Silver Mayor: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge Read online

  “Let’s call Gran about that swim date,” I suggest, hoping to redirect her. “And I’ll see what I can do to be there for a bit.”

  The smile I receive almost blinds me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my daughter, and if I need to suck up a half hour to meet this new friend’s mother, then that’s what I’ll do.

  3

  Poolside Plan

  [Janessa]

  As I sit on the patio around the pool, I hold my breath. I’ve been assured that Charlie isn’t home and won’t be present for this supervised playdate. Richard can’t reach me here, but I didn’t want Vega going to anyone’s house without me inspecting the place first. Little did I know I’d only be going a few feet from my mother’s home when Vega mentioned swimming with her new friend from art camp.

  My daughter is ten and used to a more lush lifestyle than the confines of my parents’ coach house, but I’m hoping to give her a better life, here or wherever we settle next. She’d been spoiled by her father until ulterior motives came to light. He wanted to pit her against me. Thankfully, Vega is smarter than him.

  “So Lucy mentioned you recently moved here,” Elaina Harrington asks me. She’s Charlie’s mother, and while my own mother explained she’d normally supervise a playdate with Lucy, Charlie suggested his mother be present instead. Elaina is beautiful in that classic Southern belle mystic of how does she still look so young when she must be over sixty? My own mother looks well past her age, having worked hard all her life to please others and to support my brother and me, but my father still tells her she looks beautiful every day. “Where did you move from?”

  I could fib a little, like when I said my name was Jan. Instead, I decide a general truth won’t hurt.

  “Texas.” I don’t offer more, and Elaina’s brow twitches just a bit, waiting on further explanation.

  “And what did you do there?”

  I was the arm candy of my husband, I want to snap, but I bite my cheek. “I was in marketing.” It’s not a lie. I went to college and got my first job in sports marketing for a Major League Baseball team. Then I met Richard Swank, center fielder for Houston. Pretty boy, all-star, notorious player. Adulterer. The list could go on and on. He refused to let me work once we married, citing I’d be too enticing for others. He worried about me leaving him. Oh, the irony.

  “Anywhere I’ve heard of?” Elaina asks, keeping up the small talk.

  “I don’t think so,” I offer, knowing she might recognize Richard’s name if she’s into baseball, but Elaina Harrington doesn’t come across as a sports fan.

  “And where are you working now?” Her eyes question something I’m unable to answer because I don’t have a job yet. We’ve only been here for two weeks, and I haven’t pursued any employment. I’m trying to make things as normal as possible for Vega, like registering her for a summer art camp.

  “I’m still looking for something,” I mention, my eyes lowering. I’m not embarrassed I’ve been a stay-at-home mother for ten years, but shame washes over me anyway. I don’t feel I have any other skills, having lost out on furthering my career and continuing to network once Richard demanded I stop working.

  “Perhaps, I could help. I have a few connections in town.” She winks good-naturedly at me, and I’m certain she has several well-meaning connections, but I don’t want any favors. She begins with her list anyway. “My eldest son runs the local brewery that we own. Another runs Blue Ridge Microbrewery & Pub. Charlie is the mayor, as I’m sure you are aware.” She smiles politely, proud of her offspring’s accomplishments. “My other son is…estranged from the family at the moment, but there’s also my daughter, Matilda. She’s a women’s volleyball coach for Northeastern Georgia University.” She gives a dismissive wave as though she isn’t quite as proud of her daughter’s achievements. “But I don’t know how interested you’d be in sports.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. She has no clue how much my life revolved around them before.

  We both turn at the sound of hard-soled shoes snapping against concrete, and my breath catches. My hand grips the armrest of the outdoor dining chair where I sit as I turn to face the person approaching.

  “You?” Charlie hisses, his eyes instantly latching onto mine, and I’m caught in his gaze like a fish snagged on a hook.

  “Charlie, we were just discussing you,” Elaina interjects, standing to greet her son whose eyes don’t leave mine. He isn’t even touching me, and my skin prickles like yesterday morning.

