she asked, mostly to distract herself.
“Why not? It’s centrally located, there’s room service and someone else makes my bed every morning.”
“The ultimate in not taking responsibility for your life?” she asked, then wished she hadn’t. So much for a flip answer.
Instead of getting annoyed, Josh chuckled. A low, sexy, appealing sound that made her break out in goosebumps.
“Because taking responsibility is the height of perfection?” he asked.
“It’s a sign of maturity.”
“A quality that’s highly overrated.”
For him, she thought grimly. She’d been responsible for taking care of herself since she was nine or ten years old. She’d always envied those who were carefree enough to not have to worry. Those who knew they would be looked after by others. That hadn’t been an option for her. Her mother had been the free spirit in the family, leaving Charity to make sure their world ran smoothly.
Charity had always loved her mother and wished she was different in equal measures. Sure it was fun to have a parent who never said you had to go to school or do homework, but there were also times when a kid wanted structure and rules. Charity had learned to provide those for herself.
They reached the third floor. She hurried ahead, wanting to reach her room and escape inside. Somehow, though, he got in front of her and leaned against her door.
“We should have a drink sometime,” he said, his hazel-green eyes gazing into hers and making every cell in her body sigh in appreciation.
“I’m not sure spending time with a man who cheerfully declares himself to be immature and irresponsible is a good thing.”
The low chuckle came again. “I’m not as bad as all that.”
“Aren’t you?”
He turned in a slow circle. “Look. I’m completely normal. Practically boring.”
He was many things, but boring wasn’t one of them.
Before she could point that out, his door opened. A beautiful blonde wearing one of his shirts and nothing else looked at him.
“Hello, Josh. I thought I heard your voice.”
Josh straightened. Charity took advantage of the distraction to slip into her room and carefully lock the door behind her. She leaned against the wall for a few seconds before bending over and turning on a lamp.
As light flooded the small but elegantly furnished living room, she ignored the sense of defeat knotting in her stomach and told herself she wasn’t even surprised. Of course a guy like Josh would have a woman waiting in his room. They probably came in shifts. From everything she’d heard, he loved women and they loved him back.
She squared her shouders. Even if she couldn’t control her physical reaction to him, she could control what she did about it, which would be exactly nothing.
BY FRIDAY CHARITY was more comfortable in the old City Hall building and had learned the name of nearly everyone who worked there.
Her eleven o’clock meeting was with Pia O’Brian, something she’d been looking forward to ever since Sheryl had put it on her calendar.
Pia arrived right on time, her brown curly hair tumbling past her shoulders, her well-cut suit emphasizing her long legs.
“How are you settling in?” Pia asked as Charity led her to the small conference table by the window. “Ready to run screaming back to the big city?”
“I like it here. Small town life suits me.”
“You say that now,” Pia said, her voice teasing. She set a stack of folders on the table. “Give it a few months, when you realize everyone in town knows your business and they’re not afraid to talk.”
Charity laughed. “My life isn’t that interesting. Why would anyone care?”
“You’re new. Fresh gossip for the ladies in town. Just remember—there aren’t any secrets. Not for long.”
“Thanks for the warning.” She eyed the folders. “Light reading?”
“I like to think the information won’t put you to sleep, but I can’t guarantee that.” Pia tapped the pile. “These are recaps of the last two years’ worth of festivals, celebrations and general civic good times. The Fourth of July parade, the Christmas Lights Fantasy Night, that sort of thing. The ever-popular Gold Rush Days. If it needs a booth of any kind and it’s happening in Fool’s Gold, I’m probably involved. Or at the very least, offering advice. So if you ever need two thousand folding chairs at a great price, see me first.”
“I hope I never do,” Charity murmured.
“Not planning a big wedding?”
“Not dating.”
“Me, either.”
“I’m new in town,” Charity told her. “What’s your excuse?” She couldn’t imagine Pia being without a man. She was so pretty and outgoing.
“A total lack of men,” Pia said cheerfully. “I’m sure Marsha explained that you need to focus on male-based businesses. The last thing we need around here is a beauty college. I do my best with male-oriented events. Golf tournaments, car shows.” Pia both looked and sounded serious.
Charity couldn’t help laughing. “I know this is a big deal, but you have to admit, it’s really strange.”
“Tell me about it. There were ten percent more girls than guys in my high school graduating class. That made prom time very ugly.”
“Not that you went without a date.”
Pia shrugged. “No, but a couple of my friends had to import guys for the dance. Very humiliating.”
“You grew up here?”
Pia hesitated, then nodded. “Born and raised. Third generation. Or is it fourth? I can never remember. My parents moved away years ago, but I stayed. The last of the O’Brians in Fool’s Gold.” She grinned. “It’s a lot of responsibility.”
“Apparently.” Charity leaned toward her. “Living here all your life must be great. I moved around constantly when I was growing up. My mom didn’t like to settle, but it was all I dreamed about. Getting to know everything about a place, putting down roots. You’re lucky.”
Something flickered in Pia’s eyes. “The disadvantage is that whole lack of secrets thing. Everyone knows everything about you. Sometimes I think it would be very nice to be able to walk down the street without anyone knowing who I was.”
“It can be lonely.”
“So can small town life.” Pia shook her head. “Okay, enough with the philosophy and back to business. I have this year’s festival schedule for you to look over. Depending on what kind of business you’re courting, you might want to invite
