Chasing Perfect. Сьюзен Мэллери

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СКАЧАТЬ We’re not going up a mountain or anything.”

      He chuckled. “Not on a first date. I like to save the intense stuff for later. To make sure you can handle it.”

      She wanted to point out this wasn’t a date, but that would require speaking and his verbal play had left her throat a little dry.

      The man was charm personified, she thought, wondering if it was a God-given gift or something he had to work at. With her luck, he was a natural. He probably didn’t even know what he was doing to the women around him. Not that she would tell him.

      He pulled into the street, then rolled to a stop at the light on the corner. “You take the interstate into town?” he asked.

      “Yes.”

      “See much of the area since you arrived?”

      “Just what I’ve walked to. I’ve only been in town a couple of weeks. There hasn’t been much time.”

      “You don’t get weekends off?”

      “I spent my first weekend getting ready for the meeting with the university.” She grimaced as she thought of how that morning had been a disaster until Josh had breezed in, spoken a few magic words and saved the day. Not that she was upset to have the contract signed. It was just that he’d made her feel bad at her job. Or maybe she’d done that all by herself.

      “Last weekend, I was getting ready for my meetings this week.”

      “I sense a pattern,” he said. “You need to get out more.”

      Was he offering? She desperately wanted him to be offering. Which was silly, because she would have to say no to any kind of offer from him. The man wasn’t good for her sanity. Plus, hello. There’d been a woman waiting in his room the other night. A close-to-naked woman obviously expecting her evening to take a turn for the erotic. Josh was a player and Charity had never understood the rules of the game.

      Note to self, she thought. She would look Josh up on the Internet when she got back to her room that night. Any kind of crush should be destroyed by the reality of his personal life.

      “I plan to be in Fool’s Gold for a long time,” she said. “I’ll see it all eventually.”

      He turned two blocks before the sign for the interstate, then headed west. “There are three different wineries growing grapes in the valley,” he said, pointing to the acres of vineyards sprawling to the horizon. “Mostly cabernet sauvignon, merlot and cab franc. Some other grapes for blending.”

      He flashed her a smile. “Which takes us to the limit of my wine knowledge. If you want to know more, they do tours every weekend, starting in a couple of weeks.”

      As they sped down the highway, Charity could see tiny buds on the bare branches—the promise of grapes to come.

      “Most of the wineries were started years ago,” he continued. “This whole valley used to grow everything from corn to apples. Gradually the vineyards are taking over. Something about the soil and the weather.”

      “And money,” she said. “For a lot of farmers, there’s more profit in grapes. Wine is very big these days.”

      He glanced at her. “Impressive.”

      She did her best not to blush. “I did my homework before I moved here.” She cleared her throat. “The wineries are closer to town than I realized,” she said, turning back to see the mountains rising against the blue sky. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small notepad.

      “What a great resource. Any company thinking of relocating here needs to be taken on a tour of the area,” she said more to herself than him. “This is a great selling point.”

      There had to be some kind of brochure the town used to promote itself. She made another note to review it when she got back and make sure the wineries and vineyards were prominently mentioned. Maybe look over Pia’s schedule. There had to be a wine or grape festival.

      “The wineries are just part of it,” Josh told her. “There’s also hiking and camping in the summer and skiing in the winter. The resort has a five-star restaurant and a cooking school. We get plenty of tourists coming through.”

      “You know a lot about the area. How long have you been here?” she asked.

      “I grew up here. Moved to the area when I was ten.”

      “That must have been nice,” she said enviously. “When I was a kid I dreamed of staying in one place, but my mom liked to travel.”

      Josh glanced at her. Something questioning flashed through his eyes, then was gone. “Did she say why?”

      “She had a lot of reasons. She liked the thrill of a new place. The possibilities. She used to say she was born wanting to move on.” Part of the motive to move had always been to escape from anything bad that had happened before, Charity thought. Which was mostly a man, and the end of a relationship.

      Charity had loved her mother, but the constant moving around hadn’t been easy. Especially because Sandra moved whenever the mood struck her. She didn’t care if Charity was only a few weeks from finishing a semester or a school year. “I grew up being the new girl.”

      “Was that a problem?”

      “I wasn’t outgoing. By the time I’d made a few friends and settled in, we were moving again. I felt like I was always scrambling to learn the rules.”

      “You’ll like Fool’s Gold.”

      “I already do. Everyone is so friendly and open.”

      He made a couple of turns, then they were heading back toward the mountains.

      Charity found herself relaxing a little. Being close to Josh wasn’t so scary—not if she remembered to keep breathing and ignore the steady hum of awareness that connected them. At least from her side.

      A bright red import came toward them. The car was filled with college-aged girls who rolled down the windows and hooted and waved at Josh. He nodded back.

      “Fans?” she asked, watching the car zip past.

      “Probably.”

      She risked turning toward him. “It’s the bike thing, right?”

      His mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile. “Yeah. The bike thing.”

      “Because you’re a famous bike rider?”

      “Me and Lance Armstrong.”

      “So you’ve ridden in the Tour de France?”

      He glanced at her, his humor obvious. “Do you even know what that is?”

      “It’s, ah, a famous bike race. In France. It’s done in parts or stages or legs or something. And there’s a yellow jersey.”

      “Good start.” His voice was teasing. “It’s stages, by the way.”

      “I’m not really that into СКАЧАТЬ