  I’m hyperaware of a young girl’s squeal, calling out, “Dad!” A small, wet body rushes past me, and without a care to his suit, he stoops to catch his daughter. Lucy. “Dad, you made it!”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he states in that too deep voice with a hint of untruth. I bet he’s missed a few important moments in his daughter’s life. Richard missed several of Vega’s. A meeting. A practice. A woman in a hotel room. “Wanted to meet your new friend. And her mother.”

  His eyes don’t leave mine as he presses a kiss to her temple and sets her back on her feet.

  “Dad, this is Vega. We have the same birthday. Isn’t that so cool? And she’s going to go to school with me this fall.” The excitement in his child’s voice turns my head to Vega who has also left the pool and stands near my knee. I reach for her damp back and rub. I haven’t decided if we are staying or not.

  “Yeah, so cool,” he mutters, still watching me when I glance up at him. “Charlie Harrington.”

  He extends a hand to shake mine, remembering his manners.

  “Jan.” I pause. “Jan Cruz.” I’ve shortened my given name and use my maiden name.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” he fakes again in that rugged voice as our hands touch, and that current shoots up my wrist like it did when he touched me the other day in his room.

  “What were you saying about me?” he questions, releasing my hand and turning to his mother.

  “Ms. Cruz is new to the area and was telling me she’s looking for a job. I was listing off all my connections.”

  “Yes. Elaina Harrington is better than LinkedIn,” he jokes, giving his mother a teasing grin. He’s close to her. It shows in the way he looks at her. A good man treats his mother with kindness. It’s sweet but unnerving. “What line of work are you looking for?”

  “I’m undecided at the moment.” I sound like a kid heading off to college without a plan when I’m a forty-three-year-old woman…without a plan.

  “Well, I hope that works out for you.” He isn’t mocking me but teasing once again, and I smile despite myself.

  “Dad, come swim,” Lucy begs, tugging at his hand.

  “I can’t, Pint, but I promised I’d stop by, remember?” Lucy releases his hand. “Dinner,” he states the reminder, and Lucy nods, then turns for Vega. “Race you.”

  The two sprint for the pool while Elaina calls out, “Walk. Don’t run.” When her head turns back to face us, the weight of her stare is heavy as she glances from me to Charlie.

  “I think I’ll go get us some fresh iced tea.” Patting Charlie’s arm after she stands, she says, “Take a seat and meet Ms. Cruz.”

  Once his mother’s gone, he turns to me and lowers into the seat across from mine.

  “What are you doing here?” he growls under his breath as he leans forward, placing his arms on his knees. He’s too good-looking in that suit. Too clean-cut and smooth. Despite the darkness of his eyes, they gleam.

  “Your mother invited us.” It isn’t exactly true. Lucy invited Vega and said I needed to attend as well, which is fine as I wanted to be here to learn more about my daughter’s new friend. The assurance of Charlie’s absence made it easy to accept the invitation. I should have known better.

  “Have you been in the house? How do I know you didn’t try to steal something else from me?” His accusation stings, and sass gets the better of me.

  “Want to strip-search me?” Holding out my arms, I sit straighter in my seat, and Charlie’s eyes travel down my body like a slow glide down
a waterslide. I’m wearing a sundress that lays over my thighs and thin sandals on my feet. Charlie takes his time, making it obvious to slip over the slope of my breasts down to my waist, and along my legs to the cross of my bare knees.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he mutters, and my head tips.

  “Search my bags,” I snap, placing my arms on the armrests.

  “How do I know there isn’t a whole posse inside wiping me clean while you distract my mother out here?”

  “I think you’ve watched too many crime shows, Mayor. Besides, I’m not a gang member, but thanks for stereotyping me.”

  He leans back in his seat and swipes a hand through his hair, which is longer on top and trimmed close to the scalp near his ears. His temples are graying. It’s a sexy look on him.

