At Her Beck And Call
During the month in Copper Corners, Autumn hoped to help Jasmine ease back into reality—the way you gently guided a sleepwalker back to bed—before things went bad. She worried about Sabrina, who did not need another father figure to disappear as soon as the affair cooled. Which it likely would.
“You have time for dinner?” Autumn asked her.
“Dinner? Uh, well I—” Jasmine blushed “—I’m kind of waiting for Mark. He plays the town founder, Josiah Bremmer. It’s the lead. So he’s got to be here for the reading.”
“Oh. Sure.”
“You don’t mind,” Jasmine said. “Really?”
“I’ll grab something at the diner. I want to make it an early night anyway. Maybe I’ll study.” Now that she’d forced Mike to give her the job, the jitters had started up. Working for Copper Corners would not be as simple as tracking the receipts at the strip club for Duke. She would be accountable for the entire town’s finances. There were budgets to wrangle and Lydia’s complex software to figure out.
She didn’t dare screw up. She needed the mayor’s recommendation for her class and her résumé. Plus, she’d practically strong-armed him into hiring her. Her pride was at stake.
“How’s this going?” she asked Jasmine, nodding toward the lit stage, where people stood talking, scripts in hand. Two young guys banged away on a rickety-looking covered wagon, while two girls painted saguaro cactus onto a backdrop of a pink-and-orange desert sunset.
“They’re waiting for Mark to start.” Jasmine sighed like an obsessed fan.
“It looks fun.” Autumn loved the feel of the theater—the bright-white lights, the black-painted stage, the smells of wood and linen and paint and pancake makeup. She’d discovered the glory of it when she got a part in a high school musical, but that was an old story that had ended all wrong.
She felt similarly when she performed in the three-woman burlesque revue with Jasmine, who did their costumes, and Nevada Neru, their choreographer. The revue had opened last year to rave reviews and had drawn steady crowds all season. She loved the excitement, the magic, the rapt faces of the audience. When she performed she felt so alive.
She enjoyed the revue better than straight stripping, she’d concluded, because they were a team and their dances were more complex and told a story.
“There’s the director, Sheila,” Jasmine said, pointing to a blond woman who was gesturing dramatically as she talked to the actors on stage. “She wants to meet you.”
“You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“That you’re a stripper? No. I promised I wouldn’t.”
“Good. And no telling Mark, either.” Autumn had been off the night Mark saw the revue, so, if Jasmine kept her promise, Autumn could remain incognito while she was here.
“You’re safe,” Jasmine said in a stage whisper. “No one knows that inside the chest of an ordinary accountant beats the heart of a man-killing pole dancer.”
“And let’s keep it that way,” Autumn said.
“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Sheila thinks it’s great that I’m a stripper. She auditioned to be a Vegas showgirl, you know.”
“You give people too much credit, Jasmine. Strippers scare the hell out of women and turn men into slathering beasts.”
“What the hell is slather? Is it sweat or drool?”
“You’re ignoring my point.”
“Whatever. How does the mayor seem as a boss?” Jasmine asked, doing it again.
“It’s too soon to tell.” Heidi had described Mike as everybody’s big brother, and in just the few minutes it took Autumn to fill out payroll papers, she’d seen that. Mike had taken several calls that all ended in him offering some kind of help, then headed out to discuss a property dispute between two ranchers.
“I wonder what’s keeping Mark?” Jasmine looked up the burgundy-carpeted aisle toward the auditorium door, practically quivering in anticipation.
As if on cue, the door opened and two men entered—Mike and a guy who looked like a smaller version of him carrying an armload of books.
“There he is,” Jasmine breathed.
Autumn enjoyed what she could see of the night sky through the doorway before it shut. One nice thing about a tiny town—its few lights didn’t interfere with the darkness so the sky could show off all its stars, millions of tiny pin-pricks in the velvet vastness. The big sky almost made up for the small minds.
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.
“I’m not usually like that.”
“It’s okay. Really.” The man was apologizing for the one thing she completely understood—he was a male animal with a sex drive. There was nothing wrong with that at all.
