Chapter Two

      He’d hoped their paths would never cross again.

      But gazing down from his Main Street office window to where Macy hurried through the lightly falling snow—coatless, hatless and feet still wedged into those ridiculously citified sandals—he’d clearly hoped in vain.

      He stepped slightly back from the window as she glanced up at the two-story, natural stone buildings and then looked around her, almost as if aware of being watched. His chest tightened when she tossed back her hair in a still-familiar gesture, revealing a face every bit as beautiful—and determined—as he remembered.

      Heaven help him.

      “Look, Jake,” a gruff voice interrupted his reverie, “are you listening to anything I’ve said?”

      Jake composed a smile and turned to the balding man who’d barged into his office only minutes ago, Western felt hat in hand. It wouldn’t do for the town’s mayor to pick up on how the sight of Macy had shaken him. As always when dealing with the perceptive Macon T. “Gus” Gustoffsen, he’d be on his best behavior. You never knew but an endorsement for the vice mayorship—and on down the road one by an outgoing mayor for an incoming one—might be worth biding your time and curtailing your temper.

      “I haven’t missed a single word.”

      The sixty-year-old huffed his disbelief. “As I was saying, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Macy Colston is due to arrive later today, and I’m depending on you to make sure she gets whatever she needs to put Canyon Springs on the map.”

      Jake reseated himself behind his grandfather’s beloved old desk, disinclined to mention Macy had already arrived a few hours ago, well in advance of the evening’s official welcome reception. It was an event Jake wouldn’t be attending due to a prior commitment. He nodded to a topographical image of the state of Arizona gracing the wall. “Last time I looked, we’ve been on the map for eighty-five years, even if not legally incorporated the entire time.”

      The mayor grimaced as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “You know what I mean. The town’s counting on the publicity she generates to lure in fresh faces and cold hard cash. We need to play extra nice and not do anything to get ourselves on her wrong side.”

      It was a little too late to be concerned with that....

      Jake cleared his throat. “As you know, I’ve got my hands full with more pressing matters. I’m sure Don and Larry can be trusted to handle it. Maybe Hector or Bernie.”

      Gus stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket and lowered his towering frame into one of the upholstered leather chairs. Loosening the bolo tie that accented his Western-cut shirt, he shot a cautious look at Jake. “Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not that I don’t trust Don and Larry or either of the others.”

      “Well, then?”

      “It’s just that you have a winning way about you, Jake.” Gus squinted one eye. “A polish. A gift with words that the others can’t hold a candle to. And none of the guys are anything near fancy enough to catch the eye of a pretty city lady.”

      Jake reached for a ballpoint pen, his thumb rhythmically clicking the retraction mechanism as the striking features of the “pretty city lady” flashed vividly through his memory. But pretty is as pretty does, as his grandmother was known to say.

      “It’s the town that’s in the spotlight here, isn’t it? Not one of us.”

      “That’s a fact.” Gus nodded vigorously. “But I don’t doubt you could talk the moon down out of the sky if you had a mind to. You can win her over on our behalf, make sure she does the town justice.”

      Jake shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else.”

      Gus scowled. “You’ve been a promoter of this town since you moved here half a dozen years ago, but you were the lone dissenting vote against participating in the competition. I still don’t understand what you have against the idea when you know how it will help our town.”

      “It’s not that I—” How could he explain it without divulging matters he’d rather not divulge? Rolling back from the desk, he took pleasure in the comforting creak of the old-fashioned wooden chair. It was a perfect match to the desk that dignified his book-lined office, but he’d paid a steep price for it, figuratively if not literally.

      Gus smacked his beefy hand on the desktop enthusiastically, mistakenly interpreting Jake’s sudden silence as evidence that he was making persuasive inroads. “Her blog is nearly as popular as that rancher woman’s. You know, the gal who also has the food show? My wife says she almost feels as if she knows her, and that’s how Macy comes across, too. Like you could sit down next to her for a long, cozy chat.”

      Jake managed not to choke. Sit down for a chat? Right. That’s exactly how she wanted people to feel—it’s how she got them to lower their guard and open up to her.

      He straightened, his gaze lingering on the framed photo of his grandparents, the only decorative item on his desk. “Look, I think Larry and Don or one of the others will do fine. She seems to take a fancy to local color. You can’t beat them for that.”

      “No, but...” Gus darted a guarded look in his direction. “Larry, Don and Hector are married. Macy’s not.”

      Jake chuckled. “Do you think Andrea, Melissa and Dionne won’t let their men out of their sight as long as Ms. Colston’s in town?”

      “Not exactly.” The big man fiddled with his wristwatch. Gus might look and speak like a country boy at times, but he was a shrewd businessman. Something was on his mind even though he was taking his sweet time getting around to it. “You’re not married, Jake.”

      Jake placed the pen on his desk and pinned the mayor with a frank look. “Where are you going with this?”

      Gus reached again for the handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “Married men have obligations. Commitments. Loyalties. They have to be careful not to give anyone the wrong impression.”

      “And?”

      Gus wadded the handkerchief in his fist. “As a single man, you’re a free agent, so to speak. You’re at liberty to sweet-talk Macy Colston into portraying us in the most favorable light without anyone questioning your behavior.”

      “What exactly do you mean by sweet-talk?”

      Gus glanced at the snow dancing outside the window rather than meeting Jake’s gaze. “You know...turn on the charm. Sweep her off her feet. Put stars in her eyes.”

      Jake stared at the now-blushing mayor. “Are you saying you want me to fake a romantic interest in this journalist to manipulate her impressions of Canyon Springs?”