"Anonymous check," the woman corrected. "If you please, Mayor Lee."
Simon swooned inside. He managed to keep walking, resisted the temptation to run a hand through the mysterious town benefactor's silky hair. He tuned out the mayor and focused on imagining what their children would look like. He'd almost chosen a name for their firstborn by the time they reached the platform.
Spaulding's voice, whiny and trembling with anger, broke through his trance. "It's about damn time you got here!"
Simon started up the stairs, intent on defending the mayor and the future Mrs. Maxwell, but a strong feminine hand wrapped around his forearm. The contact sent enough electricity through him to stop his feet. He turned and found a pair of brown eyes appraising him. She stepped closer and the hand on his arm tightened. Her lovely face turned to either side in a gentle reproof. Of course, Simon thought, restraint.
Mayor Lee passed them, took the stairs to the podium with nothing more than a scowl of disapproval for Spaulding. Simon frowned, but resisted the urge to throttle Rutherford for his insolence.
"Now," Mayor Lee waved for them to join him. "Since we're all here, we can get this year's competition started."
"No." Simon found his voice, remembered his predicament in a rush of clarity. He hadn't had a chance to run the plan by Lee, but there'd be no help for it now. He shook his head. "I don't intend to compete against Agnes. I suggest we postpone."
"Simon, Simon," the woman at his elbow whispered. She stepped away from him and laughed softly. "It's cute, really, but there's no need."
The mayor nodded agreement from the podium. Behind him, Spaulding sneered and rubbed his hands together. Simon looked from one to the other. He looked at the woman beside him and then back to Spaulding. He squinted and looked at her again. His bride-to-be had Spaulding's high cheekbones. She had a strong, Rutherford jaw. The satisfied smile, however, was all hers.
"As for intentions," she said. "I fully intend to leave you in the dust."
* * * *
Agnes dug a fingernail into her palm. Control, she thought, keep your cool. She had a job to do and letting Simon Maxwell know how much he unnerved her didn't fit into the plan. She looked straight into his eyes and ignored the little shivers dancing along her spine.
His mouth hung open. Adorable, though his condescension a moment earlier pricked her pride more than a little. She couldn't resist raising one finger to his chin and lifting his jaw gently back into place.
"Agnes?" He blinked and the glazed look faded from his eyes.
She had to grit her teeth to keep from sighing out loud. The man had eyes, and lips for that matter, that sent sparks straight through her. She gave a dignified nod and tilted her head to one side. Simon Maxwell satisfied fifteen years of expectation in one dashing package.
"Excuse me." Spaulding's voice whined from the podium.
Agnes scowled and forced herself to turn toward her brother.
"Can we possibly focus on the race here?"
"Of course. I'm certain Simon is as anxious to begin as we are." She snuck a peek over her shoulder at Maxwell. He stared at her. The townspeople converged on the area and a ring of spectators backed him, whispering and shuffling their feet. Perfect. Agnes needed an audience almost as much as she needed Maxwell off guard. So far, both seemed to lean in her favor.
"And, as interesting as competing against him should prove." She raised her voice now, saw Simon's eyes go wide as he came back to the moment and realized the game was already afoot. The crowd stepped forward and focused on Agnes. "What do you say we make it little
more
interesting?"
The townspeople cheered.
Stupid of them, Agnes thought. They had no idea what she meant to do yet.
"What are you up to, Agnes?" Simon took a step up and his expression turned against her, scowling despite the gentle voice.
"Every year." She spoke loud enough to keep the crowd hanging, loud enough to sound like a Rutherford even. "Our families battle for control of the town council."
"And every year, I win. Otherwise
your
family would have turned every park into a parking lot by now."
Simon's voice lost any traces of cordialness and the last words came out in a growl that made Agnes's eyebrow arch a fraction higher. "True. The Rutherfords have always favored progress and development." A grumble wafted through the crowd as they, too, turned against her--right on cue. "So why drag things out, Simon? Why the annual ceremonial duel? Why not settle things for good?"
"Excuse me?"
