Chasing Perfect
Page 4
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.”
She didn’t have to look to know who was talking. All she had to do was stand there, feeling her heart race uncontrollably in her chest as heat and awareness flooded her.
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 na**d 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.
Blood sugar, she told herself. She had low blood sugar.
“Why do you live at a hotel?” she asked, mostly to distract herself.
“Why not? It’s centrally located, there’s room service and someone else makes my bed every morning.”
“The ultimate in not taking responsibility for your life?” she asked, then wished she hadn’t. So much for a flip answer.
Instead of getting annoyed, Josh chuckled. A low, sexy, appealing sound that made her break out in goosebumps.
“Because taking responsibility is the height of perfection?” he asked.
“It’s a sign of maturity.”
“A quality that’s highly overrated.”
For him, she thought grimly. She’d been responsible for taking care of herself since she was nine or ten years old. She’d always envied those who were carefree enough to not have to worry. Those who knew they would be looked after by others. That hadn’t been an option for her. Her mother had been the free spirit in the family, leaving Charity to make sure their world ran smoothly.
Charity had always loved her mother and wished she was different in equal measures. Sure it was fun to have a parent who never said you had to go to school or do homework, but there were also times when a kid wanted structure and rules. Charity had learned to provide those for herself.
They reached the third floor. She hurried ahead, wanting to reach her room and escape inside. Some how, though, he got in front of her and leaned against her door.
“We should have a drink sometime,” he said, his hazel-green eyes gazing into hers and making every cell in her body sigh in appreciation.
“I’m not sure spending time with a man who cheerfully declares himself to be immature and irresponsible is a good thing.”
The low chuckle came again. “I’m not as bad as all that.”
“Aren’t you?”
He turned in a slow circle. “Look. I’m completely normal. Practically boring.”
He was many things, but boring wasn’t one of them.
Before she could point that out, his door opened. A beautiful blonde wearing one of his shirts and nothing else looked at him.
“Hello, Josh. I thought I heard your voice.”
Josh straightened. Charity took advantage of the distraction to slip into her room and carefully lock the door behind her. She leaned against the wall for a few seconds before bending over and turning on a lamp.
As light flooded the small but elegantly furnished living room, she ignored the sense of defeat knotting in her stomach and told herself she wasn’t even surprised. Of course a guy like Josh would have a woman waiting in his room. They probably came in shifts. From everything she’d heard, he loved women and they loved him back.
She squared her shouders. Even if she couldn’t control her physical reaction to him, she could control what she did about it, which would be exactly nothing.
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.”
She didn’t have to look to know who was talking. All she had to do was stand there, feeling her heart race uncontrollably in her chest as heat and awareness flooded her.
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 na**d 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.
Blood sugar, she told herself. She had low blood sugar.
“Why do you live at a hotel?” she asked, mostly to distract herself.
“Why not? It’s centrally located, there’s room service and someone else makes my bed every morning.”
“The ultimate in not taking responsibility for your life?” she asked, then wished she hadn’t. So much for a flip answer.
Instead of getting annoyed, Josh chuckled. A low, sexy, appealing sound that made her break out in goosebumps.
“Because taking responsibility is the height of perfection?” he asked.
“It’s a sign of maturity.”
“A quality that’s highly overrated.”
For him, she thought grimly. She’d been responsible for taking care of herself since she was nine or ten years old. She’d always envied those who were carefree enough to not have to worry. Those who knew they would be looked after by others. That hadn’t been an option for her. Her mother had been the free spirit in the family, leaving Charity to make sure their world ran smoothly.
Charity had always loved her mother and wished she was different in equal measures. Sure it was fun to have a parent who never said you had to go to school or do homework, but there were also times when a kid wanted structure and rules. Charity had learned to provide those for herself.
They reached the third floor. She hurried ahead, wanting to reach her room and escape inside. Some how, though, he got in front of her and leaned against her door.
“We should have a drink sometime,” he said, his hazel-green eyes gazing into hers and making every cell in her body sigh in appreciation.
“I’m not sure spending time with a man who cheerfully declares himself to be immature and irresponsible is a good thing.”
The low chuckle came again. “I’m not as bad as all that.”
“Aren’t you?”
He turned in a slow circle. “Look. I’m completely normal. Practically boring.”
He was many things, but boring wasn’t one of them.
Before she could point that out, his door opened. A beautiful blonde wearing one of his shirts and nothing else looked at him.
“Hello, Josh. I thought I heard your voice.”
Josh straightened. Charity took advantage of the distraction to slip into her room and carefully lock the door behind her. She leaned against the wall for a few seconds before bending over and turning on a lamp.
As light flooded the small but elegantly furnished living room, she ignored the sense of defeat knotting in her stomach and told herself she wasn’t even surprised. Of course a guy like Josh would have a woman waiting in his room. They probably came in shifts. From everything she’d heard, he loved women and they loved him back.
She squared her shouders. Even if she couldn’t control her physical reaction to him, she could control what she did about it, which would be exactly nothing.
