The pair strolled in their direction, Duncan’s gait purposeful and confident. Overly confident people left Sophie curious about their Achilles’ heel. Everyone had one. What was his?
He wore a thick wool sweater and jeans, different than at the office yet appealing in a whole new way. He nodded at a few people but each time he refocused on their small group, his gaze landed right on her.
A sharp pain jabbed her hand and she released the vise-tight grip she held on a pine branch. In the court of being honest with herself, she’d be committing perjury if she said Duncan hadn’t been on her mind. When in town running errands this week, she kept scanning the area for him, like a schoolgirl hoping to catch her crush in the hallway. A crazy act, considering her latest pastime involved snooping around in his past to sabotage his offer.
“What’s he doing here?” Bernadette’s low voice reeked of judgment.
“I invited him when we ran into each other at the grocery store.” Dave leaned close to Bernadette. “Need I repeat my mantra about God not being involved in politics?”
“I think you just did.” Bernadette plastered a store-bought smile on her face, not her natural pleased expression. “I’m on my best behavior, dear.”
Dave glanced up to the heavens, clasped his hands in prayer, and mouthed thank you.
“Hi, Reverend Felton.” Duncan carried a string-closed box from Crumbs, a local bakery. “Thanks for asking us today.”
“Call me Dave. This is my wife, Bernadette.”
“Nice to meet you.” Duncan did a double-take, probably remembering her antics at the public hearing. “Hi, Sophie.” His voice softened. “Does every path in Northbridge lead to you or only the ones I follow?”
A burn inched up her cheeks. One she tried to ignore. “It probably won’t be the last time. It’s a small town.” Her peripheral vision caught Bernadette’s delighted glow, but she focused on the newcomers. “Glad you could join us today. You too, Patrick.”
Matt barged into the circle, going straight to Patrick. “Dude, two days in a row? What are you doing here?”
“Reverend Felton invited us.”
Sophie eyed Matt. “Two days in a row?”
“Pat and his dad came into the shop yesterday. Boy, I heard all kinds of stories about you, Mom. Oh, I forgot….” Matt’s peppy outlook downshifted and he bit his lower lip, reminding her so much of his father when he’d screwed something up. “Mr. J. said to tell you hello.”
“Mr. J.?” She looked at Duncan. He grinned and shrugged.
“Come on, Pat.” Matt tipped his head. “I’ll introduce you around.”
Sophie waited until they were out of earshot. “It would take an act of God for me to get any messages from him. Care to work on that, Dave?”
He threw up flattened palms as if a gun were pointed in his direction. “There’s only so much I can do.”
Sophie returned to the crystal shine of Duncan’s eyes, a reminder of why she couldn’t get him out of her head. “You visited Dad’s shop yesterday?”
He nodded. “Patrick’s getting fishing gear for Christmas. I figured we’d practice casting in the yard before opening day.”
Dave motioned across the room. “Let’s hang up your coat and I’ll introduce you to the others.”
“Sure.”
He lifted the Crumbs box, but before he could say anything, Sophie extended her arm. “I’ll take those.”
“Thanks.” Their hands brushed during the trade-off, the power of the light sweep holding some major voltage. He stared at her several seconds longer than necessary then turned and followed Dave.
Bernadette leaned close and whispered, “You’re blushing, you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If Cliff saw you at this moment, he’d take you off the RGI story. Don’t you think?”
Sophie didn’t answer right away but instead watched Dave introduce Duncan to the church organist. The white-haired, thin-faced grump never smiled at anybody but played a mean “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” on the old church organ. Duncan’s charismatic beam even forced the corners of her mouth to bow upward.
She turned to Bernadette. “Then it’s a good thing Cliff isn’t around.”
* * * *
Sophie had been hiding in the kitchen for the past fifteen minutes, where she’d escaped under the guise of warming dishes for their potluck supper, but really needed to be alone to reapply her game face.
