Page 1 of Someone to Tempt
IRIS
To the outside observer,this might look like any other Tuesday morning at the mayor’s office in Skylark, Colorado. Spoiler alert: it’s not. Because the mayor—that’s me—is waiting, not so patiently, for the most important meeting of her life to begin.
I straighten an already perfectly tidy stack of papers on my desk and lift an arm to sniff. Damn. Nervous sweat is the worst. Digging into my emergency stash of toiletries in the desk drawer, I pull out a travel-sized deodorant. But when I flip off the lid, powdery clumps scatter over my navy blue suit.
Ugh. Ocean breeze scented snowfall.
I stand up, hoping the crumbs will fall to the ground without incident, but no such luck. My skirt is dotted with the chalky white bits, and everything around me smells like soapy springtime rain invaded a florist shop.
Why is it that women are stuck with products like lavender blossom and spring meadow, while guys are living their best deodorant lives with glacier punch and sharknado?
I’d like to glacier punch something at the moment, but there’s no time for sharknado ramblings.
I have exactly three minutes until the woman who holds the key to my political future arrives at the mayor's office—my office of the past five months. I need to make a good impression, something that’s eluded me with former U.S. Senator Gloria Johnson. She makes me more nervous than a group of middle schoolers at their first coed dance, hence the anxiety sweat.
Today I need to wow, connect, and convince her I’ll make an excellent state senator, and hope she agrees to back me in the next mayoral election. It’s an important first step if I want a career in Colorado politics, and I’m not sure I can manage it without her. Not with my limited connections and a family background I wish would fade into the sunset forever.
I rush to the tiny closet in the corner of the room where I keep a spare outfit for times like this. For the record, there's never been a time like this because I'm always prepared. Of course, now that the moment is upon me, I'm too nervous to do anything right. The skirt’s zipper catches, and my button-down shirt strains across my breasts as I yank the offending fastener more forcefully.
Two minutes.
Voices float in from the other side of the office walls. I've got to get this skirt off and the other one on before Jodi Moore, my assistant, walks through the door. She never knocks.
The zipper finally gives, and the silk fabric pools around my ankles. I flip off the dark pumps that match the skirt I was wearing, but not the beige one I'm about to tug on. Gloria won't notice my shoes if I stay behind my desk.
The door clicks open just as I've got the new skirt hitched up to my knees.
“What's going on out there?” I demand, hating the sharp edge that gives away my tension. Talk about sharknado—Jodi is like a great white smelling blood in the water when it comes to catching me off guard.
She stares, mouth agape, before pulling the door closed behind her. “You’re half-dressed,” she hisses, making it sound like she caught me doing naked cartwheels across the thick rug.
I yank the skirt the rest of the way. “Fully dressed now. What’s the deal? Is Gloria here?”
I'm discombobulated. Otherwise, I’d notice the gleam in Jodi’s teal green eyes.
“Oh, yes.” She preens.Preens.“Senator Johnson is here. Along with a half-dozen disgruntled residents.”
My head snaps up. "Disgruntled? What are you talking about?"
"I guess they heard about you cutting funding for the community spirit budget."
"I haven't cut anything."
"But you'replanningon it, and it's not going over well."
“First.” I hold up a finger, then curl it back into my fist when I realize I’m trembling. "How does anyone know about that plan? We’re still in the draft phase.”
Jodi shrugs. "It's a small town."
“Second, I'm not trying to mess with the town's spirit. I'm all about community spirit."
She gives a disbelieving snort, as if I don’t care about this town when I’ve spent every waking second trying to make sure it thrives.
I just happen to believe in practical solutions over feel-good fluff. "I'm trying to find a way to fund the library’s early learning literacy program since the state cut funding.”
"By sacrificing Skylark's reputation as one of the happiest towns in America,” she insists.
A couple of online articles give a town a made-up title and people go nuts. It just so happens those people aren’t responsible for the town’s budget.
