Читать книгу A Canyon Springs Courtship - Glynna Kaye - Страница 11

Chapter Two

He’d hoped their paths would never cross again.

But gazing down from his Main Street office window to where Macy hurried through the lightly falling snow—coatless, hatless and feet still wedged into those ridiculously citified sandals—he’d clearly hoped in vain.

He stepped slightly back from the window as she glanced up at the two-story, natural stone buildings and then looked around her, almost as if aware of being watched. His chest tightened when she tossed back her hair in a still-familiar gesture, revealing a face every bit as beautiful—and determined—as he remembered.

Heaven help him.

“Look, Jake,” a gruff voice interrupted his reverie, “are you listening to anything I’ve said?”

Jake composed a smile and turned to the balding man who’d barged into his office only minutes ago, Western felt hat in hand. It wouldn’t do for the town’s mayor to pick up on how the sight of Macy had shaken him. As always when dealing with the perceptive Macon T. “Gus” Gustoffsen, he’d be on his best behavior. You never knew but an endorsement for the vice mayorship—and on down the road one by an outgoing mayor for an incoming one—might be worth biding your time and curtailing your temper.

“I haven’t missed a single word.”

The sixty-year-old huffed his disbelief. “As I was saying, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Macy Colston is due to arrive later today, and I’m depending on you to make sure she gets whatever she needs to put Canyon Springs on the map.”

Jake reseated himself behind his grandfather’s beloved old desk, disinclined to mention Macy had already arrived a few hours ago, well in advance of the evening’s official welcome reception. It was an event Jake wouldn’t be attending due to a prior commitment. He nodded to a topographical image of the state of Arizona gracing the wall. “Last time I looked, we’ve been on the map for eighty-five years, even if not legally incorporated the entire time.”

The mayor grimaced as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “You know what I mean. The town’s counting on the publicity she generates to lure in fresh faces and cold hard cash. We need to play extra nice and not do anything to get ourselves on her wrong side.”

It was a little too late to be concerned with that....

Jake cleared his throat. “As you know, I’ve got my hands full with more pressing matters. I’m sure Don and Larry can be trusted to handle it. Maybe Hector or Bernie.”

Gus stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket and lowered his towering frame into one of the upholstered leather chairs. Loosening the bolo tie that accented his Western-cut shirt, he shot a cautious look at Jake. “Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not that I don’t trust Don and Larry or either of the others.”

“Well, then?”

“It’s just that you have a winning way about you, Jake.” Gus squinted one eye. “A polish. A gift with words that the others can’t hold a candle to. And none of the guys are anything near fancy enough to catch the eye of a pretty city lady.”

Jake reached for a ballpoint pen, his thumb rhythmically clicking the retraction mechanism as the striking features of the “pretty city lady” flashed vividly through his memory. But pretty is as pretty does, as his grandmother was known to say.

“It’s the town that’s in the spotlight here, isn’t it? Not one of us.”

“That’s a fact.” Gus nodded vigorously. “But I don’t doubt you could talk the moon down out of the sky if you had a mind to. You can win her over on our behalf, make sure she does the town justice.”

Jake shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else.”

Gus scowled. “You’ve been a promoter of this town since you moved here half a dozen years ago, but you were the lone dissenting vote against participating in the competition. I still don’t understand what you have against the idea when you know how it will help our town.”

“It’s not that I—” How could he explain it without divulging matters he’d rather not divulge? Rolling back from the desk, he took pleasure in the comforting creak of the old-fashioned wooden chair. It was a perfect match to the desk that dignified his book-lined office, but he’d paid a steep price for it, figuratively if not literally.

Gus smacked his beefy hand on the desktop enthusiastically, mistakenly interpreting Jake’s sudden silence as evidence that he was making persuasive inroads. “Her blog is nearly as popular as that rancher woman’s. You know, the gal who also has the food show? My wife says she almost feels as if she knows her, and that’s how Macy comes across, too. Like you could sit down next to her for a long, cozy chat.”

Jake managed not to choke. Sit down for a chat? Right. That’s exactly how she wanted people to feel—it’s how she got them to lower their guard and open up to her.

He straightened, his gaze lingering on the framed photo of his grandparents, the only decorative item on his desk. “Look, I think Larry and Don or one of the others will do fine. She seems to take a fancy to local color. You can’t beat them for that.”

“No, but...” Gus darted a guarded look in his direction. “Larry, Don and Hector are married. Macy’s not.”

Jake chuckled. “Do you think Andrea, Melissa and Dionne won’t let their men out of their sight as long as Ms. Colston’s in town?”

“Not exactly.” The big man fiddled with his wristwatch. Gus might look and speak like a country boy at times, but he was a shrewd businessman. Something was on his mind even though he was taking his sweet time getting around to it. “You’re not married, Jake.”

