“Did you tell April some of that was for me?” she asked as she took the donut from him. It was still warm from the fryer and covered in sugar. “You get free coffee and donuts if you take the hot yoga class.”
“Ah, I wondered why April suddenly had a long queue. And no, I didn’t mention it. I was happy to pay anyway.”
“Is this you being a gentleman?”
Damon’s blue gaze sparked. “Careful, Ms. Mayor. I could start to like you if you keep that up.”
“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” She bit into the donut, a reckless feeling spiraling through her, probably fueled by the aftereffects of yoga. Definitely nothing to do with the hot look in his eyes.
You need to be careful.
Oh, she was being careful. Nothing would happen. But what was wrong with enjoying this reckless, excited feeling? It had been so long since she’d felt it, and he would be leaving soon anyway. So why not enjoy it while she could?
He looked good enough to eat sitting there with his long legs stretched out, the worn blue denim of his jeans pulling across his powerful thighs. The soft, black fabric of his shirt lay open at the neck, exposing the golden skin of his throat, and she could see the beat of his pulse, steady and strong.
It made something ache right down deep inside her.
Damon reached for one of the coffee cups on the desk and pushed it in her direction. “Here. Milk, no sugar. I hope that’s okay. Should have asked April how you liked your coffee. Maybe next time.”
Milk, no sugar was perfect. Just the way she liked it.
“You’re assuming there will be a next time.” She took the cup, the cardboard warm between her hands.
“Good point.” His gaze glinted from beneath his long, dark lashes. “Do you want there to be a next time?”
Oh, he’d be dangerous to her if she let him. So very dangerous. But then she’d once loved living dangerously. Before a succession of men had ground her down. Her father. Cal. Aiden…
A sliver of cold cut through the heat inside her and she had to take a sip of her coffee to warm herself up.
Perhaps it would be best if she stopped playing and nipped this in the bud. Before it got out of hand.
“Hey, I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but you probably shouldn’t touch me in public the way you did at the community center.” She hoped she sounded measured. “People will talk.”
He picked up the other cup, holding it in his big, capable hands. The look on his handsome face was enigmatic. “How do you know I didn’t mean anything by it?”
Ah.
Astrid shifted. She knew she should look away from him, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. “Why did you do it, then?”
“You had a curl stuck to your cheek.” He smiled again, that slightly rueful, boyish one that she found so utterly irresistible. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“That smile works on everyone you turn it on, doesn’t it?”
“Not everyone. Though I’m kinda hoping it works on you.”
There was no mistaking the blue fire in the depths of his eyes. Heat spread through her, the breath catching in her throat as the air between them became dense and thick, like the moment just before a summer storm breaks.
“What do you want, Damon?” she asked, her voice slightly husky. “We’re here to talk about these tourism ideas. Or at least that’s what you told me.”
Chapter 7
Damon had told her that, it was true. It was only that it was difficult to think of tourism or money when she was in the room. When she was wearing that silky blue T-shirt that turned her gray eyes luminous and made her skin look like fresh cream. When her hair glimmered like spun gold in the light coming from the window behind her.
When she flirted with him a bit hesitantly yet with the sort of cool challenge that he found the most exciting. The most fascinating.
He liked melting snow queens. He wanted to melt her.
Waking up early this morning, he’d read through the papers he’d taken from Silas’s desk the night before. Then, because he only had a few days after all, he’d gone in search of Astrid ASAP.
Investigations about where she was soon yielded the fact that she took a hot yoga class every morning in the community center.
Intrigued, he’d made a beeline for the center and had watched her come out, her yoga mat tucked under her arm, blond hair sticking to her skin, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes brilliant. And he hadn’t been prepared for his reaction to her. An intensely physical, almost visceral reaction.
She’d looked beautiful, as if she’d spent a couple of hours in his bed rather than in a yoga class. And he hadn’t been able to think.
Then she’d come closer, pink-faced and sweet, one golden curl stuck to her cheek, and so very different from the cool, collected woman she’d been the day before. He’d reached out to tuck that curl back behind her ear before he could stop himself, her skin so warm and silky…
No. He had to exercise his control. She was off-limits in every way, and flirting with her like this was stupid in the extreme.
“You really want to know what I want?” He gripped the thin cardboard of his cup, ignoring how it burned against his fingertips. “I want to take you to dinner. I want to talk to you. I want to get to know you. And then I want to take you home and spend the night with you.” It was far too blunt, but for some reason, all his charm had suddenly deserted him and all he had left was honesty. “But you’re the mayor of Deep River and you’re Connor’s mom. And I’m leaving in a couple of days. And so what I want isn’t a good idea, not given those other things.”
He shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. He should have kept it to himself. But she’d asked him, and he’d wanted to give her the truth. Maybe if she hadn’t responded the way she had to him, it would have been different, but she had. And so he wanted her to know that he found her attractive in a lot of different ways.
“I see.” The flush in her cheeks deepened and she looked away, sipping on her coffee and taking another bite of her donut. Trying to be casual, no doubt, but he could see through her. She’d liked what he’d said, that was clear.
