Читать книгу Fool's Gold Collection Part 1 - Susan Mallery - Страница 11

CHARITY DID EVERYTHING she could think of to prep for her meeting with the hospital committee. This was her first real chance to prove herself and she wanted everything to go perfectly.

She’d loaded her presentation on her new laptop and then had backed it up on Robert’s, just in case. She’d researched the competing locations, checked for large, recent donations and walked the proposed site herself. She felt comfortable with the information and ready to make her case.

At exactly nine-thirty on Tuesday morning, eight people walked into the conference room. Charity was ready for them.

Mayor Marsha spoke first, welcoming them to Fool’s Gold and assuring everyone how much the town wanted the new hospital campus. Marsha went over a few of the more important facts—the tax breaks, the incredibly reasonable price of the land, the grants they’d already made progress on.

Marsha and Charity had spent most of the previous day going over what each of them would say, so Charity was prepared for each of Marsha’s points. The mayor finished with a joke about the golf courses in the area, which was Charity’s signal that it was her turn.

From her research she knew that of the eight members on the committee, the real powerhouse was Dr. Daniels. A trauma care doctor used to dealing with impossible situations, he liked to get to the point, make a decision and move on. He considered serving on the committee a waste of his important time, so he wanted the business settled quickly. Charity planned to use that to her advantage.

She passed out folders, then flipped on her computer.

“I know you’re all very busy,” she began. “So I want to first thank you for taking the time to come to Fool’s Gold. My goal is to provide you with the information you need to make the right decision for your hospital expansion.” She paused to smile. “And explain to each of you why Fool’s Gold is the right place at the right time. Not only do we offer excellent housing for your staff, superior schools for your children and a warm and welcoming community filled with qualified workers, we simply want you here more. We’re determined to do whatever is necessary to convince you that this is exactly where your hospital needs to be.”

She began her PowerPoint presentation, clicking through several glossy photos of the area. The real meat of the meeting came next, with plenty of statistics on skilled labor, potential patients and quality-of-life issues. For Dr. Daniels, she threw in a mini sales pitch.

“We’re in desperate need of trauma care,” she said as she clicked to display another graph. “We might not get the gunshot wounds of a gang-infested city, but we have other issues. Skiing and hiking accidents on the mountains, car accidents, especially during winter and tourist seasons. Last year three rock climbers fell. Two died before they could reach the trauma center in San Francisco. If we’d had our own trauma center, those two young men would still be alive today.”

She moved on to the number of births per year, illustrating the need for a new maternity center. By noon she’d gone through all the details she and Marsha had decided were necessary.

“If you’ll come with me, we have lunch set up downstairs,” she said, motioning to the door. “At one o’clock, we’ll take you on a tour of the area and have you on the road by two, as you requested.”

Everyone rose and started out of the room. Dr. Daniels, a handsome man in his mid forties, paused. “You listened. We told each of the towns we wanted to be done by two. One of the other places kept us until five, the other got us out at four-thirty.”

Charity shrugged. “A partnership has to go both ways. Of course there’s more I want you to see and hear, but I respect your time. We have a lot to offer, Dr. Daniels. I hope you’ll give us the opportunity to show you that.”

“I see that. An excellent presentation. I’m impressed.”

“Then I did my job.”

JOSH LEFT THE HOTEL a little after seven in the evening. It was early for him to go riding, what with the days getting longer, but he was restless. Normally he enjoyed his quarters at the hotel, but lately they’d felt confining. He could always move into one of the houses he owned. At any given time one of the rentals was usually available. But what would he do in a house all on his own?

He walked through the center of town, then stopped across the street from Jo’s Bar. The place had been there for years. There had been a dozen or so owners in the past decade. The location worked but the owners never seemed to make a go of it. Then three years ago Josephine Torrelli had shown up and bought the place. She’d hired a crew of construction guys, demolished the place down to the beams and built it up to look like a quiet, welcoming neighborhood bar that catered primarily to women. There were a couple of big TVs showing reality TV and home shopping for the largely female crowd. All the guys got were a couple of TVs over the long bar and well-priced beer.

There were a lot of rumors about Jo. Some said she was a former child star with money to burn. She’d certainly had plenty to sink into the remodel. Others said she was running from an abusive husband and using an assumed name. A few believed she was a mafia princess determined to make it far away from her east-coast family.

