Hidden Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,3

it wasn't just his body that left me speechless. With eyes like blood beneath the moon and a face that was all sharp edges at the cheeks, chin, and nose, how could I be faulted for staring?

Someone handed him a towel, and he rubbed the cloth over his chest, the movement both efficient and suggestive. My stomach skittered, and I had to force myself not to look away from his suddenly amused gaze and follow the path of his hands.

He lifted the towel to his slightly curling ebony hair, just long enough to brush the spike of his collarbone. When he scrubbed at it, droplets flew, and the strands played peekaboo with the silver cross dangling from his left ear.

He threw the cloth behind him as if expecting someone to catch it, which they did, before handing him an impossibly white shirt. While he drew it over his head, I glanced at Grace, who rolled her eyes.

"Sheriff," he greeted, with an accent so Irish I smelled clover. "Mayor Kennedy. I'm Malachi Cartwright." He bent slightly at the waist. "Call me Mal."

"No need to get chummy," Grace said. "You won't be staying."

Cartwright's eyebrows lifted, along with one corner of his mouth. "Won't we now?" he murmured.
Chapter 2

Grace stepped forward again, fingers tightening on the butt of her gun. I threw my arm out, smacking her in the chest. She growled. "Stop that," I ordered. "I'll handle this." My father always said you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and I'd found it to be true. Of course Grace's dad had been of the opinion that might is always right, and he'd made certain that was true. Grace was more a chip off the old block than I was.

She ignored my words and shouldered her way in front of me, leaving her hand on the gun. "You can't just camp here. We've got a festival starting in a few days."

"Which is exactly why we've come, darlin'." Cartwright stretched out his arm and a sheaf of papers appeared in his palm. I knew the stack hadn't just appeared, but whoever was giving him things was damned quick about it.

He presented the sheets with a flourish. "We've been hired to entertain you."

The way he said "entertain" caused heat to flare in my stomach. I had no doubt that his idea of entertainment and mine were a whole lot different - or maybe, considering the direction of my thoughts, just the same.

Grace glanced at me with a scowl.

"Wasn't me." I held up my hands in surrender.

After snatching the papers from Cartwright, she peered at the first page, then lifted her gaze to mine.

"Joyce," we said at the same time. Grace passed me the contract.

Sure enough, my assistant had hired the caravan to entertain during the week of the Full Moon Festival.

The festival planning had begun long before I'd returned, and since those who'd been planning it had done so for years, I'd let them continue. I probably should have paid more attention.

I didn't think the people of Lake Bluff were going to be all that happy to discover itinerant Gypsies camped at the lake. From the way Grace was eyeing them, she wasn't wild about the idea, either.

Unfortunately, they'd been paid a good chunk of our treasury already, and it was too late to hire someone else to entertain now, even if we had the money for it. The festival was our cash cow. Without it, Lake Bluff wouldn't survive.

"Is everything in order?" Cartwright asked.

I glanced up and found myself captured again by his dark, dark eyes. I was disturbed, not only by their strange color but also by their intense expression. What was it about me that interested him?

Perhaps it was just the novelty. I wasn't the only blue-eyed redhead in Lake Bluff, but I was the only one here, and no one in the immediate vicinity wore a business suit and heels. Smart of them. My Dior jacket had me baking in the sun, and my Kenneth Cole pumps were coated with dust, the heels sinking into the gravel with every step, no doubt scratching the surface beyond repair.

"Everything appears to be fine," I said, and returned the contract.

His fingers brushed mine as he accepted the papers. I jerked away, nearly tearing it in my haste to retreat.

The Gypsies murmured. Cartwright's smile froze. Grace shot me an exasperated look.

The reaction was rude, as if I didn't want him to touch me. I didn't. Not because of who he was, but because of