Rave reviews for New York Times bestselling author

SUSAN MALLERY

Hot on Her Heels

“[T]his glimpse into glitzy Texas high society and the dark underbelly of business is a thoroughly enjoyable read.”

—Publishers Weekly

Straight from the Hip

“One of the Top 10 Romance Novels of 2009!”

—Booklist

Lip Service

“Mallery breathes real life into these former lovers hoping for a second chance.”

—RT Book Reviews

Under Her Skin

“Bestseller Mallery’s Lone Star Sisters series opener draws in readers with intriguing characters and a precisely assembled plot.”

—Publishers Weekly

Sweet Spot

“I strongly recommend Sweet Spot, especially to readers who like their family melodramas spiked with lots of laughter and hot romance.”

—The Romance Reader

Sweet Talk

“Sweet Talk is one sweet read! Susan Mallery delivers a deliciously satisfying first book in her new wonderfully written

Bakery Sisters trilogy.”

—The Romance Readers Connection (4¹/₂stars)

Accidentally Yours

“Mallery has once again proven to be a superb writer; romance novels just don’t get much better than this.”

—Booklist

Tempting

“At turns witty and poignant, this hard-to-put-down book will appeal to a broad spectrum of readers.”

—Booklist, starred review

Sizzling

“[A] tasty dish…Mallery’s prose is luscious and provocative, and her characters worth following from book to book.”

—Publishers Weekly

Chasing Perfect
Susan Mallery

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To Francisco de León, first in his daughters’ hearts.

CHAPTER ONE

CHARITY JONES LOVED a good disaster movie as much as the next person—she would simply prefer the disaster in question not be about her life.

The sharp crack of an electrical short, followed by a burning smell, filled the conference room on the third floor of City Hall. A thin wisp of smoke rose from her laptop, ending any hope of her PowerPoint presentation going smoothly. The presentation she’d stayed up nearly all night perfecting.

It was her first day on the job, she thought, breathing deeply to ward off panic. The first official hour of her first official day. Didn’t she get at least a sixteenth of a break? Some small sign of mercy from the universe?

Apparently not.

She glanced from her still smoldering computer to the ten-member board from California University, Fool’s Gold campus, and they did not look happy. Part of the reason was that they’d been working with the previous city planner for nearly a year and still hadn’t come up with a contract for the new research facility. A contract she was now responsible for bringing to life. She would guess the unpleasant burny smell was the other reason they were shifting in their seats.

“Perhaps we should reschedule the meeting,” Mr. Berman said. He was tall, with graying hair and glasses. “When you’re more—” he motioned to the smoldering computer “—prepared.”

Charity smiled warmly when what she really wanted to do was throw something. She was prepared. She’d been on the job all of—she glanced at the clock on the wall—eight minutes, but she’d been prepping since she accepted the position as city planner nearly two weeks ago. She understood what the university wanted and what the town had to offer. She might be new, but she was still damned good at her job.

Her boss, the mayor, had warned her about this group and had offered to put off the meeting, but Charity had wanted to prove herself. Something she refused to let be a mistake.

“We’re all here,” she said, still smiling as confidently as possible. “We can do this the old-fashioned way.”

She unplugged her computer and took it out into the hall where it would no doubt stink up the rest of the building, but her first priority had to be the meeting. She was determined to start her new job with a win and that meant getting California University at Fool’s Gold to sign on the bottom line.

When she stepped back into the conference room, she walked over to the dry erase board and picked up a thick blue pen from the small rack attached to the board.

“The way I see it,” she began, writing the number one and circling it, “there are three sticking points. First, the length of the lease.” She wrote a number two, “Second, the reversion of improvements on the land. Namely the building itself. And three, the freeway off-ramp signal.” She turned back to the ten well-dressed people watching her. “Do you agree?”

They all looked to Mr. Berman, who nodded slowly.

“Good.” Charity had reviewed all the notes on the previous meetings and talked to the mayor of Fool’s Gold over the weekend. What Charity couldn’t figure out was why the negotiating process was taking so long. Apparently the previous city planner had wanted to be right more than he wanted the research facility in town. But Mayor Marsha Tilson had been very clear when she’d offered Charity the job—bring businesses to Fool’s Gold, and fast.

“Here’s what I’m prepared to offer,” she said, making a second column. She went through all three problems and listed solutions, including an extra five seconds of left-turn time on the signal at the top of the off-ramp.

The board members listened and when she was done, they once again looked at Mr. Berman.

“That does sound good,” he began.

Sound good? It was better than good. It was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. It was everything the university had asked for. It was zero calorie brownie with ice cream.

“There’s still one problem,” Mr. Berman said.

“Which is?” she asked.

“Four acres on the county line.” The voice came from the doorway.

Charity turned and saw a man entering the conference room. He was tall and blond, good-looking to the point of being almost another species, and he moved with an easy athletic grace that made her feel instantly awkward. He looked vaguely familiar, but she was sure they’d never met before.

He gave her a quick smile. The flash of teeth, the millisecond of attention, nearly knocked her into the wall. Who was this guy?

“Bernie,” the stranger said, turning the megawatt grin on the group leader. “I heard you were in town. You didn’t call me for dinner.”

Mr. Berman actually looked interested. “I thought you’d be busy with your latest conquest.”

Blond guy shrugged modestly. “I always have time for anyone from the university. Sharon. Martin.” He greeted everyone else at the table, shook a few hands, winked at the old lady at the end, then turned back to Charity.

“Sorry to interrupt. I’m sure under normal circumstances you could deal with this problem without breaking a sweat. But the reason we don’t have a deal isn’t the lease reversion or the traffic light.” He moved close and took the pen from her hand. “It’s the four acres the university has been offered by a very wealthy alumni family. They want their name on the building and they’re willing to pay for that privilege.”

He flashed another smile at Charity, then turned back to the board. “I’m going to explain why that’s a bad idea.”

And then he started talking. She had no idea who he was and probably should have told him to leave, but she couldn’t seem to move or speak. It was as if he projected some space-alien force field that kept her immobilized.

Maybe it was his eyes, she thought, gazing into their hazel-green depths. Or his sun-bleached lashes. It might have been the way he moved or the heat she felt every time he walked by her. Or maybe she’d simply inhaled some weird gas when her computer had sparked, flamed out and died.

While she enjoyed a boy-girl encounter as much as the next woman, she’d never been mesmerized by a man before. Certainly not during a professional meeting that she was supposed to be running.

She knew the type, though. Had seen the power of the havoc they brought with them everywhere they went. Self-preservation stated she should stay far, far away. And she would…just as soon as the meeting was over.

She squared her shoulders, determined to regain control of herself and the meeting. Then her mystery invader’s words sunk in. A gift of prime real estate would be hard for any university to refuse. No wonder Mr. Berman hadn’t been interested in her solution. It didn’t address the problem.

“The research you’re talking about is important to all of us,” blond guy concluded. “Which is why the city’s offer is the best one on the table.”

Charity forced her attention to Mr. Berman, who was nodding slowly. “You’ve made some good points, Josh.”

“Just showing you a few things you might not have thought of,” blond guy said modestly. Blond guy who was apparently named Josh. “Charity’s done all the work.”

She frowned. He was taking over her nervous system and her meeting and trying to give her credit?

“Not at all,” she said, relieved the power of speech had returned. “Who could compete with your excellent points?”

Josh actually winked at her, then reached for the folder on the table. “This is the letter of intent. I think the signing has been put off long enough, don’t you, Bernie?”

Mr. Berman nodded slowly, then pulled a pen out of his suit jacket pocket. “You’re right, Josh.” Then, just like that, he signed the paper, giving Charity the victory she’d so desperately wanted.

Somehow she’d hoped it would be a tiny bit sweeter.

In a matter of minutes, everyone had shaken hands, murmured about setting up the next meeting to get the planning going and left. Charity was alone in the conference room, only the lingering smell of burned plastic and a signed document proof that anything had happened at all. She glanced at the clock. It was 9:17 a.m. At the rate things were happening around here, she could cure several diseases and solve world hunger by noon. Well, not her. So far her accomplishments seemed limited to frying innocent electronics.

She collected the paperwork, went out into the hall and picked up her cold, dead computer. Had it really happened? Had some guy blown into her meeting, saved the day, then disappeared? Like a local super hero or something? And if he was so in the loop, why hadn’t he taken care of the problem weeks ago?

There was no way she could have known about a private donation—no matter how much research and prep work she had done. But Charity still had a vague sense of dissatisfaction. She preferred to win through her own actions. Not because of a rescue.

She made her way to her new office on the second floor. She hadn’t had much time to get settled, what with moving to Fool’s Gold over the weekend and the presentation preparation taking up all her free time. She’d brought in a box of personal items and dumped it on her desk shortly before six that morning. By one minute after six, she’d been in the conference room, going over her presentation, wanting it to be perfect. A complete waste of time, she told herself as she entered the second floor. Between the computer death and the mystery guy, she need not have bothered.

That morning, the open space in the old building had been empty and quiet. Now half a dozen women worked at desks. Doors to offices stood open and the sound of conversation spilled out to create murmured background noise.

She turned toward her office. Her assistant should have arrived, so they could meet face-to-face for the first time. Technically they’d been working together for a couple of weeks now, with Sheryl faxing and e-mailing information to Charity in Nevada.

Charity had visited Fool’s Gold during her interview process. She’d met with the mayor and a few members of the city council, and toured the area. She’d never lived in a small town before. The closest she’d come was Stars Hollow, from watching Gilmore Girls while still in college. She’d liked everything about Fool’s Gold and had been able to imagine herself putting down roots in the lakeside town. She had even been in this building, had looked around. But apparently she hadn’t noticed the giant poster on the wall.

Now she stared into a larger-than-life-size picture of her mystery guy. He smiled down at her, a bicycle helmet under one arm, a tight shirt and bike shorts leaving very little to the imagination. The print underneath the picture proclaimed Josh Golden—Fool’s Gold’s favorite son.

She blinked, then blinked again. Josh Golden as in the celebrated cyclist Josh Golden? Second youngest winner of the Tour de France and possibly hundreds of other bike races? She’d never followed the bike racing circuit or whatever it was called. She didn’t follow any sports. But even she had heard of him. He’d been married to somebody famous—she couldn’t remember who—and was now divorced. He endorsed energy drinks and a major athletic brand. He lived here? He’d come to her meeting and had saved the day?

Not possible, she told herself. Maybe she’d fallen and hit her head and now couldn’t remember the event. Maybe she was in a coma somewhere, imagining all this.

She walked past the poster and moved toward her office. Just outside the open door, she saw a thirty-something woman on the phone. The woman, dark-haired and pretty, looked up and smiled. “She’s here. I gotta go. Love you.” The woman stood. “I’m Sheryl, your assistant. You’re Charity Jones. Nice to finally meet you, Ms. Jones.”

“You, too, and please call me Charity.”

Sheryl grinned. “I just heard you got the university to sign. Mayor Marsha will be doing the happy dance. They’ve been slippery little suckers, but you nailed them.”

A flash of movement caught Charity’s attention. She glanced over her assistant’s shoulder and saw Sheryl’s screen saver had come on with a picture show.

