A mistake. Her hand was slender in his large one, yet he felt calluses on her palm. That surprised him. So did the strength in her fingers. He found himself holding them longer than necessary as the very air around them seemed to spark with electricity.
He didn’t like—or trust—the hot awareness he felt, the instantaneous attraction blazing between them. Or was it all on his part?
He didn’t think so. Not with that startled, puzzled look in her eyes. He released his hold quickly, the warmth from her hand flowing up his arm. Their gazes met.
He was intrigued. She was holding her ground. He imagined he looked his worst, and his worst could be formidable as hell, or so he’d been told. But it didn’t seem to faze her.
He waited, not speaking. A form of hostile intimidation, a psychologist told him when Josh perfected it during unwanted sessions at the hospital. Now it was for an entirely different reason.
She finally broke the silence. Her voice sounded stilted, unsteady, and he realized she was as shaken as he. “Merry, the city clerk, told me you had been in and wanted a copy of your property survey. She felt bad she didn’t have time to find it then, so I said I would bring it over this morning. Save you a trip back into town. I also want to welcome you.”
“Do you welcome every new resident this way?”
“Eventually. It’s why I’m mayor. That and the hard truth that no one else wanted the job.”
She said it wryly, and he found himself liking her. Combine that with the heat still lingering in his belly and he knew he was in trouble. He recalled how she introduced herself. Not as Mayor Eve Douglas, but simply as Eve Douglas who happened to be mayor. It said something about her that the title was of lesser importance than who she was.
He was only too aware of her eyes and the way they lit up when she smiled. He tried to ignore them. “I had a visit yesterday from a lady. I think I frightened her. Didn’t mean to. She woke me up and scared the hell out of my dog, and I was a bit aggravated. Perhaps in the role of mayor, you can suggest that I came here for a little solitude.”
“People in Covenant Falls are friendly. We like to think it’s a plus, but obviously you don’t,” she said. “I’ll try to put out the word that you’re the hermit type and value your privacy.” She said it without judgment and added with that quick, infectious smile, “Can’t promise it’ll work.”
Concentrate, Josh. She was too damned disarming. He glanced down at her hands. She had a ring on her finger.
But it had been a damned long time since...
Down, boy.
He jerked back to the moment. “Mrs. Douglas,” he replied. “You said you brought my property survey. And the building permit?”
She looked startled and for a fleeting second he wondered whether she’d felt the same awareness that was galloping through his body. Then she gave him a more cautious smile. “The survey was easy. There’s a small problem with the building permit.”
She met his gaze directly, and he noted that she was tall, only four inches or so shorter than his own just over six-foot-three height. Perfect height to kiss without contorting himself. A wisp of wind caught her hair and turned a curl loose. He found himself longing to tuck it back in. To feel that smooth skin and see whether her hair was as silky as it looked.
She sure as hell wasn’t like any mayor he’d ever seen.
“And the building permit?” he asked, trying to divert the thoughts. Mind over matter. Or body.
“The city clerk said you didn’t bring a copy of the deed, and she checked with the county. The property is listed as belonging to David Hannity.”
“Dave Hannity is dead,” he said, barely keeping his voice steady. Even after nearly eight months, the words hurt like hell. “He left the cabin to me. An attorney in the county seat—Laine Mabry—just settled probate. The deed should have been transferred by now. I’ll check with him.”
“Good. Once we have a copy of the deed, there shouldn’t be a problem.”
He expected her to leave then, but she didn’t, and he was surprised he really didn’t want her to go. She challenged him. Intrigued him. He really had been too long without a woman.
Her gaze rested for a moment on the scar on his face. He could tell from her expression that she wanted to ask more questions. Still, she refrained, and that interested him, too, as did the way she stood her ground despite his scowl and lack of manners.
“The survey?” he prompted, silently cursing himself.
She lifted the briefcase and steadied it on the brick barbecue pit. She opened it and fished out a large piece of rolled draft paper.
Their hands touched, and he felt a surge of electricity streak through him. She suddenly backed away and bumped against the barbecue pit. He automatically reached out, steadying her. She smelled like fresh flowers, and he felt the calluses on her hand again. Oddly enough, that was sexy to him. Damn if she wasn’t sexy in every way.
He didn’t let go, and she didn’t pull away.
A flame leaped between them. He felt its heat sear him. She leaned against him for the barest of seconds, then pulled away. Confusion suddenly clouded her eyes.
What in the hell just happened? He must be more nuts than usual. She wore a ring, and he never played in someone else’s yard. Never. He’d seen too many guys open Dear John letters and knew what it did to them. He was no angel, but he’d sworn never to cause that kind of pain. And he didn’t think much of a woman who could. Maybe that was why he always preferred one-night stands with unattached women.
She looked at him with wide eyes now. He watched as she tried to compose herself. When she finally spoke, there was a catch in her throat. “Dave Hannity... I knew him years ago. Not well. He was older. Then he just seemed to disappear....”
That brought him back to reality. Dave was a subject he couldn’t—wouldn’t—discuss.
“You said inherited,” she continued. “What happened to him?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters that I didn’t know. I liked him. I know my husband did.”
He didn’t answer immediately, hoping his silence would send her away.
When it was clear that it wouldn’t, he said simply, “He was in the army. He died in Afghanistan.”
“He must have been a good friend,” she said softly.
“Excuse me, Mayor Douglas, but I don’t know why that’s any of your business.”
She stiffened. “You’re right, of course, Mr. Manning. It’s not.” She started to turn, then swung back. “You said you have a dog.”
“Is that against the law?” He bristled again.
“Of course not.” Her smile faded. “But we do have some ordinances regarding animals,” she continued after a few seconds, as if she’d caught her breath. “Dogs have to be on a leash or...”
“Under the voice control of an individual,” he finished. “Amos is under voice control when we walk.”
The colors of her eyes seemed to change with her emotions. “I hope you’ll learn to like us,” she said. There was a not-so-veiled challenge in her tone. She wasn’t all sweetness. There was some spice, too.
“Not bloody likely,” he muttered, using an expression he’d learned from British counterparts. It was, he felt, appropriate at the moment as he tried to tamp down that sexual electricity that still hovered in the air. She looked so damn...intriguing. He sensed there was fire under that proper facade. He saw flashes of it in