People were coming over, slapping her on the back, pumping her hand. Other supporters were throwing confetti into the air and blowing on celebratory kazoos. Someone wheeled in a big cake that had been waiting in the wings. The red velvet cake with cream cheese icing and neon blue frosting proclaimed: Congratulations, Mayor Vito.
She thought about calling her parents but it was the middle of the night in Italy. So she smiled and smiled and smiled and felt empty. Champagne corks popped. Someone pressed a chilled champagne flute in her hand. She had a sip but tasted nothing. Her mouth was dry, her head muddled.
She had won.
Yet she did not feel triumphant. For one thing, she’d lost her fight against the bond election. The Valentine Land proposition had passed.
And all she could think about was the sound of utter decimation in Kelvin’s voice when he’d congratulated her.
Cell phones had been ringing nonstop. Everyone wanted to talk to her, but she had nothing to say. Since the day she’d declared her candidacy, she’d thought of nothing else but winning the election, besting Kelvin. Putting the arrogant mayor in his place. But now that she’d achieved her goal, the victory felt surprisingly hollow.
The hubbub in the gym grated on her nerves. She needed to get out of here, needed to isolate and identify the feeling gnawing at her. If she could identify it, she could quell it.
Without telling anyone where she was going, she slipped out the side door, got into her Fiat, and just started driving.
Twenty minutes later, she ended up at Lake Valentine. She parked at Lookout Point and got out of the car. There was a chill in the early November air and she hugged her sweater tighter around her. She could see the lights of Valentine spread out below.
She was the new mayor. This was her town now.
Giada knew she should be feeling overjoyed, but she was not. She leaned against the hood of the Fiat and drew in a deep breath. It hit her all at once.
She was lonely.
It washed over her in a wave as she thought of all she’d sacrificed to be a success. No husband. No kids. Her family still in Italy.
A sound of a snapping twig echoed behind her.
She wasn’t alone!
The hairs on her arms rose and she realized she’d left her purse inside the car — her designer handbag with Mace in the side pocket. Heart pounding, Giada whirled around and spied a tall figure lurking in the shadows of the trees.
The world dropped away.
Kelvin stepped into the clearing, his big body clad in a gray wool suit with a jaunty canary yellow shirt and a brown bolo tie. He looked like the king of the jungle and she’d robbed him of his crown.
She had the strangest urge to fling herself into his arms at the same time she felt a desperate need to jump into the Fiat and peel rubber. She was alone in the dark with her archrival. He could kill her, weigh her down, dump her body in the lake, and no one would be the wiser.
Her knees turned to Jell-O. Her toes went numb. What was he doing here? Had he followed her?
The mossy smell of damp lake breeze made her shiver. His dark, wicked smile sent her pulse thumping. The hairs at the nape of her neck stood up. This wasn’t a man who took defeat in stride.
Her head spun.
“Hello, Mayor.” Kelvin’s dark voice slid over her, inky black as the night.
Giada took a step back, teetered on her high heels.
He reached out a hand to steady her. His grip was hot, firm. She felt as if she’d been branded.
She tried to twist away. He didn’t let go.
Her head spun. The evening air crowded her lungs, heavy with the noise of croaking frogs and thickening mist.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.
“Pardon?” Her voice came out in a whisper.
His hand moved from her elbow to touch her suit jacket, stiff with shoulder pads.
Breathing hard, she wrenched away from him. “You’re not going to intimidate me to keep your stranglehold on this town,” she said. “You lost the election fair and square, Wentworth. Now step off.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting into —”
“No,” she interrupted. “You don’t realize how the Wentworth dynasty has been holding this town back.”
“I was just thinking about you.”
“Ha!” Her short bark of forced laughter echoed eerily out over the water.
“I was hoping,” he said quietly, “you’d take a chance on me. On us.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “You just don’t want to relinquish your position. You’re thinking if you can date me, you can influence me into doing your bidding. Well, you’ve met your match, Kelvin Wentworth. You can’t manipulate me like everyone else in this town.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
You. I’m afraid of you.
He tracked his hand from her shoulder to her cheek and Giada suppressed a shudder. She was determined not to let him know how much he affected her.
She raised her chin, met his eyes with a stony stare. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Except for not being in control.”
“Don’t you dare project your fears onto me.”
He ran the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. “Why’d you come after me?”
“I didn’t come after you,” she cried indignantly.
“You ran for office, you took my job. What was that all about if you weren’t trying to get my attention?”
“You egotistical bastard.” She shoved his hand away. Fury snapped her jaw closed.
“What drives you, Giada? What is it you really want?”
“I want you to piss off.”
He threw back his head and laughed, a big rolling sound that sucked the energy right out of her bones.
“What’s so damned funny?” Glowering, she sank her hands onto her hips.
“We’re just alike, you and me.”
“We are nothing alike.”
