When We Met. Сьюзен Мэллери
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as he’d hoped—intelligent, confident and sexy as hell. A combination he would have trouble resisting under the best of circumstances. But in this town, with her always around... He’d wanted to make his move the first day.
Waiting had been better, he told himself as he jogged up the stairs to the front of the government building. Now he could put his plan into action. The one that led them down a road of temptation, with an ultimate objective that should satisfy them both.
He took more stairs to the second floor and followed the signs to the mayor’s office.
Mayor Marsha Tilson was California’s longest-serving mayor. She served the town well and seemed to know everyone’s secrets. Angel had yet to figure out where she got her information, but from what he’d seen, she had a network that would put most governments to shame.
He entered her office exactly fifteen seconds before the time of his appointment.
Her assistant, an older woman in a black blazer, looked up at him with red and puffy eyes. Angel immediately sensed bubbling emotion and glanced around the room to discover all available exits.
The woman, a full-figured brunette, sniffed. “You must be Mr. Whittaker. Go right in. She’s expecting you.”
Angel did as instructed, hoping to find a calmer atmosphere in the mayor’s office. His cautious optimism was rewarded. Mayor Marsha looked as she always did—perfectly put together. She wore a light green suit and pearls and had her white hair neatly swirled up in a bun. She smiled and stood when she saw him.
“Mr. Whittaker. You made it.”
“Angel, please.” He crossed the room and shook hands with her, then settled in the seat across from hers.
Her office was large with several windows. Behind her desk were the flags of the United States and the state of California, along with a large seal he would guess represented the city of Fool’s Gold.
“Your assistant’s upset,” he said.
“Marjorie’s worked with me for years. But her twin daughters have settled in Portland, Oregon. They’re both pregnant. Marjorie’s husband retired, so they’re going to move closer to family. While she’s excited about being nearer to her daughters and future grandchildren, she’s sad about leaving all of us here.”
More than he wanted to know, he thought, keeping his expression polite.
Mayor Marsha smiled. “Now I’ll have to find someone new. Hiring staff is relatively easy, but an assistant is a different matter. There has to be chemistry and trust. One can’t let just anyone know the town’s secrets.” The smile widened. “Not why you came to see me today.” She leaned forward and picked up a file from the stack on her large desk.
“All right, Angel, let’s see what we have here.” She slipped on reading glasses. “You’re interested in a project that will involve you with the community.”
Angel had been to some of the most dangerous parts of the world in various capacities. He’d taken his sniper training into the private sector and now designed curricula for people training to be professional bodyguards. Not much surprised him. But he would swear he hadn’t told anyone his reason for making his appointment with Mayor Marsha, which begged the question: How did the old lady know?
She glanced at him over her glasses. “Did I have that correct?”
He decided he had little choice but to simply nod and say, “Yes, ma’am.”
The smile returned. “Good. You have a unique background and an unusual skill set. I’ve given the matter a lot of thought and I think you’d be a perfect Grove Keeper.”
Grove what? “Ma’am?”
“Are you familiar with the history of the town?” she asked, then closed the folder. “This is California, so there was the expected exploration by the Spanish in the 1700s, but long before that, Fool’s Gold was settled by the Máa-zib Tribe.”
Angel had heard something about that. “A branch of Mayans,” he murmured. “Matriarchal.”
“Yes.” The smile returned. “I would guess you’d respect a group of women who only want to use a man for sex.”
Angel wasn’t sure if he should flinch or pat the old lady on the back. Instead he cleared his throat. “All right,” he said slowly. “Interesting.”
“It is. We have long celebrated our Máa-zib culture, and that includes a youth group. Future Warriors of the Máa-zib. Young people start with a two-month introduction to what it’s like to be in the FWM. That’s followed by four years of membership. We have Acorns, Sprouts, Saplings, Sky-Reachers and Mighty Oaks. Each group or troop is known as a grove, and the person in charge is a Grove Keeper.”
She put down her glasses. “We have a grove in need of a keeper, and I think they need you.”
Kids, he thought with surprise. He liked kids. His goal had been to get involved with Fool’s Gold because he’d decided to stay here and he’d been raised to give back to the community. He’d thought maybe he could volunteer on some advisory committee or teach a continuing ed class—although his skill set didn’t exactly fit in the regular world. Still...kids.
He hesitated only a second, then realized it had been long enough since he’d lost Marcus. The pain was still there—would always be a part of him, like a scar, or his heart—but it had become manageable. He thought by now he would be able to work with teenaged boys without wanting to argue with the heavens about how unfair it had all been.
“Sure,” he said easily. “I can run a grove.”
Amusement twinkled in Mayor Marsha’s blue eyes. “I’m glad to hear it. I think you’ll find the experience fulfilling on several levels. I’ll make sure you get your material in the next few days. Then you can meet with the Grove Council.”
He grinned. “Seriously? There’s a Grove Council?”
She laughed. “Of course. These are Future Warriors of the Máa-zib. What else would there be?”
She rose and he did, as well. “Thank you, Angel. Usually I have to go out and convince new residents to pitch in. I appreciate that you came to me.” She studied him. “I assume your interest in giving back is the result of your background. You grew up in a coal mining town, didn’t you? West Virginia?”
While the information wasn’t secret, it wasn’t something he shared very often. “You’re a spooky woman,” he told her. “You know that, right?”
The smile broadened. “Not many people have the courage to say it to my face, but I do hope that’s what they’re saying behind my back.”
“They are,” he assured her.
They shook hands and he left. Marjorie was still in tears, so he hustled out and hit the stairs at a jog. Maybe he would spend the afternoon looking for campsites, he thought cheerfully. He had plenty of survival skills he could pass on to his FWM grove. Ways to help them grow up to be confident men. Yeah—this was going to be good.
* * *
“JACK, STOP IT,” Taryn said without looking up from the papers in front of her.
The shifting sound stilled, only to start up again five seconds later. She drew in a breath and glanced across the small conference table.
“Seriously,” she told him. “You’re worse than a five-year-old.”
Jack McGarry, her business partner and ex-husband, rotated his shoulder. “When does Larissa get here?”
“I told you. She gets here tomorrow. In twenty-four hours you’ll have her back. Now can you please focus?”
Sam, the only calm, rational partner, leaned back in his chair. “You’re trying too hard. You know that never works.”
Because it was her job to try hard. She kept “the