A Matter of Trust Read online

  A Matter of Trust

  Book 3

  The Wilde Brothers

  (Ben & Carrie)

  by

  Lorhainne Eckhart

  In this sexy and dramatic contemporary romance, A MATTER OF TRUST, if Ben Wilde is sure of one thing, it’s that Carrie Richardson is trouble. (Guest appearance by Logan Wilde.)

  --“I have read the series of " The Wilde"; books full of strong family minded men. They care and love their women. Lorhainne Eckhart is one of my favorite writers, she never disappoints her fans.”

  --“Interesting story line for both environmentalists and pipeline companies. Ben Wilde finds out that the man he respects and works for is a weasel. Fortunately the man who owns the B&B he is staying at, is a reformed weasel who understands how to win this battle.

  Always enjoyable and emotional. Stories and characters will resonate with the reader, some more strongly than others.”

  The name Ben Wilde means something in the oil and gas industry. Admired as one of the top ten bachelors in Idaho, he’s a man who has it all…except when it comes to love.

  That is, until he meets Carrie Richardson: an environmentalist, a fiery blond beauty, and an absolute thorn in his side. After Ben arrives in her hometown to give a presentation on a pipeline project that will provide jobs and clean energy (with an innovative, safe approach), Carrie spits on him! She’s not buying it, and Ben soon learns that she is none other than the spokesperson for the group that has aggravated him throughout the entire project.

  The advice about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer backfires on Ben and Carrie, though, because the fact is that they want each other badly. However, Carrie can’t let her community down—and Ben has a job to do.

  Copyright Information

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  A Matter of Trust, The Wilde Brothers

  COPYRIGHT © Lorhainne Ekelund, 2014, All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Steven Novak

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Editor: Talia Leduc, Leandra Hanes

  ISBN: 9781928085119

  Main Menu

  Start Reading

  Links to Lorhainne Eckhart’s Booklist

  About the Author

  Copyright Information

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  He really was a handsome cuss.

  Ben Wilde took in the shiny magazine cover bearing the headline Idaho’s oilman: a dream catch! in bold lettering just below his photo. As he thumbed through the magazine and took in the other men who had made the list, a special feature on the top ten bachelors in Idaho, he was stunned that his profile was the one they’d chosen for the cover. This type of Hollywood-ism really wasn’t for him, but he paused for a moment as he remembered the magazine editor, a slim redhead who had phoned him a dozen times until he agreed to an interview.

  She’d been cute, flirting with him mercilessly the entire hour she had been there. Ben realized now that he should have asked for more details about the article…not that he was mad. He was more uncomfortable, maybe, considering his entire family would see him plastered on the front page like some male model. He would never hear the end of the teasing and smart remarks, even though the photo was good—really good. In fact, it was one of his better ones. His brilliant blue eyes really stood out, and the open collar of his starched white dress shirt showed a hint of his dark chest hair.

  The editor had asked him to take his tie off, saying that an undone button or two would tease the women. He had humored her, the editor. What was her name? He supposed he could look it up, but she hadn’t made that much of an impression on him aside from surprising the hell out of him by putting his picture on the front cover. As he looked closer at his picture, he realized that even his short, dark hair, with the cowlick on the left side, was flattering in a disheveled, bad-boy kind of way, but it was his expression that showed his strength and determination, even his arrogance, which his brothers often teased him for.

  In the photo, he stood with arms crossed on the front steps of the corporate office, the corporate sign of Kootenai Kounty Oil in the background. Maybe this article wasn’t such a bad thing, especially considering all of the bad press that KKO had been subjected to over the past few months. This was good, making him seem personable and likeable.

  Ben sighed. He was starting to sound like their PR department.

  “Ben? I have another ten messages from Melissa, Kim, Lizzy, and Tina,” his secretary said, interrupting his thoughts. His secretary, Verna Barnes, was a plump, middle-aged woman with shoulder-length, dark brown hair and a square face. She was wearing a purple blouse and a knee-length black skirt as she strode through the door in low heels. Verna was confident and never shy, with four nearly grown children and a husband at home. She was well rounded, all about family, and Ben loved her motherly ways. That was a part of her that defined who she was, whether she knew it or not. She’d had her first baby at eighteen—still a kid, at least in Ben’s eyes. Verna loved her family and her job, though some days he wondered if she loved her job just a little more.

  She hovered beside him as he lounged in his leather chair, giving him a flirty expression as if she was holding on to something before setting a handful of messages down in front of him and then tapping the magazine on his large, glass-topped desk. “You’re proud of that picture, hmm? Well, apparently, so are your girlfriends.” She tapped the messages. “These are all from them.”

  Ben reached for the messages and thumbed through each one. Melissa was a tall, stacked brunette. Kim was a blonde, medium height, with a runner’s body--tight and toned. Lizzy…she was fun, with dark hair in a short bob, a bright smile, and dynamite cleavage that he loved. He had been on a few dates with Tina, the redhead. She wasn’t as stacked as the others, though she had a generous handful, and he’d discovered that her red hair was artificial while stripping her down one night, but that had been a night to remember—the best sex he’d had in a long time. Tina had stamina and could keep up with his needs.