The first shot showed Josh Golden on a racing bike. The second showed him shirtless and grinning. The third photo was a very naked guy in a shower, his back to the camera. Charity felt her eyes widen.

Sheryl glanced over her shoulder and laughed. “I know. He’s gorgeous. I downloaded these from the Internet. Want me to put them on your computer?”

“Ah, no. Thank you.” Charity hesitated. “I’m not sure naked pictures are appropriate for a business office.”

“Really?” Sheryl looked confused. “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess you’re right. I’ll take off the shower picture, even though it’s my favorite. Have you met Josh? He’s what my grandma would call dreamy. I’ve told my husband if Josh ever comes calling I am so outta here.”

So every other woman on the planet also reacted to Josh the way Charity had. Fabulous. Nothing was as thrilling as being part of an adoring crowd, she thought as she made her way into her office.

But it wasn’t a problem. She would simply avoid the man until she figured out how to control her reaction to him. She wanted a nice, normal, safe man. Her mother had always been attracted to the Joshes of the world: too handsome and adored by women everywhere. She’d gotten her heart broken regularly and painfully. Charity had been determined to learn from her mother’s mistakes.

After putting her dead laptop next to her box of personal things she had yet to unpack, Charity glanced through the open door toward Sheryl.

“Would you call the mayor and ask if I can stop by and see her this morning?”

Sheryl shook her head. “This isn’t the big city, Charity. You can pop in to see Marsha anytime.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Charity took the folder with the signed letter of intent with her as she walked to the end of the hallway. Mayor Marsha Tilson’s office was behind huge carved double doors, both of which stood open.

There was a big desk, two flags—U.S. and State of California—and a small conference table that seated six by the window.

Marsha sat in the small conversation group in the corner. As Charity entered, she saw that Josh was already there, lounging on a sofa, looking breathtakingly handsome and completely at home.

Marsha, an attractive, well-dressed woman in her sixties, smiled and rose to her feet. “We were just talking about you, Charity. You’ve had a busy morning. Congratulations. Josh here tells me you convinced Bernie to sign the letter of intent.”

Charity moved toward them, doing her best to appear friendly without actually looking at Josh. When she made the mistake of meeting his hazel-green eyes, she could have sworn she heard the theme from Gone with the Wind playing softly in the background.

Josh stood and gave her a lazy grin. One that made her toes curl inside her pumps. “We haven’t been formally introduced,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Josh Golden.”

She so did not want to shake his hand, given the symptoms she’d already experienced. Actual physical contact might lead to heart failure, or something even more embarrassing. She swallowed, sucked in a breath, then braced herself for it.

His large hand engulfed hers. Sparks even bigger than those that had killed her computer jumped between them. Her stomach flipped, her privates cheered and she half-expected to see fireworks shooting up by the ceiling.

“Mr. Golden,” she murmured, withdrawing quickly, then sinking into the seat behind her. She did her best not to think about the fact that, thanks to Sheryl’s screen saver, she had now seen his bare butt.

“Josh, please.”

And how many women screamed that on a regular basis? she wondered, turning her attention to the much safer mayor.

“Josh is exaggerating my role in the meeting,” she said, pleased to find out she could speak in a complete sentence. “He knew about the other offer of land, which was the problem with getting the university to sign. Once that was dealt with, the other problems were easily solved.”

“I see.” Marsha looked at Josh, who shrugged modestly.

Given the fact that Josh was obviously a famous athlete and comfortable flashing his butt for the camera, she would have expected him to jump at the chance to make himself the star of the moment. Oddly enough, he didn’t.

“We have the letter of intent,” Charity continued. “I’ll have Sheryl set up a meeting to move forward. With the construction bids already in place, we can streamline the process and get the research facility built quickly.”

“Excellent.” Marsha smiled at her. “Why don’t you go get settled? You’ve had a busy first hour. We’ll have lunch tomorrow so you can tell me how it’s going.”

“Thanks.” Charity rose. “Nice to meet you, Josh,” she said, backing away so there was no chance for him to offer to shake hands again.

Once she was safely back in her office, her first order of business would be to give herself a stern talking-to. She had never once, in her whole life, reacted to a man this way. It was beyond embarrassing—it had the potential to interfere with her ability to do her job. She could accept that some flaw in her genetic makeup made her always pick exactly the wrong guy. She didn’t like it, and she wouldn’t allow herself to act like a freaked-out groupie or sex-starved crazy person when she was around Josh. Fool’s Gold was small. They were bound to run into each other. She had to get a grip on herself and her hormones.

There had to be a reasonable explanation, she told herself firmly. She hadn’t been sleeping that well. Or she could be missing a B vitamin or not eating enough broccoli. Whatever the cause, she would figure it out and fix it. She refused to live her life all quivery and weak. She was strong. She was self-actualized. She was not going to let a little thing like a gorgeous man with a butt like a Greek god mess up her day.

“WELL?” MARSHA ASKED when Charity had left.

A single word with a thousand meanings, Josh thought grimly. What was it about women and language? They could make a man squirm without putting much effort into the task. A skill he both admired and feared.

“She’s smart and fair,” he said.

Marsha raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think she’s pretty?”

He slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes. “Here we go. Why do you feel a compulsion to pair up everyone you meet? I’ve been married, Marsha. Remember? It didn’t go well.”

“Not your fault. She was a bitch.”

He opened one eye. “I thought you liked Angelique.”

“I was concerned that if she stood in the sun, the heat would melt all the plastic she’d had put into her body.”

He laughed. “Very much a possibility.” His ex-wife had been born beautiful, but hadn’t rested until she was extraordinary.

“So you like her,” Marsha asked.

He had a feeling they weren’t talking about his ex anymore. “Why does my opinion matter?”

“Because it does.”

“Fine. I like her. Are you happy?”

“No, but it’s a start.”

He was used to the matchmaking. It went with the not very subtle invitations. He supposed if a man had to live under a curse, his was easy to live with. Too many women all offering whatever he wanted. Too bad being with them didn’t fix what was really wrong with him.

He stood. “I said I’d watch out for her and I will. I don’t know what you’re worried about. This is Fool’s Gold. Nothing bad happens here.” Which was why he’d come home. This was a great place to escape. Or it had been. Lately it felt as if his past was catching up with him.

“I want Charity to be happy,” Marsha said. “I want her to fit in.”

“The longer you don’t tell her the truth, the more pissed she’s going to be.”

Marsha’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I know. I’m waiting for the right time.”

He crossed to her, bent down and kissed her soft, wrinkled cheek. “There’s never a good time, kid. You taught me that.”

He straightened and headed to the door.

“You could take her out to dinner,” Marsha called after him.

“I could,” he agreed as he left.

He could ask out Charity, but then what? In a matter of days she would have heard enough about him to think she knew everything. After that, she would either be eager to find out if all the talk was true, or she would think he was scum on the pond of life. Judging by her sensible shoes and conservative dress, he would guess she would put him on the side of scum.

He crossed through the lobby, ignoring the glass case off to the side, the one containing the yellow jersey he’d won during his third Tour de France race. He stepped out into the sunny morning, then wished he hadn’t when he saw Ethan Hendrix getting out of his car. Ethan who had once been his best friend in the world.

Ethan moved with ease. After all this time, the limp was nearly gone. For anyone else, it wouldn’t even be worth noting. But Ethan wasn’t like everyone else. He’d once been a ranked cyclist. He and Josh were supposed to take on the Tour de France together while they were still in college. They’d spent hours training together, shouting insults back and forth, each claiming he would be the one who would win. After the accident, only Josh had entered, becoming the second youngest winner in the history of the race. Henri Cornet had been younger, by all of twenty-one days, back in 1904.

Ethan looked across the street and their eyes met. Josh wanted to go to his former friend, to tell him that enough time had passed and they both needed to get over it. But despite the phone messages Josh had left, Ethan had never once called him back. Never forgiven him. Not for the accident—Ethan had been at fault. But for what had happened after.

In a way, Josh couldn’t blame him. After all, Josh hadn’t forgiven himself.

THE NEXT DAY, Charity unpacked her small box of personal items, then dove into her morning. She had brainstormed several ideas to bring businesses to Fool’s Gold, and wanted to run them past the mayor. After printing out her preliminary reports, she familiarized herself with the city’s cranky e-mail system and was surprised to look up and see the mayor standing in her doorway.

“Is it eleven-thirty already?” Charity asked, not able to believe how quickly the time had flown by.

“You look intense,” Marsha said. “Should we delay our lunch?”

“Of course not.” Charity pulled her handbag from the bottom drawer of her desk, then stood and straightened her tailored jacket. “I’m ready.”

They walked down the wide staircase and out onto the sunny street.

City Hall was in the middle of downtown, with old-fashioned street lights lining the wide sidewalk. There were mature trees, a barber shop and a soda fountain advertising old-fashioned milkshakes. Tulips and crocuses grew in window boxes in front of the various businesses.

“The town is beautiful,” Charity said as they crossed the street and headed for the restaurant on the corner. They walked around an open manhole cover where two female city workers set up equipment.

“Quiet,” Marsha murmured. “Too quiet.”

“Part of the reason you hired me.” Charity smiled. “To bring in businesses and with them employment.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve brainstormed some ideas,” Charity told her, not sure if this was a working lunch or a get-to-know-you lunch.

“How many of them are run by and employ mostly men?”

Charity paused in front of the restaurant, sure she’d misunderstood the mayor’s question. “Excuse me?”

Marsha’s dark blue eyes danced with amusement. “I asked about men. Oh, don’t get frightened. Not for me. For the town. You haven’t noticed?”

Charity slowly shook her head, wondering if the otherwise together mayor had hit her head or taken some questionable medication. “Noticed what?”

“Look around,” the mayor told her. “Show me where the men are.”

Charity had no idea what she was talking about. Men, as in men?

She slowly scanned the street around them. There were two female city workers, a woman in a postal service uniform delivering mail, a young woman painting a store window.

“I don’t see any.”

“Exactly. Fool’s Gold has a serious man shortage. It’s part of the reason I hired you. To bring more men to our town.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE FOX AND HOUND Restaurant was decorated the an American version of a classic English pub. Deep booths, a long wooden bar and English hunting prints on the wall. Charity was sure it was lovely, and later, when she was able to focus better, she would take it all in. Now all she could do was trail after the mayor as they were led to a quiet table by the window.

Charity took her seat across from the older woman and pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to say a word until Marsha had explained herself.

Marsha began right away. “The problem started years ago. Men left to find better jobs and never came back. That was in my day and for some reason, it’s not getting better. The preliminary census numbers are a disaster. When the actual 2010 census comes out, it’s going to be a disaster—both in the press and in how the town sees itself. If we don’t get some men here for our young women to marry, they’ll start leaving, too, and then the town will die. That’s not going to happen on my watch.”

The mayor sounded fierce as she spoke. And determined.

Charity had reached for her water, mostly to buy time. A man shortage? Was this a joke? Part of a small-town initiation ritual?

“There are plenty of businesses that traditionally employ men,” she began slowly. “If you’re serious about this.”

“I am.” Marsha leaned toward her. “Fool’s Gold was a gold rush town, founded in the 1870s. It grew and prospered, and when the gold ran out, just after the turn of the century, it started to have problems.”

