Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing PerfectAlmost PerfectSister of the BrideFinding Perfect

by Susan Mallery

  Charity didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

  “We all are and there’s nothing any of us can do. That’s the worst part. Well, not for Crystal, obviously.” Jo shook her head. “I think I’ve had too much to drink. I don’t usually go on like this. Come on. Let’s get back to the girls.”

  Charity followed Jo and Katie into the living room where she did her best not to stare at Crystal. Talk about sad.

  “Are you enjoying Fool’s Gold?” one of the women asked.

  “No one cares about that,” Desiree said with a laugh. “I want to know what she thinks of Josh.”

  The room went silent as every pair of eyes focused on Charity. She froze, her glass of wine halfway to her lips.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re living at that hotel with him,” Desiree said with a laugh. “Tell us everything.”

  Charity put down the wine. “I, ah, don’t live with him. I have a room at the hotel.” There was no way she was going to mention they were in rooms right next to each other. Talk about trouble. “I’ve met him a few times and he seems nice.”

  “Have you gone out on a date?” one woman asked.

  “No. Of course not.”

  Jo rolled her eyes. “Charity’s new to our evil ways. Don’t scare her off the first night. There hasn’t been much news on the Josh front lately, so they’re hungry for gossip about their favorite topic.”

  “He’s a favorite topic?”

  Nearly everyone laughed. Even Crystal chuckled.

  “He’s gorgeous,” Desiree said with a sigh. “That face, that body.”

  “That butt,” Pia muttered from the couch.

  “She lives,” Jo said. “Hang in there, honey. It’ll get worse before it gets better, but you’ll survive.”

  “There are other good-looking men in town,” Charity said.

  “Maybe. But no one is like Josh,” Desiree told her. “It seems like he hasn’t had a real fling in a while.”

  “There was that ski instructor,” Crystal said.

  “That was last year. I can’t think of anyone.” Desiree looked hopefully at Charity. “Unless you want to confess something.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we’ve barely had any contact.” No way she was going to rat him out, she thought. This was a tough crowd. “Besides, I don’t think I’m his type.”

  “If you’re female, you’re his type,” a woman across the room said.

  Everyone laughed.

  Not true, Charity thought, remembering the pain in Josh’s eyes. He’d been right—the town did have high expectations. A case could be made that they were completely unrealistic. No wonder he didn’t want to expose any weakness.

  “She’s really not,” Pia said, pushing herself into a more stable seated position. “You could be, but you’re not.”

  Charity didn’t know how to take that. “Meaning?”

  “You dress, like, so plain. Those boxy dresses and jackets. I know you need to look professional for work, but dear God. Show a little skin.”

  Crystal put her arm around Pia and whispered something in her ear. She smiled apologetically at Charity. “She’s not herself.”

  Charity smiled back, but on the inside, she was squirming. What was wrong with her clothes? Of course she dressed conservatively. She was representing the town.

  She told herself Pia was drunk and that her comments didn’t mean anything, but that didn’t stop Charity from blushing and wishing she could bolt for freedom. No one was looking at her, but the lack of attention was so pointed, it was as if everyone was staring at her.

  Jo made a comment about a movie opening on Friday and conversation shifted. After a few minutes, Charity excused herself to use the restroom.

  Once inside, she locked the door, then leaned against it, as if she had to catch her breath. After a moment, she walked toward the mirror and studied her reflection.

  She could only see herself from the waist up. Although she’d gone back to the hotel before coming here, she hadn’t bothered to change, so she was still in the long-sleeved dress she’d worn all day.

  The fabric was a cotton blend, in solid navy. A case could be made that it was a little too big, but she preferred her clothing loose. The jacket she’d worn with it was a tad boxy, but well-tailored.

  As usual, she’d blown out her brown wavy hair until it was straight, then pulled it back into a braid. She wore small gold hoops, minimal makeup and a plain inexpensive watch. As she continued to study herself, she realized the best she could come up with was that she was clean.

  “When did I start dressing like someone in her eighties?” she demanded, then realized she was doing seniors a disservice.

  She sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her temples. After graduating from college, she’d found a great job in Seattle. She’d been the youngest person on the mayor’s staff and had found herself being dismissed whenever she made a suggestion. When she dressed older and went for a more conservative look, she’d been taken more seriously.

  When she’d moved to Henderson, a suburb of Las Vegas, she’d continued to wear clothes more suited to someone a couple of decades older. That had worked for her. But somewhere along the way, she’d lost herself in the look. She’d stopped paying attention to herself. Maybe she’d stopped caring.

  There was a knock on the bathroom door. Charity stood and smoothed the front of her dress.

  She opened the door and was surprised to see Crystal standing there.

  “I don’t mean to pry or anything,” the other woman said. “But are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Pia is actually really nice. I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by what she said.”

  Charity stepped into the hallway and tried to smile. “I know. It’s the heartache and margaritas talking. Not that she wasn’t speaking the truth. I’m frumpy and I can’t figure out exactly how I let that happen. Or when!”

