All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)(12)

“No, but it’s how my day has been going. I met with the city council this morning. I told them all about my Haycation idea.”

“They must have been happy. It’s going to bring in money. Every town wants more of that.”

“The mayor seemed interested. Some of the others were more intrigued by the idea of me being in an advertising campaign for the town. Starring my ass.”

Charlie winced. “That sounds like Gladys.”

“Are she and Wilma sisters?”

“No, but they share some personality traits. Sorry.”

“Not your fault. I expected this to happen in New York. Given what I do, it was inevitable. I thought it would be different here.”

Charlie studied him. “I guess I’m like everyone else. I would have assumed your life is perfect.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened. “Right. Shut up, cash the check and be grateful. I’ve heard that before.” He leaned back in the booth. “Whatever. I can do the calendar.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m trying to fit in. I want to be a part of what’s going on in town. Get accepted into the volunteer program. Saying no isn’t going to help.”

“I agree, but the ultimate end is to have a successful fund-raiser. It’s not to make you uncomfortable. Don’t you have model friends? Couldn’t you get a couple of them to be in the calendar?”

He stared at her. She had to admit that all that intensity was a little unnerving. That stomach-clenching thing returned and with it the smallest hint of pressure between her thighs.

She shifted on her seat.

Uncomfortable with the silence and her physical reaction to Clay, she found herself entering dangerous territory. That of speaking without thinking.

“The thing is,” she told him, “if you want people to take you seriously, you have to take yourself seriously first. Agreeing to do the calendar yourself reinforces the stereotype. You’re more than what they think you are. It’s a cliché but you’re going to have to work harder to prove yourself. It’s a very strange kind of discrimination.”

One she’d seen with her mother. People reacted to Dominique first because of how she looked and later because of who she was. Charlie had also seen the dark side of being judged on physical appearance. Most strangers staring at her with a “Really? You’re her daughter?” look in their eyes.

Clay leaned back in the booth and swore softly. “You’re right.”

She blinked. “I am?”

“Yes. About all of it. I’ve had a manager taking care of the crap in my life for the past ten years. I’ve gotten lazy about taking responsibility for what I’m doing. Thank you for being honest.”

“It’s what I do best. Say what’s on my mind. Give me thirty years and I’ll turn into Wilma.”

He gave her a slow, sexy smile. One that nearly turned her tummy upside down. “There are worse fates.”

She grabbed her drink and gulped down some soda.

He leaned toward her again. “I’m going to call some guys I know about the calendar. I don’t know how to fix things with the city council, but I can solve that problem, too.”

“You might wait a little on the town issue. Mayor Marsha has a way of smoothing things out. I’m sure she’s pleased by your Haycation idea.”

He was staring at her again. As they hadn’t eaten yet, she was fairly confident she didn’t have anything in her teeth.

“What?” she asked after a couple of seconds.

“I just keep thinking that somebody I knew would have liked you.” His expression turned serious. Almost sad.

Charlie felt the stomach clench again, but this time for a totally different reason. “Your girlfriend?” The one he’d left behind in New York and missed desperately?

“My late wife.”

“You were married?”

The words burst out before she could stop them.

“Not a tabloid reader, huh?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so shocked. You just don’t seem like the marrying kind.”

She groaned and slapped her hand across her mouth.

He stretched out his arm and pulled her hand away. “It’s okay. You can say what you think. I won’t be offended.”

Wilma appeared with lunch. Charlie grabbed a French fry, thinking that maybe her blurting problem was because of low blood sugar. Perhaps in addition to food, the best solution would be not talking so much.

“Tell me about her,” she said, then reached for the first half of her wrap.

He picked up a French fry, then put it down. She could practically see the tension leaving his body as he relaxed. Something she wanted to call contentment softened the sadness in his eyes.

“She was brilliant and funny,” he began. “A photographer.” The smile returned. “She hated models, especially male models. She used to say we were all vapid and useless.” His smile broadened. “We met at a party and she was not into me.”

Charlie chewed and swallowed. “I would have liked her.”

He chuckled. “She would have liked you. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I was twenty...she was thirty-four and when I asked her out, she laughed for a good two minutes straight. I got her number through a friend of mine and wouldn’t stop calling. She finally agreed to meet me for coffee, but only so she could tell me all the reasons it would never work.”