At Her Beck and Call

At Her Beck and Call Dawn Atkins Former stripper Autumn Beshkin is an urban girl eyeing a new profession.To climb this career ladder she's keeping her clothes on and taking an accounting job. Small-town living isn't as exciting as she's used to, but it's only temporary. Then she meets her sexy new boss, Mayor Mike Fields. The attraction between them steams up the office, and suddenly her visit here promises hedonistic pleasure.Luring the conservative mayor into some not-so-mayoral activities isn't difficult for a woman of Autumn's talents. And the results are sizzling! But just as she's eyeing the exit ramp out of town, Mike suggests turning this fling into a commitment. Is he–and his traditional town–really ready for the uncut version of Autumn? At Her Beck and Call Dawn Atkins www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) To my sister, Wendy Harling, for her courage…and for being such a fan Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Coming Next Month 1 IT WAS A MEASLY internship in a Podunk town, but Autumn Beshkin was dressed to kill for her interview. One thing you learned cold as a stripper: Appearance counts. She wore a designer suit and pricey pumps, though the look at the Copper Corners town hall seemed to be casual. And not Friday casual, either. Saturday-washing-the-car casual, judging from Evelyn, the fiftyish secretary who’d ushered her to the folding chair outside the mayor’s office. Evelyn wore a tracksuit, ball cap and running shoes. The phone rang. “H-e-double toothpicks!” Evelyn exclaimed, dropping her fluorescent green knitting to grab it. The fat tabby lolling in her in-box gave an irritated meow, whipping its tail through the loose paperclips on her desk. “Mayor’s office.” Evelyn tucked the phone against her ear and clicked her needles into gear again. “Heidi. Oh, yes, your friend’s here.” Evelyn smiled Autumn’s way. Autumn wiggled her fingers in greeting. Heidi had convinced Autumn to take this job to help Heidi’s brother, the mayor, who was “desperate, just desperate” for help, since his accountant was on an early maternity leave. Autumn needed an internship anyway and she’d be able to room with her best friend and fellow stripper, Jasmine Ravelli, who already had a job here costuming the Founder’s Day pageant, so it seemed workable. “Sure you can talk to him,” Evelyn said into the phone. “Hang on a blip.” She pushed buttons, then announced, “Mayor Mike, your sister’s on line one.” Through the thin paneling behind her head, Autumn heard the mayor greet Heidi. She listened for him to express his gratitude to her for sending Autumn to his rescue. Instead, he said, “How could you promise her, Heidi? I need a professional, not a college kid.” Autumn sucked in a shocked breath. “I don’t care how mature she is,” he continued. “I need someone who knows a P-and-L from the A & P. I don’t have time to explain basic procedures. Hell, I don’t know basic procedures….” What the…? Not only was the mayor not grateful, he was bitching about her. Autumn’s cheeks heated, which made her feel weak. She hated feeling weak. Already, going back to school at age thirty-four had stirred up the mud at the bottom of her self-esteem pond, mucking up the water with doubts and fears. Autumn felt competing impulses. Screw this lame-ass job in this jerkwater town, followed swiftly by, If I don’t get this lame-ass job in this jerkwater town, I’ll just die. Not quite, but it would throw off her entire program, which she couldn’t stand. “I know she’s desperate,” the mayor said. “Has to have an internship, yeah, right. Got it. Huh? I’ll talk to her, but I don’t see how it’ll work. What? Hello?” His muttered “Damn” told Autumn that Heidi had hung up. The man thought Autumn was desperate? So not fair. He was the desperate one. With her grades, Autumn could easily have scored an internship with a prominent Phoenix accounting firm like the rest of her classmates, but she’d decided this job would offer a broader range of duties. At the big places, she’d be competing with tons of interns and was as likely to get clerical work as quality accounting experience. This had seemed the better choice. “I’m sure he’ll be right with you,” Evelyn said to Autumn, smiling reassuringly. She’d evidently read Autumn’s alarm as impatience. “No problem.” She managed a faint smile. She had to get this rinky-dink job. All the Phoenix slots had been filled in early June and it was already the nineteenth. Her eye fell on the motivational quotes sticking out from Evelyn’s monitor on a knitted border: Winners Never Quit…Hang In There…Fake It Till You Make It…. They all seemed aimed at her. Autumn repeated them in her head, picturing a tiny cheerleading squad shouting out the phrases with a swish of pom-poms. If only she were as sure of herself in her new career as she was as a stripper. She was doing well in school so far. Her straight A’s were the golden treasure she opened in her mind whenever she got scared. She poked a loose strand of hair into the French braid she’d put her hair in and re-crossed her legs. Her stockings rasped and her garters dug into her thigh. One of the cats where she and Jasmine were house-sitting had snagged her pricey panty hose, so she’d worn the stockings from her Leather Girl dance costume. Autumn had felt so much better, she’d donned the rest of the outfit—a leather thong and a bra with cut-out nipples. Under her conservative suit, the wild underwear made her feel confident and in control. That would have to do until the new Autumn felt more sure in her skin. Autumn pasted on her game face—friendly, self-assured and relaxed—and inched her real self back into can’t-touch-me safety. Winners never quit…Fake it till you make it…Go, Autumn, go. The fat cat from Evelyn’s desk prowled over to her and began to eye her stockings as though they were flesh-filled scratching posts. Don’t even think about it, she silently warned, blocking her legs with her portfolio. The cat looked at her with regal disdain—We are not amused—then launched its bulk onto her lap. “Oh, excellent,” Evelyn exclaimed. “Quincy is particular.” The cat gave her a look: Very particular. Autumn set her portfolio on the adjacent chair and tapped the cat tentatively on the head. “I’m flattered,” she said for Evelyn’s benefit. She was kissing up to a cat? A hot and heavy cat who was making her thighs sweat and streaking her expensive skirt with orange hair. It would be rude to push him off, so she jiggled her legs to make it less fun to sit on her. Her move worked and Quincy shot her a jaundiced look, hitched to his feet and plopped onto the other chair, flat on her portfolio. Great. Strangely enough, though, when next their eyes met, the cat seemed to want to reassure her. Relax. He’ll be putty in your hands. She grinned. Oh, she was in trouble now, accepting a pep talk from a fur-covered blimp whose life likely consisted of long naps punctuated by catnip breaks and the occasional torture of a rodent. All the same, she felt calmer and when she heard the mayor’s footsteps heading her way, she jumped to her feet, ready to demonstrate just how smart and quick and prepared she was for this measly job. Noticing cat hair on her skirt, she was swiping madly at it when the mayor spoke to her. “Autumn Beshkin?” He smiled. She stopped mid-swipe and held out her hand. Before the mayor shook it a clunk drew their attention. Quincy had pushed her portfolio to the floor. “Whoops,” Autumn said, dropping to get it. The mayor crouched, too, and before she knew it they were having a tug-of-war over the black leather binder. She won and they both stood. The mayor looked a little stunned. He probably hadn’t expected a wrestling match. “Sorry,” he said. “Quincy can be a pest.” He held out his hand. “Mike Fields.” She shook his hand, careful to be firm, not knuckle-crunching, as her career prep partner had described her practice handshakes. “Autumn Beshkin.” He looked at her. Really looked. Not the usual man stare. More like a therapist or a hypnotist or a priest waiting for a confession. What was the deal with that? “Pleased to meet you,” she said. He was handsome, with even features, a strong jaw, solid mouth and kind eyes that were a deep brown in color. His brown hair was short and slightly curled, not particularly stylish—neither were his khakis and golf shirt—but he carried himself as though he was used to getting his way without even trying. “You’re not what I expected,” he said, almost as if the words surprised him, too. He didn’t expect a stripper, Autumn knew for sure. She’d made Heidi keep her secret. When men found out what she did, they got all dazed and weird and started thinking with their little heads. And that was the last thing she wanted on the first job she would earn with her brains, not her body. “A P-and-L is a profit and loss statement, not a grocery store,” she said levelly. “For a student, I’m experienced. And I am mature, just as Heidi told you.” His eyebrows lifted. “You heard me…?” “Thin walls.” She shrugged. “Sorry about that. It’s just that my sister tends to exaggerate and—” “Not this time. Not about me. You’ll see that, I promise.” She stuck her portfolio out at him and held his gaze, determined to convey more confidence than she felt. He’ll be putty in your hands. But not so far. “Why don’t we step into my office,” he said, accepting her shoved portfolio. He looked funny—stunned or annoyed, she couldn’t tell. The needle clicks had stopped dead, so Autumn knew she’d sounded forceful enough to make Evelyn stare. But if you didn’t fight for what you wanted, you’d never get it, right? Autumn threw back her shoulders and strutted past him, ready to kick ass and take names, exactly the way she marched on stage. She was too good for this job, but she was damn well going to get it. On the other hand, she felt a jolt of regret when the mayor shut the door on Quincy. She needed all the moral support she could get. MIKE STOOD IN the doorway a second after Autumn passed, fighting for his composure. Had he really said that? You’re not what I expected? Luckily, she seemed to think he meant her inexperience, not the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous—a detail Heidi had failed to mention when she’d oversold him on the woman’s qualifications. Appearance was irrelevant to the job, of course, but he’d have liked a heads-up on her beauty. Even worse, while fighting her for her portfolio, he’d caught a glimpse of the sexiest bra he’d ever seen in his life. Black leather and, God help him, open at the tips? She’d been too busy defending her credentials to notice that he was staring at her as if she was dinner and he was starving. Hell, he was likely to skid on his own drool. Autumn knows what she’s doing, Heidi had told him over the phone. Oh, yes, she did, he saw, watching her march into his office, every tilt, sway and twist absolutely intentional. Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing with that body of hers. But he needed a skilled bookkeeper, not a student hot enough to melt plastic. What he had to do now was send her away without hurting her feelings. Not easy, he’d bet, since her bravura struck him as something of a bluff. She’d jabbed her portfolio at him like a weapon she wasn’t sure would fire. She sat in his guest chair, crossed a leg with a swishing sound so sexy it hurt his ears and leaned forward. She was all woman, with great curves, long legs, rust-red hair, a face that belonged in a fashion magazine and big green eyes that took his measure all the way to his socks. You need it, boy, and soon. And I can give it to you like no one else. She made him feel as if he’d been alone too long, even though he’d been dating steadily, thanks to the matchmaking service he’d subscribed to six months ago. There was an edge to her. A mystery. As though she had a very cool secret. Take that bra, for instance. And did her panties match? Stop thinking with your parts. Grateful for the desk between them, Mike rested his clasped hands on her leather case. “Heidi told me this internship is important to you.” She leaned forward. “She told me you were desperate.” “In a way, I am. Because Lydia left so suddenly, she didn’t have everything in order. The custom software she uses is complex, so I need someone with experience.” “I can handle it. If you’ll look at what I brought—” She leaned across his desk to unzip her binder and he closed his eyes against another shot of black leather and pale flesh. He caught her scent, a heady mix of spring rain and spices. A tapping sound made him open his eyes. She was drumming her index finger on the plastic sheet over her r?sum?. The fingernail bore a tiny rhinestone in a star pattern. It was blunt-edged. How would those nails feel raking his back? You’re doing it again. “You can see, I’ve done bookkeeping for DD Enterprises and here are the classes I’ve taken so far.” She flipped the page. “I’ve also included a class project.” Three pages of a report crackled by. “References from two professors and my employer.” Flip. Flip. “And finally, my transcripts. A four-point-oh, as you can see.” “Very impressive—” “Thank you.” “—for a student,” he finished, closing the binder. Autumn Beshkin fixed him with her fierce green eyes. “I’m fast, I’m resourceful and I’ll do what needs to be done.” “I’m sure you would, but I have neither the time nor the knowledge to train you. It’s budget time, we’re in the middle of an economic development plan, and I’m in charge of the founders celebration—it’s our 150th anniversary—a very big deal around here.” “Which means you need someone now. And I’m here. Now.” But he had a call in to a woman who’d recently retired from the Cities and Towns Commission who would do fine. “Look, Ms. Beshkin—” “Autumn.” “Autumn.” Her hair was the color of her name—the striking rust-red of leaves in September. Stop. “This job can’t be what you want, either. You need a mentor, formal feedback, written evaluations, someone who can spend time with you.” “You’re turning me down?” She sounded more outraged than hurt. Like he’d better explain himself and it better be good. Before he could work up something impressive, Evelyn yelped from the outer office. “Heavenly damn, Quincy!” Mike rushed out, Autumn at his heels, and found his secretary using her knitting to mop at the laptop she used as her CPU. “That damn cat knocked over my iced tea!” Autumn grabbed the laptop and tilted it so the tea trickled from its keyboard. The external keyboard Evelyn used looked untouched. Her monitor, too was all right. “Is the data backed up?” Mike asked. Evelyn had her own mysterious system of office procedures. “More or less.” Evelyn balled up her knitting. “Do you have a forced air duster we can dry it with?” Autumn asked. Seeing Evelyn’s blank stare, she said, “How about a blow dryer?” “In the bathroom!” Evelyn ran in that direction. “Please hold this.” Autumn thrust the laptop at him, still tilted, then ran back into his office. She came out with her purse, fished out her keys and detached a small device, which she held up. “This key drive has a gig of memory.” She stuck it into a port at the back of the laptop. “Hopefully I can copy the recent files before the motherboard freezes.” Mike set the laptop on a dry spot on Evelyn’s desk and Autumn quickly clicked into the hard drive, organizing the files by date. He was impressed by her calm efficiency. “This way she’ll have access until you can service the laptop,” she said, still working. “If it’s fried, a tech can likely retrieve the files, but who knows when you can get that handled. You have to go to Tucson for service, I imagine.” “True. Good idea. And quick thinking.” “This happened to me at the bar once,” she said. “Laptops are convenient, but that also makes them vulnerable.” “I tried to talk Evelyn into a tower, but she likes to stay fast on her feet, she says.” “And I bet keeping Evelyn happy makes everything go smoother around here.” “Exactly.” Already, she’d caught the rhythm of the place. They locked gazes and he felt a zip of recognition and pleasure not entirely related to how attractive she was. He watched Autumn copy the most recent files onto her drive, almost not thinking about her underwear. She touched her finger to a drop of liquid on the computer, then tasted it. “No sugar. That’s good. Stickiness is fatal.” “Yeah,” he said, thinking about her tongue. “Fatal.” Evelyn arrived with the dryer and handed it to him. “I need to rinse off my knitting.” She bustled away. Evelyn was great with people, but she never let her work interfere with her day. She came through when the chips were down, though. Worked at home on the laptop and read his mind when it counted. Autumn bent to plug the dryer cord into the power bar and her skirt pulled brutally tight. He looked away, but not before he saw them: black stockings. With seams. And through the slit in her skirt he recognized garters. Lord God in heaven. Seamed black stockings, garters and a leather cut-out bra. Under that suit, Autumn Beshkin was dressed to kill. Or at least seriously maim. Minimum, make it tough for a man to walk. She jerked up, surprising him while he was still gawking at her like a kid with his first Playboy. “You okay?” she asked. “Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “You sure?” A knowing smile teased her lips. Had she noticed the drool? “I’m, uh, sure.” “If you say so.” She waved the dryer at the damp computer, watching him. “You’ll want to have the unit serviced, of course. Dried and cleaned thoroughly.” She spoke slowly, thoughtfully, playing with something in her mind, he could tell. He thought about her thoroughly servicing something on him…with her tongue. Get a grip. “Absolutely,” he said. “Thanks for, uh, jumping in.” “Whatever you need me to do, Mayor,” she said, low and slow, “I will do.” Now Mike Fields was not a guy who made snap decisions or reversed course on a dime. But Autumn Beshkin, standing there in her leather underwear, with her magic key drive and suggestive smile changed all that. “Okay,” he said with a sigh, “when can you start?” 2 IT WAS EARLY EVENING when Autumn entered the Copper Corners High auditorium to check on Jasmine, who was at the first rehearsal of the pageant. The job Jasmine had designing costumes would pay for her daughter Sabrina’s nearby summer camp since the burlesque revue Autumn and Jasmine were in together was on hiatus for the summer. Jasmine was fired up about the two friends spending quality time together, but her real purpose for being here was to spend time with her new guy—Mark Fields, brother to Heidi and Mayor Mike. From close to the stage, Jasmine spotted Autumn and hurried down the aisle carrying a bolt of fabric. “So? Did you get the job?” Jasmine asked, when she was close. When Autumn nodded, Jasmine whooped, threw down the fabric and hugged Autumn so fast and hard that Autumn accidentally bit her own tongue. “That’s so fabulous!” Jasmine said, then leaned back. “Hey, aren’t you happy about it?” “Yeth. Bery ha-y,” Autumn said over her aching tongue. Except she was queasy about how she’d gotten the job. She’d caught Mayor Mike in a lust daze and worked it. Use what you got had always been her philosophy, but using the sex angle had felt like selling out her new self—the woman who got ahead with her brains, not her body. The idea made her head hurt. Or maybe it was the French braid that she’d pulled so tight her scalp ached. She’d changed into more casual clothes, but had forgotten to let down her hair. Or maybe it was her reaction to Mayor Mike’s lust. She’d felt an