Since Mike left five years earlier, her dating life had been as meager as the line of men waiting for a pedicure. It wasn’t non-existent, simply short. Of four encounters, only Sam, a doctor living two towns over, had lasted four months. The downfall to their relationship turned out to be Sam’s confirmed bachelorhood. A strong reminder why the type of love she’d craved her entire life still mattered a great deal.
The old industrial oven preheated and she threw in as many dishes as would fit. She placed a china platter on a center island dividing the large kitchen then settled at the avocado-green countertop. After she unwrapped Duncan’s treats from Crumbs, she placed them on the plate.
A pattern emerged every single time she found herself near this guy. The patter of her heart switched tempo from its normal steady waltz to a Caribbean beat. Her confidence dropped a few degrees. Her radar honed in on his manly aura. Did he make all women he met this unsteady?
Footsteps approached. “Thanks for taking care of those.”
Duncan’s sexy smile made her game face smudge.
“No problem.” She focused on the transfer of a napoleon to the plate with surgeon-like precision to avoid his gaze.
“I’m glad to run into you today.”
Sophie glanced up, taking serious note of the way his navy pullover magnified the color of his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”
“Dave’s invite seemed like a fun way to get to know people.”
“Stick with Dave. You’ll meet the entire town.”
She reached for a cannoli. Some icing from an éclair caught her forearm. Duncan swiped a napkin from the nearby dispenser, took her arm, then gently wiped the frosting. He handled her as if she were a fragile item requiring delicate care, his eyes never leaving her face, his touch making her burn in womanly places.
“Thanks. This thing where you help me is getting to be a habit. Do I seem needy or are you just always ready to lend a hand?”
His brows furrowed for a split second then he laughed. “Oh, right. The kayaks. You don’t strike me as needy at all.”
“Then helpful it is.” She quickly resumed her task with the pastry arrangement, yet could still feel his touch on her skin. A few self-conscious seconds of silence passed.
“I’m curious. Wasn’t Dave’s wife the one heading up the committee against my development?”
“The one and only.”
“Interesting.”
“She can be. Bernadette and I have been best friends since we were kids. She carries a big stick but deep down she’s a softy. Dave provides a guiding hand. Besides, those are her views, not her husband’s.”
“I’ve found most people in town, regardless of how they feel about the resort, have treated me cordially.” Duncan’s tone softened. “Like you.”
Sophie’s vision drifted from the platter and his penetrating gaze swept her away, its magic as endless as a clear blue sky.
Psychic abilities at this moment would come in handy. Chances were fifty-fifty his motives were really about her role on the paper. She hoped he didn’t sense how his comment or the way he looked at her unraveled her insides.
“Did you meet my brother Jay yesterday?”
“Briefly.”
“How’d it go?”
“Not as well as when I’ve met some others around town.” He stuck his finger into stray icing on the box lid, took a little, then licked it off.
The gesture drew her focus to his full lower lip, followed by several R-rated notions involving icing, her mouth, and his.
/> “Your dad was great, though. Sold me a book on fly-tying. I figured Pat and I would learn together.”
She pictured Duncan and his son tackling the intricate task, the resort developer who’d upset her world suddenly a warm and loving father. “Nice. My dad taught me. Sometimes they have classes at the shop, usually in the summer. You should go.”
“So you know how to make them?”
“Sure. Bet you didn’t know that one of the first significant books on fly-tying was written by a woman.”
“Who? You?” He grinned and plunked down on a stool across from where she stood. Resting his elbows on the countertop, he leaned closer.
Sophie laughed. “No. Wanda Orvis Marbury, around eighteen seventy. She’s who inspired me to make my own for a while.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“No time. Kids, family obligations.”
“I know what you mean. My daughter’s in college now. Kind of strange only worrying about one kid day-to-day. Nice, though.”
“I’ll bet. Where does she go to school?”
“Vassar. In upstate New York.”
