A Great Kisser (9 page)

She nodded, then turned her attention back to the bike, which wobbled quite dangerously when she launched off. He almost trotted after her, but she steadied herself after a few rotations. So he made himself stay where he stood, all the while wondering what in the hell had gotten into him, as he watched her ride until she was out of sight. In fact, he had to force himself to turn back to
Betty Sue
instead of wandering closer to the end of the hangar, where he could watch her pedal herself almost all the way back down to town.

“Right, because you don’t have about a hundred and ten things you need to be doing right now.” Didn’t stop him from thinking about her though. He slapped his thigh and called out for Hank. He heard a groan and a snuffling snort, then minutes later, his big old hound came shuffling over. “You missed her, you know. Not much of a watch dog.”

Hank stared at him with soulful eyes.

“You’d like her. She’s quite something to watch, too.”

In response, Hank wandered over and sighed deeply as he collapsed in a boneless heap by an oil drum.

“She’d like you, too, I think.” He smiled as Hank stretched out in a fading beam of sunlight. He turned and looked back through the open hangar door. And wished his life was simpler. At that moment, an afternoon spent stretched out under the sun sounded almost as intoxicating as racing five hundred miles an hour, barely a breath off the ground. Of course, the former option he wouldn’t have to perform solo.

“Yeah,” he said, wandering back over to his tools. “You’d like her a lot, Hank. Problem is, I like her, too.”

L
auren smoothed her hair, then her shirt, then her hair again, for at least the hundredth time. She’d dressed casual-nice, despite the fact that, from what she could tell, the town at-large was almost universally casual-casual. Which normally would have suited her just fine. One of the things she’d immediately loved about quitting her job was not having to armor up every morning. But, when she was dressing for dinner, she decided she could use all the support she could get. She might not like the power suits and sensible pumps, but, in truth, she felt more in control while wearing them. Capitol Hill Lauren. Assistant to a powerful state senator, Lauren. Future-all-mapped-out Lauren.

Which was definitely better than newly jobless Lauren, no future plans Lauren, or wildly attracted to the local plane jockey Lauren.

No, what she needed to be was “ready to meet the man you can’t believe your mother married Lauren.” Yeah, that was going to take at least a few layers of well-tailored support.

Satisfied that she was as pulled together as humanly possible, she ignored the rampantly flapping butterflies in her stomach and pushed through the doors. She welcomed the cooler air of the restaurant and drew in a deep breath of it. But before she could even look for the table where her mother and Arlen were likely already seated, she was accosted by the hostess.

“Well, hello! Welcome to Ragland Gap. I’m Kim, your hostess.”

Kim, another naturally caffeinated denizen of Cedar Springs. Lauren might have worried that she’d landed in Stepford-ville, except they were all so sincere in their friendliness, it was hard not to respond in kind. “Hi, Kim. I’m meeting a party of—”

“Oh, I know. You’re Charlene Thompson’s daughter.”

It caught her badly off guard, hearing her mother called by her new married name. She’d never thought to wonder if her mother had changed her name. It just felt…odd. Okay, it felt downright wrong, but she was trying—really—to be the new and improved, less biased, more compassionate Lauren. Which was challenging enough without being known on sight to yet another complete stranger. “Lauren Matthews,” she said, introducing herself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. George—he’s the owner—gave the mayor a private room so you all could reunite without any distractions.”

“Oh,” she said.
Great
. Everyone not only knew they were dining here, but it was also apparently common knowledge that it was also their first family meeting. Lovely. Well, she supposed she should be grateful, at least, for the private room. She had no idea how the next hour was going to go, but the less public the better. “Thank you.”

“I’ll show you the way. Follow me.”

Lauren was probably imagining that everybody was staring at her as she passed through the crowded dining room. Surely they were all whispering about something else completely, and there really wasn’t a hush as she approached followed by a sudden burst of conversation after she passed by. All in her head.

She tried not to make eye contact and just prepare herself for the imminent hellos, and felt entirely conspicuous as Kim nodded at any number of diners as they took what had to be the most convoluted path possible through the tables. She wondered if that had been on purpose, so everyone could get a good gander at the mayor’s new stepdaughter. After all, the place seemed unusually packed for a Thursday night.

Then Kim ducked them through an archway and paused outside a curtained-off door. “Here you are, Miss Matthews.”

“Lauren.”

Kim beamed. “Lauren. It’s a pleasure. Stephan will be here shortly to take your order. You have a great night.”

