by Regina Hart
“I’m surprised to see you here, Vaughn.” Darius’s midnight eyes shone with challenge. “When did you start attending council meetings?”
Peyton frowned at the reporter’s question. Why would Darius doubt Vaughn’s interest in the meeting? Her colleague had been adamant that she attend at least one. Why would he be so insistent on her being here tonight if he’d never been to any?
“What do you mean, D?” Vaughn couldn’t meet the reporter’s eyes. “I’ve attended council meetings.”
“Not in the six years since I’ve been covering them.” Darius caught Peyton’s gaze. “Don’t look now, Doc, but I think we’re back in the archives.”
“What?” Was Darius referencing the supposed matchmaking scheme? Peyton turned to Vaughn. “Is that true?”
The band director’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Peyton turned back to Darius, but he’d switched his attention to the other five members of their group: Megan, Ean, Doreen, Jackson, and Audra. His eyes twinkled with humor as he addressed them. “Which one of you geniuses put him up to this?”
Ean frowned. “Put who up to what?”
Darius pinched the bridge of his nose. “One of you, maybe more, has been playing matchmaker with Peyton and me ever since she came to town. It’s been fun, I’m sure. But it needs to stop now.”
Peyton confronted Vaughn. “Is that really the reason you suggested I attend this meeting?” This couldn’t be happening. It was a mistake or misunderstanding.
Vaughn shook his head. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Jackson chuckled. “Meddling’s more your style, D. You’re always giving people your two cents on what they should do.”
“My opinion is worth more than two cents.” Darius gave Jackson and Audra a pointed look. “And I’m always right.”
Jackson wrapped an arm around Audra’s waist. “Usually right.”
Peyton wondered at that pointed look. What had the reporter been right about, and how had it involved Audra and Jackson?
Audra touched Peyton’s forearm. “Whatever reason brought you here, you won’t regret it. I’ve attended a couple of these meetings and they’re really interesting.”
Peyton scanned the expectant expressions of the people surrounding her. “I’ll stay. I don’t have anything pressing to do tonight.”
Against her will, her eyes sought Darius. He seemed to be silently laughing at her. Let him. She’d made the choice to stay because she wanted to be part of this community. No one was forcing her.
But she was curious. Peyton glanced around the assembly room. Any one of the dozen or so women undressing Darius with their eyes would be more than happy to go out with him. So why were his friends anxious to set him up with someone? And why had they chosen her?
Minutes later, Town Council President CeCe Roben called the meeting to order. The mayor, council president, and four council members sat behind a U-shaped walnut conference table at the front of the room. A four-foot walnut fence divided the audience from the working section of the assembly room.
Darius waited as their small group entered the third row of metal folding chairs. He gestured Vaughn and Peyton ahead of him. It wasn’t because he wanted to sit beside the history professor. He told himself he preferred to sit at the end of the row.
He settled onto the chair. It took some adjusting to find a comfortable position. It was a wonder the rusted relic was still in use. Darius was certain it had seen more years than he had.
Then he froze. A fragrance as soft and sultry as a summer evening teased him. Talcum powder and lily of the valley wrapped around him and took hold of his mind. He was back in the university archives. He was with a petite and curvy Catwoman.
Peyton.
How would he get through this meeting when every breath he took shot straight to his lap? He should have sat between Jackson and Vaughn. Neither of them would have distracted him.
Against his will, Darius turned to Peyton. The little professor was struggling out of her burgundy wool coat. Darius held it so she could free her arms. Removing her bulky outerwear revealed her formfitting attire. Darius’s gaze moved over her cream scoop-necked sweater, pausing on the curve of her breasts before continuing to her long, rose corduroy skirt.
“Thank you.” Peyton’s voice was low.
Darius raised his gaze to her caramel eyes. “Sure.”
