Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy's Temptation

“Again, my advice is to keep your pretty eyes, your pretty ears—” he drew slightly back to make a show of checking out the length of her body “—and your pretty little body off the railway tracks.”

“How drunk are you?” she asked, wondering if there was any reason to continue the conversation.

He grinned unrepentantly. “Why?”

“Because you’re not behaving much like a mayor.”

“My mistake.”

He removed his Stetson, raking his fingers through his hair to give it some semblance of order. He squared his shoulders and neutralized the cocky grin. “Better?”

“Your draft plan calls for twelve uncontrolled railway crossings in the greater Lyndon City area.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“That’s twelve new chances for Lyndon City citizens to die.”

“You don’t think they’ll notice the one-hundred-thirty-decibel whistle and get out of the way?”

Darby was not going to be deterred. “That adds up to twelve blasts, per train, of up to one hundred fifty decibels, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

His grin crept back. “You did the math.”

“I did the math. And you need to take this seriously.”

“Mountain Railway is pouring tens of millions of dollars into the region. Believe me when I tell you I take that kind of money very seriously.”

She polished off the last of her drink. “Money’s not everything.”

“The railway benefits the ranchers and other businesses, such as DFB Brewery, and it brings new economic opportunities to the entire region,” he countered, not seeming remotely intoxicated now.

Darby did some other math inside her head. Perhaps three vodka tonics into the evening wasn’t the best time to get into this debate.

But Seth wasn’t finished. “Ranchers and trains have been coexisting in this country for well over two hundred years.”

“There are more than just ranchers living in Lyndon Valley.”

He smiled again, knowingly this time. “And there we have it. The crux of your opposition. You think the ambiance at your ladies’ retreat should take precedence over the economic well-being of the Lyndon City ranching community.”

“My ladies’ retreat?” Darby felt her cheeks heat with indignation on behalf of her clientele. “Do you think we’re up there quilting and swapping cookie recipes?”

“What are you doing up there?”

What they were doing up there was none of his business, and she had no intention of sharing it with him. It wasn’t exactly a state secret, but there were definitely elements of national security.

“Fair warning, Mayor Jacobs. I’m going to formally request you hold a referendum on whether or not to allow a railway line through Lyndon Valley,” she told him instead.

His smirk telegraphed to her he’d noted the evasion. “I don’t need a referendum. The new railway line was the centerpiece of my campaign.”

“That’s why I voted for Hal Jameson.”

Seth gave an unconcerned shrug. “Yet, I won.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to be a tyrant.”

“They voted with me on the issue, Darby. You’re in the minority. That’s how democracy works.”

She leaned a little closer to him. “Democracy also gives me the right to free speech.”

He searched her expression for a full minute. Was he impressed, annoyed, refocusing and coming at it from a new angle? She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made her point.

“You really do have incredible eyes,” he said.

The unexpected statement caused a little lurch of attraction inside her chest, but she quickly shoved it to the far reaches of her being. “Behave yourself, Mayor Jacobs.”

“Free speech, Ms. Carroll. It works both ways.”

“Are you telling me your mayor’s code of conduct allows you to flirt with the citizens?”

“I’m not on the job right now. I’m attending a party.”

She had to concede that point to him. “Then we should stop talking business.”

She hated to admit it, but maybe this hadn’t been the greatest idea.

“You started it. I wanted to flirt all along.”

She held her ground. “I’ll never flirt back.”

“Too bad for me.”

“Mayor,” she warned, not liking his apparent knack for flirting, nor how susceptible she appeared to be to it. “I’m your opposition.”

“On a single issue.”

“It’s do or die for me.”

“It’s do or die for me, too.” He gave a regretful shake of his head. “But you still have astonishing eyes.”

She ignored his attempt at distraction and refused to be swayed. At the same time, she used a warning tone. “That’s not the only thing I have.”

* * *

Darby had a Ph.D. in psychology, a black belt in karate and five years’ experience in the military. Normally, she was prepared for any challenge, but she’d never run up against politics before. And she’d never run up against anyone like Seth Jacobs.

Just by walking into a room, he seemed to garner respect in Lyndon City. People spoke about him with awe, and she’d yet to meet anyone willing to fight him head-on. He was a unique and formidable opponent, and he was standing between her and her dream.

Arriving at her home, Sierra Hotel, she left her SUV in the front driveway and made her way into the entry lounge. A new group of guests was expected late next week, but for now, she and her small staff had the lakefront retreat to themselves.

“How’d it go?” asked Marta Laurent. Marta had been her first friend in Lyndon Valley, and she was now assistant manager at Sierra Hotel. Marta muted a news story on the wide-screen television. “Did you get a chance to talk to him?”

Darby dropped her small backpack on the end of a sofa and plunked herself down. “I did. But I don’t think he’s taking me seriously. Hey, have you noticed anything weird about my eyes?”

“There’s nothing wrong with your eyes. What did he say?”

“He said the Lyndon City constituents put him into office knowing he was in favor of the railway, so he doesn’t need a referendum now.”

“He’s not wrong about that,” Marta conceded with her usual logic.

“I know,” Darby had to agree. “He’s wrong to support the railway. But he’s not wrong to say people knew about it when they elected him.”

“Did you check? Is there any way to force him to hold a referendum?”

“The only way to do it is to get six hundred signatures on a petition by next Monday.”

“That’s not impossible,” Marta mused, sitting up straighter. “I know a lot of people. We can canvass the city, mount a public-information campaign, put clipboards at sympathetic businesses.”

“Fight politics with politics?” Darby couldn’t help but let her optimism rise.

She’d do anything to protect Sierra Hotel. She loved this place, and she knew it provided a vital service to women.

On the shores of Berlynn Lake, it was in a perfect retreat location for women who worked in high-intensity, male-dominated security, defense and law-enforcement jobs. Here, they could recharge and rejuvenate around others who understood the pressures of their careers. One of the things they needed to get away from was sudden, loud noises.

As a military psychologist, she’d been frustrated by the narrow range of support options she could provide to female soldiers in combat. They didn’t want to engage in the typical R & R activities that their male counterparts used to blow off steam. The women needed camaraderie, a safe place to let their hair down and interact with peers. And so, Sierra Hotel was born.

Darby had put everything she had into building it, including taking out a rather sizeable mortgage on the land, resulting in payments that she was only just able to maintain. Luckily, word was spreading, and her client base was growing.