“I know exactly what drives you, woman. You have to be the best at what you do. There’s no such thing as second place. You’re either a winner or a loser.” He paused and she hoped he was finished. She wanted out of here, but he was blocking her way to the driver’s-side door. She had a feeling if she tried to go around him that he’d just step into her path. “But sometimes winning isn’t everything,” he said, lowering his voice. “Sometimes you’ve just got to know you tried your best and that was enough.”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from a scoundrel like you.”
“If you’re not worried,” he said, “then why are you out here by yourself when you should be down at Leroy’s Bar celebrating your victory?”
“I don’t drink.” She sniffed.
“You know what I mean.”
“Why are you here?” She turned the tables on him. “Why aren’t you down at Leroy’s drowning your sorrows?”
“Because I was worried about you.”
Giada snorted. “Please, you expect me to believe that? Why should you be worried about me?”
He stepped closer. Giada sucked in her breath. Gently, Kelvin slipped his fingers through her hair and raised her face up to meet his gaze. “Because I know how lonely it is at the top.”
Deep inside she felt something splinter, slip.
“I know what it’s like to need someone but be too afraid of being vulnerable to ask for what you really need.”
It was as if he totally got her. As if he’d peeled off the top of her head and stared straight down into her mind. He saw past her tough façade to the girl who’d constantly striven to win her father’s love and had failed time and again.
“You don’t have to be afraid with me,” he said. “I know you, Giada Vito, because I’m just like you.”
“You’re not,” she cried, suddenly terrified. “We’re not anything alike. You’re just saying all this because you can’t admit the truth. I won and you lost.”
“Are you sure of that?” he asked.
Confused, she
blinked at him. What did he mean by his comment? Was he going to challenge her win? Demand a recount? She fully expected it. “I won fair and square.”
His eyes darkened in the moonlight. “I guess that all depends on what you mean by winning.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Monday after the election, Kelvin Wentworth flew to Austin to meet with Jackson Traynor. He had the speech rehearsed in his head, but he still couldn’t believe he was going to deliver it. After all the lobbying he’d done to get them to consider Valentine for a theme park, he was going in there to tell them the deal was off. The whole deal with Amusement Corp had been contingent on his putting in an airport and hotels and restaurants. He was withdrawing his end of the bargain.
What was wrong with him?
Giada Vito. That was what. She had him so tied up in knots Kelvin didn’t know who he was anymore.
The knots twisted even tighter when he walked into the conference room and spied Giada sitting there in a gray tweed suit, purple blouse, and a sharp new hairstyle shot through with streaks of auburn. He’d always been a sucker for redheads.
One look into her enigmatic brown eyes kicked his pulse up and he felt strangely breathless.
“What’s she doing here?” Kelvin asked Mr. Traynor. He was so unnerved at the sight of Giada he went on the defensive, tightening his shoulders, narrowing his eyes, and curling his hands into fists.
“Mayor-elect Vito is the one who called this meeting,” Traynor said.
“Could I see you in the hallway for a moment, Ms. Vito?” Kelvin asked, not sure what he was going to do with her once he got her out there, but his hands were just itching to hold her.
“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen.” Giada smiled at the men collected around the conference table. “We’ll be right back.”
She followed Kelvin into the corridor. Once the door snapped closed behind them, he turned to face her. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I came to tell them to back off Valentine Land,” Kelvin said.
“And I came to give them my complete support.”
“Why?” they asked each other in unison, and then both said, “Because you were right.”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“Are we friends now?” he asked.
“Better than friends,” she said, a seductive look coming into her eyes.
Kelvin felt his body respond. He couldn’t take not touching her one minute longer. He slung an arm around her waist and tugged her to him, caveman-style.
Giada wrapped herself around him as if she’d been yearning for him to do just that. Her enthusiasm caught him off-balance and he had to tighten his grip on her to keep from stumbling.
He’d heard about hot-blooded Italian women; was he about to get the scoop firsthand?
“I can’t believe you traveled here to give up your dream for me,” she said.
“Ditto.”
Her eyes rounded. “So what does this mean?”
“You tell me.”
“I think it means you like me.” She lowered her eyelids, sent him a sultry glance. “A lot.”
He snorted. “ ‘Like’ isn’t the word for it.”
“Why, Mayor, what are you saying?”
“I’m not the mayor anymore. You are.”
“Not until January.” She studied his face. “Is this going to be an issue for us?”
“Us?” he echoed.
“As in you and me. Or is that too forward? Too much of an assumption?”
“I’ve been a bachelor all my life.”
“I know,” she said, her gaze never leaving his face. “I’ve never been married, either.”
“Too hard to get along with?” he teased.
“No harder than you.”
“I’m pretty hard right now.”
“I can tell.” Her laugh was throaty.
“I think I just might be falling in love with you.”
“You sure of that?”
“Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m head over heels,” he said, looking at her as intently as she was looking at him. “How do you feel about me?”
“I fell for you hook, line, and sinker.”
