An Intimate Bargain

He fought what seemed like a natural urge to fold her hand into his. “You don’t make things easy on a guy,” he grumbled instead.

“You seem pretty good at this,” she responded, glancing up. “You sure you’re not a real criminal?”

“I’m a businessman.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized they made him sound like a character from The Godfather. “A legitimate one,” he added. But that wasn’t much better. “I don’t have so much as a parking ticket,” he finished, hoping he hadn’t scared her off.

“What kind of—” But then she determinedly shook her head. “Nope. I don’t want to know what you do.”

The wind had picked up, lifting the loose strands of her hair. He resisted an urge to reach out and smooth them back. “Can we at least trade first names?”

She hesitated, a look of consternation crossing her face. Then, just as quickly, she grinned. “Call me Doll-Face.”

He paused as they reached the curb, half turning to offer a handshake. “Call me Lucky.”

She glanced at his hand briefly, then reached out to wrap her delicate fingers over his rough skin. “Hello, Lucky.” Her sweet voice seemed to touch a place deep inside him and settled there.

He let their handshake lengthen, having absolutely no desire to let her go.

Abigail Jacobs didn’t usually flirt. She rarely had the inclination and, lately, she certainly hadn’t had the time. But tonight was different. Her life was about to take a dramatic U-turn, and she didn’t want to face the change just yet. Joking with Lucky was keeping the future at bay.

After tonight, she’d no longer be Abigail Jacobs, sister and campaign manager to mayoral candidate Seth Jacobs. She wouldn’t be running the campaign office, picking up the phone to call business owners and reporters. She wouldn’t polish speeches, organize events, manage budgets and head off crises. Tomorrow morning she’d pack away her dressy clothes, turn in her office keys, give up the leased Audi and leave Lyndon City in a dusty, ranch pickup truck.

Growing up, she’d loved her ranch life, the freedom, the fresh air and open spaces. But somewhere along the way, the city had sunk its hooks in her, making her wish for things she couldn’t have. With her sister Mandy recently engaged to their former neighbor Caleb Terrell, and similarly, her other sister Katrina engaged to Caleb’s brother, Reed, her father and mother in Houston working on his stroke recovery and her brother Seth now the mayor of Lyndon, she couldn’t abandon her other brother, Travis, to manage the ranch alone.

Like it or not, the ball was ending, and tomorrow morning Cinderella was going back to the dust and manure of the real world.

“Hungry?” asked Lucky beside her, his coffee-colored eyes warm in the glow of the streetlights.

“Sure.” It had been quite a while since Abigail had eaten. In a rush this morning, she’d skipped breakfast, and she’d been too nervous to eat all day. When the polls finally closed at dinnertime, the entire team had waited with bated breath for the vote count.

Of course, there’d been food at tonight’s victory party, but there she’d been too busy fielding congratulations and questions about her future plans to eat anything. She’d told everyone she was looking forward to going home to the family ranch. After about the hundredth lie, she’d made her escape to the hotel sports bar.

“Steak?” Lucky asked with a nod toward the glowing red sign for Calbert’s.

She shook her head. “Too many people I’ll know in there.”

“Thai?” he suggested, zeroing in on a smaller, lower-key restaurant a few doors down.

“How about a burger from the drive-through?”

Bert’s Burgers, half a block down in the other direction, catered mostly to a teenage crowd. Much as they’d tried to get out the youth vote, Abigail doubted anyone under the age of twenty-one would recognize her.

“We don’t have a car,” Lucky pointed out.

“We can walk to the drive-through and take the burgers down to the lake.”

He arched a skeptical brow. “You sure?”

She nodded.

There were some picnic tables on the lawn by the beach. The election party fireworks finale was planned for later on the waterfront. But it would take place on the wharf at the opposite end of the bay. This time of night, their only company in the picnic area would be the mallard ducks that slept in the marsh.

“Not much of a date,” he noted as they took advantage of a break in traffic to cross in the middle of the block.

She couldn’t help smiling at that. “This is a date?”

“Not in my book.”

“So why are you worrying about the aesthetics?”

They stepped up on the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

“Because you’re wearing a two-thousand-dollar dress, and I’m buying you a burger and fries.”

“Who says you’re buying?”

“I’m from Texas.”

She smacked her hands dramatically over her ears, signaling her unwillingness to learn where he was from. “La, la, la, la—”

He playfully pulled one of them away. “You can already tell that by my accent.”

“Just because you grew up in Texas doesn’t mean you live there now.”

“I do.”

“Quit breaking the rules,” she warned him.

“There are rules?”

“Yes, there are rules. We agreed.”

“Well, the rule in Texas is that a gentleman always buys a lady’s dinner.”

“This is Colorado.”

They came to a halt beside the drive-through window, and he peered up at the lighted menu board. “And this isn’t exactly dinner.”

A teenage girl in a navy-blue-and-white uniform, her hair pulled back in a ponytail revealing purple beaded earrings, slid the window open. “What’ll you have?”

“A mountain burger,” Abigail decided. “No onions, extra tomato and a chocolate shake.”

“Same for me,” said Lucky, extracting his wallet. “But I’ll take some fries with that.”

Abigail decided not to press the issue of payment. What point would she be making? That she was an independent woman? That this wasn’t a date? Date or not, she doubted a five-dollar dinner would make any man feel entitled to so much as a goodnight kiss.

Not that she’d necessarily mind kissing Lucky. She found herself stealing a glance at his profile while he handed the girl a twenty. He was an incredibly attractive man. As tall as her brothers, easily over six feet. He had gorgeous brown eyes, thick, dark hair, full lips, a straight nose, with a square chin that was slightly beard shadowed. He wasn’t cowboy. She’d call it urbane. With an edge. She liked that.

“Cherry turnover?” he asked, turning to catch her staring.