"Let's finish it." Agnes took a step down. They stood eye to eye and close enough that she could smell the spice of his aftershave. She pressed her nails, hard, into the soft flesh of her hands. "Let's up the stakes, Simon. Let's end this thing today."
He stared at her and Agnes saw the flicker of doubt flash across his eyes. She held her breath and waited for the pressure of the crowd, the urgency of the moment to drive him into acquiescence. When he growled low in his throat and barely audible even at this proximity, her control faltered. She let out a long, trembling breath.
"I'm game," Simon said. "What did you have in mind?"
The crowd cheered.
Before Agnes could reply, before her composure returned, Spaulding hooted from the podium. She closed her eyes and let him take the reins, however awkwardly. This close to Simon, she couldn't trust herself to do any better.
"Then it's settled!" Spaulding's voice blasted down and swept out over the crowd. It rang with premature triumph.
Agnes had no worries. Simon's were eyes still fixed on her. His word, given in front of the town, would hold him to the bargain whether he approved of their amendments or not. "This year we race for the last time!"
"Tell me, Spaulding."
Simon spoke to her brother, but his eyes never left hers.
"How, exactly, does this play out?"
Spaulding rubbed his hands together again, an idiotic gesture, but one that no amount of prodding had been able to cure him of. "For the victors, controlling interest on the council, as always."
"And for the losers?" Simon kept the plural implication.
"The loser," Spaulding corrected. "Leaves town for good."
Silence took hold of the townspeople.
For seconds Agnes watched the expressions dancing across Simon's features. Confidence, mistrust, concern, excitement--all of them looked good on Simon Maxwell. Finally, after the murmurs started to whisper through the crowd, the thin lips parted into a tentative smile.
"Define
leaves town
," Simon said.
"If we win," Spaulding practically sang. "You leave town, vacate, disperse and never return or meddle in the affairs here again."
"And if you win," Agnes seized control at last. This point, this carrot was hers to dangle. "The Rutherfords move, immediately and without hesitation, and no Rutherford sets a foot in this town ever again."
He smelled the trap. Agnes saw it on his face as clearly as if it were printed there, but the shouts of the people around them carried a note of triumph that refused to allow retreat. Poor Simon, she thought. What choice did the man have?
"I accept," he said. "And I hope you find your new home comfortable, wherever that may be."
"Ha!" Spaulding danced around the mayor, his phony cast completely forgotten. "It's official."
Neither Agnes nor Simon bothered to comment. They stood on the makeshift steps, eye to eye and toe to toe. The mayor spoke loudly to the crowd. Agnes missed most of the words. She tuned out the town as well and focused solely on her opponent. He struck a magnificent pose, that Maxwell boy.
Unlike her brother, Agnes trained. She wondered for a second whether or not she could beat Simon. Not that it mattered, of course. The outcome of this race would have nothing to do with speed or strength or stamina. Still, she might have liked to try it the fair way in this particular case.
And Simon was wrong about one thing. There had been a year when the Rutherfords saw victory, one year when the town fell into the hands of her family. Her gaze darted toward the library. They'd lost the park and several small businesses as well that year.
She let a smile stretch over her lips and leaned forward so that her words would reach only Simon. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows fell together in a frown, but he turned an ear in her direction. Agnes could have sworn she saw a hint of hope in his expression.
"I've been waiting for this for fifteen years, Simon." Above them the mayor blew a tinny whistle. "Don't disappoint me."
The Race
Simon breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth and tried to keep his eyes from straying to Agnes's running shorts. He kept his pace moderate, settling into a stride just behind her to the right. The position allowed him to keep a close eye on her. It also meant he had a great view of her long, ground-covering leaps and the muscular body that drove them. Breathe in, breathe out.
How could she be Spaulding's sister? He made a face, shook his head and focused on the sandy canyon floor sliding away beneath his feet. The mayor had said, well, in actuality he'd implied that Agnes had helped with the new library and with the parks foundation. Counterproductive acts considering her family signed the orders to tear down the old one and slashed the funding for public beautification.