A waitress appeared with menus. She took their drink orders and left.

“Geographically, we’re blessed,” Marsha continued. “That kept us from disappearing completely. The original ski resort was built in the fifties, the vineyards west of here are at least sixty years old. So far we’re holding our own. There are plenty of service industries, some small businesses. Ethan Hendrix owns a construction company that has branched out into windmills, so he brings in a few men, but it’s not enough.”

Marsha shrugged. “I tell myself I should be thrilled by the women he employs. Equality and all that, but I can’t. Men leave here and we don’t know why. Topography? A Native curse? It’s getting out of hand. The young women in town are having trouble finding husbands. Worse, the few men we do have tend to find their wives elsewhere.”

Charity did her best to look both intelligent and interested. “I can see where that would be a difficult situation.” Intellectually she understood a growing population was essential for any town to survive. But a lack of men? Seriously? “You’ve investigated the Native curse issue?” she asked, when she couldn’t think of anything else.

Marsha laughed. “The only Natives who lived in the hills weren’t the curse type. My thought was if we’re bringing in business anyway, how could it hurt to focus on those with traditionally male jobs? Engineering, high tech, a second hospital. Of course hospitals do employ more women, but it would give us a great job base.”

Right. Because Charity could simply go online and order a hospital. She drew in a breath. She needed a little more time to process the information. A man shortage? She’d never heard of anything like that in her life. Not that she could blame the mayor for failing to mention it during the interview process. Talk about an easy way to terrify candidates.

“Over the next couple of days, as you get to know your way around town, I want you to do a mental head count. You’ll see for yourself that men are in desperately short supply. My biggest fear is that word will get out somehow. That a reporter somewhere will find out and start doing stories on the town.”

“Wouldn’t the attention help?”

“This town is special to all of us. We’re not interested in being considered an oddity. We just need to balance our population.”

Charity thought of Josh Golden. He was shiny enough for three men. Mayor Marsha should marry him off to one of the lonely single women.

“There is a bright spot in all this,” Marsha told her with a wink. “As you’re the one meeting with the business owners, you’ll get first pick of any of the men.”

“Lucky me,” Charity murmured, grateful the waitress reappeared and interrupted them. Charity wasn’t going to share the details of her social life, or lack thereof, with her new boss. And there was no reason to explain that she had been totally unsuccessful in the man department.

While avoiding her mother’s penchant for men who were too pretty by far was a good start, it didn’t guarantee a happy ending. So far Charity was practically the poster girl for romance disasters.

When they’d finished placing their orders, a curly-haired well-dressed woman walked up to the table. She was a little taller than Charity, and exuded style and sex appeal.

“So you’re the new girl,” the twenty-something woman said cheerfully. “Hi. I’m Pia O’Brian, Fool’s Gold’s own party planner.”

Marsha shook her head. “Event coordinator. It sounds better.”

“Maybe to you. I like the party aspect of my job.” Pia grinned at Charity. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“I don’t actually plan parties,” Pia admitted. “I organize the Spring Festival, the Summer Festival, the Fourth of July fireworks.”

“And the Fall Festival?” Charity asked.

Pia laughed. “Yes, but that comes after the End of Summer Festival and focuses on books. We’re a party crowd here.”

“Apparently.” The closest Charity had ever come to a town festival had been a craft show back in college. “I look forward to going to the events.”

“If only that were all that was involved,” Pia said dramatically. “You and I are going to have to talk. I’ll call and set up an appointment.”

“Should I be nervous?” Charity asked with a laugh.

“No. It’ll be fine. Enjoy your lunch,” she called over her shoulder as she sailed toward the door.

“She’s nice,” Charity said. And close to her age. Maybe Pia was a potential friend.

“Just so you know, Pia’s a lot more talk than action, at least when it comes to being bad.” Marsha shook her head. “Oh, Charity, you’re being thrown in the deep end. I hope that’s all right.”

“I was looking for a challenge,” Charity told her. Not to mention a job that was far away from her old one. She’d wanted a fresh start and the job in Fool’s Gold had offered exactly that.

“Good. I don’t want to scare you away on your first day. Maybe on your second.”

Charity laughed. “I don’t scare so easy. In fact, this weekend I’m going to drive around and get to know the different neighborhoods in town.”

“Thinking of buying a house?”

“Not right away, but in a couple of months. I want to settle down.” Having a permanent address and ties to a community had always been her fantasy.

“There are some lovely homes. Although with all the men who will be moving to town, you might want to wait a bit. You did mention you were single. Maybe you’ll meet Mr. Right.”

“Uh-huh,” Charity said and sipped her coffee. Mayor Marsha was very nice, but not the most subtle person.

As for Mr. Right—Charity wasn’t looking for perfect. She just wanted a nice guy who loved her as much as she loved him. Oh, and a man who was single, honest and faithful. Characteristics depressingly hard to find on the dating scene—at least in her experience.

“If anyone around town catches your eye,” Marsha said as their food was delivered. “Just ask me. I know everyone.”

Once again Charity’s brain flashed to Josh. Fifteen kinds of physically amazing and a thousand kinds of trouble, she thought grimly. She might not be able to ignore the weird way her body reacted when he was in the room, but she could do her best to ignore him. And she would. Even in a town as small as Fool’s Gold, it couldn’t be hard.

“YOU MAKE ME crazy. You know that, right?”

Josh continued to study his computer screen and ignore his assistant. Something he was good at. It came from years of practice.

Unfortunately Eddie wasn’t the type to take the hint. “I’m talking to you, Josh.”

“I knew that.” He turned his attention from the e-mail to his seventy-something assistant who stood with her hands on her hips.

Eddie Carberry wore her white hair in short curls. She liked heavy makeup and velour track suits. She had one for every day of the week. If it was Monday, she was wearing violet.

“They’re getting on my nerves,” she announced. “What the hell were you thinking? I know you’re not sleeping with them, so it’s not about sex. Don’t tell me you’re being nice, either. You know how I hate that.” Eddie glared at him as she spoke.

He knew better than to take her temper seriously, just as he knew the “they” in question were the three college-aged girls that were supposed to be helping her in the office.

“You said you wanted to cut back on your responsibilities,” he hedged. “You said you wanted a staff.”

Eddie rolled her eyes. “I said I wanted to look like Demi Moore, too, but I don’t see you doing anything about that. They’re not staff, they’re blonde and every cliché that goes with the hair color. All they want to talk about is you.” She raised her voice. “Josh is just so handsome,” she said in a mocking squeak. “Do you think he’s going to ask me out?”

She lowered her voice to its normal gravelly tone. “I thought you’d explained everything when you hired them.”

He winced. “I did. In detail.”

“Then you’re going to have to do it again.”

Apparently.

Young women had done everything from showing up in his bed naked and uninvited to claiming to be pregnant with his baby—all in a bid to get his attention. He understood the theory. If they belonged to someone the public perceived as special then they were special, as well. Telling them he wasn’t worth their time didn’t seem to get through. This summer he’d tried offering jobs instead, thinking the reality of working around him would allow them to see the man behind the myth. So far the plan wasn’t working.

“I could get more help out of a couple of cats,” Eddie grumbled. “And you know how I feel about cats.”

He did. She resented any creature who dared to shed on one of her track suits.

“I’ll talk to them,” he said.

“You’d better.” She lowered her arms to her sides, then walked toward his desk. “The storefront on Third leased out.”

He leaned back in his chair as she sat down. “Good.” It had been vacant nearly three months.

“The lease is at the attorney’s. I’ll pick it up later today for you to read.” She cleared her throat. “You have a request to ride in a charity race.”

“No.”

“It’s for sick kids.”

“It usually is.”

“You should do this one.”

She was trying to provoke him. For some reason Eddie believed if she could get him to yell, he would give in.

“It’s in Florida,” she said. “You could go to Disney World.”

“I’ve been to Disney World.”

“You need to get out, Josh. Ride again. You can’t—”

“Next?” he asked cutting her off.

She stared at him, her eyes narrowed. He stared back.

She blinked first. “Fine. Be that way.” She sighed heavily, as if her life was nothing but pain. “I keep getting calls about a charity golf tournament. The sponsor has a connection with the ski resort and they’re thinking of holding it in town.”

Golf he could do. It wasn’t his sport, so excellence wasn’t expected or required. He could simply be charming for the cameras, raise some money and call it a day.

“Okay on the golf.”

“At least that’s something,” she grumbled. “I’ll have the sales figures for the sporting goods store later today. Preliminary numbers are good. The flyers did a nice job of bringing in business. Internet sales are up, too. Now if we could get a picture of you on some of the bikes we carry…”

He ignored her. Which meant looking away. One of the blondes walked by just then and assumed he was glancing at her rather than away from Eddie. The young woman smiled and slowed.

Damn.

Eddie turned and saw the girl. “Get back to work,” she snapped. “This isn’t about you.”

The girl pouted, but did as she was told.

“Did I say they make me crazy?” Eddie asked.

“More than once.”

“You need a girlfriend. If they think you’re with someone else, they’ll back off.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “I swear, Josh, there’s something about you. Women everywhere are just dying to be in your bed.”

He winced, not wanting to have this conversation with his septuagenarian assistant.

“I guess the good news is if you’d done it as much as they said, you’d be dead now.”

“A cheerful thought,” he said dryly.

Eddie stood. “I’ll be back later with those numbers.”

“I’ll count the hours.”

She barked a laugh as she left. Josh returned his gaze to the computer screen, but not his attention. The girls in his office were the least of his problems. What kept him up nights wasn’t the young women so convinced he was the answer to every prayer they’d ever had. It was the reality of knowing he was a total fraud and no one had seemed to figure that out.

OVER THE NEXT FEW days Charity continued to learn about her job and meet the rest of the staff. She noticed that every one of them was female, with the exception of Robert Anderson, the treasurer.

“Robert’s been with us five years,” Marsha said after a meeting on Wednesday, then excused herself to make a call to the county commissioner.

Robert was a nice-looking man in his early thirties. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he shook Charity’s hand. “You look a little surprised to see me. Is it because I’m a guy? Did the Mayor tell you about our little problem?”

“Yes, which must make you really popular.”

He grinned and motioned for her to follow him into his office, where they sat on opposite sides of his desk. “I do okay.”

“Did you know about the odds being in your favor when you took the job?”

He chuckled. “No, and I never noticed during my interviews. I was focused on the job, not the surroundings. Not very observant, I guess. About the second week after I moved here, I realized that a lot of women were dropping in to welcome me.”

Charity was still having trouble grasping the whole “man shortage” concept. “It’s real then—the demographic issue?”

“A very delicate way of putting things. Yes, it’s real. I haven’t figured out why, not that I put a lot of thought into it. Men don’t stay. Or move here. Statistically in an average population, more male babies are born than female babies. It’s around one hundred and ten male babies for every one hundred female babies. But more males die before the age of eighteen, and by middle age there are more women in any given population. Except here. There are more females of every age group.”

Charity had thought the fried computer and seeing Josh Golden’s butt on her assistant’s screen saver would be the strangest parts of her week.

“I’m speechless,” she admitted. “I don’t say that often.”