Josh suspected the latter was the most likely story. Jo, a pretty woman in her mid-thirties, seemed to know a little too much about life to have been raised in the ‘burbs. He knew she kept a loaded gun behind the bar, and when a fight had broken out last year, she’d looked more than ready to use it. Which also gave credence to the abusive husband story, he thought as he crossed the street and walked into the bar.

The place was well lit without breaking the mood. Baseball played on the small TVs. Giants on one, Oakland on the other. A few die-hard Dodger fans huddled around one of the smaller screens. The larger flat screen showed skinny models walking down a runway. There were several groups of women around round tables and balloons proclaiming it was someone’s birthday. A few guys played pool at the lone table in the back.

Several of the customers greeted him. He waved and made his way to the bar.

“Beer,” he told Jo before turning to watch the Giants. A commercial filled the screen. He looked away, glancing at the women at tables, about to face the bar again, when he saw someone he knew in a corner.

Ethan Hendrix sat with one of his brothers and a third guy. Josh stiffened. This seemed his week for dealing with the past, he thought grimly.

In a perfect world he would walk over to Ethan and they would talk. The past had been over for years. It was time to get over it. He’d phoned Ethan a few times over the past couple of years, but his old friend had never returned the calls. Now he couldn’t seem to move and Ethan never glanced in his direction. Then Jo was putting a beer in front of him.

He took a sip.

“Good,” he said. “Where’s it from?”

“A microbrewery in Oregon. South of Portland. The guy came through with samples. You have to respect that. Apparently he travels up and down the west coast, trying to get places to take his beer.”

“Does that make you a sucker for a sad story?”

She grinned. “Maybe. What of it? You ready to take me on, Golden?”

“And get beaten by a girl? No, thanks.”

“You know it. I’m tough to the bone. Ethan’s here,” she added, speaking low enough that only he could hear.

“I saw that.”

“You could talk to him.”

“I could.”

He didn’t question how Jo, who had only been in town three years, knew about his past with Ethan. Jo had a way of finding out things.

“You’re both idiots,” she said. “In case you were wondering. He’s as bad as you, acting all pouty.”

Josh chuckled. “There’s ten bucks in it for you if you say that to his face.”

“I don’t need the money. You’re wallowing in guilt and he’s playing the martyr. It’s like living in the middle of Hamlet.”

He frowned. “How do you figure?”

“I don’t know. It’s the only Shakespearean play I could think of. Well, there’s always Romeo and Juliet, but that doesn’t fit. You know what I mean. Just go talk to him.”

She was right, he told himself, as he put down his beer. He would walk over and…

He turned on the stool, but Ethan and his friends were gone, the table empty.

“Next time,” Jo said when he faced her again.

“Sure. Next time.”

She moved on to another customer. Josh sipped his beer, thinking about Ethan, wondering how things would have been different if he’d been the one injured instead of his friend. He had a feeling Ethan wouldn’t have lost his nerve. He would still be racing.

The pool game finished up. One of the guys walked toward Josh and sat next to him at the bar.

“Hey, Josh.”

“Mark.”

“You still thinking of heading to France this summer? We could use another win.”

Sure. Because that’s how it happened. A person woke up one morning and thought “I’m going to enter the Tour de France” and that was it.

“Not this year. I’m still retired.”

Mark, a plumber in town, punched him in the arm. “You’re too young to retire, but not too rich. Am I right?”

Josh nodded and smiled, then wondered why he’d bothered to come into the bar.

He wasn’t interested in winning another race. At this point, he simply wanted the ability to compete. To do what he did before. What he took for granted.

“My kid’s pretty good,” Mark said when Jo handed him a beer. “Fast on his bike. He wants to race. You know, like you did. We’re thinking of sending him to one of those schools. He’s begging me every day.”

“There are a couple of good places. How old is he?”

“Fourteen.”

“That’s kind of young.”

“That’s what his mom and I say. He’s too young to be on his own. But he won’t leave it alone. Weren’t you going to open a racing school here, in town?”

That had been the plan—back before the accident. Josh had several bids on construction, most of the money and his eye on a piece of property. But to do that, to commit himself to being a part of the school, meant riding again. Not a humiliation he was willing to take on right now.

“I’ve thought about it,” he admitted, then wished he hadn’t.

“You should do it. Solve our problem. You’re famous, man. Lots of people would come to ride with you. I bet they’d do a story about you on CNN.”

