At Her Beck and Call

“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 résumé 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.”