Robert laughed. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Not for you. Not only are you one of the precious few, you haven’t been instructed to bring in more male-based businesses.”

His laugh turned into a wince. “Marsha said that?”

“It was a clear directive.” She glanced at Robert’s left hand. “Hmm, I don’t see a wedding ring there. Why aren’t you doing your part for the town by being married?”

He held up both hands, palms facing her. “I tried. I got engaged. We broke things off when we realized we had different ideas about family. I wanted kids, she didn’t. She moved to Sacramento.”

“One less single female to worry about,” Charity murmured, wondering if some TV personality was going to jump out of a closet and tell her she’d been part of an elaborate hoax. As much as she wouldn’t enjoy the humiliation, it would be kind of nice to find out the mayor had been kidding about the man thing. Not that she thought her luck was that good.

Then she realized her response to Robert had been slightly less than sensitive. “Oh, wait. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sorry your engagement didn’t work out.”

He shrugged. “It was a while ago. I’m dating again.”

“Are they rejoicing in the streets?”

“There was a parade last week.”

“Sorry I missed that. I met Pia O’Brian a couple of days ago. It seems there are a lot of parades in Fool’s Gold.”

“Festivals,” he corrected. “It’s our thing. There’s one nearly every month. It brings in tourists and the locals seem to love them. Is this your first small town?”

She nodded. “I’ve mostly grown up in large suburbs, which isn’t the same thing. I’m looking forward to the change.”

“Just be aware that everyone knows everything about everyone. There aren’t any secrets. But I grew up in a place like this. I wouldn’t want to be in the big city.” He leaned toward her. “We should grab lunch sometime. I could fill you in on small town eccentricities.”

Robert was nice, she thought, looking into his dark eyes. Smart, with a good sense of humor. “I’d like that.”

She paused, hoping for a slight whisper of anticipation, a quiver or a hint of physical reaction. Something. Anything.

Nothing, she thought with a sigh, refusing to think about her amazing reaction to Josh Golden. It had been a blood sugar thing. Or too much coffee and not enough sleep. Robert was a better choice by far.

She was about to excuse herself when her gaze fell on a plastic toy on Robert’s desk. It was a bobblehead and the oversized head looked oddly familiar.

“Is that…”

“Josh Golden,” Robert told her. “Have you met him?”

“Um, yes.” The man had his own bobbleheads?

“What did you think?” Robert’s voice was casual but she thought she saw a flash of something intense in his gaze.

“I didn’t have time to think anything,” she said, telling herself it was nearly the truth. Not being able to breathe meant fewer functioning brain cells.

“He’s pretty famous. A cyclist. Tour de France, and all that.”

“I’m not much of a sports fan,” she admitted. “Why is he here and not out racing?”

“He retired a while ago. All the women here go crazy for him. He has a reputation for being something of a ladies man. You’ll probably fall for him.”

Charity stared at Robert. “Excuse me?”

“It’s inevitable. No woman is able to resist him.”

Talk about a challenge, she thought, a little annoyed. “There must be at least one who’s said no.”

“I haven’t heard of her. But Josh isn’t in it for anything but the thrill of the chase.”

Some of her pleasure at the conversation faded. “Is that a warning?”

“No. I’d, ah…” He glanced at her. “I’d really like you to be different, Charity.”

His gaze was warm, which was nice. She smiled.

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “I’m not really the groupie type.”

“Good.”

She stood. “I need to get back to work. It was nice to meet you.”

He rose as well. “The pleasure is all mine.”

A nice man, she thought as she left. On the surface, everything she was looking for. Of course the handful of other men who had been in her life could have fit that description, as well. But they had all been disasters.

She hadn’t come to Fool’s Gold to fall in love, she reminded herself. She’d come for a job and to put down roots. Although falling in love with the right guy and getting married would be really nice. Having a family had always been part of her dream.

There was time, she thought as she made her way back to her office. Robert might not make her heart go into arrhythmia, but that could be for the best. She’d learned her lesson several times over. She was going to be completely sensible when it came to her personal life. Sensible and calm and rational. Anything else would just blow up in her face—she was sure of it.

THE REST OF CHARITY’S work week passed quickly. She met more of the city council members—all women—and familiarized herself with ongoing development projects. Sheryl left at four-thirty nearly every day, but Charity worked later. On Thursday, she stayed until nearly seven, when her stomach growled loudly enough to break her concentration. She glanced out her window and was surprised to see that it was dark.

After shutting down her shiny new computer, she collected her handbag, a briefcase filled with files she would review after she had dinner, and left.

The building was quiet and a little spooky. She walked quickly out onto the street where a cool breeze made her wish for a slightly thicker coat. The coldest day of winter in Henderson, a suburb of Las Vegas, had been warmer than this early-spring evening in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada.

Fortunately, the hotel was only a couple of blocks away. Charity hurried along the sidewalk. When she reached the corner, she saw an old man sweeping the front steps of the bookshop she’d already visited at lunch. He nodded at her, then paused.

“Now, I don’t know you,” he said, squinting at her in the light from the streetlamp. “Do I?”

His tone was friendly. She smiled.

“I’m Charity Jones, the new city planner.”

“Are you now? You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? All young ladies are pretty, even the ones that aren’t.” He chuckled then gave a wheezy cough. “I’m Morgan. Just Morgan. This is my bookstore.”

“Oh. It’s wonderful. I’ve already shopped here twice.”

“I must have missed you. Next time we’ll talk. You tell me what you like to read and I’ll make sure it’s in stock.”

Talk about small-town service, she thought, delighted. “Thank you. That’s very nice.”

“My pleasure. You know your way home?”

“I’m staying at Ronan’s Lodge.”

“That’s just down two blocks. I’ll stand here and make sure you make it. You turn back and give me a wave when you reach the steps.”

His offer was unexpected. She wasn’t worried about anything happening between here and the hotel, but it was nice to know that someone would notice if it did.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re very kind.”

He winked at her. “I’ve been called a lot of different things, Charity, but I’ll accept kind. You have yourself a nice night.”

“I will.”

She walked the rest of the way to the hotel. Once she reached the steps leading to the lobby, she turned back. Morgan was watching. She gave a wave and he raised his hand in return. Then he went back to sweeping.

She was going to like it here, she decided. While every place had its quirks, there was a lot to appreciate in Fool’s Gold.

She paused before pushing through the double doors leading to the inside of the hotel. They were large and heavily carved, the workmanship from another era.

Ronan’s Lodge, also known as Ronan’s Folly, was a huge hotel on the edge of the lake. It had been built when gold flowed like the rivers the men panned it from. Ronan McGee, an Irish immigrant, had come west to make his fortune, then he’d spent much of what he’d earned to create the hotel.

Charity had read its history the last time she’d been in town. She’d been unable to sleep the night before her interview and had read all the tourist brochures in her room.

Now, as she walked into the large lobby, with the carved wood panels on the walls and the massive imported chandelier made of Irish crystal, she felt a sense of homecoming. Eventually she would buy a house and settle in to life in Fool’s Gold, but Ronan’s Lodge was the best kind of temporary housing.

She walked past the registration desk, toward the curved staircase that would take her to the second floor. From there a smaller staircase wound up to the third floor, where she had a small suite.

She’d barely put her hand on the banister, had yet to take even that first step, when someone spoke. The voice came from behind her and spoke only a single word.

“Hello.”

She didn’t have to look to know who was talking. All she had to do was stand there, feeling her heart race uncontrollably in her chest as heat and awareness flooded her.

Her week had begun with a Josh Golden invasion and it seemed it would end that way, as well. The only question she had as she braced herself before turning to face him was why, of all the men in all the world, it had to be him.

CHAPTER THREE

CHARITY TURNED TO find Josh standing next to her in the lobby. He was just as tall as she remembered, his tousled hair looking more gold than blond in the flattering light. His hazel-green eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as his mouth curved up in an easy smile. He was very possibly the best-looking man she’d ever seen in person. And hey, she’d seen his naked butt again just a few hours earlier. Talk about making it difficult to concentrate.

“I’m Josh,” he said. “We met in the mayor’s office.”

She nearly choked on a laugh. As if she would forget. “Yes,” she said, hoping she sounded calm and completely unaffected by his presence. “Earlier this week. You took over my meeting, then closed the deal. I remember.”

“You’re not pissed about that, are you?”

She was many things—confused about why her body had to react to him the way it did. Annoyed that he’d had access to information she couldn’t get and had therefore done a better job than her at the presentation. Hungry and tired. But she wasn’t pissed.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “We needed to get the university to sign and that’s what happened. I should probably thank you.”

She paused, hoping he would excuse himself to get back to whatever…or whoever…brought him to the hotel. Instead he continued to look at her.

She tried not to feel his gaze, or react to it. A task that took way more effort than it should have.

After a few seconds of staring at him and watching him stare back, she said, “I don’t want to keep you from your evening.”

“You’re not.” He pointed to the stairs. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

“Climb. We’re neighbors. You’re 301, and I’m 303.”

He put his hand on the small of her back, as if to guide her up the stairs. Instinctively, she moved with the pressure, refusing to acknowledge the bolts of electricity zigging and zagging in every direction. There was heat radiating from each of his fingers—a heat that made her desperately long for bare skin on skin, an unused closet and fifteen minutes alone with Josh.

Blood sugar, she told herself. She had low blood sugar.

“Why do you live at a hotel?” she asked, mostly to distract herself.

“Why not? It’s centrally located, there’s room service and someone else makes my bed every morning.”

“The ultimate in not taking responsibility for your life?” she asked, then wished she hadn’t. So much for a flip answer.

Instead of getting annoyed, Josh chuckled. A low, sexy, appealing sound that made her break out in goosebumps.

“Because taking responsibility is the height of perfection?” he asked.

“It’s a sign of maturity.”

“A quality that’s highly overrated.”

For him, she thought grimly. She’d been responsible for taking care of herself since she was nine or ten years old. She’d always envied those who were carefree enough to not have to worry. Those who knew they would be looked after by others. That hadn’t been an option for her. Her mother had been the free spirit in the family, leaving Charity to make sure their world ran smoothly.

Charity had always loved her mother and wished she was different in equal measures. Sure it was fun to have a parent who never said you had to go to school or do homework, but there were also times when a kid wanted structure and rules. Charity had learned to provide those for herself.

They reached the third floor. She hurried ahead, wanting to reach her room and escape inside. Somehow, though, he got in front of her and leaned against her door.

“We should have a drink sometime,” he said, his hazel-green eyes gazing into hers and making every cell in her body sigh in appreciation.

“I’m not sure spending time with a man who cheerfully declares himself to be immature and irresponsible is a good thing.”

The low chuckle came again. “I’m not as bad as all that.”

“Aren’t you?”

He turned in a slow circle. “Look. I’m completely normal. Practically boring.”

He was many things, but boring wasn’t one of them.

Before she could point that out, his door opened. A beautiful blonde wearing one of his shirts and nothing else looked at him.

“Hello, Josh. I thought I heard your voice.”

Josh straightened. Charity took advantage of the distraction to slip into her room and carefully lock the door behind her. She leaned against the wall for a few seconds before bending over and turning on a lamp.

