This Just In... (Harlequin Superromance)

by Jennifer Mckenzie

  Sabrina’s breath caught. She hadn’t been, but now that the idea was out there, floating through the air and her head, she wanted one. A long, hot demonstration.

  But before she could take him up on his generous offer, Noah stepped back, shut the door with a click and made his way around to the driver’s side. Tracking him, noting the effortless way he moved, probably wasn’t her brightest idea. She did it anyway and felt a flicker of longing when he slid behind the wheel.

  “You’re a bit of a bad boy under that polished exterior, Mr. Mayor.” He blinked as though this information was new to him. Had he been playing the town’s golden son for so long that he’d lost touch with who he was? “Do your constituents know?”

  His hands were loose on the steering wheel as he headed out of the parking lot and pulled onto the street, handling the powerful car easily. A man like that could handle a lot of things easily. “Only if you plan to tell them.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” She watched him change gears smoothly. She wasn’t much of a car person, but there was something insanely sexy watching him control the car. She stuffed the thought away for later when there was no interview or car or anything else to get in their way.

  Like everything else in town, Cedar Oaks was only a ten-minute drive away. The complex was more like a luxury apartment building with small private suites for the residents and a lower level filled with spacious rooms used for everything from entertaining to eating.

  There was a small wing off the main level for those residents who required more hands-on care for physical or mental reasons. There the coded locks prevented anyone from wandering off and helped the employees keep an eye on all residents as some didn’t like signing in and out of the log the way they were supposed to.

  Sabrina’s grandfather had been one of them, insisting that putting the information down in the logbook was inviting thieves to break into his suite and rob him of all his belongings. The fact that there were no recorded break-ins at Cedar Oaks did nothing to soothe him. He could not be convinced that his decades-old plaid shirts and khakis were of little interest to these hypothetical thieves.

  Finally, in a burst of inspiration, Sabrina’s mother had suggested he sign “Captain Midnight” instead of his own name to fool anyone who might be looking. And for the rest of his time at Cedar Oaks, Robert Ryan had been more than happy to participate in movie outings, shopping trips and any other activity that took him away from the complex. But only as the anonymous Captain.

  Sabrina smiled and wrote down “Captain Midnight’s granddaughter” as she used to do when she visited him. Her grandpa had laughed long and hard every time he saw her signature in the book. She smiled at the memory.

  “Noah, Sabrina. Welcome.”

  Sabrina looked up from the book, smiling when she saw Kyle and Noah’s mother, Ellen Barnes, coming toward them. She hadn’t changed a bit. Still tall and slender, with her blond hair cut short and a pair of jeweled earrings hanging from her earlobes.

  She enveloped Sabrina in a strong hug now. “It’s good to have you back.” Her smile was all warmth and affability. “You look like life’s treated you well.”

  “It has.” And the tension she’d felt about seeing Ellen again melted away. She wondered if that was because Noah was here or because Ellen wasn’t the type to hold a grudge.

  “I’m so glad you could come with Noah today.” Ellen linked an arm through Sabrina’s. Ellen was the director of Cedar Oaks and her upkeep and care of both the building and residents was evident. “Everyone is going to love seeing you. Many of them still remember your grandfather. He was a popular fellow.”

  Sabrina smiled through the sudden prickling behind her eyes. Although Captain Midnight had been gone for years, she still missed him. How he’d pretend that his old car (nickname: Betsy) was low on gas and they might not make it into town. The jokes he told over and over. How when she used to stay with him as a little girl he always made her soup and let her choose the flavor, which was a pretty big deal to a six-year-old. Being here brought back those memories and even though they made her heart ache, it was a good ache.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing them.” Sabrina wasn’t even lying. As she recalled, the residents were always happy to see visitors and treated most of them like long-lost family. She looked forward to visiting with them. Had it really been more than a decade? She wondered how many had slipped away while she’d been gallivanting in the city, focused on her own life. She glanced at Noah. Though there was no way he could have anticipated her reaction to Cedar Oaks, she was grateful he’d chosen it for their interview.