answering response that had turned her insides to liquid. Ridiculous. The man was her boss. Completely off-limits, even if she had time for sex. Which she hadn’t since she started school. “So what have you been up to?” Jasmine asked. Besides seducing the mayor into hiring me? “Not much. I unpacked, did some housework, fed the pets.” They’d scored free rent in exchange for doing light housekeeping, watering the plants and taking care of the owners’ two cats, freshwater fish tank and a terrarium of turtles and lizards. “I gave the chuckwalla some meal worms.” “Gross.” Jasmine scrunched up her nose. “Everybody has to eat. Though I don’t get the Huffmans. Why spend so much on creatures that couldn’t care less?” The Huffmans had bought piles of toys and elaborate hideout towers for their two cats. The fish tank was jammed with plastic plants, a castle and tunnels, and the lizards and turtles had a tiny creek, decorative boulders and miniature hollow logs in their terrarium. The care instructions filled two typed pages. “I’m sure the animals love them back,” Jasmine said. “With brains the size of kiwi seeds? How much love can there be?” Jasmine shrugged. “The cats are affectionate.” “When there’s food involved, sure.” Though Autumn respected a cat’s self-sufficiency. If you took care of your own needs, you never got disappointed. “How about you? You’re here for the read-through, right? And did you get Sabrina to camp okay?” “Yes. She made a friend right away. The girl brought the same Bratz doll to camp.” “That’s a relief.” Autumn worried about Sabrina, who was eleven, pretty and bright, but fought a weight problem, social awkwardness and puberty, which had her giddy with joy one minute, steamrolled by depression the next. Jasmine tended to gloss over Sabrina’s troubles, but Autumn connected with Sabrina—they shared a sense of isolation—and she listened in, advised where she could and felt good that Sabrina saved up her tales of triumph and agony for “Auntie Autumn.” Autumn loved that. It made her feel like family. Jasmine said Autumn was Sabrina’s aunt of the heart, as opposed to her real aunts who were too flaky and selfish to be much support to their niece. Or their sister, for that matter. “Camp will be good for her,” Autumn said. “Fresh air, physical activity, new friends.” Summer camp had been one of Jasmine’s more sensible ideas. She had a tendency to overspend on Sabrina, though the budget Autumn had helped her with had encouraged her to be more thrifty. Jasmine thanked Autumn over and over for the college savings account that was slowly building. Jasmine leaned on Autumn for financial advice, support at work and help with Sabrina, but she held her hands to her ears whenever it came to romantic issues. This latest was the worst. Mark Fields got a walking-into-walls crush on Jasmine after seeing her perform a few months ago. Two short visits and some phone calls later and Jasmine had declared him Mr. Forever. This worried the hell out of Autumn. Jasmine fell in love too fast and the breakups devastated her. She’d spend days in bed sobbing, blackout curtains in place, leaving poor Sabrina to fend for herself. Autumn always felt so helpless when her friend suffered. And she wanted to kick the shit out of the scumbags who caused it. Each time, Jasmine made Autumn swear: Never let me do that again. I mean it this time. Easier said than done. Jasmine was too much of a romantic. Why couldn’t she just accept lust for what it was and not dress it up in a ball gown of love and parade it around? During the month in Copper Corners, Autumn hoped to help Jasmine ease back into reality—the way you gently guided a sleepwalker back to bed—before things went bad. She worried about Sabrina, who did not need another father figure to disappear as soon as the affair cooled. Which it likely would. “You have time for dinner?” Autumn asked her. “Dinner? Uh, well I—” Jasmine blushed “—I’m kind of waiting for Mark. He plays the town founder, Josiah Bremmer. It’s the lead. So he’s got to be here for the reading.” “Oh. Sure.” “You don’t mind,” Jasmine said. “Really?” “I’ll grab something at the diner. I want to make it an early night anyway. Maybe I’ll study.” Now that she’d forced Mike to give her the job, the jitters had started up. Working for Copper Corners would not be as simple as tracking the receipts at the strip club for Duke. She would be accountable for the entire town’s finances. There were budgets to wrangle and Lydia’s complex software to figure out. She didn’t dare screw up. She needed the mayor’s recommendation for her class and her r?sum?. Plus, she’d practically strong-armed him into hiring her. Her pride was at stake. “How’s this going?” she asked Jasmine, nodding toward the lit stage, where people stood talking, scripts in hand. Two young guys banged away on a rickety-looking covered wagon, while two girls painted saguaro cactus onto a backdrop of a pink-and-orange desert sunset. “They’re waiting for Mark to start.” Jasmine sighed like an obsessed fan. “It looks fun.” Autumn loved the feel of the theater—the bright-white lights, the black-painted stage, the smells of wood and linen and paint and pancake makeup. She’d discovered the glory of it when she got a part in a high school musical, but that was an old story that had ended all wrong. She felt similarly when she performed in the three-woman burlesque revue with Jasmine, who did their costumes, and Nevada Neru, their choreographer. The revue had opened last year to rave reviews and had drawn steady crowds all season. She loved the excitement, the magic, the rapt faces of the audience. When she performed she felt so alive. She enjoyed the revue better than straight stripping, she’d concluded, because they were a team and their dances were more complex and told a story. “There’s the director, Sheila,” Jasmine said, pointing to a blond woman who was gesturing dramatically as she talked to the actors on stage. “She wants to meet you.” “You didn’t tell her, did you?” “That you’re a stripper? No. I promised I wouldn’t.” “Good. And no telling Mark, either.” Autumn had been off the night Mark saw the revue, so, if Jasmine kept her promise, Autumn could remain incognito while she was here. “You’re safe,” Jasmine said in a stage whisper. “No one knows that inside the chest of an ordinary accountant beats the heart of a man-killing pole dancer.” “And let’s keep it that way,” Autumn said. “I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Sheila thinks it’s great that I’m a stripper. She auditioned to be a Vegas showgirl, you know.” “You give people too much credit, Jasmine. Strippers scare the hell out of women and turn men into slathering beasts.” “What the hell is slather? Is it sweat or drool?” “You’re ignoring my point.” “Whatever. How does the mayor seem as a boss?” Jasmine asked, doing it again. “It’s too soon to tell.” Heidi had described Mike as everybody’s big brother, and in just the few minutes it took Autumn to fill out payroll papers, she’d seen that. Mike had taken several calls that all ended in him offering some kind of help, then headed out to discuss a property dispute between two ranchers. “I wonder what’s keeping Mark?” Jasmine looked up the burgundy-carpeted aisle toward the auditorium door, practically quivering in anticipation. As if on cue, the door opened and two men entered—Mike and a guy who looked like a smaller version of him carrying an armload of books. “There he is,” Jasmine breathed. Autumn enjoyed what she could see of the night sky through the doorway before it shut. One nice thing about a tiny town—its few lights didn’t interfere with the darkness so the sky could show off all its stars, millions of tiny pin-pricks in the velvet vastness. The big sky almost made up for the small minds. The brothers loped toward them. Autumn was annoyed to realize that watching Mike approach had her holding her breath. “Well, hello,” Mike said. He seemed surprised to see her there. “This is Autumn Beshkin, Mark. She’s taking over for—” He turned to his brother, who was busy staring at Jasmine. “Missed you,” Mark whispered. “Me, too,” Jasmine said, looking at him as though she wanted to swallow him whole. They’d seen each other the night before. How could they miss each other? “Give her the books,” Mike muttered, elbowing his brother in a way that showed he was annoyed, too. “Books? Yeah, sure.” Mark extended his armload. “Here’s the town history, some Web sites and stuff on old mining towns.” “Thank you, Mark. So much.” You’d think he’d given her an orgasm. “That’s a lot of reading,” Autumn observed. “I want my costumes to be authentic.” “Don’t you have to get up there?” Mike said to his brother, nodding toward the stage. “Yeah,” Mark said, his eyes glued to Jasmine. “The director’s heading over here,” Autumn said, rolling her eyes. She caught Mike doing the same. She hoped it was because of how silly these two were behaving and not because he disapproved of Jasmine. “There you are, Mark!” Sheila chirped. “We need you on stage. If we can pry you away from our costume designer here.” She smiled indulgently at them both. Already Sheila knew about the affair. So much for discretion. Sheila turned to Mike. “What brings you here, Mayor? Are you interested in a part, too? I think we could fit you in if—” “No, no. Please. Just want to be sure you have what you need, Sheila, for the production.” “So far, so good. I’m thrilled to have a real costumer. I’m still pinching myself. Plus the president of the Chamber of Commerce as our star? I’m simply stunned by my good fortune. Simply stunned.” “We all are stunned.” Mike shot his brother a look. “Considering how busy the guy is with his real estate business and his town committees.” “Oh, he’s very, very busy, all right.” Sheila winked and she clearly meant