Mercifully, tonight’s council agenda was short. The sheriff’s office was investigating a series of Halloween pranks, including one in which the entrances to Heritage High School had been bolted shut from the outside, giving students an extra day off from school. The volunteer fire department requested additional funds for a computer upgrade.
Most of the agenda required just a few key phrases. Darius took detailed notes when necessary. Beside him, Peyton shifted in her seat. Often. Each time, her scent would float over him, causing the muscles in his lower abdomen to clench. Darius gritted his teeth and refocused on the council’s discussion.
Revenue to date from Trinity Falls’ sesquicentennial celebration had exceeded expectations. Orders for memorabilia were still coming through the Sesquicentennial Celebration Web site.
Ramona addressed the audience. “I want to thank Doreen Fever again for the wonderful job she did chairing the Sesquicentennial Celebration Committee.”
The cheers swelled in the assembly room. Doreen was well known and well liked in the community. She acknowledged the recognition with a smile and wave. But her round, brown cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Darius laughed and clapped harder. Beside him, Peyton glowed with pride for Doreen.
Darius glanced back toward the council’s U-shaped table. Nessa Linden appeared to be the only one in the room who begrudged Doreen her accolades. Why did the other woman dislike Doreen, and what had happened to escalate her resentment?
Applause died down, allowing Ramona to continue. “Council members, members of the community, I have less than two months remaining on my term. During that time, I’m going to address a critical need in Trinity Falls. Our Guiding Light Community Center turns forty years old in January. The center and its mostly volunteer staff provide a necessary service for our children and neighbors in need of assistance. But the center’s renovations are long overdue. We must find a way to fund this capital investment.”
Council member Christopher Ling spoke into his microphone. “I don’t think anyone would disagree with you, Mayor. But from where do you propose to get these funds?”
Darius’s hand flew across a page of his reporter’s notebook as he made detailed notes of this announcement and Councilman Ling’s question. In it, he heard the councilman’s subtext: although the town’s coffers were growing, Christopher wasn’t going to approve a budget expenditure for the center’s capital improvements.
Ramona folded her hands on the desk. “I’m going to task a committee with raising money for the center’s renovations.”
Nessa perked up at this revelation. “That’s a wonderful idea, Mayor McCloud.”
Christopher and the other two council members echoed their support.
Council President CeCe Roben spoke over them. “Mayor, what type of fundraiser were you thinking of?”
Ramona shrugged a slim shoulder. “I’m going to leave that decision to the people in charge of the event.”
CeCe ran her long, pale fingers through her auburn hair. “I’m concerned, Mayor, that after the Founders Day event, the town might be burned out on celebrations.”
Ramona frowned. “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Madame President. After all, this is Trinity Falls. We love a good party.”
The audience again erupted into applause. Darius smiled as he transcribed the exchange. Doreen was well regarded and would make an excellent mayor. But the town was going to miss their more flamboyant leader.
Nessa raised her voice as the cheers died down. “Well, I for one think it’s an excellent idea, Mayor. You’re leaving behind some very b
ig shoes to fill. I hope our next mayor is as tireless, dedicated, and creative as you are.”
Ramona smiled in response. But there was a chill in her voice as well as her expression. “Oh, I’m certain the woman the town will elect as my successor will be more than up to the task.”
Darius took that as a direct quote for The Trinity Falls Monitor article.
Saturday morning, the first of November, Peyton indulged in breakfast at Books & Bakery. Her seat beside the café window was chilly, but the view was worth the discomfort. The trees lining the streets led her gaze into the nearby neighborhood and the profusion of vibrant autumn colors.
She opened her copy of The Trinity Falls Monitor before digging into her breakfast—spinach quiche, fruit, and coffee. Even this far from the café’s kitchen, she could smell the fresh bread, confectioner’s sugar, and homemade soups.