In fact, her body was celebrating his masculinity this very instant. Her skin felt hot, her nerves jumpy and she crossed her legs against the swelling ache in her sex.
Not helpful at all. She was supposed to pick her boss’s brains, not jump his bones.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Mike handed her a laminated menu. “Look this over, but you’ll want the chiles rellenos, medium spice and a nopalitos-and-goat-cheese salad.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I just know.” He winked as though he’d figured her out right down to her taste in Mexican food. Attraction zipped between them, making the candle flicker. Or maybe that was how unnaturally hard she was breathing.
Settle down.
“How about because it’s the next best thing to our machaca burros, which we’re usually out of this time of night?” Suze said in a raspy voice, talking around a cigarette, which wagged as she talked.
“There’s that.” Mike grinned.
“We only offer the one salad,” she added. “It’s a good one but it’s all she wrote.”
“Guess that’s what I’ll have then,” Autumn said.
“Double it,” Mike said. “And two Tecates.” He looked at Autumn. “Goes great.”
“Is he right, Suze?” Autumn asked, getting into the down-home attitude.
Suze winked. “Comin’ right up.” She left and their gazes collided, then bounced away. Hers landed on the art on the wall behind him. It was a velvet painting of Elvis as a bullfighter, smart and ironic. She smiled. “I like the art in here.”
Mike turned to see what she was looking at. “We may only have two streetlights, but we know our velvet paintings.”
“Evidently. They’re all around.” She looked around the place. “You’ve possibly cornered the market.”
“We should put that on our Web site. Could bring us some art lovers.”
“You’re always thinking about your job, huh?”
“I’m the official town worrier.”
“Is there a lot to worry about?”
“Enough. We need business growth badly. Our bank is losing customers to the big chains. The grocery and hardware stores struggle. People tend to shop in Tucson. The idea is to give people reasons to spend their money in town, churn it back into our pockets.”
As he talked, he fiddled with his silverware and she couldn’t take her eyes off his round-tipped fingers. He shifted his weight on the bench, moving with an athlete’s restlessness. He was well-built, so what did he do for exercise?
Stop staring at the man.
“That’s easy enough to understand,” she said, focusing in.
“But people don’t think like that. They think about saving money or buying what they want, or getting a good selection.”
She nodded, conceding his point about human nature.
Suze arrived with their beers and Mike asked the woman about her son, who’d recently left town. She seemed to miss him and Mike’s expression was full of compassion. When Suze left, Mike looked out around the place, checking on everyone, as if to see that all was well.
Which turned out to be kind of sexy.
Like everything else about the man.
“So, enough about my headaches,” he said. “Tell me about yourself. You’re in school to become a CPA?” He caught her gaze. Again he really looked at her. Like a shrink or a father confessor or a man who knew her more intimately than any man ever had.
He made her feel soft and he made her feel wanted. She longed to reach out to touch his tan cheek, brush the fan of crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“That’s the plan,” she said instead, drinking some beer to distract herself.
“Have you always loved numbers?” He leaned forward, his expression earnest, as though he really wanted to know.
“I guess.” It had taken an embarrassingly long time for her to see how her gift with figures could become a profession.
“And…?”
“Nothing. I just…I guess I love the orderliness of numbers, knowing that the formulas always work and if you don’t make mistakes, it all comes out right.”
“Makes sense.” He tilted his head at her, as if figuring her out. “So, after you get your degree, what’s the plan then?”
“Then I get a job with a big firm, get some solid experience, network like crazy until I make enough contacts and save enough to open my own business.”
“You’d rather work for yourself?”
“Oh, yeah. I want my own clients, you know? People who depend on me. I want to help them maximize their income, minimize their taxes, get them where they want to be financially, all that. I want them to count on me, you know?”
She was surprised how easy it was to blurt the ideas she’d always kept in her head, thinking them over and over when school got hard or she got worried and lost sleep.
