When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)(2)

“So we’ve finished sizing each other up,” he said. “Now it’s time to move on to the next phase of the game.”

“There are phases?” Which was an actual question. No point in mentioning the game. She knew what they were doing. Still, it was entertaining to pretend she didn’t.

“Several.”

“Do you provide instructions or a scorecard?”

His cool gray eyes stayed focused on her face. “You don’t play that way.”

“Be careful with your assumptions.”

“I’m not assuming.”

He had an appealing voice. Low with a hint of... Not the Deep South, she thought. But there was a cadence. Virginia? West Virginia?

She put down her mug. “If I buy in to your assertion—which I’m not admitting I do.”

“Of course not.”

She ignored the words and the amusement tugging at his lips. “Where do you see this going?”

He leaned back in his chair. “This is a mating game, Taryn. Or didn’t you know?”

Ah, his first mistake. She kept her eyes locked with his and didn’t let her triumph show. “You want to marry me?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Not that kind of mating.”

“If you’re not precise, it’s difficult to be sure. So you want to sleep with me.”

“Yes, but it’s about more than that.”

She let her gaze drift down his chest, then moved to his arms. Despite the cool late-April temperatures, he wore a T-shirt and no jacket. She could see a tattoo of a rose, along with several scars on his arms. His hands were strong and equally battered.

She returned her attention to the scar on his neck and decided to ask the obvious. “What happened to the other guy?”

He touched the side of his throat, then shrugged. “He had a very bad day.”

Taryn lived in the world of business. She could talk finance and sales projections, but her real gift was designing public relationship campaigns that were innovative and successful. At Score the work was divided among the four partners. Kenny and Jack were the rainmakers. They found prospective clients and reeled them in. Sam handled the money. But Taryn was the creative engine that steered the ship.

She was used to executives, graphic artists, bankers and everything in between. In her sphere, she was a power player and no one crossed her. But Angel was from a different sphere altogether. His clout didn’t come from a boardroom or the right suit. He carried it in his body. It was part of who he was.

She knew a few odds and ends about him. People she respected and trusted liked him. But the details? They were still a mystery. One she would like to solve.

“What makes you think I’m the least bit interested?” she asked.

“You’re still here.”

A good point. She didn’t want another executive—he would be too much like her. As for sports heroes, she worked with three and they exhausted her. Angel was different. Right now different sounded like exactly what she needed.

“Effort will be required,” she told him.

“Ditto.”

She laughed at the unexpected statement.

“You didn’t think I’d be easy, did you?” he asked.

“Apparently not.”

He stood. “Don’t worry. I’m good at planning the right op for the right mission and then seeing it through.” He crossed to the door, then turned back to her. “And I’m good at waiting.”

He walked out, leaving her with her rapidly cooling coffee and an article on consumer confidence that had just gotten a whole lot less interesting than her encounter with an intriguing man named Angel.

* * *

SMUG FELT GOOD, Angel thought as he crossed the street and headed for City Hall. He’d been waiting for the right moment to talk to Taryn, and when he’d seen her having coffee by herself, he’d decided to act. She was as intriguing as he’d hoped—intelligent, confident and sexy as hell. A combination he would have trouble resisting under the best of circumstances. But in this town, with her always around... He’d wanted to make his move the first day.

Waiting had been better, he told himself as he jogged up the stairs to the front of the government building. Now he could put his plan into action. The one that led them down a road of temptation, with an ultimate objective that should satisfy them both.

He took more stairs to the second floor and followed the signs to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Marsha Tilson was California’s longest-serving mayor. She served the town well and seemed to know everyone’s secrets. Angel had yet to figure out where she got her information, but from what he’d seen, she had a network that would put most governments to shame.

He entered her office exactly fifteen seconds before the time of his appointment.

Her assistant, an older woman in a black blazer, looked up at him with red and puffy eyes. Angel immediately sensed bubbling emotion and glanced around the room to discover all available exits.

The woman, a full-figured brunette, sniffed. “You must be Mr. Whittaker. Go right in. She’s expecting you.”

Angel did as instructed, hoping to find a calmer atmosphere in the mayor’s office. His cautious optimism was rewarded. Mayor Marsha looked as she always did—perfectly put together. She wore a light green suit and pearls and had her white hair neatly swirled up in a bun. She smiled and stood when she saw him.