Hold Me
He wasn’t sure which comment to address first. The steady influx of money or the dogs and horses. In an era of decreasing funds for local governments, Mayor Marsha had started a new and expensive program. Was there a secret money stash somewhere? Did she have rich benefactors? Or was it best that he not ask?
As for the dogs and horses, he was interested. “We’ll have more resources,” he said. “I’m not sure how they’ll fit in with the software we have.”
“I’m sure you can speak to Destiny about it,” the mayor said confidently. “Her company seems to pride itself on providing custom solutions.”
He chuckled. “Special tracking collars on the dogs?”
“Something like that.” Her gaze turned speculative. “I assume you wouldn’t have a problem working with a woman.”
Kipling started to laugh. This time yesterday he would have assured the mayor that he was very good with women. Now he was a whole lot less sure of that. But the older woman wouldn’t want to hear about his personal issues.
“None at all,” he promised, thinking that as long as he kept things professional, he was fine with women.
“I thought not.”
Her assistant knocked once then opened the office door. “Cassidy’s ready if you are.”
Mayor Marsha stood. “Send her in.”
Kipling rose and followed the mayor toward the latest potential candidate for his second-in-command job. While he’d studied her résumé, meeting her in person would tell him a lot more about whether or not she would be a good fit.
Cassidy Modene was about five six with short, spiky blond hair and hazel eyes. She wore a dark blue suit and plain navy pumps. Used to sizing up opponents at a glance, he saw that she was strong and athletic. Not surprising, considering her occupation. She looked capable.
She shook hands with both of them. She wore a plain gold band on the ring finger of her left hand. As the cuff of her sleeve moved with the motion, he caught sight of a rose tattoo on the inside of her wrist.
“Mrs. Modene. Thank you so much for coming to see us here in Fool’s Gold,” Mayor Marsha said, leading the way to the sofas in the corner.
“My pleasure. It’s a nice little town.”
They all sat. Kipling respected how the mayor had maneuvered them. He was next to her on the sofa, with Cassidy perched on the edge of a club chair. Two against one? He was comfortable with his expertise, but hiring wasn’t it. He’d learned a lot from each of the interviews he’d participated in and knew this one would be no exception.
The good mayor lulled with seemingly idle chitchat before effortlessly shifting into more meaty conversation. Often with no warning. She’d gotten one apparently excellent candidate to admit he was more interested in time on the slopes than doing his job. Kipling wondered if Cassidy had any similar secrets to spill.
“You grew up in Wyoming,” Mayor Marsha said.
“Yes. So I’m used to small towns.” Cassidy flashed a smile. “I’m not sure what I would do in a big city. I like the outdoors.”
“I noticed the rose on your wrist. Any emotional significance?”
Cassidy’s eyes darkened. “It’s in honor of my mother.”
Mayor Marsha didn’t say anything. Kipling thought Cassidy would keep talking to fill the silence, but she didn’t. Score one for the recruit, he thought.
“Is your husband willing to relocate?” the mayor asked.
“Jeff’s in his last year of twenty with the navy. He told me he wanted me to find him a nice place for his second act. We’re thinking Fool’s Gold might be it.”
Mayor Marsha nodded. “Well, then, tell us about your search and rescue dogs.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
KIPLING’S KNOWLEDGE ABOUT what went on in a gynecologist’s office could easily fit on a three-by-five card and leave room for a recipe. But he’d made the appointment and now found himself in the offices of Cecilia Galloway, MD.
The good doctor was probably close to seventy, with short, steel-gray hair and glasses. She was tall, large-boned and when she raised both eyebrows as if asking why he was here, Kipling had no idea what to say.
“It’s not about me,” he told her.
“I’m relieved. The last time I examined a man, I was in medical school. While I’m sure none of the parts have changed, I doubt I remember how to take care of them.” Dr. Galloway nodded encouragingly. “How can I help you, Mr. Gilmore?”
“Kipling. And, ah, I’m here about a friend of mine. She, ah...” He wondered how much he should say. While he was part of the problem, technically Destiny didn’t know he was here, and he had a feeling she wouldn’t approve.
“I doubt there’s anything you can say that I haven’t heard a dozen times before,” Dr. Galloway assured him. “Just take a deep breath and blurt it out. That’s usually the best way.”
“Right. I have a friend. And we—” No, that wasn’t right. “The virgin thing,” he began, then wished he hadn’t. “After sex...”
He cleared his throat and started again. “If you can deflower a virgin, can she be reflowered?”
The woman sitting across from him blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Can she be made a virgin again?”
He had to give her credit. The doctor’s expression barely moved, although he thought he saw the corners of her mouth shift down, as if she didn’t approve of their conversation.