That’s what he was afraid of, Josh thought grimly.

“Something to think about,” he said and drained his beer. He dropped a few bills on the counter, then stood. “See you, Mark.”

“Yeah. Think about it. The racing school. It could be great.”

It could, Josh thought as he left the bar and headed back to the hotel. It could be a damned miracle. Because that’s what it would take.

WEDNESDAY NIGHT CHARITY followed the directions Pia had given her, walking to the west part of town where the houses were older and larger, seated majestically on huge lots with mature trees. She saw the well-lit two story on the corner and walked up to the front door.

Pia opened it before she could knock. “You came. Welcome.” Pia giggled. “Okay, I brought tequila and margarita mix and I’ve been sampling. What the hell. We’re all walking, so let’s have fun.”

Tequila? “I just brought a couple of bottles of wine,” Charity said, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Girls’ night out had sounded like fun, but she couldn’t afford to get really drunk. She had meetings in the morning.

“Wine is great,” Pia said, swaying slightly, then grabbing the door frame for support. “Maybe I’ll have some.”

A tall, pretty brunette appeared behind Pia and wrapped an arm around her waist. “You need to lie down, kid.”

“I’m fine,” Pia said. “Don’t I look fine to you? I feel fine.”

The woman smiled at Charity. “Don’t be frightened. Every now and then Pia feels the need to live up to the party image. It’s not a big deal.”

“I can respect that,” Charity said.

“Me, too. I’m Jo, your hostess for this month’s girls’ night. Come on in.”

“I’m Charity.”

“I figured that. We’re glad to have you.” Jo maneuvered Pia away from the door.

Charity followed the two of them into the house.

It was one of those great old places, with hardwood floors and plenty of built-ins. She suspected what had once been a lot of little rooms had been remodeled into several larger rooms. A fireplace large enough to hold an entire cow dominated the far wall. There were several sofas, comfy-looking chairs and a group of women looking at her curiously.

A thin blonde stood and reached for Pia. “You sit by me,” she said. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Just for tonight,” Pia said, slumping down on a sofa. “Tomorrow I take care of you.”

“Tomorrow you’ll be puking your guts out.” The woman smiled at Charity. “Hi. I’m Crystal.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Charity was introduced to the other women and did her best to remember their names. Renee/Michelle was there and Charity was surprised to learn her name was actually Desiree. When the introductions were finished, Jo led Charity into the kitchen.

“You can see what’s open, what’s in the blender and what you can create on your own.”

The kitchen had been partially updated. The counters and sink appeared new, but the stove was from the forties and the cabinets looked like they might have been original.

“Great place,” Charity said.

“I like it. I know it’s big for just me, but I enjoy the space.” She pointed to the array of bottles on the counter. “Wine, both colors, margaritas in the blender, unless Pia drank them all. Mixers, vodka, Bailey’s. You name it, we have it.”

“I’ll go with a glass of wine,” Charity said.

“Playing it safe on your first night. Probably wise. Pick a color.”

“White.”

Jo got a glass and poured. After she handed it to Charity, she leaned against the counter. “So you’re our new city planner. How are you liking Fool’s Gold?”

“I love it here. All my small-town fantasies are coming true.”

Jo laughed. “I moved here about three years ago. From the east coast. It was quite a change, but a good one. The people are friendly. Pia invited me to join her and her friends. They made me feel very welcome.”

Charity glanced toward the living room. “I appreciate the invitation. I want to get to know people.”

“You will.”

A pretty blonde walked into the kitchen and sighed. “I need more. Pia’s drunker than me and I was supposed to be the drunkest one at the party.” She smiled at Charity. “Hi, I’m Katie and please don’t think badly of me.”

“I won’t.”

“I don’t usually drink very much.”

“Or at all,” Jo muttered. “Speaking as someone who owns a bar, you’re a real disappointment in that department.”

“I know.” Katie leaned against the counter. “But tonight’s different. My sister’s getting married.”

Charity felt confused. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“The groom and I were dating when they met. For nearly a year. He’d bought me an engagement ring. But before he gave it to me, he met my sister and they kicked me to the curb.”

“Ouch,” Charity said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He was a jerk,” Katie told her.

Charity had a feeling that was the alcohol talking more than her heart.

“The worst part is that the wedding is a four-day party up at the Lodge,” Jo added.