  “I apologize. That might have crossed a line, but then again, so does thievery.”

  “Thievery?” I snort. “Big word.”

  “Yes, I use them occasionally.” He stares back at me, but he grins just the slightest bit, and a dimple curls at the corner of his lip. “It’s very mayorly of me.”

  I chuckle. Reaching inside his suit jacket, he pulls out his cell phone. I’m assuming he’s checking the time, but then he says, “Give me your number.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you give me your number, I can share mine, and you can contact me about a job. I might have a connection or two myself.” He winks like his mother did. Yep, too smooth.

  “I’d prefer to just find something on my own but thank you.” Nervously, I swipe down the length of my short dress and cup my knee cap. My response surprises him as he holds the phone in his palm, primed to take my digits.

  “You don’t want help?” A singular brow lifts, and the dimple disappears.

  “I’m good,” I say, waving a hand. I don’t want anyone connecting themselves to Vega and me. I need to do this on my own. I want to do it on my own terms.

  “Well, Ms. Cruz,” he states formally, returning his phone to his jacket and standing. Surprising me, he leans forward, bracing his hands on the armrests of my seat, bracketing me in. He lowers even farther, as if he’s going to kiss my cheek, only he speaks in my ear. “If ever we should meet again in my bedroom, I hope you’re naked and willing in my bed and not stealing from me.”

  4

  Parks and Recreation

  [Charlie]

  “What’s this?” I ask as I enter the conference room in the mayor’s building. The structure is an old house on the opposite side of First Street near the other municipal buildings for the town. This office has history, one I tried to eradicate when I took the position by allowing my law firm—Harrington & Rathstone—to move here. We remodeled, giving the historical landmark new life. The dining room became a conference room, and it’s where I stand, puzzled as I see Jan Cruz sitting at the oval table within.

  A gathering of the town council members circle the table as well.

  “It’s an interview for the new Parks and Recreation Director,” Bryce Norton says. Sally Maywood held the position forever until she passed away in the spring. Her ideas were antiquated, but as much as I wanted Sally to go, I never had the heart to fire her. Our little town needed some updates, though, not only in this building but also in the activities and adventures provided to tourists and locals alike. It was an all-encompassing job, and the position was open to interpretation and creativity.

  However, I wasn’t certain I was open to Jan Cruz obtaining the position. When Jan was at the house a week ago, my mother didn’t share anything she’d learned about our guest. Then again, I hadn’t asked too many questions because an inquiry of my own would lead to a setup from my mother. She loves to play matchmaker.

  Jan. The name doesn’t fit her. Something says Jan is too simple for her. She looks complicated. She has secrets just under the surface of that beautiful skin and those mesmerizing eyes and knowing she has them makes my skin prickle in a conflict of curiosity and caution. I’ve had enough scandal in the past. I don’t need to invite more into the mayor’s office or my life.

  The other members of the town council stare at me, waiting for me to either comment or take a seat. I don’t typically attend interviews, but I want in on the decision for the new Park-Rec person because they’ll be working closely with me at first. Charity Bernard, my assistant, sits at the table to take notes along with Scarlett Nugent, Gretchen O’Leary, Wyatt Hubner, and Bryce.

  The only open seat is next to Jan who sits near the end of the table. I don’t run a hierarchy with an I’m the leader attitude but allow for more of a roundtable discussion with me as the final decision maker. We already had the monarch wannabe running this town when I was child. Kip Chance, Denton and Dolores’s father, was a tyrant.

  Jan forces a grin my way as I take my seat, and the interview continues with the typical requests for experience, references, and accountability. How will she handle herself in an XYZ situation? Her knees are bouncing under the table, but the upper portion of her doesn’t move as she keeps her hands folded on the tabletop and answers without a quiver in her voice. But her legs—those long limbs crossed with a shoe dangling off her toes—are distracting the heck out of me.