Jake placed the pen on his desk and pinned the mayor with a frank look. “Where are you going with this?”

Gus reached again for the handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “Married men have obligations. Commitments. Loyalties. They have to be careful not to give anyone the wrong impression.”

“And?”

Gus wadded the handkerchief in his fist. “As a single man, you’re a free agent, so to speak. You’re at liberty to sweet-talk Macy Colston into portraying us in the most favorable light without anyone questioning your behavior.”

“What exactly do you mean by sweet-talk?”

Gus glanced at the snow dancing outside the window rather than meeting Jake’s gaze. “You know...turn on the charm. Sweep her off her feet. Put stars in her eyes.”

Jake stared at the now-blushing mayor. “Are you saying you want me to fake a romantic interest in this journalist to manipulate her impressions of Canyon Springs?”

“Who’s to say you’d have to fake it?” Gus’s expression brightened. “She’s more than pretty. Smart, too. You’re a good-lookin’ man, or so my wife and oldest daughter tell me. On the sober side, maybe. But you’re easy enough to get along with most of the time, just like your grandfather was. With some effort on your part, I bet you and Macy would hit it off.”

No way would he woo Macy Colston, no matter how noble the cause. He’d steer clear of her in the coming weeks, keeping an eye on her through her blog posts and stepping in only if a questionable situation warranted it. Even if he had any interest in seeing more of the woman—which he didn’t—he had more pressing obligations than babysitting a tenacious journalist. Seeing to Grandma’s welfare for one. The Canyon Springs history book for another. And he had to make sure the city council didn’t do something stupid with the property his grandfather had willed to the town. What had Granddad been thinking when he’d done that anyway?

“Now look, Gus, you know I don’t—”

The big man waved him away. “If you want to get the rest of the council on your side about what to do with that prime bit of real estate the city inherited, it might serve you well to put effort into this. You know, prove you’re a team player.”

Gus had a point. Even though he didn’t vocalize Jake’s added hopes for the vice mayorship, Jake knew the other man was thinking about it, too. There were those who still said his election last year was a fluke considering his sole opposition had abruptly withdrawn from the race. But then again, this was Macy they were talking about....

“Can’t spare the time, Gus.”

“You work too hard. Need to loosen up.” The older man folded his arms. “If you won’t step up for the good of the town, do it for yourself. Have a little fun for a change. This might be your last chance to catch the eye of a looker like Macy Colston. You’re—what? Thirty-two? Thirty-three?”

Thirty-five.

“Give it a shot, Councilman. What do you have to lose?”

Jake stood and punched the intercom button on his desk phone. “Phyllis Diane, would you please call Rob McGuire? I’m supposed to meet him at Singing Rock. Tell him I’m on my way and I apologize in advance for being a few minutes late.”

“Happy to oblige, Jake,” his office assistant responded with a soft Texas drawl. Always amiable, even when putting in Saturday overtime hours, he nevertheless figured it was only a matter of time before she headed for greener pastures and left him and his law partner high and dry.

He pressed the off button and, mustering a smile, snagged his Windbreaker from the antique coat tree behind him. “I appreciate your confidence in my persuasive abilities, Mr. Mayor, but this case is officially closed.”

* * *

Macy’s cell phone played a merry tune and she crossed the room to pull it from the purse she’d left on what looked to be a homemade quilted bedspread. In fact, everything she’d seen of this two-story log cabin lodge and restaurant oozed rustic charm, from its wooden-planked porch to a natural stone fireplace in the lobby to her antiques-filled room. The whole town held such promise...if it wasn’t for Jake calling Canyon Springs home.

“It’s about time you answered.” The familiar voice of her agent-publicist carried across the miles with her usual crisp, no-nonsense tone. You’d have thought she was a native New Yorker and not a Midwestern transplant.

“Hey, sis.” Brushing back her hair, Macy sat on the bed and kicked off her sandals. She’d have to buy more substantial footwear for the coming days if this weather kept up. A heavier coat, too. Maybe gloves.

“So are you at your next assignment yet?”

“I checked in right before lunch. But I should have brought boots.”

“It’s raining?”

“Snowing.”

Silence. Then came a cautious query. “The schedule shows you’re in Arizona...right?”

Macy envisioned her older sister, brow puckered as she shook back her pricey, chin-length bob.

“Nicole, do you remember how we were told Canyon Springs would give my readers a different perspective on the Grand Canyon state? Well, they weren’t kidding. It’s smack in the middle of a huge forest of ponderosa pines. Flocked in white at the moment. Absolutely breathtaking.”

“But it’s April.”

“And it looks like Christmas.” She returned to the window, where fluffy flakes still descended lightly. “I plan to get out and snap a few more photos. With temperatures spiking over much of the country, my readers will love this.”

“Which reminds me of why I called you. I heard from Vanessa this morning.”