“I need a date and I don’t have one.” Katie hiccupped softly.

“There’s always Josh,” Jo offered.

Katie rolled her eyes. “I need a date with a guy people will believe I’m actually seeing. There’s no one. And now my mother is offering to set me up with her best friend’s son. Howie.”

Charity tried to muffle a laugh. “Okay, it’s not a traditionally romantic name, but he could be great.”

“I met him back when we were kids. He’s a total nerd, and not in a good way. We hated each other, and I get to spend four days with him. Someone just shoot me now.”

“How about another margarita?” Jo asked.

“That works, too.” Katie looked at Charity. “Are you happily married or dating? Because I’ll warn you—in this crowd, you’d be the only one.”

“Sorry, no. I have a string of bad breakups, as well.”

“Bummer,” Katie mumbled. “What’s wrong with us?”

“Nothing,” Jo said firmly. “You don’t need a man to be happy.”

“Try telling that to my whoo-whoo. It hasn’t seen action in nearly a year.”

Now Charity did laugh. Fortunately Katie didn’t seem to notice.

“There’s Crystal,” she said. “At least she was happy before.”

Jo poured another drink. “Crystal’s husband was killed in Iraq.” She glanced toward the doorway, then lowered her voice. “She’s sick. Cancer. So she doesn’t drink. Just so you don’t offer her anything.”

Charity thought about Pia’s friend. “She looks fine.”

“Right now things are good. We’re hoping the treatment can kill the cancer without taking her, too.”

“How awful. Does she have children?” Bad enough for them to lose their father, but now to be worried about their mother.

“Not exactly.”

Charity would have blamed her confusion on the wine, only she hadn’t yet taken a sip. “What do you mean?”

“They froze some embryos before her husband went off to Iraq. Just in case. She was planning to have them implanted, but the lymphoma was discovered during the routine physical. She wants to get better so she can have her babies.” Jo poured herself a glass of red. “Sometimes, life’s a bitch.”

Charity didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“We all are and there’s nothing any of us can do. That’s the worst part. Well, not for Crystal, obviously.” Jo shook her head. “I think I’ve had too much to drink. I don’t usually go on like this. Come on. Let’s get back to the girls.”

Charity followed Jo and Katie into the living room where she did her best not to stare at Crystal. Talk about sad.

“Are you enjoying Fool’s Gold?” one of the women asked.

“No one cares about that,” Desiree said with a laugh. “I want to know what she thinks of Josh.”

The room went silent as every pair of eyes focused on Charity. She froze, her glass of wine halfway to her lips.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re living at that hotel with him,” Desiree said with a laugh. “Tell us everything.”

Charity put down the wine. “I, ah, don’t live with him. I have a room at the hotel.” There was no way she was going to mention they were in rooms right next to each other. Talk about trouble. “I’ve met him a few times and he seems nice.”

“Have you gone out on a date?” one woman asked.

“No. Of course not.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Charity’s new to our evil ways. Don’t scare her off the first night. There hasn’t been much news on the Josh front lately, so they’re hungry for gossip about their favorite topic.”

“He’s a favorite topic?”

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Crystal chuckled.

“He’s gorgeous,” Desiree said with a sigh. “That face, that body.”

“That butt,” Pia muttered from the couch.

“She lives,” Jo said. “Hang in there, honey. It’ll get worse before it gets better, but you’ll survive.”

“There are other good-looking men in town,” Charity said.

“Maybe. But no one is like Josh,” Desiree told her. “It seems like he hasn’t had a real fling in a while.”

“There was that ski instructor,” Crystal said.

“That was last year. I can’t think of anyone.” Desiree looked hopefully at Charity. “Unless you want to confess something.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we’ve barely had any contact.” No way she was going to rat him out, she thought. This was a tough crowd. “Besides, I don’t think I’m his type.”

“If you’re female, you’re his type,” a woman across the room said.

Everyone laughed.

Not true, Charity thought, remembering the pain in Josh’s eyes. He’d been right—the town did have high expectations. A case could be made that they were completely unrealistic. No wonder he didn’t want to expose any weakness.

“She’s really not,” Pia said, pushing herself into a more stable seated position. “You could be, but you’re not.”

Charity didn’t know how to take that. “Meaning?”

“You dress, like, so plain. Those boxy dresses and jackets. I know you need to look professional for work, but dear God. Show a little skin.”