“Serves me right for asking, I suppose,” she added.
He wasn’t going to ask her if she felt the same way about him. He suspected she did, but since it wasn’t going to change things, there wasn’t much point.
“So,” he said into the heavy silence, changing the subject and pushing away the way she made his heart beat faster, “how was Connor this morning?”
She dusted the sugar off her fingers. “You said you weren’t going to talk about Connor.”
“I’m not. I just wanted to know if he gave you a hard time about Cal.”
She shook her head, but the expression on her face shuttered, the pretty blush dying away, the glitter in her eyes dimming.
Helpless concern rippled through him. He wanted to reach out and put a hand over hers, ease that look on her face, but he stayed where he was. Touching her was not a good idea.
“What happened?” He leaned forward. “Was there a problem?”
“It’s nothing. He just…didn’t want to talk about it. And I was going to try and have a conversation with him about it this morning, but he was still asleep.”
Ah, kid… This was tough, no doubt about it. And if he was angry with his mom but didn’t want to talk to her about it, it was probably because he was trying to protect her.
“Did you tell him I was staying on?” he asked.
“Yes. He didn’t say anything.”
No, he probably wouldn’t. One thing, though, was clear: Connor needed someone to talk to. Damon had told Astrid yesterday that he’d wait for the kid to come to him, which would be the ideal scenario. But if Connor didn’t, and if Damon ran out of time, he might have to search the kid out himself.
Tough ca
ll.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully.
“No.” There was no denying the firmness in her tone. “I don’t. I think we should discuss the tourism ideas for Deep River instead.” She swallowed more coffee, then put the cup down on the desktop, obviously now in business-mode. “Shall I run by you some of the ideas we’ve collated?”
Damon leaned back in his chair. She didn’t want to talk about Connor and that was fine. He’d muse on what he was going to do about it later. In the meantime, he could help with this.
“Sounds good.” He nodded to the folder he’d put down on the desk with the coffee and donuts. “This morning I went over some of the suggestions Silas received, and there were a couple that looked like they could be interesting. Why don’t you take a look at those, then show me what you have?”
“Okay, good.” She pulled open a drawer in the desk, took out a similar-looking folder, and put it down. Then picked up the one Silas had given Damon.
The suggestions for possible tourism options were mostly good ones, and he’d been intrigued in spite of himself. Kevin Anderson’s potential fishing charter business was a solid idea, as was Harry’s wilderness skills and guided hikes along some of the game trails that looped through the bush surrounding Deep River. With Silas taking people on scenic flights, there was a good base from which to build other options that centered on Deep River’s natural beauty and didn’t require a whole lot of capital up front.
“My take on this,” he said as Astrid leafed through the folder, “is that if you start small and invest a little here and there before gradually building, it’ll be less risky in the long run. Because there’ll be other things the town will need to invest in that aren’t only tourism projects.”
Astrid leaned back in her chair, sipping on her coffee. “Such as?”
“Infrastructure, mainly. This place isn’t built to cater to a lot of tourists, and if you’re going to be chasing those dollars, you’re going to need some amenities, like public bathrooms. Then you’ll need businesses that will cater to them. More stores, for example. Entertainment. Places to eat. Places to sleep.”
She pulled a face and he laughed. “Yeah, I know. You’re thinking it’s going to turn into some kind of tourist hellhole, but it won’t if you do it right. Because what you don’t want is a whole lot of tourists milling around with nothing to do and nowhere to go and leaving you crap reviews online.”
She snorted. “Reviews? Really?”
“Yes, people write reviews on Tripadvisor and on their Facebook pages and the various Deep River businesses’ Facebook pages—which if they don’t have yet, they’re going to have to get—or they post pictures on Instagram. What you don’t want is people saying what a terrible time they had in Deep River. You want them to have a whole experience. The magic of the wilderness. The pristine scenery. The amazing wildlife. Getting away from the rat race, et cetera et cetera.”
Her gaze narrowed. “And ‘entertainment’ is going to help with that?”
“Well, let me put it to you this way. Are you really going to want a bunch of tourists cluttering up the Moose every night?”
“Hmmm.” She reached forward for another donut. “I suppose not.”
He grinned. “It’s okay. You can have my donut.”
In the process of taking a bite, Astrid stilled, her forehead creasing. “Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” She held out the donut to him. “Here. It’s yours.”
He wondered what she’d do if he leaned forward and took a bite out of the donut, brushing her fingertips with his mouth. Would she blush again? Would she let him take another bite? Lick sugar from the tips of her fingers?
Not helpful.
No, it wasn’t. At all.
“It’s okay. Eat it. I can get another.” He shoved away the flare of interest from the more disreputable parts of himself situated below his belt. “So, back to the tourists. Where are they all going to sleep? You think the ones with money are going to be happy with the Moose’s rooms?”
Astrid bit into the donut and chewed. “Nate has the Gold Pan. And there’s Clare’s B&B.”