  He smiled as he set the messages down. Even though each of the women were lovely, not one of those ladies had left him with the burning desire to call and make plans for the evening. A pity, really.

  Verna raised one of her thick eyebrows. She seemed to have figured out that he wasn’t interested long before he had. “You know that article portrays a side of you that folks don’t often see,” she said, actually reaching over and picking up the magazine to thumb through the pages. “Right here, I love this line: ‘Ben Wilde is a name that means something in the oil and gas industry. Well dressed, handsome, and smart, he’s a man who has it all, and he’s responsible for putting Kootenai Kounty Oil on the map as one of the biggest oil and gas pipeline projects in the Pacific Northwest.’”

  Ben continued to lounge in his leather chair, watching Verna as she held the magazine open. She grinned proudly before glancing down at him with a mischievous look, one he’d seen many a time from the only woman, aside from his mother, who truly understood him. Verna was the one person in this industr
y he trusted implicitly, and he knew anything he said would never leave her confidence. He would go to his grave believing that. She had the kind of loyalty that couldn’t be bought. He had recognized something special in her when he'd pulled her from the secretarial pool six years ago, after he had been recruited by Peter Stillwell, the founder and CEO of this mega oil company. Peter was a self-made man in his sixties, and he was responsible for Ben’s success in the industry.

  “How mad do you think Rick is going to be about this article?” Verna said. She closed it up and tossed it down on the desk in front of Ben, putting her hands on her plump hips over the unflattering dark, pleated skirt that fell just past her knees.

  Ben frowned. Now in his late twenties, Rick Stillwell had always been in his father’s shadow. The only reason Rick had the cushy corner office down the hall from Ben was because his father owned the company. In Ben’s eyes, he hadn’t earned his place, including his title of vice president of operations. As Ben was the president, Rick had to answer to him, which didn’t go over too well for the pompous, spoiled ass—and the worst part was that Ben didn’t have the freedom to toss Rick’s lazy, unproductive butt out the door.

  The man was a freeloader, and that went against everything Ben believed in, all the hardworking morals that had been drilled into him and his fellow Wilde brothers. However, Ben had also learned that there were times to push an issue and times to let things go. He had learned long ago to play the cards he had been dealt, so he knew that although Rick was a pain in the ass, he wasn’t going anywhere. Ben just needed to manage him and keep him on a tight leash.

  “I don’t really care what he thinks,” he replied. Every time the conversation drifted toward Rick, that slimy son of a bitch, Ben had to move his thoughts along to something else or risk having a really bad day.

  Verna didn’t say anything more. She didn’t have to. Rick had also been a problem for Verna ever since she'd started working for Ben. Every so often, he would quiz Verna on what Ben was up to, not only his projects but also his personal life. The last time, after she told him to stop bothering her, Rick had threatened to have her sent back to the typing pool unless she became more forthcoming. Ben had put a stop to that, cornering Rick in the elevator and staring him down, making it clear that if Rick bothered Verna again, he would be having a problem with Ben—a problem he would wish he didn’t have.

  “Look, he’s a prick,” Ben said. “It doesn’t matter what I do. He’s always going to have a problem with it.”

  “If you say so,” Verna said. “So what do you want me to tell all the ladies who keep calling and asking questions about you?”

  “Excuse me?” He reached for the messages, wondering if his “girlfriends,” as Verna would say, had called more than once.

  She rolled her eyes. “Since the article, all kinds of anonymous women have been phoning, leaving messages for you. One wants to fly in and have dinner and would like to know what day you’ll be available. Another offered to have your baby…” she trailed off. Maybe it was the way he was staring at her that had her stopping and giving him another teasing smile. “Oh, there’ve been many more, and I guarantee you there’ll probably be more to come. That article is going to have every warm-blooded woman hunting you down, trying to stick their brand on you, chasing a wedding ring.”

  “Uh…” he started. Although he liked women, a lot, he was not too interested in being stalked—and God forbid being tied down to only one woman. Terrifying, indeed! “Tell them that I left the country,” he said, wondering if he had paled at the fleeting, panicked thought of having women showing up at his workplace to press their interest. No, he definitely wouldn’t be able to handle that.

  “For how long?” Verna asked from the doorway, a hint of humor in her tone, as her phone had started ringing again from her desk.

  “Indefinitely,” he said. “Oh, and to be safe, alert security. No unauthorized visitors!” he added as a chilling whisper of creepiness touched the back of his neck. He had to fight the urge to shiver.

  This time, Verna did laugh. “Already done!” she said, starting out the door. “Oh, Mr. Stillwell, how are you today?”