Crystal put her arm around Pia and whispered something in her ear. She smiled apologetically at Charity. “She’s not herself.”

Charity smiled back, but on the inside, she was squirming. What was wrong with her clothes? Of course she dressed conservatively. She was representing the town.

She told herself Pia was drunk and that her comments didn’t mean anything, but that didn’t stop Charity from blushing and wishing she could bolt for freedom. No one was looking at her, but the lack of attention was so pointed, it was as if everyone was staring at her.

Jo made a comment about a movie opening on Friday and conversation shifted. After a few minutes, Charity excused herself to use the restroom.

Once inside, she locked the door, then leaned against it, as if she had to catch her breath. After a moment, she walked toward the mirror and studied her reflection.

She could only see herself from the waist up. Although she’d gone back to the hotel before coming here, she hadn’t bothered to change, so she was still in the long-sleeved dress she’d worn all day.

The fabric was a cotton blend, in solid navy. A case could be made that it was a little too big, but she preferred her clothing loose. The jacket she’d worn with it was a tad boxy, but well-tailored.

As usual, she’d blown out her brown wavy hair until it was straight, then pulled it back into a braid. She wore small gold hoops, minimal makeup and a plain inexpensive watch. As she continued to study herself, she realized the best she could come up with was that she was clean.

“When did I start dressing like someone in her eighties?” she demanded, then realized she was doing seniors a disservice.

She sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her temples. After graduating from college, she’d found a great job in Seattle. She’d been the youngest person on the mayor’s staff and had found herself being dismissed whenever she made a suggestion. When she dressed older and went for a more conservative look, she’d been taken more seriously.

When she’d moved to Henderson, a suburb of Las Vegas, she’d continued to wear clothes more suited to someone a couple of decades older. That had worked for her. But somewhere along the way, she’d lost herself in the look. She’d stopped paying attention to herself. Maybe she’d stopped caring.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. Charity stood and smoothed the front of her dress.

She opened the door and was surprised to see Crystal standing there.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything,” the other woman said. “But are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Pia is actually really nice. I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by what she said.”

Charity stepped into the hallway and tried to smile. “I know. It’s the heartache and margaritas talking. Not that she wasn’t speaking the truth. I’m frumpy and I can’t figure out exactly how I let that happen. Or when!”

“They say acknowledging the problem is the first step in healing.” Crystal’s blue eyes danced with humor as she spoke. “You’re really pretty. You just need to play up your assets.”

“I need a new wardrobe.” She brushed the front of her dress again, feeling self-conscious about the old-fashioned fit.

“Easily done. That’s why we all have credit cards.”

“I’ve been letting mine get dusty for far too long.”

“Then you should go shopping this weekend.”

“Believe me, I will.”

“Good for you,” Crystal told her. “Retail therapy is the best kind.”

They walked toward the kitchen. Charity found herself not wanting to go back to the group. The need to run and hide was fairly powerful and not very comfortable. But before she could think of an excuse, Crystal spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“We have a fundraiser every year called Race for the Cure. We support childhood diseases, mostly cancer. I’m on the committee and we’re heading into our busy time. I can’t…” She glanced away and cleared her throat. “I’m really busy and don’t have the time I need. Anyway, I was wondering if I could talk you into taking my place.”

Charity was grateful Jo had told her about Crystal’s illness. With that information, she knew how to avoid misstepping.

“I’d love to be a part of that,” she said.

Crystal looked surprised. “I was prepared to twist your arm and everything.”

“I want to get involved with the community,” she said. “This gives me a perfect way to do something good while meeting people.”

“Then we both win,” Crystal said. “Thank you.”

A burst of laughter came from the living room.

“Looks like we’re missing the party,” Crystal said. “Shall we?”

Charity nodded and followed her back into the crowded room. She was determined to ignore her feelings of frumpiness, all of which could be healed fairly easily. Better to spend her time getting to know the women here. She wanted to fit in, and friends would make the transition easier.

Jo handed her the glass of white wine. “You’re way behind us on the drinking, young lady.”

“Then I’d better catch up.”

THREE HOURS LATER, Charity made her way back to the hotel. She was in a much more mellow mood, the result of plenty of laughter and maybe a bit too much wine. The women had been a lot of fun, she thought. Jo was great, as was Crystal. Katie had kept them laughing with stories about the potential disaster that was Howie. And Charity had let go her sense of living as a fashion don’t. She would go shopping over the weekend and see what people her age wore when they weren’t trying out for a religious order.

