At Her Beck and Call

The brothers loped toward them. Autumn was annoyed to realize that watching Mike approach had her holding her breath.

“Well, hello,” Mike said. He seemed surprised to see her there. “This is Autumn Beshkin, Mark. She’s taking over for—” He turned to his brother, who was busy staring at Jasmine.

“Missed you,” Mark whispered.

“Me, too,” Jasmine said, looking at him as though she wanted to swallow him whole. They’d seen each other the night before. How could they miss each other?

“Give her the books,” Mike muttered, elbowing his brother in a way that showed he was annoyed, too.

“Books? Yeah, sure.” Mark extended his armload. “Here’s the town history, some Web sites and stuff on old mining towns.”

“Thank you, Mark. So much.” You’d think he’d given her an orgasm.

“That’s a lot of reading,” Autumn observed.

“I want my costumes to be authentic.”

“Don’t you have to get up there?” Mike said to his brother, nodding toward the stage.

“Yeah,” Mark said, his eyes glued to Jasmine.

“The director’s heading over here,” Autumn said, rolling her eyes. She caught Mike doing the same. She hoped it was because of how silly these two were behaving and not because he disapproved of Jasmine.

“There you are, Mark!” Sheila chirped. “We need you on stage. If we can pry you away from our costume designer here.” She smiled indulgently at them both. Already Sheila knew about the affair. So much for discretion.

Sheila turned to Mike. “What brings you here, Mayor? Are you interested in a part, too? I think we could fit you in if—”

“No, no. Please. Just want to be sure you have what you need, Sheila, for the production.”

“So far, so good. I’m thrilled to have a real costumer. I’m still pinching myself. Plus the president of the Chamber of Commerce as our star? I’m simply stunned by my good fortune. Simply stunned.”

“We all are stunned.” Mike shot his brother a look. “Considering how busy the guy is with his real estate business and his town committees.”

“Oh, he’s very, very busy, all right.” Sheila winked and she clearly meant an entirely different kind of busy.

Mike frowned. “So the budget is fine?” he asked Sheila, obviously to change the subject.

“You have enough money for the fabrics, Jasmine?” Sheila asked.

There was a pause while Jasmine seemed to descend from her pink cloud. “Hmm? Oh, uh, yes. I’ll have sketches soon. This is my friend, Autumn Beshkin, Sheila.”

“So pleased to meet you,” Sheila said, shaking Autumn’s hand with both of hers. “We’re so grateful to have your talented friend with us. Aren’t we lucky she had time to do our pageant?” She turned to the brothers.

“Very lucky,” Mark said, looking moonstruck.

Good freakin’ Lord. Autumn caught Mike’s look. He seemed to feel the same as she did.

“So, shall we get started? Hmm?” Sheila sang, holding out her arms to shoo Jasmine and Mark before her like baby chicks.

“Let me know if you need anything else, Sheila,” Mike said.

“Count on it,” Sheila said, the airy music gone from her voice. Beneath the sugary gratitude was a woman who would kick ass when necessary. That made Autumn smile.

Mike turned to her. “Like I said, this festival’s big—one-five-oh. Sesquicentennial, though everyone says ‘Huh?’ when you use that word. Big budget, fancy pageant and a full festival.”

“And you’re in charge?”

“That’s what they tell me.” He spoke as though it was a burden, but she could tell he wouldn’t have it any other way.

She understood. Nevada and Jasmine sometimes accused her of running the revue when she filled in the gaps. Her official job was promotion and scheduling, but she did what needed to be done. “I’m here to help however you need me.”

“Yeah.” In the cool dimness of the auditorium, he gave her that look again. Saw right into her. She’d never felt that before with a man and it startled her. For a second, she seemed to be floating in a pale version of Jasmine’s pink cloud. Weird.

Mike seemed to jolt back to normal himself. “So, have you eaten?”

“Not yet, no.”

“How about I treat you to dinner? We can go to Louie’s if you like Italian. Yolanda’s Cocina, the diner down the street, has Mexican food. Got a write-up in Tucson Weekly, mostly for the kitschy artwork.”

“The diner sounds good,” she said, ignoring the steady buzz of attraction in her head. This was not a good idea.

She needed to eat, didn’t she? And the better she knew the mayor, the easier it would be to give him what he wanted at work, right? She could ferret out job details. Sure.

And enjoy his wry smile, intense eyes and nice smell….

Lord, she was acting just like Jasmine.

3

THE MINUTE THEY stepped into the funky diner, Autumn felt at home. She loved the campy velvet paintings on the wall and the shelves overflowing with Mexican handicrafts—brightly painted skulls, Día de los Muertos tableau and statues of La Virgen. She even liked the mariachi music blasting loud enough to rattle her fillings.

A gray-haired woman wearing an apron headed their way, then stopped to yell over her shoulder. “God-dammit, Rosalva, we’re going deaf.”

Smiling at them, she spoke in a normal tone. “Sit toward the back, Mike, would you? Esther’s still swole up from that abscess, so I’m running my stumps off.”

“Sure thing, Suze.” Mike led Autumn down the aisle, greeting everyone he passed, asking questions and answering the ones he was asked. He introduced Autumn as Lydia’s fill-in. Autumn felt curious looks follow them to the back booth.

“Tongues are wagging now,” Mike said, shaking his head.

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re gorgeous and I’m not married.”

“These people need to get lives.”

But he looked suddenly serious. “Listen, Autumn, if I made you uncomfortable today in any way, I apologize.” Color shot up his neck and he looked utterly shame-faced.

“You didn’t,” she said, not ready to point out the fact that she’d taken advantage of his weakness.