  Ellen led her away from the front desk through the cheerful lounge area, leaving Noah to follow a few steps behind. There was a TV on with the sound muted and a small table where a couple were involved in a rather serious chess match.

  Sabrina noted the changes. The carpet that looked brand-new, the fireplace that was currently unlit but would add a homey feel during the cold winter months, the patio off the back so residents and visitors could enjoy the garden in the summer. “Tell me about the complex. Things look different from the last time I was here.”

  Ellen was only too happy to fill her in. Not only was there a new patio out back, but a new gym and a small movie theater where they showed second-run movies or important hockey games—which in Wheaton was all of them.

  “Noah paid for most of it.”

  “Did he?” She glanced over her shoulder at Noah who was trailing along behind them. “Very generous.”

  He looked a little embarrassed. “Mom, stop. I didn’t pay for it. I helped fundraise. And you promised you weren’t going to tell people about that anymore.”

  “I never promised,” Ellen said, “and why wouldn’t I tell people? You did a wonderful thing. And, as your mother, I’ve earned the right to brag.”

  Sabrina had expected Noah to look pleased about his mother’s revelation. Not smug because that wouldn’t fit his generous image, but pleased that someone who wasn’t him had managed to slide in a piece of info that was sure to appeal to voters.

  Instead, he sighed and pinned her with a look. “This isn’t part of the article.”

  She blinked. His generosity was exactly the kind of thing she’d hoped to focus on. A complex like Cedar Oaks didn’t come cheap. Although she was sure Ellen did her best to keep costs down, the day-to-day overhead would eat up most of the money residents and families paid. The complex relied on government grants or donations from the community for the extra perks. And judging from the size and scope of the changes, Noah’s donation must have been generous indeed. “Why not? It’s a great story.”

  “It was a few years ago.” He caught up to them, walked on the other side of the Sabrina. “It isn’t part of this election.”

  And yet, she knew it would appeal to voters. “I’ll think about it.” She grinned when he frowned at her.

  They reached the end of a long hallway with a pair of double doors. Noah opened one, holding it while his mother entered, and turned his attention to Sabrina. “I mean it. I’d really prefer you not write about that.”

  Sabrina studied him, noted his concern in the crunch of his brows and the frown on his lips. Exactly what was so bad about sharing his donation with the world? It wasn’t like the information would come as a surprise to anyone in Wheaton. “But why?”

  “Because I asked you not to.”

  She considered it. Considered him. Then nodded slowly. She didn’t understand it, but she could accept it. If he wanted to keep his good works private that was his business. “Okay. I won’t write about it.”

  Relief spilled across his face, made him look younger as if, for once, the weight of the town wasn’t on his shoulders. “Thank you.”

  She wondered about that relief, too. But didn’t have a chance to ruminate long as Noah escorted her through the doors and into a large, square ro
om.

  It was set up as a ballroom with wood floors, tables and chairs lining the edges and a chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling. Most seats were filled with chattering residents who turned en masse as they entered.

  “Noah.”

  “Mayor Barnes.”

  “It’s about time you got here. I don’t have long left, boy. You think I want to spend it waiting on you?” An elderly gentleman with eyebrows that looked like they could qualify for their own address wheeled his way toward them.

  Sabrina didn’t recognize him, but Noah clearly did. “You know how to work the stereo, George.”

  Noah excused himself and walked across the room to where groups of women were calling out to him. Sabrina almost expected to see a trail of handkerchiefs fluttering. He stopped, spending a moment or two with each one, making sure no one was left out. She felt a flicker in her heart.

  Then she turned back to the infamous George and gave him the once-over. He did the same to her.

  “I like Elvis.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. Large bushy eyebrows that could probably be used to knit a sweater. Then he leaned back in his wheelchair. “Who are you, girlie?”

