talk details,” Travis said, leaning forward. Everyone nodded. And Samara pushed aside her personal feelings, eager to listen and learn and hopefully contribute.

Her chance to contribute came nearly an hour later when they started talking about cost cutting.

“I see an opportunity reduce supply chain costs,” she said. All eyes turned to her. She swallowed. “The traceability system we’re using is all wrong for us. We don’t need a system that’s so broad in what it tracks, but we do need depth and precision.” She paused to draw a breath, sensing that she’d caught their attention. “Traceability is an indispensable part of any market for process credence attributes that are difficult to measure. When so much of our reputation is built on the fact that we sell fair trade coffees, it’s critical that we have a way to prove that.”

Travis leaned back in his chair and regarded her with that steady, intent gaze of his. “What are you suggesting?” he asked, a faint smiling tilting his lips. Was he laughing at her? She straightened her shoulders.

“I think I can design a new system for us that will better meet our needs. These days, traceability is becoming an important area of competition. A firm’s traceability system is key to finding the most efficient ways to produce, assemble, warehouse, and distribute products.” She paused and looked around the table. “The ability to reduce supply chain costs is often the difference between firms that succeed and those that fail. The benefits of traceability translate into larger net revenues for the firm. It could make a big difference for us.”

A broad grin broke out across Daniel’s face. “Beautiful,” he said. “I’ve been saying that for years. Do you really think you can do that?”

She tried not to let her own smile get too big; she tried to be composed and confident. “I’d need some help from our IT department. But yes.”

She looked at Travis. He titled his head to one side, looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. Her insides quivered, but she lifted her chin and met his eyes. And his smile.

When the meeting ended, she retreated to her office, closed the door and lowered herself into the chair behind the desk. She stared blankly out the office windows at the downtown Portland skyline.

Well.

The happiness and satisfaction she’d felt at getting their attention with the traceability system improvements diminished as it struck her that Travis had gotten exactly what he’d wanted. And she hadn’t.

She swallowed and leaned her head back. As she’d expected, he’d aggressively taken control, and everyone else had just gone along with what he’d said.

The soft knock at the door had her head jerking up.

Was it Travis? Her stomach tightened. “Come in.”

It was. He stepped into the office and closed the door. “Hey,” he said.

She straightened and set her clasped hands on the desk. “What can I do for you?” she asked coolly.

He lifted one eyebrow as he crossed the carpet toward her. “You did great in there,” he said.

Heat swelled inside her, and her fingers tightened around each other. “Well, thank you very much,” she said, unable to keep the sarcastic tone out of her voice. “I guess you’re happy now that you got what you wanted.”

His smile faded. “I wouldn’t exactly describe my mood as happy.”

She flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “Whatever. You got what you wanted.”

“I should have known you’d be pissed off.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, his shoulders hunched up.

Her stomach tightened, and her hands tightened their grip on each other.

“I included you in decision making,” he continued, his voice a dark rasp. “I acknowledged that you have a role to play in the company. I acknowledged that you have contributions to make. Just because you didn’t get the CEO title, you’re acting like a spoiled brat again.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Spoiled brat!” She almost wanted to spit as she searched for words. “Spoiled brat! Aaargh!”

His eyes narrowed. “Come on, Samara. I did what I had to do.”

Impotent fury welled up inside her, and she fought for control rather than picking up a paperweight and flinging it at his head. “Of course you did,” she said through clenched teeth. “And of course you’re treating me like a child again.”

“I’m not...”

“Just go away,” she snapped, swiveling her chair to face the computer. “I have work to do.”

“Samara...”

She shook her head, jaw clenched, and focused on the screen.

He sighed. “Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll talk later.”

Yeah, right.

When the door closed behind him, she sagged in the chair. She rested her elbows on the desk and held her head. Her eyes burned.

She never should have slept with him. She’d known it was a mistake, and she’d had the crazy faint hope the last few days that maybe something was developing between them that was more than hot sex, like she’d told him. Her own feelings for him were deep and powerful, but she’d tried to not to show that to him, not so soon, and thank Godfrey she hadn’t.

