Page 4 of Someone to Tempt
Sadly, Gloria’s right. I don’t do fun.
“Speaking of fun…” Gloria glances at her watch. "I need to get ready for my dance class."
I offer a smile because Gloria seeing how freaked out I am about all of this is not going to help. “I didn't know you were a dancer."
"I'm not, but I love shaking my hips." She does a little wiggle that’s surprisingly sensual for a woman in her mid-seventies. "Salsa is my favorite," she says. "Find something you love that doesn’t have anything to do with the job or getting ahead. Do it because it makes you happy. You do, after all, live in the town voted one of the happiest in the country."
I hate that stupid slogan, but I keep the smile on my face. "I will, Gloria. I won't let you down."
"This is aboutyou, Iris.”
I try not to squirm under her steady gaze. Sure, there are plenty of politicians who crave the spotlight, but I want to make this about the town, not me. I don't like things being about me. I'm not worth the attention.
I wait a few minutes after she leaves, a cloud of Chanel No 5 lingering in her wake, before following her out of the conference room. Instead of walking back to my office or past Jodi’s desk near the main entrance, I rush to the cramped staircase at the end of the hall. The air inside is stuffy, and my heels make the metal steps clang, the sound reverberating as I rush down.
It's like I can't breathe—can't get the air in. And not because of what happened with the angry community members or Gloria's advice about having fun. It's the betrayal I feel from somebody I should have known isn’t my ally.
I trusted Jodi. I thought we were on the same team, working together for the town. I thought we were doing good things and putting our personal differences aside. Turns out I’m the fool again, thinking I could trust just anyone.
I bust out of the back door of town hall and take deep gulps of the crisp fall air. I willnotcry. I haven't cried since the day my twin brother got carted off to that camp for juvenile delinquents when we were seventeen. He told me tears are for losers, and I took his words to heart. It gave me something I could control, which I needed badly in the chaos of that summer.
Maybe an occasional hay fever flare-up makes my eyes water, but I do not cry. Not when I watch sad movies. Not when my friend Sloane told me at the start of summer that she has cancer. Not when Sadie and former NFL legend Ian Barlowe announced their engagement. Nada.
I drag in another deep breath and keep my eyes forward as I exit the alley and march toward the crosswalk. I don’t have a destination in mind, and my keys are tucked in the bottom drawer of my desk, so I can't truly escape. But I can head for Cover to Cover, the book store Sloane Winslow owns on the other end of downtown.
Since her diagnosis, she's reduced her shifts to part-time, but she's always there on Wednesday mornings to host the children's reading hour.
It's early enough that there isn't much traffic, so I don't worry about being spotted in my mismatched outfit and red-rimmed eyes. Until I notice one of Jodi’s many cousins walking toward me. Oh, hell no.
I pivot and dash across the street, only I don't notice the truck zooming in my direction. Not until I hear brakes squeal and the vehicle stops inches from my kneecaps.
Paralyzed by almost being flattened in the middle of Main Street, I stare at the truck’s green bumper. Oh, crap. Iknowthat bumper. I've been pressed against that bumper during a deep, passionate kiss.
My gaze raises to the man behind the wheel. When the hazel eyes that used to haunt my dreams meet mine, it’s like looking directly at the sun. My corneas burn and my vision goes hazy at the corners.
I press a hand to the hot hood of the old Chevy truck as Jake Byrne climbs out of it. The cherry on top of a shit show sundae of a day.
My stupid heart stutters in my chest, a painful thud of yearning and resentment. Damn him for still having this effect on me after all this time.
He looks different than he did as a teenager when he was the most beautiful boy I'd ever met. He’s become a man in the intervening years. The thick coat of stubble that covers his jaw makes those soulful gray-green eyes look all the more distracting and his full mouth even more kissable.
Stop that, I command myself.
No thinking about Jake and kissing in the same sentence. We only shared one soul-shattering—not to mention panty-melting—moment before things went to hell, yet the feel of his arms around me remained seared on my memory for far too long.
That one moment had haunted my dreams for years, the ghost of what could have been. The memory of his lips on mine and the sweet words he’d whispered—all lies in the end.
Whatever he's doing in Skylark, I want nothing to do with it. With him. He might have turned my life upside down once, but I'm smarter now. If this morning is any indication, I don't need any help getting into trouble. I've got that covered all on my own.
The universe has a cruel sense of humor, doesn't it? We all have that one person who got away—or in my case, who was sent away. Apparently, the cosmos thinks a second chance encounter is best with me at my absolute worst. I'm reeling from that disastrous committee meeting, my political career potentially in shambles before it’s even gotten started. My chances for re-election feel as crushed as my spirit right now.
What better time for the man who broke me into pieces to show up again, looking unfairly better than he has any right to. With his chiseled jawline, tousled hair and that movie-star smile, Jake is the embodiment of every woman's fantasy and my personal nightmare.
I quickly fix my face and plaster a bland, tight-around-the-edges smile on it. Taking a step back from the car, I lift my hand.
"It's fine," I say, like Jake and I have no history. Like he means less than nothing. "Just watch where you're going next time."
He takes two steps toward me but stops and throws up his hand, exasperation rolling off him like a wave. "Okay, are you crazy or do you make a habit of jumping in front of moving vehicles?”