“Who do they cater to? Hunters and trappers? Fishermen?”
Astrid glanced down at the paper sitting in the folder in front of her and groaned. “Oh, not Mike’s luxury motel idea again.”
Damon lifted an eyebrow. “Again?”
“Yes. He tried to make something of it last year and people weren’t happy about it. There were arguments.”
“I think it’s a good idea. Done well, places like this can cater to a higher-end tourist. And it doesn’t have to be casinos and roller coasters. Ecotourism is a whole thing, so why not go that route?” He shifted in his seat, his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. “Of course, that’s a long term plan since it’ll require more serious investment.”
She frowned, her attention still on the paper in front of her, the donut finished. A dusting of sugar sparkled on the side of her cheek and he wanted to put his hand to it, brush it away. He could also see the marks of a sleepless night in the dark smudges beneath her eyes.
His thoughts wandered yet again. Why had she ended up here? Cal had mentioned that he’d given her a place to stay here, but why? What had happened to her that she’d left wherever she was and turned up in Deep River?
“There’s kids too,” he went on, trying to get back on track. “If you want the family dollar, there’s got be some options for them.”
“Phil’s,” she murmured. “His wildlife sanctuary.”
“Phil’s?”
Astrid took another sip of her coffee. “Filthy Phil. Old guy who lives up the hill behind the town. Bit of an eccentric. He was a trapper back in the day, but he rescues animals now and he’s got quite a collection.”
An old eccentric with a house full of animals? Could be quite the tourist draw. “Might work,” he said. “Go hard with the quirky small-town stuff. People love that.”
She looked up, her expression thoughtful. “You should take a tour around the town, talk to people. Get a feel for the place.”
“Not a bad idea.” He took a swallow of his own coffee. “I’ve already done a bit of chatting to the locals over the past three days.”
“So I hear,” she said dryly.
He grinned, meeting her misty gray gaze. “That bad, huh?”
Unexpectedly, she smiled back, slow-blooming and sweet, a rare treasure that hit him somewhere near his heart. “Oh, come on. You must know you’ve charmed half the population.”
You should probably stop this.
He ignored the thought. “Only half? Does that include you?”
Her gaze met his and held, and he could feel the familiar, dense crackling energy of sexual tension fill the space between them.
He very badly wanted to taste her, reach across the desk, thread his fingers through her pretty gold hair, and bring her mouth to his. Would she taste as soft and as sweet as the sugar on her cheeks? Or would there be a cool bite to her, a hint of citrus?
“Damon.” His name sounded husky and there was the ghost of a plea in it, though for what he didn’t know. To stop or to…
No. Bad idea. If you can’t control yourself, then get the hell out.
“Think I might go and get myself another donut after all.” He pushed himself sharply out of his chair and stood. “Need anything?”
She blinked in surprise. “I…”
“Good,” he said and, without waiting for a response, turned and walked out.
* * *
Astrid sat back in her chair and took a long breath. What had just happened? Because she was pretty sure something had.
One minute Damon had been lounging across the desk, all long and lean and muscular, blue eyes glinting at her from beneath thick, dark gold lashes. His smile had vanished and he’d looked…hungry. Starved even.
The next minute he’d gotten to his feet and walked out, muttering something about a donut.
You know what happened. Come on.
Astrid closed her eyes, feeling that moment of attraction that had shimmered between them. Different from before, more intense. The hungry look in his eyes had been for her and she knew it, and a part of her had recognized the same hunger in herself too.
Men had never starved for her. It had always been the other way around. She’d been a lonely child growing up, the later-in-life baby that neither of her parents had either expected or wanted, and the requirements placed on her were simple: she wasn’t to disrupt their lives in any way. Hungry for any kind of attention, she’d played around as a teenager, gone to the wrong parties, associated with the wrong people. She’d put out a desperate vibe and that had frightened boys off. Wanting someone more than they wanted you had never been a good thing.
But there had been no denying the want in Damon’s eyes.
Warmth uncurled inside her at the memory, flowing through her veins and spreading out. It had been so long since she’d been anything more than “the mayor” or “Connor’s mom” that she barely remembered what it felt like to be just Astrid. To be a woman.
Because that’s what he made her feel like.
You don’t want to go there, not with him.
No, she didn’t. Yes, she did. Maybe, just once…
Astrid shoved her chair back and stood up, not sure what she was doing, only that she needed to move and get some distance between her and her thoughts. Because thinking maybe could lead her to…
Nothing. There was nothing it would lead her to.
She scanned around for something to tidy up that hadn’t already been tidied, desperate for some distraction.
It was all looking pretty neat, so she picked up a cloth from a drawer in her desk and went over to one of the old wooden bookshelves, dusting some nonexistent dust before moving on to the series of photos on the wall of previous mayors.
Sonny Clarke, her predecessor, grinned at her from beneath the greasy, black-knitted beanie he never took off, while in the next photo Jesse, the goat who’d been elected in a protest vote, watched her with yellow eyes.
Deep River Promise Page 10