Sure they’d said they’d keep things separate. She’d told him she still intended to try to get the other executives to see that she should be the one to step into her father’s shoes. He hadn’t denied that he was still feeling the same way. So why did it hurt so much that he’d taken control in that meeting and so easily taken that away from her?

Had she been foolishly thinking that because they were sleeping together he’d step aside and let her lead the company?

Surely she wasn’t that stupid.

She lifted her head and shoved her hair back, blinking her stinging eyes. No, she wasn’t stupid, but she was in love, and she’d let herself get all soft and hopeful and...stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing her heart to slow its frantic beat, trying to relax her tense muscles. Her bottom lip quivered, and she sank her teeth into it.

Okay. It had been an epic fail to get involved with Travis. She should have known no good could come of it when they were locked in a battle for control of the company. Her heart fluttered a little, though, remembering being with him, remembering how much she’d wanted him, how much she cared about him.

Stop. She had to stop those thoughts. She’d made a mistake, but now she’d had a little slap in the face, and she was back to reality. Travis was still ambitious and determined to take over. He’d thrown her a bone by letting her be involved. Fine. She would show him. She’d show them all she knew what she was doing. She’d build that frickin’ traceability system. She’d save them all kinds of frickin’ money. And she’d go to frickin’ Matagalpa and find out what her father had been doing there. She’d finish it and make the company more money that way.

This battle wasn’t over yet.

Chapter Sixteen

Samara handed her passport and declaration forms over to the Matagalpan customs official, and he eyed her carefully before turning to his computer screen. He took his time, clicking through various screens, looking at her, then back at the monitor.

“The purpose of your trip?” he asked in lightly accented English.

Samara hesitated. “Business,” she finally said. “I import coffee.”

He nodded. “Cedar Mill Coffee Company.”

How did he know that? Apparently her life was an international open book. Whatever. She had nothing to hide. “Yes.”

He typed something into the computer, paused, then typed again. He finally stamped her passport and handed it back to her. Without a smile, he said, “Enjoy your stay in Matagalpa.”

She tucked her passport into her bag and walked through to the baggage claim area to find her lone suitcase. Once she had that, she cleared the last part of customs, stopped at the rental car kiosk to get her car keys, and strode out of Santa Anjelita International Airport, into a thick blanket of muggy heat. It was the rainy season in Matagalpa, but at the moment, the sun shone brightly, the temperature probably about eighty degrees. She shoved her long hair back, feeling it turn to frizz in the humidity, anxious to get to her hotel and have a shower. It had been a long trip from Portland, with a five hour layover in Houston before the flight to Santa Anjelita.

It had been years since she’d been to Matagalpa, and the last time she’d been there, her father had accompanied her. She’d been traveling after finishing college and had thought nothing of trekking through Central American countries alone, but now she was acutely aware that, although this country was incredibly beautiful and the people extraordinarily friendly, the political unrest and violence were always there.

Broad daylight made things seem safer as she drove the busy streets to the Corazon Palace hotel, not far from the airport. She loved this hotel, reminiscent of a Spanish villa with its creamy stucco, arched windows and red tile roof surrounded by lush greenery and flowers. The security gate she had to stop at also made her feel safer.

The valet took her car, and she checked in, her last minute internet reservation having thankfully worked then finally dragged herself and her suitcase into her room. The hotel was five stars, luxurious and cosmopolitan. She’d stayed there with her father and had loved it so had booked her room there. Besides, she didn’t know anywhere else, and this was a safe and comfortable place.

This was where he’d been staying before he’d died. This was the hotel whose staff had packed up his belongings and shipped them home, including the valuable laptop. Could she find who was responsible for that and thank them?

Maybe later.

A shower was the first thing she wanted, so she unzipped her suitcase, found her toiletry bag and headed into the spacious bathroom. The marble floor cool beneath her bare feet, she dropped her bag onto the stone counter next to a trio of creamy candles. Arched windows above the marble sink gave a view of the Tipcualpo volcano in the distance.