  “They say acknowledging the problem is the first step in healing.” Crystal’s blue eyes danced with humor as she spoke. “You’re really pretty. You just need to play up your assets.”

  “I need a new wardrobe.” She brushed the front of her dress again, feeling self-conscious about the old-fashioned fit.

  “Easily done. That’s why we all have credit cards.”

  “I’ve been letting mine get dusty for far too long.”

  “Then you should go shopping this weekend.”

  “Believe me, I will.”

  “Good for you,” Crystal told her. “Retail therapy is the best kind.”

  They walked toward the kitchen. Charity found herself not wanting to go back to the group. The need to run and hide was fairly powerful and not very comfortable. But before she could think of an excuse, Crystal spoke.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “We have a fundraiser every year called Race for the Cure. We support childhood diseases, mostly cancer. I’m on the committee and we’re heading into our busy time. I can’t…” She glanced away and cleared her throat. “I’m really busy and don’t have the time I need. Anyway, I was wondering if I could talk you into taking my place.”

  Charity was grateful Jo had told her about Crystal’s illness. With that information, she knew how to avoid misstepping.

  “I’d love to be a part of that,” she said.

  Crystal looked surprised. “I was prepared to twist your arm and everything.”

  “I want to get involved with the community,” she said. “This gives me a perfect way to do something good while meeting people.”

  “Then we both win,” Crystal said. “Thank you.”

  A burst of laughter came from the living room.

  “Looks like we’re missing the party,” Crystal said. “Shall we?”

  Charity nodded and followed her back into the crowded room. She was determined to ignore her feelings of frumpiness, all of which could be healed fairly easily. Better to spend her time getting to know the w
omen here. She wanted to fit in, and friends would make the transition easier.

  Jo handed her the glass of white wine. “You’re way behind us on the drinking, young lady.”

  “Then I’d better catch up.”

  * * *

  THREE HOURS LATER, Charity made her way back to the hotel. She was in a much more mellow mood, the result of plenty of laughter and maybe a bit too much wine. The women had been a lot of fun, she thought. Jo was great, as was Crystal. Katie had kept them laughing with stories about the potential disaster that was Howie. And Charity had let go her sense of living as a fashion don’t. She would go shopping over the weekend and see what people her age wore when they weren’t trying out for a religious order.

  She reached the hotel and thought briefly about taking the elevator to the third floor. But she was determined to walk off the nacho calories she’d eaten at Jo’s.

  On the second floor, she walked to the smaller staircase that would take her to the third. She’d barely taken two steps, when the lights went out.

  The darkness was as absolute as it was unexpected. Charity heard doors open on the floor below and above, and people talking. There was more laughter than panic in their voices.

  She kept hold of the railing and carefully continued to climb to her floor. Once there, she would probably be able to find her way to her room. Not that she was sure she could get in. Did a card key lock work off a battery or electricity?

  When she neared what she thought was the top of the stairs, she went more slowly. She felt carefully with her foot, took another step and bumped into something warm and solid and male.

  It took her brain less than a second to register the heat, size and scent of the man. Her belly flipped over, her thighs began to hum softly as her fingers curled tighter around the banister.

  “You all right, Charity?” Josh asked.

  Surprise joined the other sensations. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Your perfume.”

  Actually it was her hair conditioner, but saying that made her sound as conservative as her clothes, so she kept quiet.

  “Don’t worry. The power will be on in a few minutes,” he said as he put his hand on hers. “You’re right by the top. Just one more step.”

  She eased upward, propelled by desire as much as by muscle. When she was close to Josh, even floating seemed possible. Which meant she was in worse shape than she’d thought.

  It was the wine, she told herself. She wasn’t herself. But maybe being herself was the problem. After all, every guy she’d ever cared about had treated her badly. They’d cheated or stolen and Ted had beaten her up. Just once, she reminded herself sternly. She’d left as soon as she’d picked herself up off the floor. Grabbed her purse and walked out, never once considering that she would go back.

  “Charity?” Josh sounded puzzled. “You okay?”

  “Yes. Sorry. Just thinking. I was at Jo’s and…”

  He laughed. “Girls’ night out. Or in. Never mind. I know what happened. Margaritas?”

  “White wine. Although Pia was doing the tequila thing.”

  He put his arm around her as they moved into the hall. “Can you walk?”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “Just happy?”

  She was now, standing so close to him, feeling the strength of his body. He was the kind of guy who could sweep a woman up in his arms without breaking a sweat.

  “I’m happy,” she whispered.

  She sensed movement. In the darkness, it was hard to tell. But it felt like Josh wasn’t next to her anymore. That he was in front of her, and standing very, very close.

  Fingertips lightly touched her cheek. The contact was delicious and she couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped her lips.

  “You have no idea,” he murmured.

  “About what?”

  Instead of answering, he pressed his mouth to hers.

  The contact was warm and firm and soft and just demanding enough. He kissed with an ease she couldn’t explain but knew meant he really liked the kissing thing. It wasn’t just a required step on the road to what he really wanted.

