Charity Jones loved a good disaster movie as much as the
next person—she would simply prefer the disaster in
question not be about her life.

The sharp crack of an electrical short, followed by a
burning smell, filled the conference room on the third
floor of City Hall. A thin wisp of smoke rose from her
laptop, pretty much ending any hope of her Powerpoint
presentation going smoothly. The presentation she’d stayed
up nearly all night perfecting.

It was her first day on the job, she thought,
breathing deeply to ward off panic. The first official hour
of her first official day. Didn’t she get at least a
sixteenth of a break? Some small sign of mercy from the
universe?

Apparently not.

She glanced from her still smoldering computer to the
ten member board from California University, Fool’s Gold
campus, and they did not look happy. Part of the reason was
they’d been working with the previous city planner for
nearly a year and still hadn’t come up with a contract for
the new research facility. A contract she was now
responsible for bringing to life. She would guess the
unpleasant burny smell was the other reason they were
shifting in their seats.

“Perhaps we should reschedule the meeting,” the head
guy said. He was tall, with graying hair and glasses. Mr.
Berman. “When you’re more...” He motioned to the smoldering
computer. “Prepared.”

Charity smiled warmly when what she really wanted to
do was throw something. She was prepared. She’d been on the
job all of—she glanced at the clock on the wall—eight
minutes, but she’d been prepping since she accepted the
position as city planner nearly two weeks ago. She
understood what the university wanted and what the town had
to offer. She might be new, but she was still damned good
at her job.

Her boss, the mayor, had warned her about this group
and had offered to put off the meeting, but Charity had
wanted to prove herself. Something she refused to let be a
mistake.

“We’re all here,” she said, still smiling as
confidently as possible. “We can do this the old fashioned
way.”

She unplugged her computer and took it out into the
hall where it would no doubt stink up the rest of the
building, but her first priority had to be the meeting. She
was determined to start her new job with a win and that
meant getting California University at Fool’s Gold to sign
on the bottom line.

When she stepped back into the conference room, she
walked over to the dry erase board and picked up a thick
blue pen from the small rack attached to the board.

“The way I see it,” she began, writing the number one
and circling it, “There are three sticking points. First,
the length of the lease.” She wrote a number two, “Second,
the reversion of improvements on the land. Namely the
building itself. And three, the freeway off-ramp signal.”
She turned back to the ten well-dressed people watching
her. “Do you agree?”

They all looked to Mr. Berman, who nodded slowly.

“Good.” Charity had reviewed all the notes on the
previous meetings and talked to the mayor of Fool’s Gold
over the weekend. What Charity couldn’t figure out was why
the negotiating process was taking so long. Apparently the
previous city planner had wanted to be right more than he
wanted the research facility in town. But Mayor Marsha
Tilson had been very clear when she’d offered Charity the
job—bring businesses to Fool’s Gold and fast.

“Here’s what I’m prepared to offer,” she said, making
a second column. She went through all three problems and
listed solutions, including an extra five seconds of left
turn time on the signal at the top of the off-ramp.

The board members listened and when she was done,
they once again looked at Mr. Berman.

“That does sound good,” he began.

Sound good? It was better than good. It was a once-in-
a-lifetime deal. It was everything the university had asked
for. It was zero calorie brownie with ice cream.

“There’s still one problem,” Mr. Berman said.

“Which is?” she asked.

“Four acres on the county line.” The voice came from
the doorway.

Charity turned and saw a man entering the conference
room. He was tall and blond, good-looking to the point of
being almost another species, and he moved with an easy
athletic grace that made her feel instantly awkward. While
he looked vaguely familiar, she was sure they’d never met
before.

He gave her a quick smile. The flash of teeth, the
millisecond of attention, nearly knocked her into the wall.
Who was that guy?

“Bernie,” the stranger said, turning the mega-watt
grin on the group leader. “I heard you were in town. You
didn’t call me for dinner.”

Mr. Berman actually looked interested. “I thought
you’d be busy with your latest conquest.”

Blond guy shrugged modestly. “I always have time for
anyone from the university. Sharon. Martin.” He greeted
everyone else at the table, shook a few hands, winked at
the old lady at the end, then turned back to Charity.

“Sorry to interrupt. You come highly recommended and
under normal circumstances could deal with this problem
without breaking a sweat. But there’s something you don’t
know. The reason we don’t have a deal isn’t the lease
reversion or the traffic light.” He moved close and took
the pen from her hand. “It’s the four acres the university
has been offered by a very wealthy alumni family. They want
their name on the building and they’re willing to pay for
that privilege.”

He flashed another smile at Charity, then turned back
to the Board. “I’m going to explain why that’s a bad idea.”

And then he started talking. She had no idea who he
was and probably should have told him to get out, but she
couldn’t seem to move or speak. It was as if he projected
some space alien force field that kept her immobilized.

Maybe it was his eyes, she thought, gazing into the
hazel green depths. Or his sun-bleached lashes. It might
have been the way he moved or the heat she felt every time
he walked by her. Or maybe she’d simply inhaled some weird
gas when her computer had sparked, flamed out and died.

While she enjoyed a boy-girl encounter as much as the
next woman, she’d never been mesmerized by a man before.
Certainly not during a professional meeting that she was
supposed to be running.

She knew the type, though. Had seen the power of the
havoc they brought with them everywhere they went. Self-
preservation stated she should stay far, far away. And she
would...just as soon as the meeting was over.