an entirely different kind of busy. Mike frowned. “So the budget is fine?” he asked Sheila, obviously to change the subject. “You have enough money for the fabrics, Jasmine?” Sheila asked. There was a pause while Jasmine seemed to descend from her pink cloud. “Hmm? Oh, uh, yes. I’ll have sketches soon. This is my friend, Autumn Beshkin, Sheila.” “So pleased to meet you,” Sheila said, shaking Autumn’s hand with both of hers. “We’re so grateful to have your talented friend with us. Aren’t we lucky she had time to do our pageant?” She turned to the brothers. “Very lucky,” Mark said, looking moonstruck. Good freakin’ Lord. Autumn caught Mike’s look. He seemed to feel the same as she did. “So, shall we get started? Hmm?” Sheila sang, holding out her arms to shoo Jasmine and Mark before her like baby chicks. “Let me know if you need anything else, Sheila,” Mike said. “Count on it,” Sheila said, the airy music gone from her voice. Beneath the sugary gratitude was a woman who would kick ass when necessary. That made Autumn smile. Mike turned to her. “Like I said, this festival’s big—one-five-oh. Sesquicentennial, though everyone says ‘Huh?’ when you use that word. Big budget, fancy pageant and a full festival.” “And you’re in charge?” “That’s what they tell me.” He spoke as though it was a burden, but she could tell he wouldn’t have it any other way. She understood. Nevada and Jasmine sometimes accused her of running the revue when she filled in the gaps. Her official job was promotion and scheduling, but she did what needed to be done. “I’m here to help however you need me.” “Yeah.” In the cool dimness of the auditorium, he gave her that look again. Saw right into her. She’d never felt that before with a man and it startled her. For a second, she seemed to be floating in a pale version of Jasmine’s pink cloud. Weird. Mike seemed to jolt back to normal himself. “So, have you eaten?” “Not yet, no.” “How about I treat you to dinner? We can go to Louie’s if you like Italian. Yolanda’s Cocina, the diner down the street, has Mexican food. Got a write-up in Tucson Weekly, mostly for the kitschy artwork.” “The diner sounds good,” she said, ignoring the steady buzz of attraction in her head. This was not a good idea. She needed to eat, didn’t she? And the better she knew the mayor, the easier it would be to give him what he wanted at work, right? She could ferret out job details. Sure. And enjoy his wry smile, intense eyes and nice smell…. Lord, she was acting just like Jasmine. 3 THE MINUTE THEY stepped into the funky diner, Autumn felt at home. She loved the campy velvet paintings on the wall and the shelves overflowing with Mexican handicrafts—brightly painted skulls, D?a de los Muertos tableau and statues of La Virgen. She even liked the mariachi music blasting loud enough to rattle her fillings. A gray-haired woman wearing an apron headed their way, then stopped to yell over her shoulder. “God-dammit, Rosalva, we’re going deaf.” Smiling at them, she spoke in a normal tone. “Sit toward the back, Mike, would you? Esther’s still swole up from that abscess, so I’m running my stumps off.” “Sure thing, Suze.” Mike led Autumn down the aisle, greeting everyone he passed, asking questions and answering the ones he was asked. He introduced Autumn as Lydia’s fill-in. Autumn felt curious looks follow them to the back booth. “Tongues are wagging now,” Mike said, shaking his head. “Why is that?” “Because you’re gorgeous and I’m not married.” “These people need to get lives.” But he looked suddenly serious. “Listen, Autumn, if I made you uncomfortable today in any way, I apologize.” Color shot up his neck and he looked utterly shame-faced. “You didn’t,” she said, not ready to point out the fact that she’d taken advantage of his weakness. “I’m not usually like that.” “It’s okay. Really.” The man was apologizing for the one thing she completely understood—he was a male animal with a sex drive. There was nothing wrong with that at all. In fact, her body was celebrating his masculinity this very instant. Her skin felt hot, her nerves jumpy and she crossed her legs against the swelling ache in her sex. Not helpful at all. She was supposed to pick her boss’s brains, not jump his bones. “I’m glad to hear that.” Mike handed her a laminated menu. “Look this over, but you’ll want the chiles rellenos, medium spice and a nopalitos-and-goat-cheese salad.” “What makes you so sure?” “I just know.” He winked as though he’d figured her out right down to her taste in Mexican food. Attraction zipped between them, making the candle flicker. Or maybe that was how unnaturally hard she was breathing. Settle down. “How about because it’s the next best thing to our machaca burros, which we’re usually out of this time of night?” Suze said in a raspy voice, talking around a cigarette, which wagged as she talked. “There’s that.” Mike grinned. “We only offer the one salad,” she added. “It’s a good one but it’s all she wrote.” “Guess that’s what I’ll have then,” Autumn said. “Double it,” Mike said. “And two Tecates.” He looked at Autumn. “Goes great.” “Is he right, Suze?” Autumn asked, getting into the down-home attitude. Suze winked. “Comin’ right up.” She left and their gazes collided, then bounced away. Hers landed on the art on the wall behind him. It was a velvet painting of Elvis as a bullfighter, smart and ironic. She smiled. “I like the art in here.” Mike turned to see what she was looking at. “We may only have two streetlights, but we know our velvet paintings.” “Evidently. They’re all around.” She looked around the place. “You’ve possibly cornered the market.” “We should put that on our Web site. Could bring us some art lovers.” “You’re always thinking about your job, huh?” “I’m the official town worrier.” “Is there a lot to worry about?” “Enough. We need business growth badly. Our bank is losing customers to the big chains. The grocery and hardware stores struggle. People tend to shop in Tucson. The idea is to give people reasons to spend their money in town, churn it back into our pockets.” As he talked, he fiddled with his silverware and she couldn’t take her eyes off his round-tipped fingers. He shifted his weight on the bench, moving with an athlete’s restlessness. He was well-built, so what did he do for exercise? Stop staring at the man. “That’s easy enough to understand,” she said, focusing in. “But people don’t think like that. They think about saving money or buying what they want, or getting a good selection.” She nodded, conceding his point about human nature. Suze arrived with their beers and Mike asked the woman about her son, who’d recently left town. She seemed to miss him and Mike’s expression was full of compassion. When Suze left, Mike looked out around the place, checking on everyone, as if to see that all was well. Which turned out to be kind of sexy. Like everything else about the man. “So, enough about my headaches,” he said. “Tell me about yourself. You’re in school to become a CPA?” He caught her gaze. Again he really looked at her. Like a shrink or a father confessor or a man who knew her more intimately than any man ever had. He made her feel soft and he made her feel wanted. She longed to reach out to touch his tan cheek, brush the fan of crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “That’s the plan,” she said instead, drinking some beer to distract herself. “Have you always loved numbers?” He leaned forward, his expression earnest, as though he really wanted to know. “I guess.” It had taken an embarrassingly long time for her to see how her gift with figures could become a profession. “And…?” “Nothing. I just…I guess I love the orderliness of numbers, knowing that the formulas always work and if you don’t make mistakes, it all comes out right.” “Makes sense.” He tilted his head at her, as if figuring her out. “So, after you get your degree, what’s the plan then?” “Then I get a job with a big firm, get some solid experience, network like crazy until I make enough contacts and save enough to open my own business.” “You’d rather work for yourself?” “Oh, yeah. I want my own clients, you know? People who depend on me. I want to help them maximize their income, minimize their taxes, get them where they want to be financially, all that. I want them to count on me, you know?” She was surprised how easy it was to blurt the ideas she’d always kept in her head, thinking them over and over when school got hard or she got worried and lost sleep. “So it’s not just the numbers,” he said slowly. “It’s also helping people.” “Yeah. I guess that’s it. When I helped Jasmine figure out a budget and it worked for her, I really liked that. Now she’s saving money for college for her daughter. So, yeah, I suppose it’s that the numbers mean something to people, you know?” “I do.” She was suddenly embarrassed by how she sounded—eager as a kid, which was kind of how she felt in her classes. Very different from her usual guarded self. She hardly knew Mike and yet she was telling him all this. “Anyway, the point is I want a private practice.” “I bet you’ll do great.” He said it so simply, so sincerely that warmth flooded her. He has no idea who you are, she reminded herself. She was about to blurt the doubts bubbling under her words when Suze saved her by bringing the food. Which turned out to be great. The chiles rellenos melted in her mouth, the nopalitos-and-goat-cheese salad was tangy and fresh. “So, what all is Lydia responsible for?” she asked, hoping to find out enough to reassure herself for tomorrow. “Too much.” Mike sighed. “Budgets, purchasing, fees and licenses, billings. You’ll see tomorrow. I don’t know half of the stuff she does.” He shook his head and took a bite, oblivious to the fact that his words had stopped her heart. What if she wasn’t up to it? What if she was