“It looks like precinct walking,” Gordon replied, “though my staff is supposed to let me know about any new volunteers so that I can meet them personally to thank them. Or maybe it’s part of the story she’s working on.”
Ben turned to his uncle again. “What?!”
“The Tribune is doing a profile of all the mayoral candidates.”
“And you trust her and the Tribune to do this?”
“I read the Tribune quite often. They’re an honest paper. And I don’t see any reason not to trust Kimani.”
Ben could hardly believe what his uncle was saying. He knew Uncle Gordon preferred to give people the benefit of the doubt, but he wasn’t naïve. He came across mild-mannered, but that didn’t mean he allowed people to take advantage of him. When going to bat for his clients, he was as much a bulldog as any hard-nosed, trash-talking, bloviating attorney—only more effective.
“I trust your judgment of people,” Uncle Gordon added, “and you seemed to like her.”
“That was before I knew what she was capable of.”
Ben pressed his lips into a line and considered shutting the paper down without the two-week notice. He and Uncle Gordon watched her exchange smiles with the precinct captain, a good-looking African-American male, before she pointed to another folder on the table behind the young man. It seemed like she said, “I’ll take that one, too.”
What the hell was she up to? And was she being friendly or was she flirting with the guy? Ben didn’t like the way the young man’s smile made him look more charming.
“Are you going to go over and say hello?” Uncle Gordon asked.
Ben drew in a sharp breath as he felt a throb in his chest. Though he had considered the many ways his paths might cross with hers, he had not concluded what he would actually do if they did meet. Uncle Gordon’s campaign headquarters was one of the last places he would have expected to see Kimani.
Fuck.
His mind told him he should just skip what was sure to be an awkward and unpleasant moment, but every nerve of his was drawn to her. If he didn’t take this chance, he’d be thinking about her every bloody minute for the rest of the day. Maybe he could tell if she was up to something questionable by her reaction to him.
He could imagine the look on her face when she realized she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She might think she could pull one over on his uncle, but she wasn’t going to fool him a second time.
Straightening, he opened the office door and walked out onto the floor.
Chapter Eight
“Are you sure you want to do all those precincts?” the cute college grad asked with a smile that would make anyone who saw it brighten.
“I set aside the day to do this,” Kimani replied.
“That’s amazing of you, but we don’t expect volunteers to do more than a precinct this morning, two at most.”
“I’m a fan of Gordon Lee.”
She didn’t add that she also felt like she had to make it up to Gordon still.
“Well, you gotta be back for lunch,” said Anthony. “We’ve got soul food for everyone walking today.”
“I thought pizza was the staple of campaigns?”
“Yeah, but Maybelle is a big supporter of Gordon, and I’ll take her barbecue over pizza any day.”
Recalling the time she’d had lunch with Gordon and Ben, Kimani grew wistful. “I’d take her sweet potato pie over anything any day.”
Anthony’s smile grew even bigger. “You’re my kind of woman.”
Kimani returned an amused look. Was he flirting with her? She liked his affability, the sparkle of his eyes and that beautiful smile, but she had never considered dating a younger guy. Even though he was probably only about three years younger, she felt much older.
“You left your share of pie at my place.”
She felt frozen to the spot while the coordination of her arms disappeared. Doorhangers and precinct folders slid to the floor.