  “Sabrina Ryan.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m a reporter writing a piece on Noah for the paper.”

  George ignored the hand and looked up at her. She could see gray hair sprouting from his ears. “Didn’t ask what you did, asked who you are. You got potatoes growing in those pretty ears?”

  “No,” Sabrina said, knowing the best way to deal with trouble was head on. “Do you?”

  He threw back his head, the top of which was free of any sprouts of hair at all, and roared with laughter. “According to the staff, I do.” He grabbed her hand before she could retract it to safety and motioned for her to bend down. He had a surprisingly strong grip for a man of his age. “You said you’re a reporter? You should write something about this place. Always trying to make a man wash when he’s perfectly clean. Go to bed when he’s wide awake. And they feed me baby food.”

  “It was a special diet for your ulcer and was only temporary,” Ellen said from across the room. “Don’t think I didn’t spot that empty potato chip bag in your room last week. You know they’re bad for your stomach.” No doubt she was used to George’s difficult behavior.

  His eyes zeroed in on Sabrina again. “What’d you say your name was?”

  “Sabrina Ryan.”

  George crinkled an eye at her. She wasn’t sure if he was winking or trying to see her more clearly. “You famous?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Good. Don’t like famous people.” He shot a sly look at Noah and raised his voice to be heard over the buzz of conversation. “They get too big for their britches, if you know what I mean.”

  “No, George,” Noah said. This was clearly a practiced routine between the two of them. He opened a panel in the wall. “No one knows what you mean.”

  “Well, when a man...” but the rest of George’s response was drowned out by a big-band tune that filled the room. Sabrina noted the pleased smile on Noah’s face as he shut the panel door. She bit her lip and tried not to laugh. She failed.

  “You think he’s funny, girlie?” George shouted over the music. The other residents moved toward the middle of the room, already paired off as they danced to the swinging beats.

  Sabrina nodded. “Yes.”

  George humphed. “Thought you might have some taste.” He narrowed one eye at her again. Too vain to wear glasses, Sabrina decided. “You said Ryan. You related to Robert?”

  “His granddaughter.”

  George nodded. “I knew him, you know. He was a good man. He’d have wanted you to be nice to me.”

  “And I know your granddaughter. Julie used to babysit me. She’d expect you to behave yourself.”

  George snorted. “Don’t have time for niceties.” He peered at her again. “You the mayor’s girlfriend?”

  “No.” But following the surprise was a curl of pleasure. Ridiculous. She was only thinking about a fling. No point in getting tangled up with someone when she couldn’t stay. “I’m his reporter.” Which didn’t have quite the same ring.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Sabrina didn’t get a chance to explain because George was grabbing her hand again. “I don’t care. Let’s dance. Make an old man happy.”

  Sabrina glanced at Noah, felt a zing when she found his eyes on her. Just his reporter, she reminded herself as George tugged her to the middle of the dance floor. And maybe, if she had her way, his fling. That was all.

  “I like you,” George said, then shouted the same pronouncement across the room to Noah. “I think I might keep her.” George wheezed out a laugh.

  “Do I have a say in this?” Sabrina asked, keeping a sharp eye out as George continued to reverse into the crowd, fearful that he was going to run over a foot or worse. But the residents were clearly used to George and shifted to make way.

  “Why? You got a problem with it?”

  “I might.”

  “I’ll convince you.” His eyes twinkled from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “Put on something with a little swing,” he called to Noah. “I’ve got some moves to show your girl.”

  “My name is Sabrina.” George lifted one brow and drove around her in a circle, then patted her on the bum. “Hey, now.” She frowned at him as she whirled to face him. “None of that.”

  “What is this, prison?” He snickered and patted her again before zipping out of swatting distance. As if she would hit an old man. Even if he deserved it.

  She shook her finger at him. “Behave yourself.”