all just big talk? What if she let Mike and the town down? “Hey, Mayor. How’s it hanging?” Mike looked up from a bite of salad to greet the man who’d stopped at their table. “Hey, Ned,” he said. “How’s the welcome sign coming along?” “We’ll have it done for the festival. No worries.” “Good.” Mike introduced her to Ned Langton, who’d bought Mike’s family’s landscaping business a few years back. “So, I tried to join your Chamber last night,” Ned drawled, an amused grin on his face, “but couldn’t get your brother to give me the time of day.” “Oh, yeah?” Mike stopped chewing. “Couldn’t take his hands off his girl long enough to round up the form for me.” “I see.” Mike set down his fork, his mouth grim, despite his easy words. “Stop by tomorrow and Evelyn can fix you up.” “What I want to know is where he found her.” Ned leaned lower and winked, “And are there any more where she came from?” “With a wife like Jill, why would you think twice, Ned?” There was an edge to Mike’s words. “I’m not thinking about me. She got a friend for you? That’s what I mean.” Mike shot an apologetic glance at Autumn. “I don’t know, Ned, but how about you write me a check for Chamber dues and we’ll mail you the temporary card. Save you time. How’s that?” Ned didn’t like that suggestion, it seemed. He patted his shirt pocket and frowned sheepishly. “Left my checkbook at the house. I’ll stop by another day. Enjoy your dinner.” “You called his bluff,” Autumn said when Ned had gone. “Yeah.” He gave a rueful smile. “It’s pulling teeth to get these guys to join up. The Chamber funds economic projects and we really need everyone to ante up, but they don’t all see it.” “That’s not what’s bothering you though, is it?” “No. It’s my brother.” He shook his head. “Seems like the affair’s all over town. Since he met your friend, his brains have drained out his ears.” “How so?” She hoped he wasn’t about to insult Jasmine. “The minute Mark heard Jasmine was doing the pageant, he auditioned for it. What was he thinking? He’s got a business to run, he’s head of the Chamber and chair of my economic development committee. He doesn’t have time to be in a play, for God’s sake.” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s true love.” He shot her a look. “Your friend is a beautiful woman.” “You mean she’s a stripper.” Anger flared, fast and hot as a suddenly lit match. He quirked a brow. “I don’t care what she does for a living. The problem is how fast this is going.” She just looked at him. “Come on. You were rolling your eyes right along with me. They’re acting like a couple of teenagers. The man came back from a weekend in Phoenix and declared his dreams had come true. Lord.” “Yeah,” she said, softening. “I know what you mean. Jasmine falls in love with love and gets hurt every time.” “The thing is…” He hesitated. “Mark was like this once before.” He frowned and picked at his Tecate label. “He met this woman at a real estate seminar and right off he’s loaning her money and they’re talking about buying a house. Then he finds out she’s got a husband in Nevada and a check fraud conviction. Took him years to get over her.” “That’s too bad.” “Yep. And he’s wild like that about your friend.” “Look, Jasmine is a good person. She—” “I’m sure she is. It’s just too fast and crazy. It’s—” “Reckless. I know. They barely know each other. They’re telling themselves fairy tales.” “Exactly,” he said. “So we’re both worried about them.” “Yeah,” she said, relieved that Mike’s concerns matched her own. “I mean if it’s right, why not slow down?” “There you go. Just what I told him.” They shared a smile of commiseration. “Hey, Mayor Mike!” A stylish blonde stopped at their booth, her arm around the waist of a tall guy in a cowboy hat. “Celia. Hi,” Mike said. “Dan.” He nodded at the man. “So, that sister of yours pregnant yet?” Celia asked him. “You’ll know before me,” he said. “We both know that.” Autumn recognized Celia’s name. She owned the beauty salon where Heidi had worked before moving to Phoenix. “I want you to meet Autumn Beshkin,” Mike said. “She’s filling in for Lydia.” “Autumn…I know that name….” “Heidi’s a friend of mine. She does my hair.” She spoke fast, praying Heidi hadn’t mentioned what Autumn did for a living. She pushed a strand of hair into her braid. “We miss Heidi so much,” Celia said. “Her counseling almost more than her hair work. She left us her self-help books when she went to Phoenix, but it’s not the same.” Heidi was studying to become a therapist, Autumn knew. In fact, Heidi had helped convince Autumn she belonged in college. “When you get us a regular clinic, Mike, get us a shrink, too, wouldja?” Celia said. “I’ll do my best,” he said. “We need a bigger population to keep a full-time doc busy.” “I’m just teasing. Criminy Christmas, Mike, lighten up. He’s so serious all the time.” Celia smiled at Autumn. “I mean, heck, if you can’t laugh at yourself then everyone else will just have to do it behind your back.” “I’m sure they already do, Celia.” Mike sighed. “Cheer him up, would you?” she said to Autumn. “How long will you be here?” “Just until Lydia gets back,” Mike said. “A month.” “Don’t be rushing a new mother back on the job, Mayor Mike. Not everyone lives for council meetings. Maybe Autumn can stick around longer.” She smiled at her. “This is just an internship. School starts up again soon. And I have a job.” They’d booked rehearsals for the new season of the revue right after the pageant was over. “Well, shoot. Too bad you can’t stay. At the very least, maybe you can talk the man into getting a bowling team together. He’s got a good arm.” “Hmm.” She looked at Mike. “I’m too busy,” he said, lifting his hands as if for mercy. “We’ve got a tournament coming. This boy needs a life. See if you can convince him.” “I’ll try.” Autumn smiled and Celia and Dan moved on. “So, is she right?” she asked him, resting her chin on her fist. “About my bowling? I do okay.” “No, that you need a life.” He shrugged. “Celia likes to pick at you till you bleed,” he said. “I hope you don’t need your hair done while you’re here. The Cut ’N Curl is a hive.” “I think I’m fine.” She touched her hair. “Yeah. Your hair is—nice. I, uh, like the color.” His tan darkened with blush. The sexual vibe, a low rumbling between them as they’d talked, revved fiercely. “Thanks. It’s natural.” Why had she said that? In her world, most strippers had extensions, blond dye jobs and fake boobs, so she took pride in what nature gave her. But Mike didn’t know that, nor would he care. “So you won’t need the salon.” His voice was low, full of leashed heat. She pictured him freeing her hair, running his fingers through the strands, his eyes hungry. “That’s lucky.” He seemed to force out a laugh. “The place is like a cross between Jerry Springer and Dr. Phil. I don’t know why that happens.” “It’s because this is a small town.” She knew that from her mother’s stories. “Doesn’t it bug you that everyone knows your business?” The idea seemed suffocating to her. “It can, I guess. It depends. Are you from a small town?” “No. My mom was and she hated it.” Anne Muldoon grew up in a trailer on the grimy side of town with a reputation as a tramp with a temper. The chip on her shoulder never went away, even after she moved to Phoenix, where she eventually married Autumn’s father, Adam Beshkin. She chased him away when Autumn was twelve, almost triumphant when he left. You can only count on yourself in this world, Autumn. Don’t kid yourself different. Decent advice, Autumn knew, despite her mother’s bitterness. “Small towns aren’t for everyone,” Mike said. “That’s not very visitor’s bureau-like of you, Mayor Mike. Shouldn’t you promote the low crime rate, the neighborliness—an entire town where everybody knows your name?” She used a teasing tone. She didn’t hate small towns the way her mother did, but she saw their limits and certainly didn’t want to end up in one. He shrugged. “It’s a closed system. There’s not much privacy. People have history and long memories.” “Yeah. My mom felt kind of second class and I guess that’s how they treated her.” “So you grew up where? Phoenix?” “Yes.” She’d experienced the pain and trap of reputation in high school, which was its own brand of small town. In truth, Autumn never felt as though she fit anywhere. “But you like it here, right? You’re the mayor.” “Yeah. And I’m lucky I can afford to do it full time. My goal is to boost our economy, but it’s a tough go.” “How so?” “Attracting new business isn’t easy for small towns. We almost scored a herbal tea factory, but the company balked over helping to extend the water lines. Then, because we lost the factory, the motel chain that was looking at us evaporated. The domino effect.” “That would be discouraging.” “If we could get some grants, that would help. But I need time to work up the proposals. Meanwhile, our police department needs a new computer system and we’ve got to replace the fire trucks and—” Mike shot her a look. “I’ve been going on and on,” he said softly. “Sorry.” “No, no. I’m very interested. Part of my internship is to become aware of the context of my work. We aren’t just about the numbers, you know.” He smiled. “So there’s more to you than meets the eye.” There was a teasing, sexual tone to his words. They’d fallen easily into that mode of relating. “I would hope so,” she said in the same tone. “How about you? Are you a complicated man?” “Not at all.” He grinned. But she knew that wasn’t quite true and she was curious. Too curious. Maybe because of how easy it was to talk to him, to think out loud with him, the way he listened so closely. As the meal had continued, the gaps in their conversation had been filled with knowing glances and a building tension that was difficult to ignore. Mike paid the tab for dinner and they stepped out into the