“I was upset, but I’m not anymore.” Megan cradled the mug in her small palms, avoiding eye contact.
Ean didn’t acknowledge her response. “I think you’re looking for excuses to put distance between us.”
“That’s not true.” But she still wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Then why do you act as though every other day, you expect me to pack my bags and return to New York?”
Megan was silent for several moments. Ean waited, drinking his coffee and enjoying the view of her wide chocolate eyes, honeyed skin, full red lips and delicate features.
Finally she sighed. “All right. You have a point.”
“So you believe that I’m back for good?”
“I do. I do believe you’re going to stay in Trinity Falls.” Megan gave him a reluctant smile. It started in her eyes and made him want to kiss her.
Ean rose, setting his coffee mug on the corner of Megan’s painfully organized desk. He leaned across its mahogany surface, intending to place a quick kiss on her mouth. But as her lips softened beneath his, their kiss lengthened and deepened. Ean lost track of time and place. Megan tasted of coffee and felt like home. She moaned low in her throat, bringing Ean back to his surroundings.
He exhaled, running an unsteady thumb over her soft, damp lips. “We’ll explore that further, under more comfortable circumstances.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Megan’s promise was a soft whisper.
Ean tightened his grip on his coffee cup and sank back into the visitor’s chair. He wasn’t entirely comfortable and her words weren’t helping. “Let’s change the subject.”
“More talking?” Megan pouted.
Ean tried to ignore Megan’s hungry gaze as it dropped from his mouth to his lap. “I think my mom will make a great mayor for Trinity Falls. But as much as it pains me to admit this, Grady had a point last night.”
Megan raised her eyes to his. “About what?”
“He said we need to do something to save the center businesses now. We can’t risk waiting until next year’s election.”
Megan straightened in her dark blue executive chair. She looked even more confident in her role as business leader today than she had when he’d returned to town almost two months ago. “I agree with him, too. But what can we do?”
“The association has to buy the center.”
“You and I already talked about that.” Megan drew her fingers through her thick, dark hair. “The sale price is out of our range.”
“Even if everyone pools their resources?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Her eyes were dark with concern. “Grady’s not the only one whose finances are balanced on that fine edge between surviving and succumbing. It’s not only the economy but the increased rent, too.”
Ean stilled in his seat. “How are Books and Bakery’s finances?”
“The bookstore’s doing fine.” She smiled. “Ramona and I won’t make the Forbes list of the top ten thousand richest women in America, but we aren’t struggling, either.”
“You can try to make the list next year.” Ean braced his elbows on the chair’s arms and leaned forward. “Each association member wouldn’t have to give an equal amount. Some of us—you and I, for example—could contribute a little more.”
Megan picked up her pen and rocked it between her index and middle fingers. “The group discussed that, too. At that time, Vernon, Belinda and I were willing and able to give a bit more.”
“What happened?”
Megan dropped the pen. “Even if the other members had been willing to go along with that plan, we were still too far away from the asking price to make it work.”
“What’s the asking price?”
Megan opened her bottom desk drawer and recovered a manila folder. She flipped through the stack of papers in the folder, until she came to the page she wanted. Reading from the document, Megan named a figure that almost made Ean drop his coffee mug.
“Is there any flexibility with that price?”