  “I’ll try, but you make it tricky.” The music changed to a swing tune that reminded Sabrina of Michael Bublé. George wheeled closer and grabbed her hands, pulling her down to his level. “So what do you think of our boy?”

  “Noah?”

  “You see any other boy in here?”

  Sabrina glanced over to where Noah had retreated to the corner with a gaggle of ladies surrounding him. He looked up, smiled. She swallowed. He could only be a fling. Nothing more. And now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that anyway. She was here to do a job. She turned back to George. “I don’t see any boys here at all. Now, what can you tell me about our esteemed mayor?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NOAH WATCHED GEORGE CUTHBERT wheel around Sabrina on the dance floor. He looked every inch the eighty-year-old coot with a new lease on life thanks to the beautiful woman on his arm. Lucky bugger.

  “Noah, dear.” He turned and smiled at Mrs. Mann who had carefully made her way over to him. “Would you play some Duke Ellington? My Howard and I loved Duke. We used to dance all night.” Her eyes sparkled as she tapped an orthopedic shoe in anticipation.

  “I’d be happy to.” He did not offer his arm to take her out for a turn around the dance floor. As he’d told Sabrina earlier, he didn’t dance. Ever. And Mrs. Mann’s feet, protected by that thick orthopedic leather or not, would thank him.

  He cued up Duke Ellington, watching as George continued to grip Sabrina’s hands, keeping her at his mercy. She laughed at something he said, her head tipping back and causing her dark hair to flow down. Noah remembered how it had felt brushing against his neck, sliding through his fingers.

  He exhaled slowly. Recalling how close he’d come to scooping her off the porch, carrying her inside and having his way with her. Not very mayoral at all.

  He should probably be glad for his mother’s timing and her clogged sink. But he wasn’t. Even knowing that he wasn’t the kind of man who slept with a woman before he knew her—before he’d so much as taken her out on a date—didn’t help. Nor did the cold showers he’d been subjecting himself to every morning.

  Because he still wanted Sabrina. And even though he knew the town expected more of him—to
meet a nice girl, one who loved the town as much as he did, who would want to settle down and be the perfect mayor’s wife, hosting teas and other community-type events—Noah couldn’t deny the attraction to this woman who’d left Wheaton as soon as she could and had made it clear that settling down here wasn’t an option.

  “Why don’t you go rescue her?” His mother slipped through the ranks of adoring ladies to stand beside him.

  “I don’t dance,” he reminded her, happy for the interruption and to think about something other than his caveman urge to throw Sabrina over his shoulder and take her somewhere private.

  “Why don’t you start?”

  Noah dragged his gaze away from Sabrina who was now admonishing George for patting her on the ass and focused on his mother. Although Ellen hadn’t given birth to him, she was the only parent he’d known. In some ways, he thought he loved her more because of it. They hadn’t been thrown together by genetics. They’d chosen each other.

  When his father died in a car accident not long after he and Ellen were married, no one in town had thought she’d keep Noah. She had a one-year-old and a husband to bury. Taking on the full-time care of a five-year-old was something no one thought she’d want to cope with.

  Noah could still remember people talking in hushed whispers that they didn’t think he heard or understood. But he had. Can’t be expected to keep him. Placed in a nice foster home somewhere. Not even hers. He still remembered sitting on the bed in his new “older brother” room the day after his father’s funeral. The room Ellen had helped him paint a sky blue, the pillowcases that had pictures of fire engines on them.

  She’d knocked and asked if they could talk. Noah could only nod, a lump the size of his fist clogging his throat. She was going to tell Noah that he had to go away. That he wasn’t going to be part of the family. He’d resolved not to cry. But when she’d put her arm around him and rocked him a little, he’d started to blubber into her shoulder.

  Everything had come pouring out of him then. How he knew she was going to send him away, but he didn’t want to go. He loved her and his baby brother and he’d be the best boy ever if she’d only let him stay. She’d looked at him with those kind eyes and told him that of course he wasn’t going anywhere. They were a family and families stayed together.