The connection she felt with Jase, her awareness of him, suddenly flared to life stronger than it had before. She moved her hand up his chest and around to the back of his neck. At the same time she lifted onto her tiptoes so she could press her mouth to his. He tasted like night air and mint gum, and she loved how much he could communicate simply through the pressure of his mouth on hers.
He angled his head and ran his tongue across her bottom lip. His hands came to rest on her hips, pulling her closer until the front of her was plastered against him. Unlike other men she’d known, he didn’t rush the kiss. It was as if learning her bit by bit was enough for him. He savored every taste, trailing kisses along her jaw before nipping at her earlobe.
“Your ears are sensitive,” he whispered when she moaned softly. His breath feathered against her skin. “You touch them when you’re nervous.”
“I don’t,” she started to argue, then he bit down on the lobe again and she squirmed. “You’re observant,” she amended.
“I want more. I want to know everything about you,” he said and claimed her mouth again.
Her brain was fuzzy but the meaning of his words penetrated the fog of desire after a few moments. “No.” She lifted her head and tried to step away but he held her steady.
“Why?” A kiss against her jaw.
“I can’t think when you do that.”
“Then I’ll do it more.”
She opened her mouth to argue, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. One thing she’d say for Jase Crenshaw—the man was persistent. Even though she knew she should stop it, she gave in to the need building inside her. Her body sang with desire, tremors skittering over her skin. Jase ran his fingers up under the hem of her sweatshirt and across her spine. Everywhere he touched her Emily burned. Her breasts were heavy and sensitive where they rubbed against his T-shirt and she wanted more.
So much more.
So much it scared her into action. As Jase’s hands moved to the front of her waist and brushed the swell of her breasts, she wrenched away from him. With unsteady hands, she grabbed on to the front porch rail to prevent herself from moving back to the warmth she already missed.
“We’ve determined I’m not perfect,” Jase said, his tone a mix of amusement and frustration. “So what’s the problem now?”
“I work for you.”
“Are you asking to be fired?”
She glanced at him and saw he was teasing. Her shoulders relaxed. “I don’t want to complicate things, Jase. I know you gave me the job because you felt sorry for me and this...” She pointed between the two of them. “Would only muddy the waters more.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you.” He came closer and she didn’t resist when he cupped her face in his hands. “I respect you, and I want you. But neither of those emotions involves pity.”
“Why are you running for mayor?”
His hands dropped to his sides. “I think I can help the town move forward. I’ve been on city council long enough to understand what needs to be done and—”
“You have a responsibility,” she finished for him.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not, but your life is filled with obligations. I don’t want to be another one.”
“You’re—”
“I’d like to be your friend.”
He stared at her for several seconds, then blew out a breath. “I’d like that, too, but it doesn’t have to mean—”
“Yes, it does,” she interrupted, not bothering to hide her smile at the crushed puppy-dog look of disappointment he gave her.
With a small nod, he moved around her. “Good night, Emily.”
“Good night, Jase.” She watched his taillights disappear into the darkness, then turned for the house. For the first time in forever, she fell asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.
* * *
Friday morning, Jase walked the three blocks from his office to the Crimson Community Center and thought about how nice it was not to be rushing through town. He was speaking to the downtown business coalition and probably would have been late for the meeting if Emily hadn’t shoved him out the door.
She was a stickler for punctuality, something that had never been a strength of his. He cared about being on time, but he often got so lost in whatever he was doing that he stopped paying attention to anything else. She hadn’t been in the office yesterday, and despite how organized she’d left things on Wednesday, he’d found he missed knowing she was sharing his space.
She was a distraction but the best kind possible, and now he spent the minutes going over what he planned to say to the group of business owners. Ever since Emily had asked the question, Jase had been pondering the answer to why he was running for mayor. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough to keep him busy with his law practice.
He came around the corner and noticed Mari pacing in front of the entrance to the community center. Automatically he checked his watch, since his one campaign worker tended to pace when she was anxious.
“We have a problem,” she said, adjusting her heavy-rimmed glasses as she strode toward him.
He held up his hands. “I’m not scheduled to speak for another ten minutes. It’s good.”
“Your opponent got here first,” she answered, shaking her head. “It’s really bad, Jase.”
“What opponent?”
“Charles Thompson.”
Jase’s stomach dropped to the pavement like a cement brick. “Charles Thompson isn’t running for mayor. I’m unopposed in the election.”
“Not anymore. He has the signatures he needs to put his name on the ballot and filed as a candidate with the courthouse before yesterday’s deadline. I don’t understand why he’s doing this.”
“Because it’s me.” Jase rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Charles has been at loose ends since he retired as sheriff. I bet my dad called and rubbed the election in his face. If there’s anything the Thompsons can’t stand, it’s a Crenshaw getting ahead.”
“That’s plain spiteful.”
