Chasing Perfect (4 page)

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but you sound sure.”

“I'm a pretty good judge of character.”

They walked out together.

On the main floor of the building Chief Barns shook hands with her again.

“You have any problems, you get in touch with me or anyone in my office,” Alice told her. “Mayor Marsha is very impressed with you and your work and that's good enough for me.”

Charity felt herself flush a little at the compliment. “Thank you. I'll do my best to stay out of trouble.”

“I know you will.”

The chief put on her blue cap and walked out onto the sidewalk. Charity watched her go. She'd meant her staying out of trouble comment to be a joke, but Alice
had taken it seriously. As if she knew that Charity always did the right thing. She was just that kind of person.

Which was a good thing, right? She'd never believed that bad girls had more fun.

“Alice trying to scare you?”

She turned and saw Robert coming down the stairs.

“I liked her.”

“Wait until she pulls you over for speeding. She can be very intimidating. She has three sons. They play football in high school, so they tower over her. But I swear they all tremble in her presence.”

Charity chuckled. “That could be more a mom thing than a police thing.”

“You're probably right.” He paused. “I'm heading out to San Francisco this weekend, to meet up with friends. But I wanted to know if you'll be free next weekend for dinner.”

Dinner with Robert. It sounded…nice.

“I'd like that,” she said.

“Great. We'll firm up the day and time during the week.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to get going, if I'm going to be in San Francisco on time.”

“Sure. Enjoy your time with your friends.”

“I will.”

He left through a side door that led to the employee parking lot.

Dinner with Robert would be a very pleasant way to spend an evening, she told herself, then winced. Pleasant? Couldn't she do better than that? So what if
she didn't feel sparks when she was around him? Sparks were dangerous, not to mention highly overrated. Better substance than flash.

She returned to the second floor, but before she got all the way to her office, Sheryl came running out to meet her.

“You're going to be late,” her assistant told her. “You'd better hurry.”

“For what? I don't have any more meetings today.”

“You have one now.” Sheryl sounded delighted. “Marsha called a little bit ago and put it on your calendar. I'm beyond jealous. Not that I need a tour, but still. I wish it were me.”

Charity didn't like the sound of that. “What's the meeting?”

“Josh is coming here to show you around town!” Sheryl's eyes brightened with excitement. “Just the two of you, alone. It would make all my fantasies come true. Well, not all of them, of course, but at least the ones I can talk about.”

Time with Josh? “Why would Marsha set something like that up? I can find my way around town on my own.”

“This is with Josh! You're so lucky. Marsha is doing you a really big favor.”

Charity privately thought she didn't need those kinds of favors, but she wouldn't say that to Sheryl. Not only was the mayor her boss, but she had to assume Marsha was simply trying to be nice. It wasn't
as if Charity could confess her total lack of control whenever Josh was within twenty feet of her.

Her reaction to him was bad enough, but being a cliché made everything even worse. Apparently every woman in town reacted the same way. The poor man, so overwhelmed by female interest. It was amazing he got anything done in a day. She frowned. Maybe he didn't. For all she knew, he sat around and lived on his racing proceeds and naked-butt-picture royalties.

None of which mattered, she reminded herself. She had a meeting to get through.

“When am I supposed to meet him?” she asked Sheryl.

“Now,” a low male voice said from beside her.

The sudden explosion of her heart speed took her breath away. Her thighs trembled and she watched the world narrow to a single person illuminated by an almost otherworldly light.

What was it about him that got her entire body in on the conspiracy to betray her? It had to be chemistry, or a deficiency on her part. Nutritional or possibly mental. Maybe if she went to the gym more. Or at all.

“Hello,” she said, going for calm and hoping she made it. “Nice to see you again. I understand we have a meeting scheduled.”

“Marsha thought I should show you the town.”

“Isn't she the best?” Charity asked, trying not to clench her teeth. “And while I appreciate the thought,
I'm pretty good at finding my own way around Fool's Gold, so if you have something else you need to get to…”

He didn't take the hint. Instead he smiled. “You're my only priority.”

He was teasing, she told herself. He had to be. Yet there was something about the way he spoke the words that made her want to moan…or purr.