As light flooded the small but elegantly furnished living room, she ignored the sense of defeat knotting in her stomach and told herself she wasn’t even surprised. Of course a guy like Josh would have a woman waiting in his room. They probably came in shifts. From everything she’d heard, he loved women and they loved him back.

She squared her shouders. Even if she couldn’t control her physical reaction to him, she could control what she did about it, which would be exactly nothing.

BY FRIDAY CHARITY was more comfortable in the old City Hall building and had learned the name of nearly everyone who worked there.

Her eleven o’clock meeting was with Pia O’Brian, something she’d been looking forward to ever since Sheryl had put it on her calendar.

Pia arrived right on time, her brown curly hair tumbling past her shoulders, her well-cut suit emphasizing her long legs.

“How are you settling in?” Pia asked as Charity led her to the small conference table by the window. “Ready to run screaming back to the big city?”

“I like it here. Small town life suits me.”

“You say that now,” Pia said, her voice teasing. She set a stack of folders on the table. “Give it a few months, when you realize everyone in town knows your business and they’re not afraid to talk.”

Charity laughed. “My life isn’t that interesting. Why would anyone care?”

“You’re new. Fresh gossip for the ladies in town. Just remember—there aren’t any secrets. Not for long.”

“Thanks for the warning.” She eyed the folders. “Light reading?”

“I like to think the information won’t put you to sleep, but I can’t guarantee that.” Pia tapped the pile. “These are recaps of the last two years’ worth of festivals, celebrations and general civic good times. The Fourth of July parade, the Christmas Lights Fantasy Night, that sort of thing. The ever-popular Gold Rush Days. If it needs a booth of any kind and it’s happening in Fool’s Gold, I’m probably involved. Or at the very least, offering advice. So if you ever need two thousand folding chairs at a great price, see me first.”

“I hope I never do,” Charity murmured.

“Not planning a big wedding?”

“Not dating.”

“Me, either.”

“I’m new in town,” Charity told her. “What’s your excuse?” She couldn’t imagine Pia being without a man. She was so pretty and outgoing.

“A total lack of men,” Pia said cheerfully. “I’m sure Marsha explained that you need to focus on male-based businesses. The last thing we need around here is a beauty college. I do my best with male-oriented events. Golf tournaments, car shows.” Pia both looked and sounded serious.

Charity couldn’t help laughing. “I know this is a big deal, but you have to admit, it’s really strange.”

“Tell me about it. There were ten percent more girls than guys in my high school graduating class. That made prom time very ugly.”

“Not that you went without a date.”

Pia shrugged. “No, but a couple of my friends had to import guys for the dance. Very humiliating.”

“You grew up here?”

Pia hesitated, then nodded. “Born and raised. Third generation. Or is it fourth? I can never remember. My parents moved away years ago, but I stayed. The last of the O’Brians in Fool’s Gold.” She grinned. “It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Apparently.” Charity leaned toward her. “Living here all your life must be great. I moved around constantly when I was growing up. My mom didn’t like to settle, but it was all I dreamed about. Getting to know everything about a place, putting down roots. You’re lucky.”

Something flickered in Pia’s eyes. “The disadvantage is that whole lack of secrets thing. Everyone knows everything about you. Sometimes I think it would be very nice to be able to walk down the street without anyone knowing who I was.”

“It can be lonely.”

“So can small town life.” Pia shook her head. “Okay, enough with the philosophy and back to business. I have this year’s festival schedule for you to look over. Depending on what kind of business you’re courting, you might want to invite a few executives and their families to experience small town life. Or better yet, single male executives. We’re at our best during the festivals. All friendly and spruced up.”

Charity scanned the list. “When is the town not spruced up? There’s something nearly every month.”

“That’s not even everything,” Pia continued. “There are also various charity events. We were going to have a bike race, but that keeps getting pushed off.”

Bike race? As in Josh Golden’s territory? Charity thought about asking but was afraid Pia would think the question implied interest.

“There are the charity golf tournaments,” Pia continued. “We have a great golf course. Several, actually, but the pro course is well known. Don’t ask me why—I don’t do the golf thing. And I’m not big on the celebrities themselves. Too high-maintenance.”

“Good to know,” Charity murmured. “So you won’t be looking there for a husband.”

Pia laughed. “I’m not sure I’m the marrying kind. I don’t even know if I want kids. I’m still at the keeping-a-plant alive stage of my life. Next, I’ll consider getting a pet.”

“At least you have a plan.”

“I’ll let you know how it works out for me.”

They went through the rest of the festival event schedule. Charity promised to look over the material and let Pia know if she had any questions.

Pia collected her purse and briefcase and stood. “I’m glad you took the job, Charity. I know you were Marsha’s number one choice for it. Which is saying something because numbers two and three were single guys.”

“I’m all the more appreciative.”

“As you should be.” Pia laughed. “By the way, there’s a group of women who get together a couple times a month. Sort of a girls’ night out. Want me to call you the next time we get together?”

“Yes. Thanks. I’d really like that.”

“Then I’ll be in touch.” Pia gave a little wave and left.

Charity returned to her desk, where she could see the stack of folders she would be carrying home that evening for review. She’d been so busy with her job that she hadn’t had time to turn on the TV in her hotel room. Probably not a bad thing. Although a case could be made that a social life would be nice.

Instead of thinking of Robert, a perfectly pleasant and normal single guy, her brain immediately flitted to Josh. The man who had been hitting on her while his nightly entertainment waited in his room. Talk about tacky.

At least a girls’ night out would be fun and a chance to make friends in town. Over the weekend, she could start exploring the area, maybe find out if the local community college had interesting classes on things like cooking or knitting. She needed to get out more.

She noted on her calendar to get a catalog, then turned to her computer. But before she could read her e-mail, there was a knock on her open door.

Charity glanced up to see a forty-something woman wearing a dark blue police uniform walk into her office.

“Alice Barns,” the woman said as she crossed to the desk and shook Charity’s hand firmly. “Fool’s Gold’s Chief of Police. Thought I’d come introduce myself.”

Charity motioned to the chair on the other side of her desk. “I’m glad you did. It’s nice to meet you.” She tilted her head and smiled. “What should I call you?”

The other woman grinned. “Chief Barns in front of the press or my men. Alice when we’re off the clock.”

“Good to know.”

“How are you settling in?” Alice asked.

“It’s been a busy week. Lots to learn. So far, I adore the town.”

“It’s a good place to live,” Alice told her. “Not a lot of crime. A few teenagers thinking they’re smarter than they are. The occasional break-in at one of the vacation rentals. Tourists speeding. Nothing my force can’t handle.” She shifted in her seat. “There might be a new homeless person in town.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Someone’s stealing from the local grocery stores. Mostly snacks and convenience foods. A few toiletries. Not to worry. We’ll find out who’s doing it and put a stop to the stealing.”

While Charity hated the thought of someone going hungry, she understood that local businesses didn’t want to be paying for shoplifters.

“You plan to go exploring around town?” Alice asked.

“Yes. I want to get to know the area.”

“Good idea. Just a word of caution. The abandoned mines are dangerous. Don’t go slipping past the fencing and try to hike down.”

“I’m not much of a hiker,” Charity admitted.

“You’d be surprised how many people try it. They think an old, dangerous mine sounds romantic. If I had my way, we’d leave ‘em lost and let natural selection work things out for us. But Mayor Marsha feels we need to show the tourists a good time, regardless of how stupid they are.”

Charity couldn’t help laughing. Alice’s lips twitched.

“Not that I would say that to the mayor,” Alice murmured.

“Probably for the best.”

Alice rose. “Well, that’s about it. We have zero tolerance for drunk driving, but you’re not the type to try, so I won’t lecture you.”

Charity stood and joined the chief on the other side of the desk. “How can you tell I wouldn’t do that?”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but you sound sure.”

“I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

They walked out together.

On the main floor of the building Chief Barns shook hands with her again.

“You have any problems, you get in touch with me or anyone in my office,” Alice told her. “Mayor Marsha is very impressed with you and your work and that’s good enough for me.”

Charity felt herself flush a little at the compliment. “Thank you. I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble.”

“I know you will.”

The chief put on her blue cap and walked out onto the sidewalk. Charity watched her go. She’d meant her staying out of trouble comment to be a joke, but Alice had taken it seriously. As if she knew that Charity always did the right thing. She was just that kind of person.

Which was a good thing, right? She’d never believed that bad girls had more fun.

“Alice trying to scare you?”

She turned and saw Robert coming down the stairs.

“I liked her.”

“Wait until she pulls you over for speeding. She can be very intimidating. She has three sons. They play football in high school, so they tower over her. But I swear they all tremble in her presence.”

Charity chuckled. “That could be more a mom thing than a police thing.”

“You’re probably right.” He paused. “I’m heading out to San Francisco this weekend, to meet up with friends. But I wanted to know if you’ll be free next weekend for dinner.”

Dinner with Robert. It sounded…nice.

“I’d like that,” she said.

“Great. We’ll firm up the day and time during the week.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to get going, if I’m going to be in San Francisco on time.”

“Sure. Enjoy your time with your friends.”

“I will.”

He left through a side door that led to the employee parking lot.

Dinner with Robert would be a very pleasant way to spend an evening, she told herself, then winced. Pleasant? Couldn’t she do better than that? So what if she didn’t feel sparks when she was around him? Sparks were dangerous, not to mention highly overrated. Better substance than flash.

She returned to the second floor, but before she got all the way to her office, Sheryl came running out to meet her.

“You’re going to be late,” her assistant told her. “You’d better hurry.”

“For what? I don’t have any more meetings today.”

“You have one now.” Sheryl sounded delighted. “Marsha called a little bit ago and put it on your calendar. I’m beyond jealous. Not that I need a tour, but still. I wish it were me.”

Charity didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s the meeting?”

“Josh is coming here to show you around town!” Sheryl’s eyes brightened with excitement. “Just the two of you, alone. It would make all my fantasies come true. Well, not all of them, of course, but at least the ones I can talk about.”

Time with Josh? “Why would Marsha set something like that up? I can find my way around town on my own.”

“This is with Josh! You’re so lucky. Marsha is doing you a really big favor.”

Charity privately thought she didn’t need those kinds of favors, but she wouldn’t say that to Sheryl. Not only was the mayor her boss, but she had to assume Marsha was simply trying to be nice. It wasn’t as if Charity could confess her total lack of control whenever Josh was within twenty feet of her.

Her reaction to him was bad enough, but being a cliché made everything even worse. Apparently every woman in town reacted the same way. The poor man, so overwhelmed by female interest. It was amazing he got anything done in a day. She frowned. Maybe he didn’t. For all she knew, he sat around and lived on his racing proceeds and naked-butt-picture royalties.

None of which mattered, she reminded herself. She had a meeting to get through.

“When am I supposed to meet him?” she asked Sheryl.

“Now,” a low male voice said from beside her.

The sudden explosion of her heart speed took her breath away. Her thighs trembled and she watched the world narrow to a single person illuminated by an almost otherworldly light.

What was it about him that got her entire body in on the conspiracy to betray her? It had to be chemistry, or a deficiency on her part. Nutritional or possibly mental. Maybe if she went to the gym more. Or at all.