warm summer night. Streetlights lit the sidewalk and the full moon glowed silver overhead, surrounded by distant stars in a black, black sky. Under the cooking smells from the restaurant, Autumn picked up the welcome scent of desert dust and creosote. To her it was the smell of home. She was full of good food and just a little buzzed from the Tecates, so that when Mike turned to her, ready to end the evening, she said, “So what do folks do for fun around here?” “You mean besides watch the grass grow and peer at the neighbors through binoculars?” His tone held self-mockery with an edge of cynicism. He wasn’t entirely thrilled with small town life either, she guessed. “Besides that,” she said. “Okay, let’s see.” He stared off into the sky, silhouetted against the blackness. “For music, there’s a mariachi group that plays weekends. A local boy has a jazz trio that plays at Louie’s Italian Place on Thursday nights.” “So there’s a music scene. What else?” “The Brew and Cue for pool at the far end of town. There’s bowling, like Celia mentioned. Wicked Skeeball tourneys at the Green Dragon Pizzeria. High school sports. Tours of the historic district, including the Copper Strike Mine. Our prickly pear candy factory, Cactus Confections, has some regional fame.” He shrugged. “Not much, huh? You’ll find what you want in Tucson, Autumn.” “And what is it you think I want?” She spoke lightly, but sexual energy underlined her words. Maybe she should have stopped at one beer. “Nightclubs, concerts, plays, movies.” He shrugged. “You go to Tucson for those things?” “When I have time, sure.” “But not often, I can tell. You’re all about work, I bet.” “You got me. I play basketball with my brother once in a while. Watch sports, rent movies. Now and then, though, I go out to the resort outside town—Desert Paradise—and hit golf balls. The grass is dead—the place is closed—so I kick up some dust, but there’s nothing like it for getting rid of frustration.” “You have a lot of that? Frustration?” The tease hung in the warm air between them. “My share.” He winked. “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown—even a little crown.” She liked that he didn’t take himself seriously. She wished she were that easy on herself. “To tell you the truth, I’d love to find a buyer for the resort. It would be a shot in the arm for our economy. We’ve had inquiries, but no real offers. It’s a beautiful property. Well laid out. Lots of potential.” “Sounds nice.” Silence fell. She should go home, get some sleep before her first day of work, but something hovered in the air between them, energy and possibility, and she wanted to pursue it, as crazy and wrong as that might be. “Take me out there,” she heard herself say. “You want to go to the resort?” “Sure. Show me all that economic potential.” “It’s dark.” But he was smiling. “There’s a moon. Come on.” He paused, studied her, then nodded. “Okay. Sure.” His startled delight overcame her doubts. This might be a bad idea, but at the moment, it seemed worth the risk. 4 AUTUMN CLIMBED INTO Mike’s sleek and sexy Saab 9-2X wagon—weren’t these cars designed by jet engineers?—and they drove with the windows down, the sunroof open, allowing the warm breeze to blow through and the stars to spin by overhead. “I’ve never been here at night,” Mike said, turning at the sign marking the entrance to the Desert Paradise Golf Resort. He parked in the gravel lot and opened her door for her. She climbed out and looked around. The moon was bright enough to let her see the main building, the casitas, the courts, the empty pool. A gravel path lined by mile-high date palms led to the golf course. It was quiet except for the crunch of their feet in the gravel and the distant swish of cars on the highway. Soon they reached the clubhouse parking lot. Before them lay the low rolling hills of the course. Here and there were stands of eucalyptus and mesquite trees, along with landscaped areas. A puff of warm air lifted her hair and she smelled the iron and earth of the pond, which, because it was part of the area’s irrigation system, still held water, Mike had explained. It was a smear of shiny darkness ahead of them. Without rain, the grass was short and dry. “It’s peaceful out here,” she said, tilting her head up at the moon, very conscious of Mike’s closeness, the way he tracked her every move. It was almost embarrassing how alive she felt standing here with him. “Puts things in perspective,” he said, looking at her. And made the attraction more vivid, she realized, dragging her eyes from his face. “I love summer nights in the desert. There’s still heat, but it’s gentler, like the desert is saying, You put up with my broiler all day, so take a breather, relax, enjoy the beauty, the silence, the serenity.” “Very poetic.” “Not really. I just love the desert, I guess.” She paused. “So hitting balls gets rid of frustration, huh? Maybe we should send Jasmine and Mark out here.” “I’m afraid they’re too far gone.” “Love at first sight, according to Jasmine.” “Do you believe in that?” “Not really. Though an attraction can be intense.” Like the one between them at the moment. “Yeah, it can.” His voice was so low and heated that her stomach dropped to her knees. “So, what does one do about that?” She was grateful the moon wasn’t bright enough to reveal the hot blush on her cheeks. She wasn’t one for turning red, but right now she felt like a stoplight. “Hope it burns out before anyone gets hurt,” he said. “Is that the voice of experience?” “You mean have I ever had my heart broken?” He smiled wryly. “I’ve avoided that mistake. How about yourself?” “I’ve managed.” She’d had a couple of close calls. The first guy—Anton—seemed to like that she was a stripper and she’d let her guard down. When his parents planned a trip out to see him, she’d redecorated her living room, bought good china, planned a gourmet meal, even though she was a shitty cook. Meanwhile, he stopped calling. Returned after his parents left with some lame excuse and she knew she was his girl on the side, his secret vice. She’d been hurt, insulted, pissed, told him to go screw himself. Mostly, she was furious at herself for going blind, for being weak. She’d been a mess in the aftermath, barely recognizable as the kick-ass woman she worked so hard every day to be. The second guy was a skirt-chaser, who reformed for her until she caught him with a day-shift dancer. He’d begged for forgiveness, complaining about all the temptations at the club. What flipped her out was how much she’d built her life around him, nested in, building a house of matchsticks, ready to explode with a bit of friction on a hard surface. Since then, she’d kept it simple with guys who wanted only a hot connection, no morning-after calls and no regrets. And since starting school, she’d had no interest in even that and sex had been on the back burner. She didn’t want to talk about any of her history with Mike, so she shifted the focus to him. “I would think you’d have a Mrs. Mayor by now.” “I’d like that. Very much.” His abrupt vulnerability surprised her. She’d expected a teasing reply. “Really?” “I haven’t had a lot of free time.” “There’s always time to—date.” Or to have sex at least. Though maybe Mayor Mike was old-fashioned. Maybe he dated a respectful number of times before he got naked with a woman. Mmm, naked. Don’t picture him. Don’t. Don’t. “I’ve made it a priority the last few months, but nothing serious so far.” “I can’t imagine the single women of Copper Corners aren’t lining up for the mayor.” He grimaced. “I don’t want women lining up.” “No social climbers need apply?” “The town has a population of twelve hundred, Autumn. Mostly families. Single people head for the cities. And, as to social climbing, we’re pretty much a single-story town.” “There’s always a ladder, Mike. Don’t kid yourself.” She knew that from hanging on the bottom rungs in high school and later, as a stripper, set apart from the straight world, even though she knew herself to be a moral person. “I don’t treat people that way.” He held her gaze, telling her he meant it. There was something rock-solid about the guy. She still didn’t want to hear his opinion of her other career. He might disappoint her and she wanted to respect him a while longer. At least as long as she worked for him. “What are you looking for in a wife?” she asked. “What you’d expect. A partner, someone with similar values and interests, someone committed to family and home.” “What about looks? Attraction? Passion?” He shrugged. “That’s part of it.” “But mainly, you want someone to bake your bread and match your socks and keep the home fires burning?” She was teasing, but she felt an undercurrent of irritation and…envy? What was that about? She would never tolerate life as some man’s little woman. That would be a prison sentence—life without parole. Of course men weren’t lining up to ask her to bake them pies, by any means. Autumn was all about sex and heat and animal drives. And she liked that, knew that, trusted how it worked. It was simple and human and satisfying. She loved that she could render men speechless and desperate with a slow spin, a soft slide, a loosened bra. She loved that a hint of nakedness, the suggestion of contact, made them as hard as the chrome poles she danced around. She loved that. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but I want an equal partner, not domestic help.” “So you’re willing to share your pants?” “If she’s into that, sure,” he said, making it sound deliciously sexual. His joke showed her he wasn’t a secret chauvinist. “What about you? What do you want in a husband?” “I don’t want a husband. Or a boyfriend for that matter. Sometimes being alone is…better.” Maybe she didn’t know the difference between lust and love. Or maybe she was like her friend Sugar and didn’t have the happily-ever-after gene. Well, the old Sugar, anyway. Mike looked thoughtful. Please don’t say it, she silently begged him. A woman as beautiful as you shouldn’t be alone…People need people, blah, blah, blech. Instead, he laughed, the sound warm and rich on the quiet desert air. “Good point. If I had a beer, I’d drink to that.” “Hear, hear,” she said, pretending to lift a glass. He tapped his knuckles against hers. Heat zinged between them. They both looked away. Standing close to Mike, breathing in synch, swaying closer with each heartbeat, Autumn’s back-burner sex drive was suddenly boiling all over the stove, flooding the floor and scalding her toes. Sex with Mike would be different, unexpected, she could tell. It would be like wading into a lake and having the bottom suddenly drop out from under her. “You’re in school now, anyway,” Mike said. “It’s not the right time to settle down.” She didn’t argue, though she didn’t see marriage in her future. A steady lover might be nice if they could keep it simple. Her mother had been right. It was far better to count on yourself. If you started depending on a man, you got soft and lost your edge and your way. “So, you’re enjoying school?” he asked. “Very much.” So much it embarrassed her. She was wildly proud of her grades, lapped up her professors’ praise like a cream-hungry cat. “I’m older than most of the students, but I don’t care. I can’t believe how they take college for granted. They’re all living off daddy’s money, too busy partying to study. I love every lecture. I even love studying. I’m soaking it all up, you know? Sometimes, I forget to eat. I—” She stopped, embarrassed again. The guy made her too comfortable blurting out secrets. “Sorry. Got carried away.” “I think it’s great, Autumn. I’d like to be that fired up about something.” “You love being mayor, don’t you?” “Sure.” He hesitated. “Maybe I just take it for granted. Maybe you’ll rub off on me.” “Maybe.” The idea of rubbing against the man made her weak in the knees and she took a shuddering breath. “So, you met Heidi at her salon, but what work did you do before you started school? I forget what your r?sum? said.” She’d only listed her bookkeeping for Moons—the DD in DD Enterprises stood for the owner, Duke Dunmore. “I had bar experience.” Which was true. “Ah, a waitress.” She didn’t correct him. She had been a cocktail waitress, but when she needed money to keep her little brother out of trouble, she’d hit amateur night at a strip club. It took two shots of tequila and a muscle relaxant to endure the surreal embarrassment of teasing off her clothes in the hot, close quiet of men’s staring lust, but she’d done it, by God. Took first place and the club owner offered her a job. She’d found her game face, too—adding a sexy element to the mask she wore as a girl to get along with her angry mother. The trick with stripping was to offer the teasing possibility of sex, but always hold back your soul. The money was great and she made friends among the dancers, DJs and bartenders. It could be a dark life. Some strippers used drugs or hooked on the side, but that wasn’t Autumn. “Good for you for trying for more,” Mike said. “Sometimes I think about going back to school. I only did junior college. Mark and I had a deal—two years each—so we could keep the family landscaping business going.” “What would you study if you went back?” “I don’t know. Civic leadership. Or business. Hell, not too ambitious, huh? What’s the point? I have obligations.” “The point is to do what makes you happy, not just what people expect.” She’d only begun to learn that lesson. “I’m needed. That’s important to me.” She admired his sense of duty. “But what you want matters, too. What do you wish you could do? Really?” “Lord.” He looked up at the sky, then back down at her. “There have been things I gave up, I guess.” “Like what?” “I always wanted to get my pilot’s license. But it takes time and it’s expensive. Hell, for that matter, I’d love to learn to hang glide.” “You want to hang glide?” “Yeah. I took a ride with a pilot once. It’s so quiet and very free. You feel like you’ve escaped.” “Is that what you want? To escape your life?” He laughed. “Maybe I just need a vacation.” “Or maybe more.” She felt his yearning like heat on her skin. In the moonlight, his eyes looked like diamonds bubbling in melted chocolate and the sight gave her a twisting sensation in her middle—part longing, part desire. “Anyway, here’s where I tee off.” He kicked at the rubber mat at their feet, changing the subject. “So you aim out there?” She squinted out into the darkness. “Too bad we don’t have a club and some balls.” “We couldn’t see where they landed.” “So what? Just let it fly.” Out here under the wide, star-scattered sky, she felt so free. Anything seemed possible. “I bet I could hit a hole in one in the dark.” “You know what? I just bet you could.” He stepped closer. The breeze lifted her hair, snagging a strand on her lip. Mike brushed it away with gentle fingers, taking care of her the way he took care of the town. She felt the heat of his touch for long seconds. His diamond-chocolate eyes glittered at her, wanting her. He tilted his face, leaned closer. He wanted to kiss her. And she wanted him to. Why not? It was as if the whole evening had built to this moment. They were in a tiny time warp where this couldn’t possibly be wrong. Normally, she would make the move, but this time she wanted to be kissed, to be swept away by Mike’s mouth, by his desire for her. She closed her eyes, parted her lips and waited. How would he kiss her? Soft or urgent? Gentle or fierce? Would he just use his lips or tease with his tongue, too? She hoped— “Hang on,” Mike said. She opened her eyes to see him galloping toward his car. God, had she scared him away? But then she saw him grab something out of his trunk—two golf clubs and two boxes of balls. He ran back to her, looking so good—his upper body tight and controlled, his gait easy, as though he could go for miles without breaking a sweat. “Let’s do it,” he said when he reached her. “Let’s hit balls into the dark.” He didn’t seemed to have noticed she’d pooched her lips out at him. Good. Better, really. Less complicated. “I’ve only played miniature golf,” she said. “Close enough. Let me show you.” He demonstrated the grip, the stance, the swing. She’d never thought golf was particularly sexy, but the way Mike’s body twisted, muscles graceful with power, made her sex ache and her stomach melt. She’d love to see that body naked, wrapped around her, not a golf club. “Want to try?” he asked, handing her the club. Oh, yeah. “Sure.” She focused on getting the hang of a swing, which he’d made look easy. Her first tries were shaky and tentative, but soon she was ready to try hitting a ball. “I’ve got two boxes of three balls, two brands, so we can tell them apart when we come back to see how we did.” He put the first ball on a tee. “You go first.” “About where is the hole?” When he pointed, his arm brushed her cheek. The sensation made her feel faint, but she prepared to swing, the swish of wind through the mesquites making her feel so light, she was afraid she could be blown away, too. She wished Mike would put his arms around her, under the pretense of helping her, just to feel his skin against hers, but this had to be her own wild swing into the night. “Here goes.” She pulled back her club, kept her eye on the ball and swung with all her might. There was a thwack, the blow vibrated the club in her hand, and the ball arced in a high curve she followed until it disappeared into the inky dark. Mike whistled. “You’re a natural, lady.” “That felt good.” She laughed with pleasure. “Now you go.” He set up and swung, the ball flying higher than hers, but disappearing at the same point in the darkness. “You’re right. That does feel good.” He set up her second ball, which she hit higher and harder than the first one. She whooped with delight. Mike’s second ball flew straight out and way high. Her third ball went even farther. “You hit pretty hard there,” Mike said, whacking his third ball the farthest of all. “Not as hard as you.” “We can see how close we came tomorrow. Maybe after work?” “Great.” She stared out to where the balls had gone. That had been fun and satisfying and it did make her feel less frustrated. She turned to say so to Mike and— His mouth was right there, his hand at her cheek, and he kissed her. It was great—urgent and gentle, lips and tongue at once, teasing and hungry at the same time. She wanted it to go on and on. She was sinking into him and flying away at the same time, lighter than air, riding one of Jasmine’s pink clouds. Then, Mike broke it off. “Why did you do that?” she gasped. “I got carried away.” “No. I mean why did you stop?” “I’m your boss, Autumn,” he said. “Not until tomorrow, you’re not.” She leaned in, but he backed up. “It was inappropriate. