CHAPTER 29
What jackass is leaning on my doorbell at seven-thirty in the damn morning?
Ramona flung her sheets off and threw herself from the bed. She wrenched her robe from the closet
and shrugged into it as she stomped down the hall to her front door. She braced her fingertips on the cold blond wood and rose up on her bare toes.
Quincy, that vindictive psychopath!
Ramona jerked the door open. “What the hell is your problem?” When he didn’t immediately respond, she stomped her bare foot. “Well?”
“You look so much younger without any makeup.”
That growling was coming from her throat. “What do you want, Quincy?”
He lifted a copy of The Trinity Falls Monitor chest high. “You’re free to leave Trinity Falls now.”
Ramona snatched the newspaper from him. “Take off your shoes if you’re coming in.”
She turned and marched into her living room. A photo of Doreen smiled up at her beneath the headline FEVER ENTERS RACE FOR MAYOR.
“Do you always wake up in such a bad mood?” Quincy’s words followed her.
Ramona spun on her bare heels. “Do you always lean on people’s doorbells at such an ungodly hour of the morning?”
Her gaze dropped to Quincy’s feet. He’d better have taken off his shoes before he’d lumbered across her white carpet. She relaxed as she noted his long, narrow feet covered in black dress socks. It was a sexy look for the bookish professor. Ramona pulled her gaze up past his black pants and gray jacket over a white dress shirt and black tie.
“It’s after seven o’clock in the morning.” Quincy walked farther into the room. “Most people are on their way to work, if they haven’t already arrived.”
“I’m. Not.” Ramona froze with the sudden realization of just how scary she must look.
She wasn’t wearing makeup. And she was certain her hair was matted and pointed in all different directions like a weather vane in a storm.
She closed her eyes. This was her worst nightmare. She dragged her fingers through her tangled hair and scrubbed a hand over her face.
In contrast, the university professor looked as though he’d been up for hours. His rugged features were clean-shaven. And his business clothes loaned his tall, bulky form the scary elegance of a Chicago mobster. Ramona’s body heated.
“How would I know your sleeping habits, Ramona?” Quincy’s voice had deepened. Its texture stroked her skin.
Ramona raised her eyes to his darkened gaze. She knew how he felt about her. Was that the reason she was responding to him? How much of what she felt was wishful thinking, and how much was the pull of his masculinity?
“Why did you say I was free to leave?” Her question was meant to remind him of the supposed reason for his obscenely early visit. She exhaled when he broke eye contact with her.
Quincy gestured toward the newspaper. “Last time, you ran unopposed for the mayor’s position. If Doreen’s willing to take on the job, you don’t have to run at all.”
Ramona regarded him through narrowed eyes. “You don’t think I should run for reelection? Has my performance been that bad?”
Quincy frowned. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
“You don’t want to live here. If you campaign again, you’d be tied to Trinity Falls for another four years.”
Ramona tossed the paper onto her glass-and-silver metal coffee table. “I’ve done a good job with this town. I’ve implemented improvements and I’ve reduced the deficit.”
“You’ve done a good job under difficult conditions.”
She jerked her head toward the discarded paper. “Then why are people challenging me?”