“So it’s not just the numbers,” he said slowly. “It’s also helping people.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s it. When I helped Jasmine figure out a budget and it worked for her, I really liked that. Now she’s saving money for college for her daughter. So, yeah, I suppose it’s that the numbers mean something to people, you know?”
“I do.”
She was suddenly embarrassed by how she sounded—eager as a kid, which was kind of how she felt in her classes. Very different from her usual guarded self. She hardly knew Mike and yet she was telling him all this. “Anyway, the point is I want a private practice.”
“I bet you’ll do great.” He said it so simply, so sincerely that warmth flooded her.
He has no idea who you are, she reminded herself. She was about to blurt the doubts bubbling under her words when Suze saved her by bringing the food.
Which turned out to be great. The chiles rellenos melted in her mouth, the nopalitos-and-goat-cheese salad was tangy and fresh.
“So, what all is Lydia responsible for?” she asked, hoping to find out enough to reassure herself for tomorrow.
“Too much.” Mike sighed. “Budgets, purchasing, fees and licenses, billings. You’ll see tomorrow. I don’t know half of the stuff she does.” He shook his head and took a bite, oblivious to the fact that his words had stopped her heart.
What if she wasn’t up to it? What if she was all just big talk? What if she let Mike and the town down?
“Hey, Mayor. How’s it hanging?”
Mike looked up from a bite of salad to greet the man who’d stopped at their table. “Hey, Ned,” he said. “How’s the welcome sign coming along?”
“We’ll have it done for the festival. No worries.”
“Good.” Mike introduced her to Ned Langton, who’d bought Mike’s family’s landscaping business a few years back.
“So, I tried to join your Chamber last night,” Ned drawled, an amused grin on his face, “but couldn’t get your brother to give me the time of day.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mike stopped chewing.
“Couldn’t take his hands off his girl long enough to round up the form for me.”
“I see.” Mike set down his fork, his mouth grim, despite his easy words. “Stop by tomorrow and Evelyn can fix you up.”
“What I want to know is where he found her.” Ned leaned lower and winked, “And are there any more where she came from?”
“With a wife like Jill, why would you think twice, Ned?” There was an edge to Mike’s words.
“I’m not thinking about me. She got a friend for you? That’s what I mean.”
Mike shot an apologetic glance at Autumn. “I don’t know, Ned, but how about you write me a check for Chamber dues and we’ll mail you the temporary card. Save you time. How’s that?”
Ned didn’t like that suggestion, it seemed. He patted his shirt pocket and frowned sheepishly. “Left my checkbook at the house. I’ll stop by another day. Enjoy your dinner.”
“You called his bluff,” Autumn said when Ned had gone.
“Yeah.” He gave a rueful smile. “It’s pulling teeth to get these guys to join up. The Chamber funds economic projects and we really need everyone to ante up, but they don’t all see it.”
“That’s not what’s bothering you though, is it?”
“No. It’s my brother.” He shook his head. “Seems like the affair’s all over town. Since he met your friend, his brains have drained out his ears.”
“How so?” She hoped he wasn’t about to insult Jasmine.
“The minute Mark heard Jasmine was doing the pageant, he auditioned for it. What was he thinking? He’s got a business to run, he’s head of the Chamber and chair of my economic development committee. He doesn’t have time to be in a play, for God’s sake.” He shook his head.
“Maybe it’s true love.”
He shot her a look. “Your friend is a beautiful woman.”
“You mean she’s a stripper.” Anger flared, fast and hot as a suddenly lit match.
He quirked a brow. “I don’t care what she does for a living. The problem is how fast this is going.”
She just looked at him.
“Come on. You were rolling your eyes right along with me. They’re acting like a couple of teenagers. The man came back from a weekend in Phoenix and declared his dreams had come true. Lord.”
“Yeah,” she said, softening. “I know what you mean. Jasmine falls in love with love and gets hurt every time.”
