For His Daughter. Ann Evans

though there was nothing in his look that told her what he was thinking.

      Then he said, “Two very different events have been proposed. Both parties have prepared presentations. I thought we could check them out. I’d welcome your input.”

      “What are the two suggested themes?”

      “One would celebrate Broken Yoke’s pioneer days. Reenactments of the founding of the town. Concessions, games and craft booths built around the town’s silver heyday.”

      “Are you originally from this area, Mr. D’Angelo?”

      Did he stiffen in his chair a little before he answered? Hard to say. “I’ve been away a while, but I was born here.”

      “Then surely you know that Colorado needs another summer festival like a drowning man needs a brick. And while the state prides itself on celebrating the unusual, more than half the towns choose the same type of event. Founder’s Day. Pioneer Days. Rough and Ready Days. You can hardly tell them apart.”

      “Then it’ll be my job to find a way to entice visitors here. I’m certain I can do that.”

      Oh, this was bad, very bad. She could actually feel herself responding to that overwhelming presence of his. She felt too hot. DeeDee Whitefeather wouldn’t have been so affected.

      Straightening in her chair with a deliberate sigh of boredom, she asked, “What’s the second suggestion?”

      “A Christmas in July celebration.”

      Dani wasn’t expecting that and found her interest piqued before she could remember that she wanted nothing to do with this man. “That’s a little different.” “It has possibilities. The fellow pitching it feels we can capitalize on the winter activities we have around here. Find ways for people to enjoy the same things, only in the summer. His wife is one of the teachers at our elementary school, and he’s enlisted students to help.”

      “Skiing in July? Sounds problematic.”

      “True,” D’Angelo agreed. “But he’s chosen some sample venues. Do you have a photographer available? It might make for fun pictures.”

      She pursed her lips, intrigued in spite of herself. “I have a freelance stringer I can call on.”

      “Then do we have a date? I could pick you up at nine in the morning.”

      “What?”

      “We could make a day of it. Perhaps have an early dinner afterward and discuss which idea might do the most good. Whether the paper would have any interest in covering one of them.”

      She hoped she didn’t look as cornered as she felt. “I—I’ll need to work out the details with Chester, my photographer.”

      “Of course.”

      She really ought to see what the town had in mind for the festival. But there was no way she wanted to spend almost an entire day in this man’s company. Even if he didn’t remember her. Inspiration came at the last minute. “It would probably be simpler if I met you at these places. Why don’t you give my secretary the addresses and we can arrange to link up?”

      She stood, determined to take the upper hand and show him that she wasn’t going to be maneuvered. This meeting was over.

      Dani came around the desk, stretching her hand out once more. Rafe D’Angelo rose quickly, placing his long-fingered hand in hers.

      “Thank you for the offer of dinner,” she said. “But I’m afraid I have plans tomorrow night.”

      A curtain lifted in his eyes. They were suddenly alive with interest and amusement. “I’m disappointed,” he said. “Are you sure we can’t have dinner? Don’t you want to catch up on old times, DeeDee?”