Spiteful and stupid and why was he doing this again? Because he owed it to the town? Because he had something to prove?
“You have to get in there and prove you’re a better candidate.” Mari tugged on his arm, but Jase stood his ground. He didn’t want to face Charles and everything the older man knew about his childhood. If there was one person who knew where all the Crenshaw skeletons were hidden, it was Charles Thompson. “Jase, let’s go.”
He could walk away right now, withdraw his candidacy. Charles would be a fine mayor, maybe even better than Jase. The older man had nothing but time to devote to the job. But if Jase won, maybe he could stop trying so hard to make amends for a past he didn’t own. Perhaps it would finally be enough—he would be enough—to excise the ghosts of his past.
Jase wasn’t his father or any of the infamous men in his family. He’d paid more than his dues; he’d tried to atone for every sin committed by someone with the last name Crenshaw. Now was his time to bury the past for good. He couldn’t walk away.
Taking a deep breath, he straightened his tie and smoothed his fingers over the hair curling at the nape of his neck. A haircut was still on the to-do list, right after fighting for his right to lead this town.
He followed Mari into the crowded meeting room where Charles Thompson stood at the podium. A ruthless light snapped in his eyes as he met Jase’s gaze over the heads of the members of the coalition. Jase knew he had friends in this room, but facing Sheriff Thompson turned him into the scared, cowering boy he’d been years ago. He’d dreaded seeing the patrol car parked in front of his dad’s trailer and knowing what it meant.
Those days were a distant memory for most people, Declan Crenshaw having faded into the background of the Crimson community. B
ut for Jase they were like a razor across an open wound—raw and painful.
“My esteemed opponent has arrived,” Charles announced into the microphone, his deep voice booming through the room.
People in the audience turned to where Jase stood at the back and he forced a neutral look on his face. He made eye contact with a couple of friends, Katie Garrity, who was representing her bakery, and Josh Travers from Crimson Ranch. Katie gave him a sympathetic smile and Josh looked almost as angry as Jase felt.
Their support bolstered his confidence but his courage took a nosedive at Thompson’s next words. “Come on up here, boy,” Charles said, his gaze boring in Jase’s taught nerves. “I want to talk to you about the future of this town and family values.”
* * *
Jase banged through the front door of his office an hour after he’d left, holding on to his temper by the thinnest thread. Emily jumped in her chair, glancing up from the computer screen.
“How did it go?”
“Fine,” he bit out, not stopping. He could feel the mask he wore beginning to crumble and needed the safety of being behind a closed door when it did. “I have a meeting with Morris Anderson at eleven. Let me know when he gets here.”
He dropped his briefcase on the floor, slammed his office door shut behind him and stalked to the window behind his desk, trying to get his breathing under control as he stared out to the parking lot in back of the building.
“All those slamming doors don’t sound like fine to me.”
He didn’t bother turning at Emily’s cool voice behind him. “Do you understand what a closed door means?” he asked.
“Better than you’d imagine,” she answered with a small laugh. “But in this case, I don’t care. Either you tell me what happened at the meeting, or I can call Katie. Which do you prefer?”
Jase closed his eyes and concentrated on making his lungs move air in and out. He knew there were no secrets in Crimson, at least not for long. His phone had started ringing and beeping with incoming calls and texts as soon as he walked out of the community center.
“Charles Thompson is running against me for mayor. He announced his candidacy to the downtown coalition this morning.”
She didn’t say anything, and Jase finally turned. Emily stood just inside the doorway to his office. After his secretary retired, Jase convinced himself that he preferred running the entire office on his own. So much of his life was filled with people and responsibility. This space had become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where he was in total control. He answered to no one.
In only a few days, Emily’s presence had become the answer to a secret need he didn’t know how to voice. Not only was she organized and efficient, but she breathed new life into an existence that had become so predictable Jase couldn’t seem to force its path out of the familiar ruts.
This morning she wore a simple cotton dress with a light sweater thrown over her shoulders and strappy sandals. Her hair was held back with a clip but the length of it tumbled over her shoulders. The scent of her shampoo mixed with perfume tangled in the air, and Jase had noticed on Wednesday the hint of it lingered even after she left for the day.
“So what?” she asked when he finally met her gaze. “You’ve done more for this town than Charles Thompson. People love you.”
He shook his head. “He was sheriff,” he told her, as if that explained everything. The word sheriff captured the past Jase had worked so hard to bury under the duty and responsibility he shouldered in town.
“You’ve been the de facto leader on town council for several years. Noah told me you were instrumental in convincing Liam Donovan to move his company’s headquarters to Crimson.”
She stepped farther into the room and, like he was magnetized, Jase moved around the desk toward her. Toward the certainty of her unmistakable beauty and the sound of her voice. Maybe if he listened to her long enough, he could believe in himself the way she seemed to.