“Thank you,” she said, half wishing she could just stand out here and chat with Kim some more. Kim was an easy crowd to please. But the hostess bustled off—with a cheery wave of course—and Lauren turned toward the closed curtain. Another deep breath. After a six-month delay, it was suddenly showtime.

As soon as she ducked through the curtain, letting it fall shut again behind her, her mother immediately got up and came around the table, engulfing her daughter in a hug. “Lauren, I’m so glad you came, sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much.”

Lauren’s face was smooshed into her mother’s soft silver hair, so she couldn’t respond and couldn’t get a look at Arlen, but it felt so good, after so much time, and so much emotion and heartache, to be hugged by her mom that she simply hugged her back.

It was long moments later before Charlene finally set her back, but such a load had already been lifted from her shoulders with that one, heartfelt hug that Lauren felt a rejuvenation of hope that maybe this could all turn out far, far better than she’d allowed herself to dream.

Lauren pushed her own hair from her face and blinked back the tears threatening to form. “I am, too,” she said.
Could it really be this simple?
Guilt swamped her. She should have made the trip out sooner, carved the time into her schedule, her life, and not waited until it had become this cataclysmic. They’d just needed to see each other in order to regain perspective and get their priorities back in place. Their bond had always been so strong, it could weather anything. She should have never let it get this bad.

Then Arlen stepped into view behind her mother, and Lauren’s stomach squeezed right back into a tight ball. She’d been so overwhelmed and happy to be reunited with her mother, she’d neglected to remember that the actual reason behind their estrangement had yet to be dealt with.

His face was a bit paunchier than the photos she’d found during her investigative forays, and his hair a bit thinner, but otherwise there was no mistaking that this was the mayor of Cedar Springs. There was also no mistaking that this was a man who oozed a particular brand of God-given charisma and natural charm. The kind that allowed him to work a room, shake hands, kiss babies, and shoot the bull with just about anyone, all without actually uttering a truly sincere word. Sort of like a really sharp used-car salesman. Or a snake-oil salesman.

And, for the life of her, she hadn’t a clue what her mother saw in him.

The woman who’d raised her would never have fallen for that kind of skin-deep magnetism. She could spot a phony a mile away. Ten miles. In fact, it was partly her ability to read a person within five seconds of meeting them that had made her such a successful and popular hostess. No one could seat a room as well as Charlene Matthews. It was a special skill but was largely responsible for the success of whatever event she was helping to sponsor. And you couldn’t do that if you didn’t have a knack for instantly knowing who and what you were dealing with.

But, Lauren thought, struggling mightily—oh so mightily—to scrape together at least a modicum of objectivity, perhaps there were hidden charms to be found that his more obvious character flaws hid from plain sight. She’d do best to sit back and watch her mother interact with him and see if perhaps it all explained itself.

But to do that, she had to get the party started. To that end, she mustered up the fake sincere smile that her years on the political party circuit had honed to perfection and turned to face him. “Hello,” she said, deciding to take the upper hand. It remained to be seen how long she held it. “I’m Lauren.” She put her hand out to avoid any potential awkward attempt at hugging, as well as to establish that while she was going to be polite, she wasn’t going to be insincere and say she was happy to meet him. Best to be as up front as possible with the man, no matter what her mother might be hoping for.

“Arlen,” he said, thankfully dispensing with any formal or titular introductions.

Neither of which would have surprised her after reading a few of his speeches. In fact, when he stepped closer to take her offered hand, she duly noted the automatic “kissing babies stump speeching” smile she was certain came as easily to him as breathing, but was surprised to also notice that he appeared almost a little nervous. There was a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead even though the temperature in the room was quite moderate. Could he really be so worried about whether or not his wife’s new daughter gave them her blessing? From what she’d gleaned about the man, that wouldn’t likely be the case. So…why the telltale flopsweat?

“It’s a true pleasure to finally be making your acquaintance,” he said, still sounding like he was stumping for votes. Some politicians were like that, she’d learned, adopting a fixed-smile social persona that they became so entrenched in, they found themselves unable to flip the switch to truly sincere when the moment—and the company—dictated it. Like, you know…with family.

Others, like Senator Fordham, were comfortable and easily and sincerely themselves in any circumstance, private and social. A shame Arlen didn’t fall into her former boss’s category. But then, if he had, she’d have understood more why her mother had fallen for the man and they wouldn’t be having this awkward dinner meeting in the first place.