The sound of heels crossing the hardwood floor toward her made her look up. Ramona floated toward her like a runway model on the catwalk. Her tall, slender figure was clothed in a scarlet knee-length sweater dress. Black stiletto boots made her legs look even longer. Her glossy, shoulder-length raven tresses billowed with every step. With her wide ebony eyes and café-au-lait complexion, Ramona reminded Peyton of a young Dorothy Dandridge. She was the type of woman Irene Biery Harris could envision marrying Peyton’s soon-to-be-ex-fiancé, Bruce Grave. Beside Ramona, Peyton must appear as a vertically challenged, mousy shadow.
“May I join you?” Ramona braced her left hand on the back of the chair opposite Peyton. Her right hand held a white porcelain cup of coffee.
Peyton glanced toward the front of the café where Ramona usually shared breakfast with her friends. Jackson, Audra, Ean, Megan, Darius, and Doreen were at the counter.
“Please do.” Peyton pulled her gaze from Darius’s broad shoulders wrapped in an emerald-green sweater.
She was having breakfast with the mayor. At fifteen hundred residents, Trinity Falls wasn’t in the same stratosphere as New York City. Still, she marveled the town’s mayor knew who she was and sought her company.
“What did you think of our council meeting?” Ramona crossed her long dancer’s legs and settled back on her chair.
“I enjoyed it.” Peyton cut another slice of her spinach quiche with a fork.
“We’re not as exciting as New York City.” A slight smile curved Ramona’s pink lips.
“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t attend city council meetings.”
“I used to live in New York.” Ramona sipped her coffee.
“You did?” Peyton almost choked on her quiche.
Although she knew Ramona planned to join her boyfriend, Dr. Quincy Spates, in Philadelphia in the new year, Peyton couldn’t imagine the mayor living anywhere other than Trinity Falls, Ohio. This was her town.
“I used to think I wanted Trinity Falls to be more like New York—the shops, the culture, the sophistication.” Ramona leaned forward, holding Peyton’s gaze. “Now I realize my hometown has its own identity, and I never want it to lose that.”
“I’ve only been here five months, but I agree with you.” Peyton ate more quiche. In the cozy neighborhood just outside the town center, she witnessed residents greeting each other on the street. “Trinity Falls is a very special place.”
“Yes, it is.” Ramona set her coffee on the table. “That’s one of the reasons I brought up the fundraiser for the community center during the meeting.”
“It sounds like a great idea. Community centers are vital for residents in need.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Ramona rewarded Peyton with a smile. “I’d like you to cochair the fundraising committee.”
Peyton froze with a forkful of quiche in her mouth. Her gaze locked with Ramona’s as she chewed, swallowed, and tried to speak. “You want me to cochair the committee?”
“Do you have any experience with fundraisers?”
Peyton searched Ramona’s serious expression. “I’ve volunteered on fundraising committees in the past but—”
“Perfect.” Ramona spread her arms.
“But I barely know the town.”
“You’ll bring fresh ideas to the project.”
“I’ve never even seen the center much less used it.”
“You won’t have any preconceived notions of the facilities.”
Peyton sighed. “Ramona, I’m very flattered that you thought of me. But I don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”
“Yes, you are.” Ramona raised her hands to count off the reasons. “You’re new. You’re enthusiastic, and you’re falling in love with my town.”
“Your town?” Peyton gave the mayor a teasing look. “You’re moving to Philadelphia in January.”
“Trinity Falls will always be my town, and I want what’s best for it. Will you help with the fundraiser?”
“You need a chairperson who’s been here longer. Their knowledge of the community would serve the town better.” Peyton nudged aside a cantaloupe chunk with her fork.
“You wouldn’t be leading the committee alone. There are a few people I’ve got in mind to cochair with you.”
“Who?”
“I’d rather wait until I ask them.” Ramona’s smile didn’t inspire trust. “So what do you say? Will you help the town?”
When she put it like that, how could Peyton refuse? “You don’t waste any time, do you? You proposed the fundraiser Tuesday night. It’s only been five days.”
