She spoke softly, slowly, the cadence so serene that the words lulled and suggested on an elemental level. Jason caught himself leaning forward to catch every word. Disgusted, he shook off her seductive spell.
“I sympathize, but that’s hardly my problem.”
“It is, actually. I’d happily trot along my merry way, but I need the income from this fair. Not just for myself, but for my family. And your ban is not only insulting, you’re frustrating my purpose.”
He frowned at her use of the legal terms: ready, willing and able, frustrated purpose. Her message came through loud and clear. Ms. Cooper had obviously been talking to a lawyer.
He might be worried except he’d drawn up the contract and knew it was airtight. Which didn’t mean she couldn’t contest it if she had the time, money and inclination. Given her transient lifestyle, he doubted she’d go to the effort. Admiring the cling of leather to soft curves, he almost regretted the necessity of sending her away. But the last thing Blossom—or he—needed was the trouble she represented.
“Still not my problem, Ms. Cooper. We contracted with the carnival months ago. I made it clear at the time no fortune-teller would be allowed in the fair. You need to take your grievance up with the carnival troupe.”
“Oh,” she waved a slim-fingered hand, uncrossed impossibly long legs and flowed lithely to her feet. “I have a better idea.”
She inclined her head as if she’d heard something interesting, then focused those brown, brown eyes on him. “So you’re an attorney as well as the mayor. How fortunate the townspeople of Blossom have you to safeguard their interests. But you needn’t worry, they have nothing to fear from me.”
She smiled a serene smile that did nothing to calm him and everything to arouse his suspicions, distracting him so he almost missed her next statement. “I believe we’ll let them decide whether I should be allowed in the fair.”
He shot to his feet and met her at the door. The scents of leather and honeysuckle made an intoxicating mix, making him light-headed until he pulled himself together.
Just when had he developed such a biker babe fixation? The sooner this hot mix of trouble vacated his town, the better.
“There’s nothing to decide, Lady Pandora. I regret there’s no place for you in Blossom.”
She sauntered through the doorway, hips swaying provocatively before turning to deliver the last word. “Oh, no need for regret.” This time her smile was pure challenge. “An apology at the end of the fair will do. You don’t have a problem admitting when you’re wrong do you, Your Honor?” She snapped to attention and offered a mock salute. “Or should I say, General, sir?”
“What?” Shock rocked him back on his heels. How could she possibly know his childhood nickname? His grandfather had called Jason Little General when he was a tiny kid.
“The contract may not be as airtight as you think.” She taunted him. “You were distracted remember? Someone didn’t feel well.”
Rikki. His daughter had had the flu. How could Lady Pandora know that? Before he pulled himself together enough to ask, she escaped out the door.
He stabbed his secretary’s call button.
“Yes, sir?”
“Get me Sheriff McCabe on the line. I want to know everything there is to know about Lady Pandora.”
“Oh, wasn’t she just wonderful, Jason?” his secretary practically gushed. “So helpful. She told me where to find the diagram for the new addition to the library. You know, the one I’ve been looking for for two days. She told me it had slipped behind the copier and, sure enough, that’s right where it was. Isn’t that amazing?”
Jason gritted his teeth. “Just get me the sheriff, please.”
Cherry Cooper, Lady Pandora to His Honor Mayor Jason Strong, grinned as she rode down in the elevator. Oh, the look on his face when she called him General. As the MasterCard commercial said: Priceless.
She bet not many people saw shock reflected in those intelligent blue eyes, on those chiseled features. With his bold cheekbones she suspected he had warrior blood in his history. Indian, Celt, Viking, she couldn’t narrow it down, but she sensed he came from a long line of fighters.
He didn’t shake easily; she’d give him his due there. Still, she’d rattled him a tad. More bluff than anything else. Body language and ego gave away a lot. Years of experience had taught her how to read a person almost as well as her psychic talent.
She already knew the good mayor was going to be a problem.
Not only because he refused to change his mind and let her into the fair, but because he made her palms itch.
Definitely not a good sign.
She’d known a month ago when she first visited Blossom that trouble would touch her here. Still, she hadn’t counted on the distraction of a maverick in a suit.
How she wished she could hop on her bike and roll on down the road.
But her grandmother’s health came first. The latest surgery had been successful, but her traveling days were over.
Wry humor tugged at Cherry’s funny bone. It didn’t take psychic powers to know the hunky mayor would not be happy to learn two fortune-tellers would soon be moving to his town.
Strolling out of City Hall into the Texas sunlight, Cherry slipped on her sunglasses and surveyed the picket-fence charm of Blossom’s town square. She felt right at home with her black leather gear and bad girl Harley.
Yeah, right, as at home as a frog in a French chef’s kitchen.
Who was she kidding? The good mayor was right; no matter how much she longed for a home, this wasn’t the place for her.
No, her place was on the road, moving from town to town, fair to fair, bringing in the income.
But first she needed to secure her place in the Blossom County Fair. She and Nona had been pre-approved for a home loan, but one of the conditions was proof of six months of payment reserves in the bank at the time of closing. They’d saved over the years so they had enough for the down payment, but Nona’s medical expenses had taken a chunk of their savings. In order to meet the loan condition, Cherry needed to get into the fair.
To do that, she needed the good people of Blossom on her side.
A woman jostled Cherry as she rushed down the City Hall steps. Cherry stared after the thin brunette, disturbed by the ominous shiver that followed in her wake.
Cherry’s ability to see the future came mostly through touch. When she performed, she used tarot cards. Occasionally, if she felt the need to do a deeper reading, she’d use the guise of reading the client’s palm, and then she buffered the contact with a scarf.
The contact with the rude woman reminded Cherry of the gray pall she’d felt when she first came to town. Shaking off the feeling of oppression, she cleansed her mind. Deciding to dive in at the deep end, she headed for The BeeHive Diner by way of the park.
She had an agenda to keep and it didn’t include solving the town’s dark problems. That was something for the good mayor to do.
The yellow-and-brown color scheme and honeybee mural were charmingly cheerful. After placing her order, Cherry pulled out her cell phone and dialed her grandmother.
“Hey, Nona. You sound breathless, you’re not doing anything you shouldn’t are you?”
“What, and break a sweat? Where’s the fun in that?” Nona responded.
A low male rumble sounded in the background.
“Oh, hush. I’m talking to my granddaughter,” Nona’s muffled voice admonished, then she spoke back into the phone. “I do everything my physical therapist tells me to do.”