She nodded but didn’t share how Henry had applied to a school in Albany, his loss a path she didn’t care to go down today. Especially with Duncan. Instead, she paired two cannolis tight on the plate and squeezed a third next to them, an easier task than discussing her loss. The less he learned about her personal life, the better. It crossed her mind to bring up the gunshot at Buzz’s, to see how he’d react, but should she mix business and pleasure?
Before she could, Duncan blurted out, “I am sorry I outbid you on the land.”
Sophie’s response stalled. The property mattered to her. His bid ruined her plans. As she waded in a pool of mixed emotion, a thread of hair dangled near her eye. Her hands gooey, she pushed out her lower lip and tried to blow it away. It moved then plopped back to the same place.
Duncan reached over and brushed the strand aside, the light graze of his fingertip skimming her forehead. “It hasn’t already come between us, has it?”
His simple touch left her knees wobbly as Jell-O, leaving her terrified by how easily he swayed her from sensible thought.
“I’m talking to you, right?” She attempted a light tone. “Besides, the land isn’t yours yet.” She walked over to the sink then glanced back. “Unless those zoning changes are a shoo-in and there’s something else you’d like to tell me?”
“No. Of course not.”
She soaped and rinsed her hands, sensing he watched her from behind. She looked over her shoulder. “So what were you guys saying about me yesterday? Should I be concerned?”
The corner of his lip twitched, as if she’d bumped him. “I told Matt I remembered you back in the days my family visited here.”
After drying off with a paper towel, she returned to the island. “What year were you here?” She had to be careful not to slip and mention anything her research had uncovered.
“Around nineteen eighty.”
“Ah, middle school, early high school. I drove Dad nuts at that age.” She grabbed some wrap to cover the plate of treats. “I hear the environmental studies were completed.”
He jerked his head back, surprise obvious. “How do you know?”
“After you left Buzz’s office, I asked Adli. He said they’ll vote Tuesday night about a possible delay on the zoning changes.”
“Did he give you details about the reports?” An amused expression softened the slight creases in the corners of his eyes.
“I’m not that good at getting information.” She leaned her arms on the island, moving closer to him and softening her gaze. The ease of conversation roused a flirty side, one she didn’t easily share. Her voice shifted, silky and soft. “Unless, sir, you’d care to tell me?”
“You’re one persistent woman.” His voice dropped, huskier than usual. “Is this an official interview?”
“Not at all. I’m curious if the findings will change the outcome of the project. Off the record, of course.”
“Of course,” he murmured. “Well, it’s yet to be determined.”
She pushed the island barrier to its limits and inched closer. “Hmm. Guess I’d better work on my persuasive skills.”
“Trust me.” He grinned wickedly and lowered his voice. “They were adequate.”
Sophie’s mouth went dry. What was she doing? He was her story. She moved back, stood straight, and dragged a nearby stool so she could sit across from him.
She mimicked his pose with her elbows on the counter and chin tucked in a palm. “Did you think much about our last conversation in your office?”
“Plenty.” His words floated out as if sandwiched between two meanings. Had he found his emotional state in the same muddled mess as hers after their talk?
“Then you remember the pyramids?”
“How could I forget? Despite your analogy, I still believe my business can have a good presence here.”
She shook her head. “Once a Scotsman...”
Broad delight spread across his face. They sat close enough for her to take in the flecks of light hair brushing his muscular freckled forearm. His large hand cradled the rise in his cheek.
“Something tells me you’re the one around here who’s going to keep me on my toes.” His butter-smooth tone flowed through her. “Not the activists.”
“You know what they say around these parts.”
“What?”
“Never underestimate a woman who knows how to tie flies.”
“I’m not sure who they are, but I’m learning never to underestimate you.”
The provocative way he sampled the icing earlier replayed like an erotic ad for Duncan Hines. She’d like his sweet kiss to be the next thing she tasted.