“The thing is…” He hesitated. “Mark was like this once before.” He frowned and picked at his Tecate label. “He met this woman at a real estate seminar and right off he’s loaning her money and they’re talking about buying a house. Then he finds out she’s got a husband in Nevada and a check fraud conviction. Took him years to get over her.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yep. And he’s wild like that about your friend.”
“Look, Jasmine is a good person. She—”
“I’m sure she is. It’s just too fast and crazy. It’s—”
“Reckless. I know. They barely know each other. They’re telling themselves fairy tales.”
“Exactly,” he said. “So we’re both worried about them.”
“Yeah,” she said, relieved that Mike’s concerns matched her own. “I mean if it’s right, why not slow down?”
“There you go. Just what I told him.”
They shared a smile of commiseration.
“Hey, Mayor Mike!” A stylish blonde stopped at their booth, her arm around the waist of a tall guy in a cowboy hat.
“Celia. Hi,” Mike said. “Dan.” He nodded at the man.
“So, that sister of yours pregnant yet?” Celia asked him.
“You’ll know before me,” he said. “We both know that.”
Autumn recognized Celia’s name. She owned the beauty salon where Heidi had worked before moving to Phoenix.
“I want you to meet Autumn Beshkin,” Mike said. “She’s filling in for Lydia.”
“Autumn…I know that name….”
“Heidi’s a friend of mine. She does my hair.” She spoke fast, praying Heidi hadn’t mentioned what Autumn did for a living. She pushed a strand of hair into her braid.
“We miss Heidi so much,” Celia said. “Her counseling almost more than her hair work. She left us her self-help books when she went to Phoenix, but it’s not the same.”
Heidi was studying to become a therapist, Autumn knew. In fact, Heidi had helped convince Autumn she belonged in college.
“When you get us a regular clinic, Mike, get us a shrink, too, wouldja?” Celia said.
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “We need a bigger population to keep a full-time doc busy.”
“I’m just teasing. Criminy Christmas, Mike, lighten up. He’s so serious all the time.” Celia smiled at Autumn. “I mean, heck, if you can’t laugh at yourself then everyone else will just have to do it behind your back.”
“I’m sure they already do, Celia.” Mike sighed.
“Cheer him up, would you?” she said to Autumn. “How long will you be here?”
“Just until Lydia gets back,” Mike said. “A month.”
“Don’t be rushing a new mother back on the job, Mayor Mike. Not everyone lives for council meetings. Maybe Autumn can stick around longer.” She smiled at her.
“This is just an internship. School starts up again soon. And I have a job.” They’d booked rehearsals for the new season of the revue right after the pageant was over.
“Well, shoot. Too bad you can’t stay. At the very least, maybe you can talk the man into getting a bowling team together. He’s got a good arm.”
“Hmm.” She looked at Mike.
“I’m too busy,” he said, lifting his hands as if for mercy.
“We’ve got a tournament coming. This boy needs a life. See if you can convince him.”
“I’ll try.” Autumn smiled and Celia and Dan moved on. “So, is she right?” she asked him, resting her chin on her fist.
“About my bowling? I do okay.”
“No, that you need a life.”
He shrugged. “Celia likes to pick at you till you bleed,” he said. “I hope you don’t need your hair done while you’re here. The Cut ’N Curl is a hive.”
“I think I’m fine.” She touched her hair.
“Yeah. Your hair is—nice. I, uh, like the color.” His tan darkened with blush.
The sexual vibe, a low rumbling between them as they’d talked, revved fiercely.
“Thanks. It’s natural.” Why had she said that? In her world, most strippers had extensions, blond dye jobs and fake boobs, so she took pride in what nature gave her. But Mike didn’t know that, nor would he care.
“So you won’t need the salon.” His voice was low, full of leashed heat. She pictured him freeing her hair, running his fingers through the strands, his eyes hungry. “That’s lucky.” He seemed to force out a laugh. “The place is like a cross between Jerry Springer and Dr. Phil. I don’t know why that happens.”
“It’s because this is a small town.” She knew that from her mother’s stories. “Doesn’t it bug you that everyone knows your business?” The idea seemed suffocating to her.