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her hands on her hips and thrust out her breasts. Spectacular breasts he remembered quite well. “Let’s get back to the topic.”
    He wanted to make a quip that if she wanted to stick to the topic, standing there in that sweater wasn’t the way to do it, but he thought better of it. Better to keep things civilized. He cleared his throat and reached behind to pick up a folder on his desk. “I made copies of all the documentation. I figured you’d want to run it by a lawyer.”
    She took the packet and their fingers brushed, causing a jolt of heat. Their eyes locked. She licked her lips. “Aren’t you a regular Boy Scout now?”
    His attention drifted to her mouth, and he forgot about being prudent. “In all ways but one.”
    Her gaze flashed. “And what would that be?”
    He smirked. “That information is classified.”
    She laughed and spun around, calling out over her shoulder, “I’ve got all the information I need.”
    God, she was fun. He’d forgotten how much. He’d had more fun with her in the last five minutes than he had in the last year of dates.
    Impulse took hold and he stood. Ready to cross the room. To stop her, to pin her against the door and remind her just how good it was between them. He took one step and froze.
    He was the mayor.
    He lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone else’s business.
    Next year was an election year.
    And Darcy ran a sex blog.
    His life was here, and her life was in New York.
    He had no business doing anything with her. No business touching her. Darcy Miller was off-limits. A memory of his past that had to stay that way.
    So instead of the comeback he wanted to say—something dirty and explicit—he settled for pleasant. “Have a good day, Darce. Let me know if you need any more information.”
    She turned back, her dark hair a sleek contrast against her white sweater. Her blue eyes piercing and mischievous. “Oh, this isn’t over.”
    He let his gaze roam over her. “You’re not going to be able to win this one.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” she said.
    â€œThat we will.” He’d win, just not in the way he wanted.

Chapter Eight
    After forty-eight hours of being cooped up in her mom’s tiny shack of a house, Darcy hadn’t written a single word. Between her mom’s constant chatter and Darcy’s nonstop obsessing about what Griffin would look like naked, it was impossible to get anything done.
    Desperate for productive normalcy, she grabbed her laptop and went to Earl’s Diner on Main Street, right in the heart of downtown Revival. She’d always worked well in coffee shops and restaurants, the din of conversation and dishes creating a type of white noise she could zone out to.
    She walked into the diner and there were about twenty people in the place. Every single one of them turned to look at her, growing still. For a fraction of a second a hush fell over the Revival institution before returning to normal.
    She steeled her spine. She was not the bad girl from the wrong side of the tracks anymore.
    They should envy her life now.
    But her childhood memories ran deep. And even though the patrons had returned to the coffee and omelets, it was hard to push past the sharpness of those feelings she remembered so well. Of being poor. Of being “trash.” Of not belonging.
    Oh, she understood now with her psychology degrees she’d acted out all those years ago because she’d been overcompensating for her insecurities. She knew her past didn’t define her. And she’d worked damn hard to turn her life into something she was proud of.
    She wasn’t going to let Revival wipe that away.
    With her head held high she went to an empty booth and pulled her computer out of her bag. Just as she opened her latest article, a female voice said, “Oh my God, it’s you!”
    Darcy looked up into Gracie