“Please, have a seat,” he added, all fixed smile and perfect, dentist-enhanced teeth. And…nervous. Up close it was even more obvious. “I hope you don’t mind the private room; I thought you and your mother would appreciate the privacy. I—”

“We do,” she said, feeling oddly compelled to put him at ease. It threw her off a little, his slight lack of composure. She’d been certain he would ooze the same rather smarmy charm she’d noted in the few taped speeches she’d been able to scrounge up during her search. And the smarmy charm was definitely there on the surface; his plastered-on enthusiasm hadn’t changed a flicker since she’d entered the room, but the underlying nerves didn’t seem to match up right.

She wanted to believe it was just about a man wanting to please his new wife. But he hadn’t so much as glanced at her since Lauren had entered the room, much less shown any kind of united front by standing next to her. Which left the other, less flattering, but far more plausible option, given what she knew. That his nerves stemmed from him wanting to make a good impression on her for personal reasons. In her case, she could only surmise that would be because of her connections to the power players in Washington. Though what good he thought that would do him as mayor of a small Colorado mountain town, she had no idea.

“Why don’t we all have a seat.” Her mother, ever the hostess, directed them to the table with a smile. “The wine steward should be here with our request momentarily. I hope you don’t mind, Lauren, dear, but we ordered a lovely bottle of pinot noir, grown locally, in fact. We’ll be more than happy to get something else—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lauren said, allowing the mayor to pull her seat back for her before he rounded the table and did the same for his wife. She sat catty-corner to her mother and directly across from the mayor. She watched them, curious to see any byplay between them, anything to help her understand the magnetism that supposedly existed. But there were no little touches, no private glances, no silent communication. In fact, they seemed to just be going through the motions, not exactly strained, but each of them definitely seemed lost in their own thoughts. “I, uh, didn’t know they grew grapes at this altitude.”

“Well, it’s not Napa Valley,” Arlen responded jovially, “but we’re pretty proud of what our great state produces.”

“You’re originally from California, right?”

“Yes,” Arlen said, and seemed quite enthusiastic about being given the chance to endorse that little tidbit about himself. “San Francisco.”

Lauren kept her own “circuit smile” on steady display. “Then I suppose you’d probably know a little something about those Napa wines, so I’m impressed you think so highly of the local wines here. I’m looking forward to trying it.”

“I assure you, you won’t be disappointed.”

Small talk momentarily exhausted, when the silence went on for a beat too long, Lauren’s mother reached for her menu, prompting them to do the same.

It was cowardly, she knew, to hide behind the oversized, faux-leather folder, but it gave her a much-needed moment to regroup and reorganize her thoughts without Arlen staring her down. Well, maybe stare was too excessive a description, but he’d kept his focus fairly intently on her since she’d entered the room. Even when he’d seated her mother, his attention had been on Lauren. It wasn’t exactly creepy or anything, but it wasn’t comfortable, either.

Lauren surreptitiously took peeks at both her mother and Arlen as they perused their menus. For all she knew, they ate here all the time and knew the course offerings by heart. But they both seemed pretty intent on examining every entrée. And not once, that she had noticed anyway, had they so much as glanced at one another.

Could it be, Lauren wondered, that perhaps her mother had already come to the same realization that her East Coast friends and Lauren had come to about five seconds after she’d announced her elopement? If so, Lauren would be profoundly relieved and grateful to have the mother she knew and loved back to her normal sane, rational self. But she also was well aware that Charlene was a proud woman who’d been raised to do well in anything she attempted—a goal she’d pretty much always succeeded in achieving—so would likely be embarrassed by this rather public and personal failing. Lauren vowed right then she would approach the subject delicately and with compassion.

She glanced at her mother, wishing again that she could have spent some time with her alone first, rather than this somewhat stilted, best-behavior, social call. The private room was nice, but only went so far. She couldn’t ask her mother the things she was most dying to know, which was how in the worldwide hell, with all the distinguished and lovely gentlemen who had orbited her very active social circles since Lauren’s father had passed away—and there had been no small number who would have given anything for even a personal smile from Charlene Matthews—had she ever, even in a weak moment, chosen this one?

Okay, maybe she needed to work on the delicate part of her approach. But even if her mother had realized her impulsive union was a mistake, Lauren was still curious why she’d been compelled to be so impulsive in the first place.