“Hello,” she said, going for calm and hoping she made it. “Nice to see you again. I understand we have a meeting scheduled.”

“Marsha thought I should show you the town.”

“Isn’t she the best?” Charity asked, trying not to clench her teeth. “And while I appreciate the thought, I’m pretty good at finding my own way around Fool’s Gold, so if you have something else you need to get to…”

He didn’t take the hint. Instead he smiled. “You’re my only priority.”

He was teasing, she told herself. He had to be. Yet there was something about the way he spoke the words that made her want to moan…or purr.

“Oh, my,” Sheryl breathed.

Charity looked at her. Sheryl grinned unapologetically before returning to her desk.

Charity tugged on the hem of her conservative tweed jacket. “Fine. Good. Then we’ll take our tour.” She hesitated. “We’re not riding bikes, are we?”

His perfect mouth curved into a knowing smile. “You’ve been talking about me.”

Charity didn’t like the sound of that. It implied an interest she absolutely refused to acknowledge. “You’re difficult to avoid, what with the posters, screen savers and bobbleheads.”

“Which is your favorite?”

She immediately thought of the picture on Sheryl’s screen saver—the one showing Josh in the shower. Naked. His back to the camera.

“I haven’t given it any thought,” she lied. “Can I get back to you?”

“I can’t wait to hear the answer.”

“I’ll bet. Does your ego ever get too big to carry around?”

The grin widened. “Sure. That’s why I have fans.

To help with the heavy lifting.”

Impossible man, she thought, trying not to laugh. She pointed to the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Don’t pretend this isn’t the highlight of you day.”

“Are you always so sure of yourself?”

He held open the door. “It’s part of my charm.”

She was sure it was—which meant she was in serious trouble.

CHAPTER FOUR

JOSH LED THE WAY TO a shiny black SUV. A really big one that required a step to make it into the passenger seat. Charity was grateful that her simple navy dress hung past her knees and wasn’t very fitted. The style allowed her to make the climb without flashing any of the good citizens who might be watching.

Josh climbed in next to her, moving with the easy grace of an athlete. He rested his arm on the console between them and leaned close. Too close. With her first breath, she caught the scent of his body—a warm and masculine smell designed to melt the last barrier between her good sense and a free-for-all begging for attention.

He was exactly like the men who had drifted in and out of her mother’s life, she thought, determined not to be sucked into the same pain and heartbreak she’d seen countless times. Showy men were nice to look at, but horrible bets when it came to relationships. How many times had her mother had her heart broken? Ten? Twenty? It seemed as if every few months she found someone new. Someone perfect and shallow who promised everything, then left her shattered.

Charity wanted happily-ever-after. And normal. Something Josh could never be.

“What would you like to see?” he asked, his voice low and slightly suggestive.

She forced herself to stare out the front of the SUV and told herself she was desperately bored. There were a thousand things that needed her attention back in her office. Phone calls to be made, plans to be started, lists to be reviewed. Nothing about her time with Josh was the least bit interesting.

Charity sighed. At least when she lied to herself, there was no one to call her on it. “You’re the local,” she said. “I’ll let you pick the route.”

“Fair enough, but you’re going to need to put on your seatbelt.”

She reached for the strap. “Because it’s the law, right? We’re not going up a mountain or anything.”

He chuckled. “Not on a first date. I like to save the intense stuff for later. To make sure you can handle it.”

She wanted to point out this wasn’t a date, but that would require speaking and his verbal play had left her throat a little dry.

The man was charm personified, she thought, wondering if it was a God-given gift or something he had to work at. With her luck, he was a natural. He probably didn’t even know what he was doing to the women around him. Not that she would tell him.

He pulled into the street, then rolled to a stop at the light on the corner. “You take the interstate into town?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“See much of the area since you arrived?”

“Just what I’ve walked to. I’ve only been in town a couple of weeks. There hasn’t been much time.”

“You don’t get weekends off?”

“I spent my first weekend getting ready for the meeting with the university.” She grimaced as she thought of how that morning had been a disaster until Josh had breezed in, spoken a few magic words and saved the day. Not that she was upset to have the contract signed. It was just that he’d made her feel bad at her job. Or maybe she’d done that all by herself.

“Last weekend, I was getting ready for my meetings this week.”

“I sense a pattern,” he said. “You need to get out more.”

Was he offering? She desperately wanted him to be offering. Which was silly, because she would have to say no to any kind of offer from him. The man wasn’t good for her sanity. Plus, hello. There’d been a woman waiting in his room the other night. A close-to-naked woman obviously expecting her evening to take a turn for the erotic. Josh was a player and Charity had never understood the rules of the game.

Note to self, she thought. She would look Josh up on the Internet when she got back to her room that night. Any kind of crush should be destroyed by the reality of his personal life.

“I plan to be in Fool’s Gold for a long time,” she said. “I’ll see it all eventually.”

He turned two blocks before the sign for the interstate, then headed west. “There are three different wineries growing grapes in the valley,” he said, pointing to the acres of vineyards sprawling to the horizon. “Mostly cabernet sauvignon, merlot and cab franc. Some other grapes for blending.”

He flashed her a smile. “Which takes us to the limit of my wine knowledge. If you want to know more, they do tours every weekend, starting in a couple of weeks.”

As they sped down the highway, Charity could see tiny buds on the bare branches—the promise of grapes to come.

“Most of the wineries were started years ago,” he continued. “This whole valley used to grow everything from corn to apples. Gradually the vineyards are taking over. Something about the soil and the weather.”

“And money,” she said. “For a lot of farmers, there’s more profit in grapes. Wine is very big these days.”

He glanced at her. “Impressive.”

She did her best not to blush. “I did my homework before I moved here.” She cleared her throat. “The wineries are closer to town than I realized,” she said, turning back to see the mountains rising against the blue sky. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small notepad.

“What a great resource. Any company thinking of relocating here needs to be taken on a tour of the area,” she said more to herself than him. “This is a great selling point.”

There had to be some kind of brochure the town used to promote itself. She made another note to review it when she got back and make sure the wineries and vineyards were prominently mentioned. Maybe look over Pia’s schedule. There had to be a wine or grape festival.

“The wineries are just part of it,” Josh told her. “There’s also hiking and camping in the summer and skiing in the winter. The resort has a five-star restaurant and a cooking school. We get plenty of tourists coming through.”

“You know a lot about the area. How long have you been here?” she asked.

“I grew up here. Moved to the area when I was ten.”

“That must have been nice,” she said enviously. “When I was a kid I dreamed of staying in one place, but my mom liked to travel.”

Josh glanced at her. Something questioning flashed through his eyes, then was gone. “Did she say why?”

“She had a lot of reasons. She liked the thrill of a new place. The possibilities. She used to say she was born wanting to move on.” Part of the motive to move had always been to escape from anything bad that had happened before, Charity thought. Which was mostly a man, and the end of a relationship.

Charity had loved her mother, but the constant moving around hadn’t been easy. Especially because Sandra moved whenever the mood struck her. She didn’t care if Charity was only a few weeks from finishing a semester or a school year. “I grew up being the new girl.”

“Was that a problem?”

“I wasn’t outgoing. By the time I’d made a few friends and settled in, we were moving again. I felt like I was always scrambling to learn the rules.”

“You’ll like Fool’s Gold.”

“I already do. Everyone is so friendly and open.”

He made a couple of turns, then they were heading back toward the mountains.

Charity found herself relaxing a little. Being close to Josh wasn’t so scary—not if she remembered to keep breathing and ignore the steady hum of awareness that connected them. At least from her side.

A bright red import came toward them. The car was filled with college-aged girls who rolled down the windows and hooted and waved at Josh. He nodded back.

“Fans?” she asked, watching the car zip past.

“Probably.”

She risked turning toward him. “It’s the bike thing, right?”

His mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile. “Yeah. The bike thing.”

“Because you’re a famous bike rider?”

“Me and Lance Armstrong.”

“So you’ve ridden in the Tour de France?”

He glanced at her, his humor obvious. “Do you even know what that is?”

“It’s, ah, a famous bike race. In France. It’s done in parts or stages or legs or something. And there’s a yellow jersey.”

“Good start.” His voice was teasing. “It’s stages, by the way.”

“I’m not really that into sports. But from what I’ve heard, you’re very impressive.”

He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

“Do you make a good living at that? The bike riding?”

“You can. Prize money can be substantial. A top rider can pull in over a million.”

“Dollars?”

“Tour de France pays in Euros.”

“Right.” She was feeling a little sick to her stomach.

“Endorsements bring in the big money. Multimillion dollar deals.” He glanced at her. “They pay in dollars. Or yen.”

A million here, a million there. Did currency really matter? “So you were successful?”

“A case could be made.”

“And worth millions?”

“On a good day.”

Because the sexual appeal, incredible body and handsome face weren’t enough.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“In the SUV or in Fool’s Gold?”

“Either. Both.”

“I’m showing you the area because Marsha asked me and I’m in Fool’s Gold because I live here. I’ve retired from racing.”

She shifted to face him. “Retired? You’re barely in your thirties.”

“It’s a young man’s sport.”

How young? Retired? That didn’t seem possible. She wondered if he’d been injured. Not that she would ask. It seemed too personal.

“What do you do now?”

“This and that. I keep busy. I have a few things going on in the area.”

They were back in town. Josh drove around the lake. There were small hotels, a couple of B&Bs, restaurants and vacation homes. Across the street were the boutiques, a bakery and an open, grassy park.

“Angelo’s has great Italian food,” he said, pointing to the entrance to a large restaurant. “Margaritaville has the best Mexican food.”

“Named after the Jimmy Buffet song?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Avoid the extra shot with the margaritas unless you’re a professional. It’ll knock you on your butt.”

“Thanks for the tip. I’m more a single glass of wine kind of girl.”

He mentioned several other restaurants, a couple of bars and the drive-in with the best fries and shakes anywhere. All of which made her happy she’d taken the job in Fool’s Gold. If only she’d been able to grow up in a place like this, she thought wistfully. But her mother would have hated everything about the town. Especially the close ties.

Her mother liked to come and go as she pleased, always looking for new adventures—especially where men were concerned. Charity had learned early not to expect any one guy to stick around for long. They were always moving through, too.

She’d vowed her life would be different. That she would find someone special, get married and be with that person forever. So far, she hadn’t been very successful in that department but she was determined to keep trying.

Rather than dwell on her sucky love life, she asked, “Did you ever have any bike races in town?”

“No. There was some talk, but nothing was arranged.” He glanced out the window.

“What about a charity event? To raise money for kids?”

“I don’t ride anymore.”

“At all?”

He shook his head.

She thought he would continue to circle the large lake, but instead he made a few turns and before she realized where they were, he’d pulled up in front of City Hall. Their time together had ended abruptly, as if she’d done something wrong.

When he didn’t turn off the engine, she got the hint.

“Thanks for the tour,” she said, feeling awkward. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

“No problem.”

She hesitated, wanting to say something else, then got out of the SUV. He drove off without a word.

She stood on the sidewalk, staring after him. What had just happened? What had she said? She felt oddly guilty and wasn’t sure why.

