Taming the Moguls by Christy Hayes Page B

never intended to make his
career. He was leaner, more lanky than bulky, but his wide
shoulders and long arms were no less intimidating. Focusing on his
stature was easier than looking into his eyes. She’d always said
she could see his soul through his stormy brown eyes. She saw only
hatred.
    “I appreciate you both taking the time to
meet,” she began.
    “We’ve got nothing but time down in our
little valley,” Tommy sneered. “I can’t imagine how you spent the
week. We don’t have Chicago’s fancy shopping or a gourmet
restaurant on every corner.”
    His words felt like acid on her fragile skin.
“I’m quite enamored with the valley,” Gretchen countered. “There’s
a lot to be said for a slower pace of life.”
    “That’ll change,” Dodge interrupted their
verbal sparring, “if this development goes through.”
    “It could be a positive change.” She pulled a
file from her bag and retrieved the graphs and charts she’d
meticulously created. “Developments spur growth in outlying areas.
When the village at Butterfly Bend was created, the sleepy town of
Kingsland became a year-round tourist destination. Property values
went up substantially, economic development spurred, and the area
experienced a population boom.”
    “We’ve studied Butterfly Bend, too,” Tommy
said. “Unlike you, we’ve actually talked to city officials,
business owners, residents, and the farmers and ranchers whose land
became too expensive to work.” Tommy leaned forward, his long
fingers spread on the table. She remembered the strength and
tenderness of his touch and yearned to feel it again. “Residents
were displaced by tourists and out-of-towners with zero
appreciation for the history and traditions of the area. Schools
became overcrowded, taxes went up, and long-time residents moved
elsewhere. We won’t let that happen here.”
    She’d always admired the way he’d throw
himself into something he believed in. It used to be her. “Mr.
Holcomb believes we can strike a balance.”
    “With over two thousand residential units?”
Tommy’s brows disappeared under the fringe of his dark hair. “Two
hundred thousand square feet of commercial space, ten restaurants,
and a handful of exclusive hotels? You think the valley you’ve
spent all week exploring can compete with that, Mrs . Lowry?”
    Gretchen straightened. He could throw all the
development facts in her face and she wouldn’t blink an eye, but
the moment he connected her to Ryan, all bets were off. “It’s
Ms.”
    “Oh, excuse me,” he said.
    “Those are the specifics of the development
on the peak,” she explained. “The trickle-down effects will benefit
all the towns between the Lower Fork and Westmoreland.”
    “We disagree on what you deem a benefit,”
Dodge said in a tone void of malice. “Your development will steal
our water, increase our traffic, and destroy the area’s wildlife.
Look, Ms. Lowry, I’ve lived in this valley most of my life. We
aren’t fancy people. We don’t need a bunch of restaurants and
clothing stores, and we certainly don’t want to be a thoroughfare
for those who do.”
    “That’s why Holcomb has spent substantial
time and money studying and analyzing other developments in the
region. We can control the most offensive consequences of the
project so both sides are satisfied.”
    “With all due respect,” Dodge said, “you
can’t control anything. Nobody can. You can control your buildings
and your leases, but outside your village, the trickle-down effects
are out of your hands. Ranchers and farmers who rely on the
valley’s aquifer don’t need you sucking up all the water. When land
prices go up, so do taxes and the cost of damn near everything. We
run our businesses at the mercy of the weather, and we don’t need
Holcomb mucking everything up and competing with God.”
    “The environmental impact statement—”
    “Hasn’t been released yet,” Tommy
interrupted. “Did you or your boss even read the