  Sitting forward, I slide my seat a little closer to her and then reach my pen under the table to poke her thigh. A hand on the knee is something I’d do with a fidgeting Lucy when I needed her to sit still, but I don’t dare touch Ms. Cruz. One, because I don’t trust my fingers on her skin. The previous times I’ve touched her, the charge racing over my fingers was like getting zapped from an outlet. I know about these things as I did stick a key in a socket on a dare from my older brother when I was a child.

  Secondly, I’m one comment away from a sexual harassment complaint. I can’t believe I said what I said to her beside the pool. Naked and willing in my bed. I don’t know what came over me, but when she flinches from the stroke of the pen tip on her thigh, I realize I know exactly what came over me.

  Her.

  I haven’t been able to stop thinking of her for days. That long dark hair and those bright green eyes with light cappuccino skin and perfect white teeth. Not to mention, she’s curvy. Hips. Breasts. Backside. A real Jennifer Lopez clone and I’m drooling. Today, she wears a tight skirt and loose blouse with her hair pulled to her nape and eyeglasses. She’s a vision, and I’d let her play naughty secretary with me any day.

  Jesus, get a grip. I retract the pen and scrub at my forehead with two fingers. I haven’t heard half of what she’s said in this interview. Something about sports marketing. A love for recreation. And then there’s a question of where she lives.

  “I’m staying within the town proper as per the qualifications for the position.” The answer is vague, terse, and direct, and I’m not certain it’s within our right to question her further, though her address should be on file with the application. We do require our council members to live within the boundary of town, not up in the woods or down the ridge in another city.

  “Well, I’m just curious…” Gretchen O’Leary states, but I interject.

  “Thank you. If those are all the questions the council has for Ms. Cruz, perhaps we should wrap this up.”

  “We have another interview at one thirty,” Charity announces to the group, and Jan’s shoulders fall. She wants this job, and Charity was out of line to reference others.

  “Thank you for your time.” Jan smiles graciously at the council and twists for her bag at her feet.

  “If I might have a word alone with Ms. Cruz. Let’s take a break for a few minutes before the next appointment. Coffee’s in the kitchen.” Charity keeps the coffeepot full, and the cabinets hold endless donations of cookies and treats for meetings and such. Never one to turn down a cookie, Wyatt is the first to excuse himself, and the remainder of the council follows.

  I turn toward Jan once the door to the kitchen is closed, but she’s already out of her seat and heading for the double doors leading to the front hall. Circling the table on the opposite side of her,
I cut her off before she reaches the exit.

  “Hey,” I say, stretching my hand for her and then retracting it. “I want to apologize for what I said the other day. It was inappropriate and uncalled for. I just want you to know I don’t make a habit of soliciting women into my bed.”

  “Don’t you mean seducing?”

  “Wasn’t aware inviting you to my bedroom was appealing.” My voice drops, and her breath catches. “Not that I’m trying to be seductive or seducing or anything. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  When she blinks up at me, those green eyes steal my thoughts. I’d like to seduce her, but that would be a terrible idea—the worst idea—especially if she gets this job.

  “How exactly did you get this interview?” I question, and she shifts the bag on her shoulder.

  “I filled out the application.”

  I chuckle as there’s no way it was that simple, especially as she avoided one specific question near the end. “Where do you live?”

  “Are you asking as a part of the interview, Mr. Harrington, or for seductive purposes? Because if it’s the latter, you’re crossing the inappropriate line once again.”

  “Let’s see,” I say, stepping closer to her. “And what line did you cross by being in my bedroom in the first place, slipping on my grandmother’s ring, and then dodging quickly out of my house, only to show up a few days later on a swim date with your child?”

  Her nostrils flare like a bull ready to pounce, and for some reason, I want her to jump. I want her to leap at me, so I have cause to lay her out on this dining room table and have my way with her. That tight skirt does nothing to conceal the outline of her body. The rounded hips. The dip to her waist. The swell of her ass. My hands twitch to touch her, preparing for the combustion if she gave in to me.

  “I’m not at liberty to answer.”