Ahead of him, Agnes arrived at the first obstacle. He watched her leap, cat-like, onto the first pedestal. The mayor's driver had a seedy, up-to-know-good feel to him. Simon frowned as Agnes sprang from one padded stand to the other without so much as looking at the water-filled pit below. What if the mayor had flipped sides?
He jumped onto the first pedestal at the same time Agnes reached the far side of the pit. She turned back over her shoulder to check on his position and Simon couldn't resist winking at her. The lapse in focus caused him to wobble dangerously, almost toppling from his perch. He recovered by throwing out his left arm and twisting to the right side, then he leapt to the second stand in the row of padded uprights.
He had to keep his eyes on the next in line while he crossed the water. His cocky blunder would earn Agnes a bit of distance on him, but he'd enjoyed it nonetheless. Simon had no doubt he could close the gap fairly quickly. He hopped from post to post until a final leap landed him on solid ground again.
He looked ahead and caught Agnes outlined against the glaring sunlight. The canyon floor sloped upward here, narrowing toward the section where the second obstacle waited. She'd gained a bigger lead than he expected, must have put on speed after crossing the pond. Simon grinned and dug his heels into the sprint up the hillside.
The bottleneck where the canyon walls closed in produced a maze of padded, red and blue segments. The construct blocked any view of the course beyond. Simon ducked around the first wall, slid into a narrow passage and kept his pace steady while he dodged through each gap in the winding structure. He'd lost sight of Agnes, which meant little here. She could run three or thirty paces ahead of him.
The turns forced him to slow a bit. The canyon floor waxed sandy here and each step sank a little into the soft surface. Simon could hear little beyond his own breathing and the dull puff of each footfall. He watched the walls slip past, stole regular glances toward the rock rim above and tried to sort out Agnes Rutherford in his memory.
His father had said--no--he'd implied that Agnes set him free. Simon ducked to the right and hurdled a low fence. The mayor implied that Agnes had helped counteract her family's destructive motions on the council. The path straightened out in front of him, ending at a red wall and a decision. Left or right?
He remembered those days at Spaulding's house. Whatever their game of the day, Simon had played fully aware of the watcher in the room above. He'd risen to the attention and driven himself to impress. The round face he only caught glimpses of pressed behind the glass, forbidden, had been Agnes. He'd performed for her face, had alienated Spaulding--he understood it now--for her.
He stopped. Why would she fund city improvements if she were in cahoots with Spaulding? Why wasn't he running? He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. They wanted this. They wanted him off guard and thinking about anything besides the race. He took the left path at a jog and snaked his way around two more fence segments.
Judging by the canyon walls, he'd nearly reached the end of the maze. He zipped around another corner and had just leaned into a final sprint when something snagged his shirt and dragged him backward. He stumbled and crashed into one of the walls. Agnes appeared at his side.
"What are you doing?" She rested both hands on her hips and tapped one sneakered foot at him. "Are you screwing around for my benefit, or do you really want to lose this thing?"
"I--what?" Simon rubbed his shoulder and stared at her. "What are you doing?"
"Listen, I didn't arrange this whole thing just for you to let me win."
"I wasn't." Simon started to protest, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
Then she leaned around the wall and eyed the canyon rim. "Fine. Now get this right. They rigged the next obstacle." She lowered her voice and spoke rapidly. "The center segment of the bridge is booby-trapped. If you put any weight on it, it'll collapse."
"Why?"
"You're supposed to get there first." She turned back long enough to frown her disappointment at his leisurely pace so far. "If you can't manage that, they've left a marker for me, so that I can leap the trick section. Watch for it--a green line on the outside plank right before the trap."
"So why warn me about it, Agnes?"
"Would you believe me if I said I preferred to play fair and square?"
He searched her face. He wanted to believe exactly that, but he didn't see it. She was up to something fishy. He shook his head slowly.
Agnes laughed. "You're good." Her eyes widened and she smiled up at him.
He was going to kiss her. The thought had barely a second to register before his hands lifted to her shoulders and he pulled her into range. A similar idea--that she might resist, that this was a very bad idea--whispered in the background as his head dipped closer to hers. Simon ignored it completely.