LITMIR.BIZ

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to score points with Ramona?”

      Megan nodded. “I wondered the same thing.”

      Quincy sat forward in his chair on Megan’s right. He kept his voice to the same hushed tone. “I thought you didn’t believe Ramona had a good side.”

      The reporter shrugged. “I don’t believe Publishers Clearing House is real, either, but I’ll open my door if they knock.”

      Quincy chuckled. “I jog through the park most nights. I don’t think I’ve ever seen CeCe there.”

      CeCe called for new matters, which were very few: Roads were still waiting for repair after heavy storms from the previous spring. The malicious prankster responsible for stealing road signs had struck again, leaving Guilford Lane unidentified. And the search for a new city treasurer was still under way before the current treasurer retired because of “family reasons” sparked by an affair with his brother’s wife.

      CeCe tapped the gavel to bring the meeting back to order. “At this time, we’d like to invite to the microphone those in attendance who would like to address the council.”

      Megan scanned the room. Apparently, no one felt a pressing need to air his or her concerns. Megan inclined her head at the other members of the Trinity Falls Town Center Business Owners Association. From her seat, she contemplated the microphone waiting at the front of the room. Public speaking was not her forte. Megan’s heart pounded a steady rhythm against her chest. She drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders before making her way to the podium. She felt Ramona’s eyes on her every step of the way.

      Megan gripped the edges of the podium and locked her knees. “Good evening, council members and Mayor.”

      A murmur of “good evenings” responded.

      “I’m here as a representative of the Trinity Falls Town Center Business Owners Association.” Was the wobble in her voice noticeable? “What additional information can you provide regarding plans to sell the center to a high-end broker to revitalize the property?”

      Ramona pulled her microphone closer to her mouth. “Like what?”

      Ramona’s intimidation tactics were familiar—flat stare, bored tone—and they usually worked. Megan glanced over her shoulder. The members of her group, including Quincy and Darius, nodded encouragement.

      Megan squared her shoulders and faced her cousin. “What types of businesses were you planning to attract? Where would you locate these new businesses?”

      “We don’t have answers to those questions yet.” Ramona’s dismissive tone slapped her down.

      Megan wanted to end this exchange and return to her seat, but her group was depending on her. “You’re trying to draw new businesses, but you don’t know what type or where you’d put them? Then why do you want them?”

      Ramona lowered her brows. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

      “Ramo . . . Mayor McCloud, new businesses will impact Trinity Falls’s existing retailers. The result will be increased competition for discretionary, as well as essential, spending. Businesses have to prepare for these changes—”

      CeCe interrupted her. “I can understand your concern, Megan.”

      “I can’t,” Ramona muttered.

      CeCe continued. “As soon as the council has the information that you’re requesting, we’ll share it with you and the rest of the town’s business owners.”

      “Thank you, Councilwoman Roben.” Megan nodded toward the council before leaving the podium. Her legs were like Jell-O. She was out of breath.

      Again she felt Ramona’s eyes burning into her. Why would the council announce its intent to attract new businesses to Trinity Falls if it didn’t know the types of businesses it wanted to attract, or even where they would be located? What was really going on?

      The sound of leaves crunching behind her pulled Megan from her solitary thoughts early Wednesday morning. The fellow jogger was gaining ground on her fast. Perhaps too fast. From the weight of the footfalls, the runner was probably male. Without breaking stride, Megan loped to the edge of Freedom Park’s nearly deserted dirt path, signaling the newcomer that he was free to pass.

      “It’s not safe to run alone in the dark.” Ean’s rich baritone almost sent her into cardiac arrest.

      It never occurred to her she would come into contact with him during her morning exercise. But here he was, with his olive green eyes focused on her.

      Megan blinked. Her heart thumped once. Twice. “It’s after six o’clock in the morning.”

      “It’s still dark.”

      Megan puzzled over his statement as they jogged through the pools of light spilling from the lamps stationed every couple of feet. “This is Trinity Falls, not New York City.”

      “Unfortunately, women are accosted in small towns, too.”

      “That’s one of the reasons these lamps were installed.” Megan watched a drop of sweat trail down Ean’s broad forehead, drip off his aquiline nose and land on the gunmetal gray T-shirt stretched across his broad chest.

      She shifted her attention away and drew in the chill October air to cool her suddenly overheated body. Ean seemed to have adjusted his pace to match hers. Was his concern for her safety the reason he didn’t just jog past her? Megan was trapped.

      She tried to distract herself by focusing on the fall colors on the trees and bushes bordering the hard dirt path. Some of the vibrant leaves were strewn along the ground and grass.

      She loved this time of day; the still silence of the early morning, when it felt as though she was the only person on the planet. The scent of fall was heavy in the air. She glanced at Ean in her peripheral vision. Did he sense the magic of the early morning, too? A ghost of a smile touched his full, sexy lips.

      “What are you thinking about?” Her question startled her. Why had she asked him that?

      “The past. The path hasn’t changed much, except for these lamps.” He gestured toward a tree root. “I twisted my ankle on that once, before I learned to hop over it.”

      “The town hasn’t changed much.” Megan returned her attention to the trail. “People come and eventually go. They rarely return.”

      “Is that a not-so-subtle reference to my homecoming?”

      “Maybe.” Megan’s fingers trembled to smooth his thick, arched brow and wipe the sweat from his forehead. She fisted her hands.

      “The bookstore’s changed. A lot.”

      “It needed to be modernized and expanded to survive.”

      “Ramona’s changed, too. Business and politics had never held much interest for her.”

      Megan struggled again with contradictory feelings for Ramona as mayor: pride that her cousin had accepted the responsibility when no one else would; relief that the town was better off now than it had been three years ago; frustration that Ramona was bullying the town into changes only she seemed to want.

      Megan used the back of her wrist to wipe sweat from her upper lip. “And yet she’s launched her interior-design company and is running the town.”

      Ean’s long strides picked up. Megan maintained her pace. Maybe his increased speed would carry him away from her.

      Ean wiped the sweat from his chin. “I remember you following your grandparents around the bookstore. It was as though you were grooming yourself to take over for them. Did you major in business?”

      Megan bit back a groan as Ean again adjusted his stride to hers. “I had a double major in business and accounting from the University of Illinois.”

      Ean’s brows knitted. “Illinois is a good school. Ramona hadn’t mentioned that you’d gone to

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