Vanessa Riker was the contact person for Macy’s primary blog sponsor, a rapidly expanding chain of organic food store-restaurant combos.

“She mentioned,” Nicole continued, “that their new board is coming close to a decision on increasing their sponsorship. You know what that means, don’t you?”

Macy’s spirits rose in anticipation. “It means I’m closer to doing this full time. No more scrimping to get by. No more cramming in freelance work on the side.”

“It’s bigger than that. Vanessa says they’re not only discussing covering publication costs of a book, but a series of books gleaned from your blog posts. You’d retain the rights, but they’d be exclusively available at all their locations and on their website—with a sweeter than sweet royalty deal for you. And—”

Macy drew in a breath. There was an and?

“—Vanessa said they see real marketing potential tied to your blog. In fact, they asked me to see if you’d be interested in doing a television program.”

At her sister’s words, Macy lowered herself onto an oak rocking chair. She’d hoped for something like this, but hadn’t expected to see it happen so soon. “A television show?”

“They’ve contacted an independent agency to see about the possibility of creating and pitching a pilot to a specialty network. She mentioned there’s genuine interest on their part in committing to commercial time for such a program.”

“Wow.”

“It’s still in the brainstorming stage, but something along the lines of a reality-type program. You know, traveling across America to visit little towns just like you do now. But Vanessa mentioned that in order to justify an investment of that magnitude, you need higher numbers on your blog to draw more traffic to their business. And to get that, you need to give your readers more of what’s being asked for.”

Something juicy. Uncovering a local scandal piece by piece, with cliffhangers from blog to blog. Something Jake would certainly be dead set against, but she wasn’t about to mention to her sister his presence or his opposition. Like Mom, she’d remember Jake from Macy’s university days. They already believed he’d derailed her from a promising career in investigative journalism, undermining her confidence in the direction she’d been heading.

Stop chasing butterflies, her mother had frequently warned her when as a child she’d failed to apply herself to a task at hand. She’d done well to follow that admonition—until Jake came along and she’d nearly allowed herself to get sidetracked. But she was back in the saddle and galloping toward a goal once more. Her professional blogging and human interest story freelancing hadn’t won any accolades from her family—until now—and she wasn’t about to be unseated again.

“It never ceases to amaze me,” Nicole continued, “how transparent people are willing to be with you in exchange for their fifteen minutes of fame.”

Macy laughed. “I’d be surprised, too, if there isn’t a juicy story hidden in the closet of every little town.”

At least that was her hope.

“Vanessa says while they’ve seen gradual improvement with the direction you’ve taken lately, you can’t rely on lame revelations like that recent one about the youth group leader. You know, the one who slipped a bucket of Dairy Queen into his hand-crank ice cream maker and passed it off as his own at a church social.”

“You have to admit it was funny.” Macy smiled, remembering. “He good-naturedly admitted his deception once people started asking him for the recipe.”

Nicole scoffed. “That might be fine for a blog, Macy. All warm and fuzzy. But for TV? Major yawner. Once a sponsor of this caliber promises to invest in you at a level they’re intending, you have to deliver what they want.”

“The board needs to remember it’s the everydayness of the blog that draws people.” Rising from the rocker, Macy again returned to the window. “It’s a peek into small-town life. The hopes, dreams, challenges and rewards of living outside the fast lane. It’s a lifestyle that seems, from the popularity of the blog, to be one that a big chunk of America wishes they could slow down enough to join in on.”

Nicole laughed. “Listen to yourself, Macy. It sounds as if you’re buying into your own spin and have forgotten this blog is merely the means to an end.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” She traced a finger along the window’s polished wooden frame. “I don’t want a sponsor sucking the heart out of it, that’s all. People have certain expectations and those will carry over to a TV program, too.”

“I’m just saying—” Nicole’s voice took on an impatient edge “—if you’re content to do a low-key, chatty little blog for the rest of your life, that’s your choice. But I thought you enlisted my help because you wanted to make something of this. Something big.”

And take her sister along for the increasingly lucrative ride?

She often felt guilty that her highly successful sister spent valuable time on Hometowns With Heart negotiations with relatively little recompense thus far.

“I still want that.” She drew a strengthening breath, hope rising at the possibilities almost within reach. Surely she could ramp up the blog to make it more exciting and still stay in control of the voice and tone she wanted to protect. Nicole just wanted what was best for all of them. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without your help. And Mom’s, of course. It’s just that...well, everything is happening so fast.”

“We’ve got to strike while the iron is hot. Chances like this can evaporate in the blink of an eye. Are you still on board?”

For a fleeting moment she recalled the set of Jake’s jaw and the flatness of his expression when she’d told him she could make no promises. Her mother was right about so many things. Surely she was right that Macy was better off without the influence of a man like that in her life.

“Yes, of course. I’m completely on board.”