unbiased.”
Sabrina narrowed her eyes at him. Even so, he couldn’t help noticing the way her shirt was stretched across her chest.
“May I have the pastries?” So he could get out of here before he took another peek at her cleavage.
“No, you may not.” She took a step back, like she thought Noah was going to tackle her for them.
He wouldn’t, but he also wouldn’t make the same mistake his brother had: trusting Sabrina Ryan. Sure, Kyle and Marissa were happily married with four kids, but Sabrina’s words had followed them. He still heard the rare comment from someone about how Kyle had “done the right thing.” He didn’t intend to let her write anything that might follow him the same way.
She tilted her head to look at him. Her long dark ponytail spilled across the bright white of her shirt. Noah wondered if the strands would feel as smooth as her skin looked. Probably. He told himself he wasn’t really interested, that he was merely indulging in idle speculation.
“What can I do to convince you it’s a good idea?”
Nothing. There was no convincing to be done here. This was a simple question and response, and his response would be the same every time: no. “I really need to run.” Noah held out his hand for the pastries. He had a staff meeting at the dealership and they’d be eagerly awaiting his arrival and the sweets.
“Then let’s set a time and you can be on your way.”
“Not today.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Look, I’m not planning to write some hard-hitting exposé. Just a couple of softball pieces on the mayoral candidates.”
Noah would have liked to believe her. “Is that what you told Kyle and Marissa?”
She jerked back. “Ouch.”
Perhaps, but it was a fair question. He waited for her response.
Her ponytail swished as she shook her head. “That was different.”
“Different how?”
“It just was.” He thought he glimpsed regret on Sabrina’s face, but then it was gone and she was back to watching him with those big green eyes. “Look, this is my first assignment for the paper. If you say no, Trish won’t give me another one. I’ll have to go back to pushing caffeine on the masses.”
He glanced at the shop behind them. No one had worked up the nerve to follow them outside, but Noah knew it would only be a matter of time. Small towns. Where people thought they had a right to know everyone else’s business.
“Please.” Sabrina’s voice drew him back. “It’s important.”
Noah looked at the downward tilt to her eyes. She really did think it was important. Either that or she was a hell of an actress. He inhaled another lungful of cold air. Her point that it might look bad for him if only Pete’s interview ran was valid. But wouldn’t it be worse if she wrote a less than flattering portrayal of him?
Yes. Unequivocally and undeniably.
She appeared to think his silence meant he was considering her offer. Her face brightened. “I promise not to tell any of your deep dark secrets.”
Which only reminded him again of how she’d already done that to his family. Fool him once, shame on her. Fool him twice...
“I don’t have any deep dark secrets.” There were no secret babies, no hidden marriages, no arrests or youthful indiscretions. Just that his birth mother had died when he was an infant. That he and his father had moved to Wheaton when he was four and his dad had married Ellen. That when his dad had died a year later in a freak car accident, Ellen, with a brand-new baby to care for, had adopted Noah. Which everyone in town already knew.
“Really? Doesn’t every politician need a deep dark secret or two?”
“Not this one.” He kept his voice steady. Even as a teenager when most kids were out too late, stealing from their parents’ liquor cabinets or just testing boundaries, Noah had been a model son. He got good grades, worked hard to earn a hockey scholarship to a Michigan university and never stayed out past his curfew. And he hadn’t been that way only for his mother. He’d seen it as his chance to show the whole town that although he hadn’t been born within town limits, he was one of them.
“Okay, but if you did—” Sabrina’s eyes caught his and held “—I wouldn’t write about it. I wouldn’t write anything that could be considered inappropriate.”
He’d like to believe her, like to give her the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t. Not when there was so much at stake. An article that she might look at as something to entertain the readers could derail his political career. And then who would he be?
Noah placed a hand on her arm, the one still holding his pastries hostage and tugged until they were between them. “I’ll think about it,” he told her as he plucked the box from her grip.
She let the box go without a fight, but when he turned to leave, she caught his forearm. Her fingers felt warm through the material of his dress shirt. “Will you?”
Her face was open and seemingly sincere. But Noah knew how easy it was to fake emotions for the camera or, in this case, the potential interviewee. “Yes.” He let her hand remain on his arm a moment longer then nodded. “Have a nice day, Sabrina.”
“You, too, Mr. Mayor.”
“It’s Noah.” He didn’t know why he said it. If she wanted to call him by his title, as so many in town did, he shouldn’t care. Didn’t care. He attempted to cover his verbal hiccup. “Most people call me Noah.”
“I’m not most people.”
She was standing only a couple of inches from him. The breeze caught her hair, tugged the strands toward him. They whispered across his cheek, just as soft as they looked. Noah exhaled slowly. “I’ve noticed.”
NOAH CLIMBED OUT of his car in the driveway that led to the attractive blue house with its white front door and beds of flowers lining the pathway up to the porch. The house wasn’t his.
“Uncle Noah!” His only niece, Daisy, raced out the front door and into his arms. He switched the bag he was holding to his other arm and scooped her up, then swung her around until she shrieked.
He’d needed some family time after this morning’s run-in with Sabrina. Not that anything bad had happened or would happen, but it had unsettled him. He carried Daisy up the stairs and back into the house.
“Mommy, Mommy. Uncle Noah’s here.” Daisy wriggled to be let down.
Noah sent her off with a pat and made his way to the kitchen where he could smell whatever Marissa was cooking for dinner. The scent made his mouth water and reminded him that other than the half scone he’d managed at the morning meeting, he’d had nothing but coffee today.
“Uncle Noah’s here,” Daisy said again before