  Peter Stillwell, the CEO, flashed Verna a smile as he stepped past her and into Ben’s office, showing off his capped, white teeth. It was a practiced smile Ben had seen all too often on this sharply dressed man. Today, Peter was dressed in a navy Armani suit, with silver cufflinks, a starched white shirt, and a red tie. He was distinguished, and, as always, his white hair was freshly cut. He was tall, though not as tall as Ben, and he kept himself in good shape. His confidence showed in the way he carried himself.

  Ben couldn’t make out what else he said to Verna as he leaned in toward her, but whatever it was had her giggling—and Verna wasn’t one of those women who often giggled like a silly schoolgirl. Ben couldn’t help wondering what was up. Although he liked and admired Peter, there was something about him, and Ben didn’t want him taking too much interest in his secretary. Peter was a family man, in theory, married to the same woman for the past forty years. In this day and age, considering the divorce rate, that was unusual, to say the least, especially for a man of his status. On the other hand, Peter’s faithfulness was questionable, as Ben suspected Peter had a mistress or two. Ben may not have approved, but he didn't judge him, either. He just didn’t want Peter expressing any interest in Verna. He tapped the desk, considering. Yes, maybe he needed to talk to Verna about this.

  “Hey, Ben,” Peter said. “I wanted to talk to you about that new pipeline project.” He closed the door, and his smile for Verna vanished. Ben noticed his hesitation as he took in the large office. Instead of taking a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Ben’s desk, Peter wandered over to the black leather sofa, unbuttoning his jacket before sitting down and putting his arm over the back of the sofa. He tapped the leather as if considering what to say. “We’re having some trouble from the natives—figuratively speaking, of course,” he continued. There was no humor in his expression, but something put Ben on alert.

  “What kind of trouble?” he asked. He knew the small community of Kit Cove on the coastline was not too happy about the pipeline project passing through their town. He’d already heard it a hundred times, and he’d been watching carefully from the sidelines.

  “Apparently, the community has sent over a list of questions they want answered,” Peter said. “I’ve forwarded it to our PR department to handle, but the people in that community are already staging protests. Normally, we’d ignore it, but they’re getting media coverage. A little too much attention, if you get my meaning.” Peter brushed a piece of lint from his cuff, taking a deep breath as he looked at Ben again. He smiled this time, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  Ben knew well that Peter hated all of the "riffraff," as he called them, who caused trouble for his drilling projects. That was reason enough for Peter’s irritation. Ben didn’t share Peter’s distaste for environmentalists, certainly not to the same degree of hatred. He found them a pain in the ass at times, and some were even over the top and dangerous, but most were those he called "weekend protestors," who would go back to their busy lives and forget about the issues after everything was said and done. The problem ones were enough of a threat that KKO had files of information on them: pictures, backgrounds, whereabouts, and a list of everyone connected to them. Their security team made it a top priority to keep track of where these people were, but then so did the country’s top intelligence service, which was where some of their current information had come from.

  “I’m going to need you to take lead on this, Ben,” Peter said. “Go on up to Kit Cove; calm the people, answer their questions. Convince them that our project is going to bring millions in revenue into their community, creating jobs and feeding their children. Clean up the squalor. Get them on our side.”

  Ben paused. This was outside his job description. Normally, their PR rep handled these types of problems. “I can do that,” he said, “but I have to ask: What’s
got you so worked up, more than usual?”

  “This is a big deal, Ben—huge. It’s the biggest project we’ve ever been part of, and we stand to make billions. I don’t have to remind you that this is also your baby. You negotiated the pipeline project, the Pacific Gateway. You met with the state senators and congressmen who’ll benefit the most. You should be the one to meet with the community and let them know we’re on their side. Smooth it out. People like you, a small-town boy with deep roots in the community…you can use that,” Peter said, gesturing for emphasis.

  As Ben watched Peter, he realized that, maybe because of the size of the project, the problems were much bigger than either of them had anticipated. If that was the case, it would be too much for Janet Taylor, head of their public relations department, to handle. Sometimes, problems took on a life of their own. Maybe this could only be defused by the head of the company. “When do you want me there?” he finally said.

  This time, Peter gave him one of those good old boy smiles as he stood up, buttoning his jacket. “Tonight,” he said. “Take the company helicopter. Janet can schedule a meeting with the community for tomorrow. Give yourself a night to get a handle on things. Figure out how to win them over.” He started toward the door and then paused. “Oh, and great article, by the way.” He gestured toward the desk, where the shiny magazine was sitting. “It wouldn’t hurt to use all that charm. Talk about your family, too; your values, how your father was a logger, how your large family grew up on the land…”

  Ben had begun to tune Peter out. He was really pushing the “family roots” angle, and Ben hadn’t even realized that his boss knew about his family. It had been tough times growing up in rural Idaho, with five boys, five mouths to feed. Hunting, fishing--they had done it all just to survive. Ben somehow didn’t think a group of environmentalists would be too friendly with the fact that his father had cut down trees, probably old growth, too, just to make a living.