“Oh, my,” Sheryl breathed.

Charity looked at her. Sheryl grinned unapologetically before returning to her desk.

Charity tugged on the hem of her conservative tweed jacket. “Fine. Good. Then we'll take our tour.” She hesitated. “We're not riding bikes, are we?”

His perfect mouth curved into a knowing smile. “You've been talking about me.”

Charity didn't like the sound of that. It implied an interest she absolutely refused to acknowledge. “You're difficult to avoid, what with the posters, screen savers and bobbleheads.”

“Which is your favorite?”

She immediately thought of the picture on Sheryl's screen saver—the one showing Josh in the shower. Naked. His back to the camera.

“I haven't given it any thought,” she lied. “Can I get back to you?”

“I can't wait to hear the answer.”

“I'll bet. Does your ego ever get too big to carry around?”

The grin widened. “Sure. That's why I have fans. To help with the heavy lifting.”

Impossible man, she thought, trying not to laugh. She pointed to the door. “Let's get this over with.”

“Don't pretend this isn't the highlight of you day.”

“Are you always so sure of yourself?”

He held open the door. “It's part of my charm.”

She was sure it was—which meant she was in serious trouble.

J
OSH LED THE WAY TO
a shiny black SUV. A really big one that required a step to make it into the passenger seat. Charity was grateful that her simple navy dress hung past her knees and wasn't very fitted. The style allowed her to make the climb without flashing any of the good citizens who might be watching.

Josh climbed in next to her, moving with the easy grace of an athlete. He rested his arm on the console between them and leaned close. Too close. With her first breath, she caught the scent of his body—a warm and masculine smell designed to melt the last barrier between her good sense and a free-for-all begging for attention.

He was exactly like the men who had drifted in and out of her mother's life, she thought, determined not to be sucked into the same pain and heartbreak she'd seen countless times. Showy men were nice to look at, but horrible bets when it came to relationships. How many times had her mother had her heart broken? Ten? Twenty? It seemed as if every few months she found someone new. Someone perfect and shallow who promised everything, then left her shattered.

Charity wanted happily-ever-after. And normal. Something Josh could never be.

“What would you like to see?” he asked, his voice low and slightly suggestive.

She forced herself to stare out the front of the SUV and told herself she was desperately bored. There were a thousand things that needed her attention back in her office. Phone calls to be made, plans to be started, lists to be reviewed. Nothing about her time with Josh was the least bit interesting.

Charity sighed. At least when she lied to herself, there was no one to call her on it. “You're the local,” she said. “I'll let you pick the route.”

“Fair enough, but you're going to need to put on your seatbelt.”

She reached for the strap. “Because it's the law, right? We're not going up a mountain or anything.”

He chuckled. “Not on a first date. I like to save the intense stuff for later. To make sure you can handle it.”

She wanted to point out this wasn't a date, but that would require speaking and his verbal play had left her throat a little dry.

The man was charm personified, she thought, wondering if it was a God-given gift or something he had to work at. With her luck, he was a natural. He probably didn't even know what he was doing to the women around him. Not that she would tell him.

He pulled into the street, then rolled to a stop at the
light on the corner. “You take the interstate into town?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“See much of the area since you arrived?”

“Just what I've walked to. I've only been in town a couple of weeks. There hasn't been much time.”

“You don't get weekends off?”

“I spent my first weekend getting ready for the meeting with the university.” She grimaced as she thought of how that morning had been a disaster until Josh had breezed in, spoken a few magic words and saved the day. Not that she was upset to have the contract signed. It was just that he'd made her feel bad at her job. Or maybe she'd done that all by herself.

“Last weekend, I was getting ready for my meetings this week.”

“I sense a pattern,” he said. “You need to get out more.”

Was he offering? She desperately wanted him to be offering. Which was silly, because she would have to say no to any kind of offer from him. The man wasn't good for her sanity. Plus, hello. There'd been a woman waiting in his room the other night. A close-to-naked woman obviously expecting her evening to take a turn for the erotic. Josh was a player and Charity had never understood the rules of the game.

