other bike races? She’d never followed the bike racing circuit or whatever it was called. She didn’t follow any sports. But even she had heard of him. He’d been married to somebody famous—she couldn’t remember who—and was now divorced. He endorsed energy drinks and a major athletic brand. He lived here? He’d come to her meeting and had saved the day?
Not possible, she told herself. Maybe she’d fallen and hit her head and now couldn’t remember the event. Maybe she was in a coma somewhere, imagining all this.
She walked past the poster and moved toward her office. Just outside the open door, she saw a thirty-something woman on the phone. The woman, dark-haired and pretty, looked up and smiled. “She’s here. I gotta go. Love you.” The woman stood. “I’m Sheryl, your assistant. You’re Charity Jones. Nice to finally meet you, Ms. Jones.”
“You, too, and please call me Charity.”
Sheryl grinned. “I just heard you got the university to sign. Mayor Marsha will be doing the happy dance. They’ve been slippery little suckers, but you nailed them.”
A flash of movement caught Charity’s attention. She glanced over her assistant’s shoulder and saw Sheryl’s screen saver had come on with a picture show.
The first shot showed Josh Golden on a racing bike. The second showed him shirtless and grinning. The third photo was a very naked guy in a shower, his back to the camera. Charity felt her eyes widen.
Sheryl glanced over her shoulder and laughed. “I know. He’s gorgeous. I downloaded these from the Internet. Want me to put them on your computer?”
“Ah, no. Thank you.” Charity hesitated. “I’m not sure naked pictures are appropriate for a business office.”
“Really?” Sheryl looked confused. “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess you’re right. I’ll take off the shower picture, even though it’s my favorite. Have you met Josh? He’s what my grandma would call dreamy. I’ve told my husband if Josh ever comes calling I am so outta here.”
So every other woman on the planet also reacted to Josh the way Charity had. Fabulous. Nothing was as thrilling as being part of an adoring crowd, she thought as she made her way into her office.
But it wasn’t a problem. She would simply avoid the man until she figured out how to control her reaction to him. She wanted a nice, normal, safe man. Her mother had always been attracted to the Joshes of the world: too handsome and adored by women everywhere. She’d gotten her heart broken regularly and painfully. Charity had been determined to learn from her mother’s mistakes.
After putting her dead laptop next to her box of personal things she had yet to unpack, Charity glanced through the open door toward Sheryl.
“Would you call the mayor and ask if I can stop by and see her this morning?”
Sheryl shook her head. “This isn’t the big city, Charity. You can pop in to see Marsha anytime.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Charity took the folder with the signed letter of intent with her as she walked to the end of the hallway. Mayor Marsha Tilson’s office was behind huge carved double doors, both of which stood open.
There was a big desk, two flags—U.S. and State of California—and a small conference table that seated six by the window.
Marsha sat in the small conversation group in the corner. As Charity entered, she saw that Josh was already there, lounging on a sofa, looking breathtakingly handsome and completely at home.
Marsha, an attractive, well-dressed woman in her sixties, smiled and rose to her feet. “We were just talking about you, Charity. You’ve had a busy morning. Congratulations. Josh here tells me you convinced Bernie to sign the letter of intent.”
Charity moved toward them, doing her best to appear friendly without actually looking at Josh. When she made the mistake of meeting his hazel-green eyes, she could have sworn she heard the theme from Gone with the Wind playing softly in the background.
Josh stood and gave her a lazy grin. One that made her toes curl inside her pumps. “We haven’t been formally introduced,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Josh Golden.”
She so did not want to shake his hand, given the symptoms she’d already experienced. Actual physical contact might lead to heart failure, or something even more embarrassing. She swallowed, sucked in a breath, then braced herself for it.
His large hand engulfed hers. Sparks even bigger than those that had killed her computer jumped between them. Her stomach flipped, her privates cheered and she half-expected to see fireworks shooting up by the ceiling.
“Mr. Golden,” she murmured, withdrawing quickly, then sinking into the seat behind her. She did her best not to think about the fact that, thanks to Sheryl’s screen saver, she had now seen his bare butt.
“Josh, please.”
And how many women screamed that on a regular basis? she wondered, turning her attention to the much safer mayor.
“Josh is exaggerating my role in the meeting,” she said, pleased to find out she could speak in a complete sentence. “He knew about the other offer of land, which was the problem with getting the university to sign. Once that was dealt with, the other problems were easily solved.”
“I see.” Marsha looked at Josh, who shrugged modestly.
Given the fact that Josh was obviously a famous athlete and comfortable flashing his butt for the camera, she would have expected him to jump at the chance to make himself the star of the moment. Oddly enough, he didn’t.
“We have the letter of intent,” Charity continued. “I’ll have Sheryl set up a meeting to move forward. With the construction bids already in place, we can streamline the process and get the research facility built quickly.”
“Excellent.” Marsha smiled at her. “Why don’t you go get settled? You’ve had a busy first hour. We’ll have lunch tomorrow so you can tell me how it’s going.”
“Thanks.” Charity rose. “Nice to meet you, Josh,” she said, backing away so there was no chance for him to offer to shake hands again.
Once she was safely back in her office, her first order of business would be to give herself a stern talking-to. She had never once, in her whole life, reacted to a man this way. It was beyond embarrassing—it had the potential to interfere with her ability to do her job. She could accept that some flaw in her genetic makeup made her always pick exactly the wrong guy. She didn’t like it, and she wouldn’t allow herself to act like a freaked-out groupie or sex-starved crazy person when she was around Josh. Fool’s Gold was small. They were bound to run into each other. She had to get a grip on herself and her hormones.
There had to be a reasonable explanation, she told herself firmly. She hadn’t been sleeping that well. Or she could be missing a B vitamin or not eating enough broccoli. Whatever the cause, she would figure it out and fix it. She refused to live her life all quivery and weak. She was strong. She was self-actualized. She was not going to let a little thing like a gorgeous man with a butt like a Greek god mess up her day.
“WELL?” MARSHA ASKED when Charity had left.
A