She reached the hotel and thought briefly about taking the elevator to the third floor. But she was determined to walk off the nacho calories she’d eaten at Jo’s.

On the second floor, she walked to the smaller staircase that would take her to the third. She’d barely taken two steps, when the lights went out.

The darkness was as absolute as it was unexpected. Charity heard doors open on the floor below and above, and people talking. There was more laughter than panic in their voices.

She kept hold of the railing and carefully continued to climb to her floor. Once there, she would probably be able to find her way to her room. Not that she was sure she could get in. Did a card key lock work off a battery or electricity?

When she neared what she thought was the top of the stairs, she went more slowly. She felt carefully with her foot, took another step and bumped into something warm and solid and male.

It took her brain less than a second to register the heat, size and scent of the man. Her belly flipped over, her thighs began to hum softly as her fingers curled tighter around the banister.

“You all right, Charity?” Josh asked.

Surprise joined the other sensations. “How did you know it was me?”

“Your perfume.”

Actually it was her hair conditioner, but saying that made her sound as conservative as her clothes, so she kept quiet.

“Don’t worry. The power will be on in a few minutes,” he said as he put his hand on hers. “You’re right by the top. Just one more step.”

She eased upward, propelled by desire as much as by muscle. When she was close to Josh, even floating seemed possible. Which meant she was in worse shape than she’d thought.

It was the wine, she told herself. She wasn’t herself. But maybe being herself was the problem. After all, every guy she’d ever cared about had treated her badly. They’d cheated or stolen and Ted had beaten her up. Just once, she reminded herself sternly. She’d left as soon as she’d picked herself up off the floor. Grabbed her purse and walked out, never once considering that she would go back.

“Charity?” Josh sounded puzzled. “You okay?”

“Yes. Sorry. Just thinking. I was at Jo’s and…”

He laughed. “Girls’ night out. Or in. Never mind. I know what happened. Margaritas?”

“White wine. Although Pia was doing the tequila thing.”

He put his arm around her as they moved into the hall. “Can you walk?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Just happy?”

She was now, standing so close to him, feeling the strength of his body. He was the kind of guy who could sweep a woman up in his arms without breaking a sweat.

“I’m happy,” she whispered.

She sensed movement. In the darkness, it was hard to tell. But it felt like Josh wasn’t next to her anymore. That he was in front of her, and standing very, very close.

Fingertips lightly touched her cheek. The contact was delicious and she couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped her lips.

“You have no idea,” he murmured.

“About what?”

Instead of answering, he pressed his mouth to hers.

The contact was warm and firm and soft and just demanding enough. He kissed with an ease she couldn’t explain but knew meant he really liked the kissing thing. It wasn’t just a required step on the road to what he really wanted.

She probably should have been shocked, but she wasn’t. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was simply time to let the hormones do their thing. They’d sure been bugging her enough. So she relaxed against Josh, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself over to every erotic sensation pouring through her.

He dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her closer. She went willingly, closing those last few inches separating them. She parted her lips and he swept inside, touching her tongue with his.

Desire raced through her. She could barely keep herself from begging. He tasted like the chocolate mints that were left on her pillow every night and something a little stronger. Maybe Scotch.

She burned inside, the need bigger than she’d imagined possible. Her breasts ached. That place between her thighs was swollen with need. Even as she kissed him back, stroking, learning, yielding, she wanted to ease him closer to her room. She wanted him naked, inside of her, taking her just as hard as she took him.

The image was so clear, it was if they were already together. Muscles tensed in anticipation of her release. Her reaction was so powerful, it frightened her and she drew back. A heartbeat later, the lights went on.

They were in the third floor hallway. A few people stood in their doorways, and they applauded the return of modern life. Charity could only stare into Josh’s hazel-green eyes, wondering if hers were as bright, as filled with passion.

She knew what he was going to say. Or ask. Both their rooms were only a few feet away. But as much as she wanted him, she knew she couldn’t be one of the millions. Not and still have a little pride in the morning. Turning him down seemed impossible, so she did the only thing that made sense. She ran to her room and hurried inside. Then she stood with her back to the door and waited for her heart beat to finally slow to normal.