“Because the hormones weren’t enough of a complication,” she murmured with a sigh.

THE NIGHT WAS COOL, the sky clear. There wasn’t any moonlight to illuminate the road, but that didn’t bother Josh. He knew every bump, every curve. There was no danger from other riders because he rode alone. He had to. It was the only way to work through his issues.

As he headed up the incline, he pedaled harder, faster, wanting to increase his heart rate, wanting to feel the blood pumping through his body, wanting to exhaust himself so maybe, just maybe, he would sleep.

The darkness surrounded him. At this speed the only sound was the wind in his ears and the tires on the pavement. His skin was cold, his shirt wet with sweat. Goggles protected his eyes, the helmet was snug on his head. He sped over the top of the hill and onto the straight five-mile stretch that led back to town.

This was the only part of his ride he didn’t like. There was nothing to distract him, nothing to keep his mind busy, so he had time to think. To remember.

Without wanting to, he was back in Italy, at the Milan–San Remo, or as the Italians referred to it, la Classica di Primavera. The Spring Classic.

A sprinter’s dream race, but deadly for the sprinter who wasn’t prepared for the hills. It was one of the longest single-day races. Two hundred and ninetyeight kilometers, or one hundred and eighty-five miles. That year Josh had been in the best shape of his life. He couldn’t lose.

Maybe that’s what had gone wrong, he thought grimly as he rode faster and faster. The gods had decided such arrogance had to be punished. Only he hadn’t been the one struck down.

A bike race was all about sensation. The sound of the crowd, of the peloton—the pack of racers—and of the bike. The feel of the road. The burn of muscles, the ache of a chest sucking in air. A racer was either ready or not. It came down to talent, skill, determination and luck.

He’d always been lucky. In life, in love—or at least in lust—and in racing. That day he’d been luckiest of all.

That’s what the photographs showed. As fate, or luck, would have it, someone had been taking a series of pictures of the race just as the crash had occurred. There, in single-frame clarity, was the sequence. The first bike to go down, the second.

Josh hadn’t been in the lead. He’d been holding back deliberately, letting the others exhaust themselves.

Frank had been young, early twenties, his first year racing professionally. Josh had done his best to mentor the kid, to help him out. Their coach had told Frank to do whatever Josh did and he wouldn’t get into trouble.

Their coach had been wrong.

The still photographs didn’t capture the sound of the moments, he thought as he rode faster. The first guy to go down had been on Josh’s right. Josh had felt more than heard what had happened. He’d sensed the uneasiness in the pack and had reacted instinctively, going left then right in an effort to break away. He’d only thought about himself. In that second, he’d forgotten about Frank. About the inexperienced kid who would do what he did. Or die trying.

They’d been going around forty-two miles an hour. At that speed, any mistake was a disaster. The pictures showed the bike next to Frank’s slamming into him. Frank had lost control and gone flying into the air. He’d hit the pavement, going forty miles an hour. His spine severed, his heart still pumping blood through ripped arteries, and he’d died in seconds.

Josh didn’t remember what had made him look back, breaking one of the firmest rules of racing. Never look back. He’d seen Frank go flying with an unexpected grace, had—for a single second—seen the fear in his eyes. Then the body of his friend had hit the ground.

There had been silence then. Josh was sure the crowd had screamed, that the other riders had made noise, but all he’d heard was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. He’d turned back, breaking the second rule of racing. He’d jumped off his bike and run to that kid lying so very still. But it was already too late.

Josh hadn’t raced since. He couldn’t. He’d been unable to train with his team members. Not because of what they’d said, but because being in the peloton made him nearly explode with fear.

Every time he got on his bike, he saw Frank’s body lying there. Every time he started to pedal, he knew he would be next, that the crash was coming any second. He’d been forced to take a leave of absence, then retire. He gave the excuse that he was making way for the younger team members, but he suspected everyone knew the truth. That he didn’t have the balls for it anymore.

Even now, he only rode alone, in the dark. Where no one could see. Where no one would be hurt but him. He faced his demons privately, taking the coward’s way out.

Now, as the lights of town grew closer and brighter, he slowed. Bit by bit, the ghosts of the past faded until he was able to draw in breath again. The workout was complete.

Tomorrow night he would do it all again: ride in the gloom, wait for the final stretch, then relive what had happened. Tomorrow night he would once again hate himself, knowing that if he’d only been in front that day, Frank would still be alive.

He pulled off the main road to a shed behind the sporting goods store he owned. He went inside and drank deeply from the bottle of water he’d brought. Then he removed his helmet and pulled on jeans and a shirt, replacing his cycling shoes with boots.

He was sweaty and flushed as he made his way back to the hotel. If anyone saw him, he or she would assume he was returning from an evening rendezvous, which was fine with him.

As for being with a woman…he hadn’t. Not in nearly a year. After his divorce, he’d slept around some, but there’d been no pleasure in it. Not for him. It was as if he wasn’t allowed to experience anything good. Penance for what had happened to Frank.

He walked back to the hotel. He would order room service, take a shower and hope that tonight he could sleep.

Once in the lobby, he avoided making eye contact as he made his way to the stairs.

“Hey, Josh. Anyone I know?”

Josh glanced toward the speaker and waved, but kept on walking. He didn’t want to have a conversation with anyone right now.

He sensed someone coming down the stairs as he went up. He glanced to his left and saw Charity. For once she wasn’t in one of her old lady dresses and boxy jackets. She’d topped jeans with a pink sweater. He had a brief impression of long legs, a narrow waist and impressive breasts before his gaze moved higher to meet her frosty stare.

He liked Charity—found her attractive, smart and funny. Under other circumstances, if he were someone else, he would want her.

No—that wasn’t right. He did want her. If things were different, he would do something about it, but he couldn’t. She deserved better.

He knew what she was thinking, what everyone thought. Better that than the truth, he told himself as he flashed her a smile and kept on moving.

CHARITY HATED FEELING stupid, especially when she had no one to blame but herself. She’d spent the weekend buried in work because it was the only way to stop thinking about Josh. Every time she wasn’t distracted, she faced a brainful of questions, all designed to make her spiral into girl craziness.

She was fascinated by him in a way that was unexpected, unfamiliar and a teeny bit obsessive. That was fine. It happened. Eventually she would get over it. During their tour of the city the previous Friday, she’d found herself actually enjoying spending time with him. She’d found him funny and charming, which was good. Having a person inside of her crush was helpful.

But something had happened on their drive. He’d changed and she was frustrated by the feeling that she’d done something wrong. She hadn’t. She knew that in her head. But try telling her active hormones that. They’d spent the entire weekend sighing dramatically, longing for just a glimpse of the man in question. Worse, Friday night he’d strolled back into the hotel looking all hot, sweaty and sexy. Which meant he’d been with someone else. Even going online and seeing dozens of pictures of him with other women hadn’t helped at all.

She could understand feeling boy crazy if she was in high school, but she was twenty-eight years old. An age when one could reasonably expect some slight maturity. After all, she had plenty of romantic disasters in her past from nice, normal men. Men she’d thought she could trust. If she’d been so desperately wrong with them, falling for Josh would be nothing short of idiotic.

Shortly before ten o’clock on Monday morning, Charity filled her coffee cup and made her way to the large conference room on the third floor for her first city council meeting.

There were already about a dozen people sitting around the large table, all of them women except for Robert. She greeted the mayor, smiled at Robert, then took a seat.

Marsha winked at her. “We’re a little less formal than most council sessions you will have attended, Charity. Don’t judge us too harshly.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good. Now who don’t you know?” Marsha went around the table, introducing everyone.

Charity paid attention, doing her best to remember everyone’s name. Pia rushed in a minute before ten.

“I know, I know,” she said with a groan. “I’m late. So find someone else to plan the parties around here.” She sank into the chair next to Charity. “Hi. How was your weekend?” she whispered.

“Good. Quiet. Yours?”

Pia started passing out slim folders with a picture of the American flag on the front. “I worked on the plans for Fourth of July. I was thinking we could mix it up this year. Have the parade and party on the eighth.”

Alice, the police chief, rolled her eyes, but the woman next to her, someone Charity thought might be named Gladys, gasped.

“Pia, you can’t. It’s a national holiday with a tradition going back more than two hundred years.”

“She’s kidding, Gladys,” Marsha said, then sighed. “Pia, don’t try to be funny.”

“I don’t try. It just happens spontaneously. Like a sneeze.”

“Get a tissue and hold it in,” Marsha told her firmly.

“Yes, ma’am.” Pia leaned toward Charity. “She’s so bossy these days. Even Robert’s afraid.”

Charity’s gaze moved to Robert who looked more amused than frightened. He glanced at her and smiled. She smiled back, hoping for a hint of a reaction. A flicker. A whisper. A slight pressure that could be interpreted as a tingle.

There was nothing.

“We have quite a bit of business to get through this morning,” Marsha said. “And a visitor.”

“Visitors,” another woman said. “That always makes me think of that old science fiction miniseries from years ago. The Visitors. Weren’t they snakes or lizards underneath their human skin?”

“As far as I can tell, our visitor is human,” Marsha said.

The mayor was obviously a woman with infinite patience, Charity thought as the meeting continued to spiral from one subject to another.

“Now about the road repaving by the lake,” Marsha said. “I believe someone prepared a report.”

They worked their way through several items on the agenda. Charity gave a brief rundown on the meeting with the university and the fact that the letter of intent had been signed. Pia talked about the Fourth of July celebration that would indeed be held on the appropriate date, then a five-minute break was called.

Robert rose and left. The door had barely closed behind him when Gladys leaned across the table toward Charity.

“You were out with Josh the other day.”

Charity didn’t know if the words were a statement or an accusation. “We, ah…He took me on a tour of the city. The mayor suggested it.”

Marsha smiled serenely. “Just trying to make you feel welcome.”

“You don’t send Josh to see me,” Gladys complained.

“You’re already comfortable in town.”

“How was it?” another woman asked. She was petite, in her mid-forties and pretty. Renee, maybe? Or Michelle. Something vaguely French, Charity thought, wishing she’d actually written down the names as people said them.

“I really enjoyed seeing the area,” Charity said. “The vineyards are so beautiful.”

“Not the tour,” Renee/Michelle said. “Josh. You’re single, right? Wow, how I would love to spend some quality time with him.”

“Sometimes at night I see him walking around town all hot and sweaty,” Gladys said, a slight moan in her voice.

“I know,” someone else added.

Renee/Michelle glanced toward the door, as if checking to see if Robert was within earshot. “Once, he came to the spa.” She turned to Charity. “I run a day spa in town. You should come in for a massage sometime.”

“Um, sure.” She couldn’t believe they were actually talking about Josh this way.

“He wanted me to wax him.” Renee/Michelle turned back to Charity. “They all get waxed. It cuts down on air friction.” She turned her attention back to the group. “He was on the table, wearing these tiny little briefs. Man, oh man, all I can say is that the rumors about his equipment are not exaggerated.”

Renee/Michelle sagged back in her chair and sucked in a breath. “That night my husband got the best sex of his life and he never knew why.” She fanned herself with her hand.

Robert walked back into the room, a can of soda in his hand. He looked around the table, then sighed. “You’re talking about Josh, aren’t you?”