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” “Nothing’s wrong with you. Or me, either. We have an intense attraction.” “Like my brother and your friend. Yeah.” And they certainly didn’t want to go there. That was his message and she agreed with all her heart. Her pink cloud evaporated instantly and Autumn hit the ground hard. She’d been ready to have sex on a dead and dusty golf green. Way too weird. “I really apologize,” Mike said, looking so guilty. “We kissed, okay? Don’t go painting a scarlet A on your forehead, Mike.” “Still. I was way out of line.” “What? Mayors are superhuman now?” “Got the cape and tights in the trunk.” He smiled, but he clearly still felt awful. “Leave them there. You’re fine. I’m fine. It’s okay.” But she was aware that her heart was still pounding from the kiss. “We should head back. I need sleep to impress my new boss tomorrow.” “Ouch.” He grimaced. She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t do that. I wanted you to kiss me.” “Yeah?” “Oh, yeah.” But he was right to stop. She had an internship to focus on. She needed her feet planted firmly on the shore, not flailing around in the deep end of an unpredictable sea. They were quiet for the short drive. Through the sunroof Autumn watched the moon follow them home. Now and then she turned to smile reassuringly at Mike. No harm done. Back in town, Mike parked beside her car in the high school parking lot and helped her out, hanging on to her hand for a few extra seconds. “I’ll see you in the morning?” His eyes held regret. He’d wanted more. Good. It was no fun wishing for more all alone. “Bright and early. You bet.” “Not early. You’ll upset Evelyn. She’ll think you’re trying to show her up.” “Okay. On time then.” She looked around the quiet streets. There were no cars moving and barely any lights—just a few security bulbs inside business and the tall lights in the school lot where they stood. “I guess it’s good no one’s around,” she said. “Being out alone so late together…talk about starting gossip.” “Yeah.” He smiled ruefully, then looked past her and his smile fell away. “Speaking of which…that’s my brother’s car.” She turned and saw something move across the rear window of the Acura sedan—an arm, then a head. A familiar head. Jasmine and Mark were making out in the backseat. “Wow.” “Yeah. Wow,” he said grimly. They’d been so crazed they couldn’t make it to a house. What would that be like? Thrilling and scary, like the deep end of the pool she’d nearly slipped into with Mike. I want that. She felt it so fiercely she had to brace herself against her bumper. “So do we leave them here?” Mike asked. “If someone else sees, they’d be mortified.” “Yeah.” Mike sighed. “I’ll send them home. Unless you think you can sleep through that?” He nodded at the rocking car. “If I have to, I could.” “I know what you mean.” His eyes held heat. He didn’t want to have to listen to Mark and Jasmine doing what they wanted to be doing any more than she did. “Got a coin?” she asked him. “Huh?” He fished out a quarter. “You flip and I’ll call.” He smiled, braced it on his thumb and tossed it upward. “Heads,” she said, and they held each other’s gaze while the quarter flew and spun up, then down. Mike caught it without looking and slapped it onto the back of his hand. Tails shone up at them. “Looks like I’m the lucky one.” “Sorry.” “Get some sleep.” He touched her cheek, looking bewildered. “I don’t know what came over me.” “Oh, I do.” It was lust, pure and simple, stoked by the hours together, how comfortable they’d been, everything they’d shared. They’d slipped easily into a teasing flirtation and just gone too far. “Blame it on the desert, the night, the stars. Hell, blame it on golf.” “If you say so.” He backed away, still watching her, then raised a hand in farewell before turning to lope to the car to tell the couple where they would be banging the headboard. She stood for a second, trying to shake off the spell. Out there at the resort, she’d forgotten who she was, what she wanted, everything but the warm man whose lips were on hers. She realized she wasn’t scared to go to work now. Which caused a cold thought to trickle through her brain. What if the flirtation had been about the job? What if she’d worked the physical attraction because the mental challenge scared her? After all, if her boss was attracted to her, he’d have to keep her on. Had that been her unconscious trick? It was second nature to use sex appeal to get what she wanted. But that was unacceptable. The new Autumn was better than that. Smarter, too. And tomorrow she’d prove it. 5 AFTER A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, Mike’s brain was full of white noise and his eyelids felt coated with sandpaper. At first Mark and Jasmine kept him awake, going at it as though they’d invented the act. A down pillow over his head hadn’t blocked the moans and shrieks and thuds. But after that it was all about Autumn. He’d enjoyed her company so much. The hours had flown by, which was odd, since he usually tracked every tick of time. Then he’d lost all sense and kissed her. He was her employer, for God’s sake. Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d hired her out of guilt over ogling her? He had no idea whether she could even do the job. References notwithstanding, she was a student and Lydia’s system was not simple. He’d hired her anyway. And then he’d kissed her. Talking with her, laughing, teasing her, he’d realized how lonely he’d been, as empty and lost as that deserted resort. Standing there under a starry sky, he’d wanted to taste her, hold her, sink deep into her lush body. What was his problem? He’d had plenty of feminine company over the past six months. He’d dated four women and slept with two. Attractive, intelligent, professional women. He’d enjoyed them. But he didn’t long for them. Autumn Beshkin was the kind of woman a man craved. He’d always wanted that. Something about her…an air of mystery and secret depths, a knowing cynicism with an edge of hope. She reminded him of the season she’d been named for, with its changing light, golden moon, crisp air and nature splashing the trees gold, rust and red. Autumn. Hell, she’d turned him into a poet. He couldn’t believe he’d told her he wanted to be a pilot. She’d been so eager about her new life that he’d flashed on the road not taken, the things he’d pushed down, shrugged off, ignored. Her excitement made him grin, made him kiss her. It was crazy. Chemistry. As fleeting as sparks from a campfire. What he wanted was a relationship, making a life with someone, working through problems, setting goals and achieving them. At thirty-five, he was too old to think with his parts. Still, there was something about Autumn. She was smart and funny and original, of course, but something else got to him—the way she came on strong, chin up. One tough cookie who expected to elbow her way to what she’d earned, by God, as if she didn’t dare hope for things to work out. Which hit him in the heart, made him want to bulldoze a clear path for her. Made him want to make her happy. Jesus, Mike, you just met her. But she was so…unusual. Unpredictable. Ferocious and shaky at the same time. And he couldn’t wait to see her again. He dragged himself out of bed, got ready and headed in to work. He loved his drive into town. Right away, he picked up the sweet tang of prickly pear jelly stewing in the Cactus Confections vats. The factory was located in one of three historic buildings, including a defunct blacksmith shop and what passed for a museum housed in the old post office/assay office. Sally’s Knit Hut now inhabited the old mercantile. There were federal monies available for the restoration of historic districts if he could only carve out the time to write the grant proposals. At the town limits, Ned Langton was planting the flowers in the Welcome to Copper Corners sign. True to his word, he seemed to be almost ready for the Founder’s Day dedication. Turning the corner, Mike watched Jeff Randolph swipe his neighbor’s Copper Corners Dispatch. Jeff refused to pay the carrier over some nonsense about too many tosses in his cholla bed and chose, instead, to irritate his neighbors. Jeff was a jerk, but he’d donated more money than anyone for Darren Goble’s reconstructive surgery after the tractor accident. Mike loved this town and all the people in it, flaws and all. Driving down Main, he felt a renewed sense of mission. The citizens of Copper Corners had faith in him. They’d elected him for a third term, hadn’t they? Not that anyone had expressed any interest in running against him. Not many go-getters in Copper Corners. If you wanted to make a mark, you left town. Yeah, Copper Corners was small and people gossiped, did petty things, were selfish and sometimes mean. People in cities weren’t any better. The difference was that in a small town, like in a family, you solved conflicts, worked around warts and foibles. You didn’t give up on each other, get a new job or grab a cab out of town. Who was he arguing with? Autumn. She’d tilted her head at him as though he was as quaint as the little town that owned his heart. He had no regrets. Or very few, anyway. He passed the high school, the elementary school, the pizzeria and the downtown shops, then pulled into the town hall lot and parked in the mayor spot—not that he ever had to fight for space. Especially not this early in the morning. He was surprised to see Evelyn’s blue Toyota Camry with its license plate border painted like lace. Autumn’s car—a silver Subaru WR X, sexy and practical, like the woman herself—wasn’t there yet. Inside, Evelyn held the phone between her ear and shoulder while she knitted what looked to be a baby blanket. Already, Lydia and Bud must have Evelyn’s fluffy handiworks bursting out their windows and doors. When she saw him, Evelyn stopped sewing and dropped her jaw. “Hang on,” she said to her caller. “You getting an award somewhere, Mayor Mike?” “Of course not,” he said, feigning innocence. “Dress slacks and a tie? And is that shirt ironed?” “So?” “You should see him, Karen,” she said into the phone. She was talking to her daughter, Mike knew. She leaned across her desk and sniffed at him. “That a cologne sample from GQ?” Quincy sneezed and shook himself before bounding off the desk, as if he’d gotten too big a whiff, as well. “Heidi gave me the stuff for Christmas. Thought I should get some use out of it.” He shrugged. “You finished on the phone?” He didn’t care to participate in third-party abuse. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/dawn-atkins/at-her-beck-and-call/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.