“So you’d marry me if I asked?”
“Are you asking?”
“Of course not. I’m a die-hard romantic. If I were asking you to marry me, I would make a Valentine-sized production out of it.”
“That’s good,” she said, “because I’ve come to expect big productions out of you.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a subtle guy.”
“Subtlety is overrated. Besides, you have the ability to change.” She reached up to run a finger over his cheek. It was all he could do not to shudder with desire at her light touch. “I still can’t believe you came here to turn down Amusement Corp’s offer.”
“I had a mistake to correct. You were absolutely right. I was letting my ego get in the way of what was best for Valentine. You know I love that town.”
“It’s one of the things I love most about you,” she murmured.
He heard only respect and admiration in her voice and it made him love her all the more.
“You know,” she said, “I’m a novice when it comes to public office. I was hoping you might give me some pointers.”
“You mean it?”
“I’m not as confident as I appear. In fact”—she lowered her voice—“I’m scared to death. I mean, I’m responsible for running an entire town. A little guidance would be much appreciated.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not just saying that to stroke my ego.”
She shook her head. “I’m being honest here. For the first time in my life I feel like I can admit when I’m overwhelmed and it’s all because you make me feel secure enough in my insecurity.”
“Woman,” he said, “I am so turned on by you right now.”
He pulled his car keys from his pocket. “You want to drive to the airport or shall I, after we tell Amusement Corp Tyler can have the theme park? If they want it badly enough to hire Purdy Maculroy to vandalize his hometown, they can have it, problems and all.”
“You can drive this time,” she said. “I’ll drive home from the airport.”
“Deal,” Kelvin said and then he kissed her, knowing he’d made the best move for Valentine he’d ever made in his life.
RACHAEL WAS KEEPING the faith as best she could. It was hard since she was living at Mrs. Potter’s alone now that her mother had moved back home. Her parents were doing well. Her dad was healing and her mother was radiant in a way Rachael had never seen before.
She decorated the house for Christmas and wrote her column for Texas Monthly. She’d upped her attendance at Romanceaholics meetings from once a week to twice a week, then to three times a week, until she was attending a meeting somewhere almost every day — often driving as far away as Del Rio to find a session.
But no matter how many meetings she attended, she couldn’t get Brody out of her head. He was always there, a constant in the back of her mind. No matter what else she was doing, she thought of him. Attending meetings, running errands, giving speeches, or writing her column. He was with her, his name a silent prayer.
Brody, Brody, Brody.
She kept waiting for him to make a move. To convince her that romance was all that it was cracked up to be. She had a speech prepared to shoot down his arguments. She kept it tucked in her purse.
He did not make a move.
That rattled her.
Why didn’t he make a move?
You don’t want him to make a move. This was supposed to be casual sex, remember. You lived in the moment. The moment is over. Live in this current moment.
But by contrast, this moment without him in it felt lonely and dull.
You’re romanticizing him again.
It was harder living here without her mother for distraction. She called her friends several times a day. Delaney and Tish, with their babi
es to attend to, sounded distracted and rushed. Jillian was the only one who would patiently listen to her talk about Brody and then tell her to stay strong.
It was hard to do when he was quietly, secretly doing nice things for her.
Every morning since that night in the cabin, she found the Valentine Gazette sitting on her front welcome mat instead of in the shrubbery where it usually landed. After a cold snap blew through one morning, covering the cars in a sheet of ice, she toddled outside, wearing three layers of clothing and armed with an ice scraper, only to discover that her windshield was already scraped clean.
When the flood lamp over the driveway went out, Rachael arrived home one evening to find the light shining brightly and Brody Carlton standing on his front porch in the dark, watching until she was safely inside.
She’d raised a hand to thank him.
He’d waved back.
That had been the extent of their exchange.
But he was quietly, steadfastly showing her what real love was. She was just so scared to trust. To believe again.
The fact that he wasn’t tempting her tempted her all the more. She found excuses to go across the street. Borrow a cup of sugar from Deana. Invite Maisy over to make Christmas cookies. Christmas caroling with her Romanceaholics Anonymous group.
None of those brief encounters satisfied.
Then on Christmas Eve, as she was wrapping presents, the doorbell rang. Her mind leaped to one conclusion.
Brody!
Excited by the notion that the sheriff was on the front porch standing underneath the mistletoe she’d hung up, she raced downstairs and flung the door open without first checking to see who it was.
Trace Hoolihan stood there holding a gigantic bouquet of pink roses.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“I came to see you,” Trace murmured, his voice coming out thick and husky.
“Me?” She narrowed her eyes. “What for?”
Trace took a deep breath. He was just as handsome as ever. Too handsome, actually, with his slicked-back, stylishly long blond hair, perfect nose, tanned skin, and big, white, straight smile. He looked as if he’d stepped off the cover of GQ in his tailored suit, cranberry silk tie, expensive Italian shoes, and camel-colored cashmere coat.
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