  She probably should have been shocked, but she wasn’t. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was simply time to let the hormones do their thing. They’d sure been bugging her enough. So she relaxed against Josh, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself over to every erotic sensation pouring through her.

  He dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her closer. She went willingly, closing those last few inches separating them. She parted her lips and he swept inside, touching her tongue with his.

  Desire raced through her. She could barely keep herself from begging. He tasted like the chocolate mints that were left on her pillow every night and something a little stronger. Maybe Scotch.

  She burned inside, the need bigger than she’d imagined possible. Her breasts ached. That place between her thighs was swollen with need. Even as she kissed him back, stroking, learning, yielding, she wanted to ease him closer to her room. She wanted him naked, inside of her, taking her just as hard as she took him.

  The image was so clear, it was if they were already together. Muscles tensed in anticipation of her release. Her reaction was so powerful, it frightened her and she drew back. A heartbeat later, the lights went on.

  They were in the third floor hallway. A few people stood in their doorways, and they applauded the return of modern life. Charity could only stare into Josh’s hazel-green eyes, wondering if hers were as bright, as filled with passion.

  She knew what he was going to say. Or ask. Both their rooms were only a few feet away. But as much as she wanted him, she knew she couldn’t be one of the millions. Not and still have a little pride in the morning. Turning him down seemed impossible, so she did the only thing that made sense. She ran to her room and hurried inside. Then she stood with her back to the door and waited for her heart beat to finally slow to normal.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MARSHA WALKED INTO Charity’s office shaking her head. “I know, I know. I’m late. I was meeting with Tiffany.” Marsha sank into the chair opposite Charity’s desk and groaned. “I swear, that girl.” She waved a piece of paper. “All the people she wants to meet with, and she would love for me to make the introductions.”

  Charity did her best not to laugh. “I know it’s difficult.”

  “It’s beyond difficult. It’s humiliating to have our town’s problems featured in her thesis.”

  “At least we’re only a chapter.”

  “I know and I should be grateful, but there’s a part of me that wants to ask why we’re not good enough to be an entire book. Which is crazy. I must need medication.” She drew in a breath. “All right. Enough about Tiffany. How are you?”

  “Better than you. I was going to get a bottle of water from the vending machine. Do you want something?”

  “A martini. Which I happen to know we don’t stock. I’ll take an iced tea.” She raised her hand, then set it back on her lap. “I don’t have my purse with me.”

  “My treat. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you. I’ll sit here and practice my breathing in attempt to get my blood pressure below a thousand.”

  Charity left her office and walked toward the vending machine. She hadn’t personally spent any time with Tiffany but she’d heard the grad student’s questions could be probing at best and a little annoying at worst.

  She put the money into the vending machine and collected the drinks, then returned to her office.

  “Thank you,” Marsha said gratefully as she took the bottle. “Is that outfit new? I really like the skirt.”

  Charity told herself to simply accept the compliment without an explanation. Or at least not a detailed one. Her boss didn’t need to know about her realization that she’d spent the past couple of years totally ignoring her appearance.

  “I drove to Sacramento and did some shopping over the weekend.”

  The black pencil skirt was still p
rofessional, but it ended a couple of inches above her knees rather than five inches below. The pumps had a thinner heel and were about an inch higher than what she had been wearing. She’d had the white blouse for about a year, but it was fairly classic. Hanging on the back of her chair was the new cropped black-and-white pinstripe jacket. The tailored style emphasized her waist and made her feel both feminine and powerful.

  “You look great. I’ve always had a fondness for clothing. I had a thing for leather for years, but I’m too old now. I would simply frighten people if I showed up in leather pants or, God forbid, fringe.”

  Charity laughed as she sat down at her desk. “You could start a trend.”

  “I’ll leave that to those of you still under thirty. Anyway, tell me how things are going. Do we have any new businesses moving here so I can tell Tiffany we’re no longer thesis worthy?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it. I’ve been in touch with the hospital committee and they were very impressed. They’ve dropped one site completely, so now it’s down to us and one other contender. They’ll want to send a few different people to explore the town and see what we have to offer. I’m already putting together different tours.”

  “A hospital. That would be impressive.”

  “It was on your to-do list.”

  Marsha sipped her tea. “I love it when people listen to me.”

  “I’m sure everyone does. From what I can tell, the biggest concern the hospital committee has is about community support, so I’ll be dealing with that directly.”

  “Excellent.”

  Charity passed over a second file. “I’ve been meeting with a software company. They’re in San Jose and while they’d keep their headquarters there, they need to expand. A lot of the staff have expressed a desire for small-town life. They want to stay in California and be relatively close to the main office. So I have high hopes we can convince them to come here.”

  “Software, huh?”

  “Most computer geeks are guys.”

  “True and I’ve always liked that type of man. Computer guys, engineers. They’re usually stable and dependable. Important qualities when it comes to marriage.”

  Charity glanced at the other woman’s left hand. There wasn’t a ring. She started to ask, then thought it might be a little too personal. But Marsha must have noticed.