Note to self, she thought. She would look Josh up on the Internet when she got back to her room that
night. Any kind of crush should be destroyed by the reality of his personal life.

“I plan to be in Fool's Gold for a long time,” she said. “I'll see it all eventually.”

He turned two blocks before the sign for the interstate, then headed west. “There are three different wineries growing grapes in the valley,” he said, pointing to the acres of vineyards sprawling to the horizon. “Mostly cabernet sauvignon, merlot and cab franc. Some other grapes for blending.”

He flashed her a smile. “Which takes us to the limit of my wine knowledge. If you want to know more, they do tours every weekend, starting in a couple of weeks.”

As they sped down the highway, Charity could see tiny buds on the bare branches—the promise of grapes to come.

“Most of the wineries were started years ago,” he continued. “This whole valley used to grow everything from corn to apples. Gradually the vineyards are taking over. Something about the soil and the weather.”

“And money,” she said. “For a lot of farmers, there's more profit in grapes. Wine is very big these days.”

He glanced at her. “Impressive.”

She did her best not to blush. “I did my homework before I moved here.” She cleared her throat. “The wineries are closer to town than I realized,” she said, turning back to see the mountains rising against the
blue sky. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small notepad.

“What a great resource. Any company thinking of relocating here needs to be taken on a tour of the area,” she said more to herself than him. “This is a great selling point.”

There had to be some kind of brochure the town used to promote itself. She made another note to review it when she got back and make sure the wineries and vineyards were prominently mentioned. Maybe look over Pia's schedule. There had to be a wine or grape festival.

“The wineries are just part of it,” Josh told her. “There's also hiking and camping in the summer and skiing in the winter. The resort has a five-star restaurant and a cooking school. We get plenty of tourists coming through.”

“You know a lot about the area. How long have you been here?” she asked.

“I grew up here. Moved to the area when I was ten.”

“That must have been nice,” she said enviously. “When I was a kid I dreamed of staying in one place, but my mom liked to travel.”

Josh glanced at her. Something questioning flashed through his eyes, then was gone. “Did she say why?”

“She had a lot of reasons. She liked the thrill of a new place. The possibilities. She used to say she was born wanting to move on.” Part of the motive to move
had always been to escape from anything bad that had happened before, Charity thought. Which was mostly a man, and the end of a relationship.

Charity had loved her mother, but the constant moving around hadn't been easy. Especially because Sandra moved whenever the mood struck her. She didn't care if Charity was only a few weeks from finishing a semester or a school year. “I grew up being the new girl.”

“Was that a problem?”

“I wasn't outgoing. By the time I'd made a few friends and settled in, we were moving again. I felt like I was always scrambling to learn the rules.”

“You'll like Fool's Gold.”

“I already do. Everyone is so friendly and open.”

He made a couple of turns, then they were heading back toward the mountains.

Charity found herself relaxing a little. Being close to Josh wasn't so scary—not if she remembered to keep breathing and ignore the steady hum of awareness that connected them. At least from her side.

A bright red import came toward them. The car was filled with college-aged girls who rolled down the windows and hooted and waved at Josh. He nodded back.

“Fans?” she asked, watching the car zip past.

“Probably.”

She risked turning toward him. “It's the bike thing, right?”

His mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile. “Yeah. The bike thing.”

“Because you're a famous bike rider?”

“Me and Lance Armstrong.”

“So you've ridden in the Tour de France?”

He glanced at her, his humor obvious. “Do you even know what that is?”

“It's, ah, a famous bike race. In France. It's done in parts or stages or legs or something. And there's a yellow jersey.”

“Good start.” His voice was teasing. “It's stages, by the way.”

“I'm not really that into sports. But from what I've heard, you're very impressive.”

He raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

“Do you make a good living at that? The bike riding?”

“You can. Prize money can be substantial. A top rider can pull in over a million.”

“Dollars?”

“Tour de France pays in Euros.”

“Right.” She was feeling a little sick to her stomach.

“Endorsements bring in the big money. Multimillion dollar deals.” He glanced at her. “They pay in dollars. Or yen.”

A million here, a million there. Did currency really matter? “So you were successful?”

“A case could be made.”

“And worth millions?”