Charity resisted the urge to squirm in her seat.

“Of course,” Pia said. “We can’t help it.”

Charity wanted to snap that he was just one guy and not all that, but she was afraid she would sound like she had something to hide.

“He’s the man,” Robert said with a shake of his head.

“Some big investor back east came here and wanted to open a bike school or training camp,” Gladys said. “Josh wouldn’t do it. He said he wouldn’t exploit his fame that way.”

Most of the women in the room sighed.

Charity privately thought he probably hadn’t done it because being involved would cut into the hours he spent getting laid. If anyone here was special, it was Robert, not Josh. Robert was a regular guy, doing an honest day’s work with minimal appreciation. Sure Josh was famous and a great athlete, but he wasn’t a god. No matter what her hormones might try to tell her.

Marsha slipped on her reading glasses. “If we could get back to the subject at hand,” she said, her quiet voice instantly silencing the other chatter. “Tiffany will be here any minute and I’d prefer we be discussing something of merit when she arrives.”

“Tiffany?” Police Chief Alice asked. “Seriously?”

“Tiffany Hatcher.” Marsha scanned the paper in front of her. “She’s twenty-three and getting her Ph.D. in Human Geography. And before you ask, I went online and looked it up. It’s the study of why people settle where they settle. In other words, she’s studying why we don’t have enough men in Fool’s Gold.”

The women all looked at each other. Robert chuckled. “You have me.”

“And we’re ever so grateful,” Gladys told him. “But you’re only one man.”

“I do what I can.”

Charity tried not to laugh. He caught her eye and grinned.

Marsha sighed. “As much as I wanted to keep our problem quiet, apparently that’s not going to happen. Tiffany is very excited about the opportunity to publish her thesis when it’s finished. So the whole world is going to know.”

“Unless no one reads it,” Alice said.

“I don’t think we’ll be that lucky,” Pia said. “Men or a lack of them is sexy. The media loves sexy topics.”

“How can a lack of men be sexy?” Gladys asked.

Just then there was a timid knock on the open door. Charity turned and saw a tiny, dark-haired young woman standing in the entrance to the conference room. Marsha had said Tiffany was in her twenties, but she could easily have passed for thirteen. She had big eyes, long dark hair and an earnest expression that made Charity think she was going to be a giant pain in the butt with her questions.

“Your assistant said I should come right in,” Tiffany said apologetically.

“Of course, dear,” Marsha said, rising. “We’ve been expecting you. Everyone, this is Tiffany. She’s going to do her dissertation on why men are moving away from Fool’s Gold.”

“Actually, you’re only a chapter,” Tiffany said, her voice as tiny as the rest of her.

“Lucky us,” Charity whispered to Pia.

CHAPTER FIVE

CHARITY STEPPED INTO Angelo’s at exactly seven on Wednesday night. The Italian restaurant was within walking distance of the hotel, much like everything else in town. The outside was whitewashed, with a big patio seating area. Inside, the tables were covered with white tablecloths and the subdued lighting gave the intimate space an elegant air. A dozen different delicious smells competed for her attention, making her mouth water and her stomach growl. Her salad at lunch suddenly seemed like a long time ago.

Before she could attack a passing waiter and grab a couple of slices of rosemary bread off the tray he carried, she spotted Robert sitting at a table near the opposite wall.

“Go right in,” the hostess said with a smile. “Enjoy your dinner.”

“Thanks.”

Robert rose as she approached.

There were several other diners already in the restaurant. Maybe she was imagining things, but Charity had the sense she was being watched by those already seated.

“Are they keeping tabs on me or you?” Robert asked quietly as he held out her chair.

She laughed. “I noticed that, too.” She sat down. “I can’t decide if it’s because I’m the new girl or if it’s because you’re out on a date. What with you being a single man and therefore precious and rare.”

He settled across from her. “You think the lack of men in town is funny.”

“I don’t think it’s a great hardship for you. Poor Robert. Too many women want to be with you.”

His brown eyes brightened with amusement. “Fame can be difficult. There’s a lot of responsibility.”

She wished he hadn’t said the word fame. For some reason, it made her think of Josh, and she’d been determined he wouldn’t intrude on her evening out, even in spirit.

“You can handle it,” she said as she picked up her napkin and put it on her lap.

Their server, an older woman with dark hair pulled up in a bun, brought them menus.

“I thought we’d talk a bit before ordering,” Robert said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Thank you, yes.” She grinned. “I’m walking tonight, so I can even have two.”

“Wild.”

“I have my moments.”

They both ordered a glass of the house Chianti. A few minutes later the busboy brought over a basket of bread and a saucer of olive oil for dipping.

“The bread is excellent,” Robert said, offering her the basket.

“I was afraid of that,” Charity said. “I’ll wait and try it later.” Closer to when they would get their meal, so she wouldn’t have a chance to inhale every slice. “How was your weekend with your friends?”

“Good. We went to a Giants game. They won. My friend Dan is getting married next month, so the trip was kind of a bachelor celebration.”

“I’m impressed you went with baseball and not a strip club.”

He chuckled. “We’re getting too old for that. Now if we were still in college…”

“Front row seats?”

“In our dreams.”

The server appeared with the wine. When she was gone, Robert picked up his glass. “To a great evening.”

She raised her glass, as well.

“Dan and his girlfriend already have a kid,” Robert continued. “A little girl. She’s eighteen months old. It seems like a lot of people are doing that. Have a baby, then figuring out if they want to stay together. I guess I’m old-fashioned. I thought it was supposed to go the other way.”

“I agree,” she said. “But pregnancy happens. I guess a generation ago, people got married when they found out. Now they aren’t in such a big hurry.”

He leaned toward her. “It’s been a couple of weeks. How are you settling in? Enjoying small-town life?”

“I love it. I’m meeting lots of people. I like that I can walk pretty much everywhere. You’re right. There aren’t any secrets, but then I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Then you’ll be fine. Have you started looking for a house?”

“Not really. I’m still getting to know the different areas.”

“I live on the golf course. Great views. The houses are well-built and a nice size. You should come see my place sometime.”

“Sure.” She wondered how he afforded one of those homes. She’d seen them on her drive around town and had even picked up a flyer for one. But unless the mayor had a secret plan to double her salary in the next week, Charity couldn’t begin to pay for something like that. Prices were great in Fool’s Gold, but even here a home on the golf course was pricey.

“You said you grew up in small towns,” she said. “In California?”

“Oregon. I went to school in Eugene, which is a good-sized town. Got my degree in accounting and went to work for a midsized accounting firm. Then I went into the government side of the business. After about five years, I transferred to the private sector. One of my first jobs was auditing one of Josh Golden’s companies. That brought me here.”

“Josh has companies?”

Robert raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know?”

“No. It’s not as if we’ve spent much time together.” The tour of the city had barely been an hour. “I know he used to be some famous bike rider guy.”

Robert laughed. “There’s a description to make him proud.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t follow many sports. I’d heard about him, but nothing specific.”

“He owns several companies. The sporting goods store. He’s a partner at the ski resort, the hotel.”

She reached for her wine and nearly knocked it over. “He owns the hotel where I’m staying?”

Robert nodded.

No wonder he chose to live there, she thought, feeling embarrassed for implying he was irresponsible. “I had no idea.”

“He hired the firm I worked for and I came out to do an audit. I liked the town. When I mentioned that to Josh, he said they were looking for a treasurer. I applied and got the job.”

“It’s a long way from Oregon,” she said, still trying to take in the fact that Josh was a business mogul.

“I don’t have a lot of family. I’m an only child and my parents were a lot older when they had me.” He smiled sheepishly. “Mom always said I was a miracle.” The smile faded. “They died a few years ago. I have a cousin, but that’s about it. I figured I’d make my own family.”

“I know the feeling,” she said, surprised they had so much in common. “I was raised by my mom. I never knew my dad. My mom took off when she was pregnant, and never told me where she was from. I always wondered if I had relatives out there, somewhere. If anyone knew about us. When I lost her, I felt really alone. I wanted a place to belong.”

“So you came to Fool’s Gold?”

She nodded. “A recruiter got in touch with me. I was looking to make a change.” Mostly due to a bad breakup, but why mention that?

“I’m glad you moved here,” Robert said, his dark eyes gazing steadily into hers.

He was nice, she thought as she smiled at him. Warm and caring and he shared a lot of her goals. He was the kind of guy she was looking for. At least on the surface. If only there was some kind of physical connection between them. Something that…

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. An unexpected warmth spread through her. For one brief shining moment she thought the chemistry had finally kicked in. The second of relief was followed by a mental groan when she saw Josh walking past their table and being seated on the other side of the room. He was with Mayor Marsha and apparently here for dinner.

“Speak of the devil,” Robert said lightly, nodding at the newcomers. Marsha waved.

“The downside of small-town life?” she asked.

“I told you. No secrets. Now everyone knows we’re out together.”

She was aware of Josh sitting within her line of sight and it took every ounce of control not to stare at him.

“I don’t mind everyone knowing,” she said, forcing herself to look at Robert as if he were the most interesting man in the world. The truth was she wanted to run over to Marsha’s table, push the older woman aside and snuggle up next to Josh. The fact that he had a steady stream of women ready and willing to be on call was the only thing that kept her in her seat.

“Good,” Robert said, looking pleased. “Are you ready to order?”

“Um, sure.” She glanced at her menu, wondering how she was going to be able to eat. Acting something close to normal was going to take all her energy and attention. Honestly, when she got back to the hotel, she was going to have to figure out a way to get over this Josh thing.

She randomly picked a chicken and pasta dish, then closed the menu and reached for her wine. Inadvertently, her gaze slipped a little to the right. Josh was looking at her, his eyes bright with humor. She found herself wanting to laugh.

Reluctantly she turned her attention back to Robert, who was a very nice man. A far better bet than Josh. Apparently she was going to have to keep reminding herself of that over and over again. Eventually it would sink in. It had to.

JOSH LEANED BACK IN his chair. “You did this on purpose.”

Marsha didn’t look up from her menu. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

She set down the menu. “And let me say how much I appreciate you saying people and not women.”

“You’re welcome, but not the point. You knew Robert and Charity were coming here for dinner.”

“Did I?” Marsha managed to look both innocent and smug at the same time. “Are they here? I didn’t notice.”

Josh knew better. “You asked for this table. You wanted me facing her.”

Marsha smoothed her white hair. “I am a very busy woman, Josh. I don’t have time to worry about your latest conquest, however interesting she might be.”

“Don’t play matchmaker.”

“Afraid it might work?”

The real problem was he didn’t want to hurt his friend. Marsha had been good to him and he owed her. “Setting up people never goes well. Don’t you watch reality television?”

“No,” she said. “And neither do you. Why don’t you like Charity?”

He studied the woman in question. Despite the fact that she was on a date, she was still dressed like a conservative schoolteacher. A plain dress, buttoned all the way to the collar. The loose fit and boxy jacket revealed nothing. Did she lack confidence or feel she had something to hide?

He found himself wanting to know which, nearly as much as he wanted to slowly unfasten each and every button and reveal the smooth, warm skin underneath. Just as troubling, he found himself wanting to talk to her. Just talk.

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