Merry and Bright(53)

Beyond that, they were polar opposites, she with her love of order and rules, he with his utter disdain of both. And yet somehow they’d made an incredible pair, and during their two years of mutual city planning, they’d improved the quality of life in Blue Eagle and its growth rate more than any other team in the city’s history. It was something to be proud of, and he was.

But he’d moved into the council now, and they no longer worked side by side. In fact, she worked for him, a phenomenon he was quite certain drove her crazy.

And made him grin some more.

He pulled back into the parking lot and looked at Town Hall. The building had been built in 1890 and was, in fact, an historical monument. It had once been an icehouse, a storage unit in the days before refrigeration. Truckloads of ice had been shipped from here to San Francisco on demand. It’d been renovated three times since, and now white lights were strung across the front, anchored by groups of holly and pine branches, backlit by the bulbs. In front, on either side of the walkway, were small Christmas trees, decorated earlier in the week by the local elementary school children.

At the sight, some of Matt’s spirit picked back up. So he was in a tux. So he’d have to drink champagne instead of beer. So he was going to miss time with his brother watching the game. Things were pretty darn good for him, and he was thankful. He’d go inside, smile and make merry, and maybe even figure out who was wreaking all the havoc for the town staff members. Not that Matt condoned the ex-mayor’s crime of seducing minors, but whoever had exposed Tom, as well as lodged the accusations against the two councilmen, had done so publicly for a reason.

Someone was having a grand old time screwing with the town council.

Turning off his engine, he reached for the required mask. It was black, with an elastic string to go around the back of his head so he wouldn’t have to hold it up to his face all night. Putting it on, he stepped out of the car and into the falling snow. Inside, the decorations were overly festive, bordering on gaudy, but that might have been due more to the badly played rendition of “Jingle Bells” coming from the high school band.

The room was already filled with staffers dressed to the hilt in their Christmas finery, all wearing masks, some elaborate, some looking like Tonto.

Mostly guys looking like Tonto.

Matt thought he saw Ed and Adam from his old team in planning. Couldn’t miss Ed’s carrottop or Adam’s double-fisted drink habit. Plus they both waved, so he waved back, and grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Matty,” murmured a soft feminine voice from behind him. Turning, he came face-to-face with a woman in a tiny, sparkly silver dress and mask. Hannah Pelinski. He’d dated her once and had been put off by her relentless pursuit of a diamond ring. He smiled at her but tried to keep moving, only she started dancing right in front of him, blocking his way.

“Join me,” she coaxed, making sure her breast brushed his chest.

“I’m sorry, Hannah. I have to . . .” Do anything rather than see the desperation in your eyes. “Go upstairs for a sec.”

“Well, find me when you come back down.”

He smiled rather than lie, and as quickly as he could, moved across the large room, past the elevators, to the stairwell, which was dark. Having worked in this building for so long, he could find his office blindfolded, so he didn’t flip on any lights as he made his escape. On the second-floor landing, he turned left.

Halfway down the hall, he heard a soft thud. So he wasn’t the only lurker tonight. He caught a flash up ahead, coming from the conference room, where there was a long wall of file cabinets, filled with years and years of information on everything from town council meetings to amendments to the city plan. Matt had no idea what, or if anything, someone would want from those files after hours, but as things had gotten crazy lately, he intended to find out.

He peeked into the dark room, smelling the pine of the small Christmas tree in the corner. The windows let in a glow from the string of lights on the outside eaves. He could make out the outline of a woman, sitting in the window well on the far side of the room. Knees up, her arms around them, she stared out into the night. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, tendrils escaping along her neck. Her shoulders and arms were bared by her dress.

She didn’t have on a mask, but even if she had, he’d have known it was Cami by the set of her narrow shoulders, as if they carried the weight of the world on them.

His little snooper had left a few file drawers open, some files sticking up. He was dying to know what had drawn her, what she was looking for, but felt even more curious about what was making her look so . . . sad.

She didn’t look at him as he stepped into the room. “You’re late,” she said softly.

Was he? He glanced down at his watch. A quarter to eight. No, he wasn’t late at all.

Which meant she was talking to someone else.

“Oh, Ned,” she whispered, and hugged her knees tighter. “I need to talk to you, too.”

Ned. Ned?

Still looking out the window, Cami stood. “I want to understand something.”

Her profile was tight, grim. Unhappy. And suddenly he wanted to see her happy, even lost in laughter. Better yet, lost in passion, with him. He wanted her in his arms, his name on her lips.

“You like me, right?” she whispered.

Apparently more than he’d thought. “Yes.”