“On a good day.”

Because the sexual appeal, incredible body and handsome face weren't enough.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“In the SUV or in Fool's Gold?”

“Either. Both.”

“I'm showing you the area because Marsha asked me and I'm in Fool's Gold because I live here. I've retired from racing.”

She shifted to face him. “Retired? You're barely in your thirties.”

“It's a young man's sport.”

How young? Retired? That didn't seem possible. She wondered if he'd been injured. Not that she would ask. It seemed too personal.

“What do you do now?”

“This and that. I keep busy. I have a few things going on in the area.”

They were back in town. Josh drove around the lake. There were small hotels, a couple of B&Bs, restaurants and vacation homes. Across the street were the boutiques, a bakery and an open, grassy park.

“Angelo's has great Italian food,” he said, pointing to the entrance to a large restaurant. “Margaritaville has the best Mexican food.”

“Named after the Jimmy Buffet song?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Avoid the extra shot with the margaritas unless you're a professional. It'll knock you on your butt.”

“Thanks for the tip. I'm more a single glass of wine kind of girl.”

He mentioned several other restaurants, a couple of bars and the drive-in with the best fries and shakes anywhere. All of which made her happy she'd taken the job in Fool's Gold. If only she'd been able to grow up in a place like this, she thought wistfully. But her mother would have hated everything about the town. Especially the close ties.

Her mother liked to come and go as she pleased, always looking for new adventures—especially where men were concerned. Charity had learned early not to expect any one guy to stick around for long. They were always moving through, too.

She'd vowed her life would be different. That she would find someone special, get married and be with that person forever. So far, she hadn't been very successful in that department but she was determined to keep trying.

Rather than dwell on her sucky love life, she asked, “Did you ever have any bike races in town?”

“No. There was some talk, but nothing was arranged.” He glanced out the window.

“What about a charity event? To raise money for kids?”

“I don't ride anymore.”

“At all?”

He shook his head.

She thought he would continue to circle the large
lake, but instead he made a few turns and before she realized where they were, he'd pulled up in front of City Hall. Their time together had ended abruptly, as if she'd done something wrong.

When he didn't turn off the engine, she got the hint.

“Thanks for the tour,” she said, feeling awkward. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

“No problem.”

She hesitated, wanting to say something else, then got out of the SUV. He drove off without a word.

She stood on the sidewalk, staring after him. What had just happened? What had she said? She felt oddly guilty and wasn't sure why.

“Because the hormones weren't enough of a complication,” she murmured with a sigh.

 

T
HE NIGHT WAS COOL
, the sky clear. There wasn't any moonlight to illuminate the road, but that didn't bother Josh. He knew every bump, every curve. There was no danger from other riders because he rode alone. He had to. It was the only way to work through his issues.

As he headed up the incline, he pedaled harder, faster, wanting to increase his heart rate, wanting to feel the blood pumping through his body, wanting to exhaust himself so maybe, just maybe, he would sleep.

The darkness surrounded him. At this speed the only sound was the wind in his ears and the tires on the pavement. His skin was cold, his shirt wet with sweat. Goggles protected his eyes, the helmet was
snug on his head. He sped over the top of the hill and onto the straight five-mile stretch that led back to town.

This was the only part of his ride he didn't like. There was nothing to distract him, nothing to keep his mind busy, so he had time to think. To remember.

Without wanting to, he was back in Italy, at the Milan–San Remo, or as the Italians referred to it,
la Classica di Primavera.
The Spring Classic.

A sprinter's dream race, but deadly for the sprinter who wasn't prepared for the hills. It was one of the longest single-day races. Two hundred and ninety-eight kilometers, or one hundred and eighty-five miles. That year Josh had been in the best shape of his life. He couldn't lose.

Maybe that's what had gone wrong, he thought grimly as he rode faster and faster. The gods had decided such arrogance had to be punished. Only he hadn't been the one struck down.

A bike race was all about sensation. The sound of the crowd, of the peloton—the pack of racers—and of the bike. The feel of the road. The burn of muscles, the ache of a chest sucking in air. A racer was either ready or not. It came down to talent, skill, determination and luck.