Ramona leaned into the table, propping her chin on her palm. “You strike me as a decisive woman.”
Peyton laughed her surprise. “This is a big decision.”
“But it’s for a very good cause.” Ramona pinched a grape from Peyton’s fruit bowl. “And it will be a good way for you to meet your neighbors and learn more about the community.”
Peyton enjoyed fundraising and she was good at it. She’d learned from the best—her mother. They’d worked together on several university as well as community fundraisers. Ramona was right. She had the experience. Then why was she hesitating?
Because she was afraid she wouldn’t be good enough. This would be her first fundraiser without her mother’s guidance. Could she handle the project without Irene Biery Harris’s help? There was only one way to find out.
“All right.” Peyton set aside her fruit. “I’ll cochair the fundraising committee on—”
“Wonderful.” Ramona clapped her hands together. “You won’t regret—”
“I do have one condition.” Peyton held up both hands, palms out. “The other cochair has to be willing to partner with me. I don’t want to be a part of a project with someone who isn’t willing to work as a team.”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to work with you.” Ramona smiled.
“He?” Warning bells chimed in the back of Peyton’s mind.
“Darius.” Ramona looked toward the café counter. “I think this would be a great experience for him as well.”
“Darius?” Peyton’s eyes stretched wide as she, too, turned to look at the reporter. “I don’t know if recruiting him would be such a great idea. He’s going to think you’re playing matchmaker again.”
“I know.” Ramona sighed. “He’s so paranoid. I think it’s the investigative reporter in him.”
“Is he right?”
Ramona held Peyton’s gaze. “What if he is?”
Peyton was both amused and incredulous. “Then I think you and your friends are going to be very frustrated. Darius isn’t interested in me.”
Why does that thought depress me?
Ramona gave her a secret smile. “What if you’re wrong?”
CHAPTER 5
Alonzo’s doorbell rang just before seven o’clock Sunday evening. The sound reverberated in his chest, causing his heart to skip a beat and his thoughts to scatter. Doreen. The time had finally come: November second, the Day of the Dead.
Hosting this celebration for Doreen and their friends was one of the most important things he’d ever done in h
is life. What if it backfired? Alonzo wiped his damp palms on the seams of his black denim pants, then crossed to his front door. He took a moment to gather himself before pulling it open. Doreen stood on the other side. She took his breath away. She always did. Her smile made his head spin and his body warm.
“I’m glad you came.” Alonzo offered her his hand and helped her across the threshold.
“So am I.” Her voice was warm but a little tentative, as though she wasn’t completely confident of being here.
Alonzo drew her to him to greet her with a kiss. Her coat was cool against his jersey and pants. He drew her closer to share his body heat, then lowered his head to hers. Her lips were soft and sweet, her body yielding in his embrace. Her mouth parted, allowing his tongue to steal inside. Her slender arms slipped over his chest to twine around his neck. Alonzo’s body heated.
With a groan of regret, he stepped back. “You make me lose track of time.”
Doreen opened her eyes and found his gaze. A sexy smile curved her lips. “You say that as though it’s a bad thing.”
“It could be awkward when our guests arrive.” Alonzo took her hand and led her farther into his house.
His modest furnishings were a sharp contrast to her bright and cheerful home. Doreen had teased him repeatedly about his lack of decorating vision. He thought he’d been practical, but she was right. His living room’s dark brown recliner, sofa, and area rug lacked the warmth of Doreen’s pink-and-white furnishings.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Doreen’s attention settled on Alonzo’s dining room table.
“That’s the altar for our Day of the Dead ceremony.” He studied his creation. How would she view it?
He’d spread a gold cloth over the mahogany table. On the center of the table, he’d stacked a purple box on top of a larger red box. He’d arranged glasses of water around the table and lit white votive candles in glass holders. He’d scattered gold, pink, and white marigold petals across the table and over the stacked boxes. A cross stood on one side. The scents of fresh flowers and incense filled the room.