“From what I remember, Thompson was a decent sheriff, but this town has never had a big problem with crime. Business and keeping things moving forward have been a struggle for some of the older generation. Things are different now than when I left, and people say you’re the reason.”
If only it were that simple. “He knows everything about me.”
Her delicate brows came down, as if she couldn’t understand the significance of what he was saying.
“Charles ran the department when we were kids,” he explained. “During the time when my grandpa died and Mom left with Sierra. My dad was still working at the mine, and he was at his lowest. It was worse than anyone knows.” He paused, cleared his throat to expel the emotions threatening his airways. “Except Charles. He knows every sordid detail.”
“That past has nothing to do with you.”
“That past is me,” he argued.
She shook her head. “Charles can’t use anything he knows because of his position as sheriff in this election.”
“He already has. Most of what he talked about at today’s meeting was family values. He had his wife of thirty-four years and his two sons sitting in the front row. Hell, Miriam brought muffins to hand out.”
“You want muffins? Katie will make you dozens of them. We can hand out baked goods to every voter in this town.”
“That’s not the point. You know how perception plays into politics. He’s sowed the seeds of doubt about me. Now people will start talking...about me and my family and our history in Crimson.”
“They’ll understand he’s running a smear campaign.”
“No, they won’t.” He ran his hands through his hair, squeezed shut his eyes. “He was so smooth. Charles actually talked about how much he admired me, how much I’d overcome. He claimed he’d always felt protective of me because my mother abandoned me and my dad was so messed up. Would you believe he even compared me to his own sons?”
“Aaron and Todd?” Emily snorted. “Those two caused more trouble as teens than anyone else in the school. I haven’t seen Todd, but from what I can tell, Aaron hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still a big bully. I don’t know how many times I have to say no to a date before he quits calling me.”
“He’s calling you?” As angry as Jase was about Charles, temper of a different sort flared to the surface of his skin, hot and prickly. It was almost a relief to channel his frustration toward something outside himself. Something he could control. Above all else, Jase understood the value of control. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Hold on there, Hero-man. I don’t need you to handle Aaron for me. I can take care of annoying jerks all on my own.”
“You can handle everything, right?”
He regretted the rude question as soon as it was out of his mouth. Emily should snap back at him because he was lashing out at her with no cause. Instead, she flashed him a saucy grin. “Takes one to know one.”
The smile, so unexpected and undeserved, diffused most of his anger, leaving him with a heaping pile of steaming self-doubt. He sat on the edge of his desk and leaned forward, hands on his knees.
“I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself.” His chin dropped to his chest and he stared at the small stain peeking out from under one of the chairs in front of the desk. “But it’s a lot easier to worry about other people than think of how quickly my own life is derailing.”
A moment later he felt cool fingers brush away the hair from his forehead. He wanted to lean into her touch but forced himself to remain still. “Did you ever meet Andrew Meyer who used to run this office? I took over his practice four years ago, and I haven’t changed a thing.” He pushed the toe of his leather loafer against the chair leg until the stain was covered. “Not one piece of furniture or painting on the wall. You can still see the frame marks from where he took down his law school diploma and I never bothered to replace it with mine. I inherited his
secretary and his clients, and I haven’t lifted a finger to make this place my own. Hell, I think the magazines in the lobby are probably four years old. Maybe even older.”
“I switched them for current issues,” she said softly.
Her fingers continued to caress him and it felt so damn good to take a small amount of comfort from her. Too good. He lifted his head, and she dropped her hand.
“Why haven’t you changed anything?” She didn’t move away, and it was the hardest thing Jase had ever done not to pull her closer.
“Because this place isn’t mine.”
“It is,” she said, her tone confused. “It’s your office. Your clients. Your reputation.” She laughed. “Your mortgage.”
“This is the oldest law practice in the town. It was founded in the early 1900s and passed down through the Meyer family for generations. Andrew didn’t have kids, so he offered a partnership position to me when I was still in law school. He wanted a Crimson native to take over the firm. This is his legacy. Not mine.”
“Jase, you are the poster child for the town’s favorite son. Charles Thompson can’t hold a candle to the man you’ve become. Whether it was despite where you came from or because of it, the truth doesn’t change.”
“What if who people see isn’t the truth? What if I’ve become too good at playing the part people expect of me?”
“You don’t have to reflect the town’s image of you back at them. You’re more than a two-dimensional projection of yourself. Show everyone who you really are.”
Staring into Emily’s crystal-blue eyes, it was tempting. The urge to throw it all away, create the life he wanted, curled around his senses until the freedom of it was all he could see, hear and taste. Right behind the whisper of release came a pounding, driving fear that cut him off at the knees.
Who he was, who he’d been before he’d started down the path to redeeming his family name was a lost, lonely, scared boy. The memories he’d secreted away in the parts of his soul where he didn’t dare look threatened to overtake him.
Always the Best Man Page 7