“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.”
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.
Chasing Perfect Page 3