“There you are!” Lucy Tanner-Scott’s piercing voice sounded as shrill as an air raid siren. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Duncan.”
They both jumped upright on their stools. Lucy sidled close to his side. Duncan’s face brightened too sweetly for Sophie’s liking. Her heart thumped on the floor. She remembered the church organist’s response to him. Perhaps all women were special to this guy.
“There’s someone I want you to meet.” Lucy spoke in a soft drawl and rested her perfectly manicured hand on the forearm Sophie had been admiring a minute earlier.
“Uh, sure. Can you give me a sec?”
“No problem.”
Lucy inspected Sophie with a subzero stare before she turned on a heel and headed for the door. “I’ll be out here.”
Duncan’s gaze settled on Lucy’s swaying hips as she exited, his reaction like a knife to Sophie’s gut. In a matter of seconds, she transformed into the unruly-haired girl from high school, desperately in search of her confidence and beauty. A lifetime of contempt spewed below her skin.
“Can we talk more later?” Duncan raised his brows, a sincere expression of hope but one she doubted was true.
“Sure.” She hoped her faux-smile hid her petty anger at Lucy, who monitored them from outside the doorway.
He turned and went to Lucy. Did he plan to play all the ladies of Northbridge? Especially the single ones?
Lucy slipped her arm through his and led him away. Sophie’s ego boost from Duncan’s attention numbed.
She lifted the plastic and stole a miniature cannoli from a tray then bit into the sugary center. If Duncan pursued Lucy, he’d be in for a surprise. She was exactly like the decadent pastry, for all appearances sweet and tasty. Too much of her, though, would weigh you down, not making her worth the indulgence. Nope. Sophie wasn’t about to start worrying about his weight.
Still, she couldn’t deny one fact—Duncan Jamieson tugged at her like a pair of overpriced, sexy shoes in a storefront window. Even though his resort plans shifted her goals and they circled in completely different orbits, she still had a crush on him. The way things went, though, he’d most likely end up landing some rich babe from a Hartford Country cl
ub. Or someone like Lucy.
Her bubble now completely deflated, she accepted this disappointment as a sign: time to do her job for the paper and figure out who left her that mysterious note.
Chapter 13
Sophie entered the meeting room three minutes late for the seven o’clock Tuesday zoning board meeting. She scooted down the last row to an empty chair near Bart, where an agenda had been placed on the seat.
“Did I miss anything?” she whispered and waited while he adjusted his video camera.
He glanced over and shook his head. “They’re starting late. Just for you.” He arched a bushy brow.
She resisted making a retort, especially because he’d gotten her an agenda and saved her a seat.
The metal chair creaked as she got settled and a few heads turned, the sound rather loud in the small meeting space. This room, like many in the dated municipal building, needed the advice of a feng shui expert. Fluorescent lights bounced off ice-white walls and created an atmosphere as sterile as a gauze strip.
The radiator hissed out heat making the room warmer than usual. Sophie shimmied out of her coat, pushed up the sleeves on her knitted top, and took inventory of the dais. The five-member zoning board and three-member board of selectman sat at the long table exchanging stares with the anxious crowd, who talked quietly amongst themselves.
Bernadette and her S.O.L.E. brethren occupied the second row. The Northbridge Anti-tax Group, who supported the added tax revenue from RGI’s investment, filled the same spot on the opposite side of the aisle. The members of this group could beat an issue into pulp, with the single goal of paying little or no taxes. Many residents in opposition to their zero-tax policies mocked them behind their backs, calling them by their group’s acronym, N.A.G.
Marion Harris, Buzz’s wife, sat a few rows behind the N.A.G. members. Three years ago, Marion had stopped the pretense of coloring her hair and let her shoulder-length locks bloom with shades of gray. She glanced over her shoulder and locked eyes with Sophie. The tense lines of her face and worried stare were odd, a contrast from her usual relaxed attitude. Sophie nodded, but Marion pressed her lips tight and turned away.
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