Does She Dare?. Tawny Weber

street image intact, stuff like that. A lot of it is in preparation for the Sweetheart Festival in February.”

      “What’s that?”

      “To have a business on Main Street, you have to sign a contract agreeing to participate in the festival. They have a whole slew of requirements, but the promotion for the business is going to be phenomenal.”

      It was all Isabel could do not to rub her hands together at the prospect. She’d been dreaming of this for years. She’d be an integral part of the town, the go-to girl for flowers and gifts.

      “I want to make sure Sweet Scentsations’ placement in the festival is front and center. If I can, I’d like to provide the flowers for all the events, possibly even the gift baskets for the dignitaries. It’ll be a huge step for the business if I can pull it off. From what I understand, prime positioning like that is snapped up fast. Usually by council members.”

      “Still sounds like volunteering to me,” Audra muttered. “But, whatever. Just don’t get crazy, okay? I’ve gotta go. Hey, check for hot-dude business owners while you’re in there. I’ll bet someone like that would work just fine for the Man Plan,” she advised with a laugh before she hung up.

      Isabel wrinkled her nose at the phone, then tossed it into her bag. Settle for just some guy? After seeing Dante, feeling her body go into sexual overdrive, she didn’t want to settle. But Audra was the expert on all things sexual, and she obviously didn’t think Isabel could handle Dante.

      Of course, a guy as hot, as gorgeous as Dante probably had his own list, or only got involved with women at his experience level. Which meant she was nowhere in the vicinity. Didn’t it figure, even within touching distance, he was still out of her reach.

      

      TWO HOURS LATER, ISABEL stomped out of the hall, shoving her notepad into her purse. One of the reasons she’d been so excited to become involved with the business association was to take her place among the town’s business leaders. To prove herself and her main claim to fame—her planning skills. There had been ten leadership positions available, and conveniently, the association had ten attending members. But had they given one to each member? Hell, no. One guy was so special he’d be leading two committees. And her? She’d got diddly squat. Oh sure, her skills would be appreciated on any committee but they still didn’t trust her to lead.

      She wanted to kick the lush fichus tree on her way out of the hall. The only reason she didn’t was the fact that the ceramic vase would probably break her toe. She should have thought of that when she’d delivered it the previous week as a show of appreciation and camaraderie for her new associates.

      Associates, hell. She shoved the door open. Next time she’d deliver a cactus in a wicker pot. That way she could kick it as hard as she wanted, and hopefully it’d land on the council leader’s head.

      “Isabel,” someone called out. “Wait up.”

      She turned and bit back a sigh. Just what she needed, Mr. Perfect.

      “Lance,” she said in greeting. His short blond hair ruffled, but didn’t muss in the brisk breeze. Even his haircut was perfect. Isabel swallowed her snarky attitude. It wasn’t Lance’s fault he was so together. She figured years of PR work as a real-estate agent had honed his persona until he was the epitome of together.

      He gave her his patented smile, all friendly confidence.

      “I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said in a low tone. Ever the multitasker, he kept his gaze on her face at the same time he nodded his greeting to a passerby.

      Maybe that was why things hadn’t worked out between them. He’d never managed to focus solely on her. And he’d definitely never understood her. That had been obvious back in the meeting. Oh, sure, she knew he’d been trying to talk her up, give her support. But all that talk about new ideas, time for change and new blood had clearly put people’s backs up.

      Isabel told herself it wasn’t Lance’s fault. Tension shifted across her shoulders, but she forced a pleasant look on her face. No point in getting upset or taking him to task. She’d done that once or twice before, but he was oblivious. To Lance, his way was the only way and anyone who didn’t agree simply needed his friendship and advice even more.

      Being mad at him was like trying to be pissed at Mary Poppins. Pointless and frustrating. Because inevitably, he always felt he knew best.

      “I wanted to talk with you about the meeting. You seemed a little disappointed.” He pulled a face and rubbed his hand on her shoulder. Isabel pulled away. For some reason his touch gave her the creeps now that they’d split up. Besides, it drove her nuts when people patted her like she was a little kid who needed placating. Small didn’t mean stupid, she wanted to yell. Of course, since that urge came with the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she didn’t figure he’d believe her.

      “I didn’t realize, of course, that you might volunteer for any of the positions or I would have warned you,” he continued reasonably. “Santa Vera is growing rapidly, but at heart, it’s still a small town, and there are a lot of small-town attitudes that come with that. It’s not that you don’t fit in,” he said. Isabel supposed his tone was supposed to be soothing, but the way it grated down her spine made her want to scream. “It’s just a matter of time. People have to get used to you. To see what you have to offer. Give it time.”

      Time? She’d been here for six months. How much time did they need, for crying out loud? Back in Auburn, she’d have led any committee she wanted. But of course, her parents had been well-known business owners.

      She tried to shake off her irritation, knowing it was pointless. Too many times to count, she’d been frustrated in the face of his implacable fortitude.

      “I think I’d be fine with the council’s expectations,” she said, trying to keep the pout off her lower lip. “I’m a successful businesswoman, after all. You could have mentioned that back there, you know. Your respect for my qualifications probably would have gone a long way with them.”

      “Give yourself time. I’d advise you to volunteer to serve on one of the committees. You know, observe, learn the ins and outs of how we operate here. Give people a chance to see how efficient you are and to appreciate what you have to offer. In a couple years, they’ll be welcoming you as a committee leader.”

      Isabel ground her teeth. It was like he was talking to a little kid. Was there not one person who believed she could jump in and excel? No wonder she had hang-ups with everyone who doubted her.

      He reached over to pat her shoulder again, this time giving it a brief squeeze. “You’ll catch on. If you need help, feel free to give me a call.”

      Isabel’s eyes narrowed as Lance turned and walked away, his gray pinstripe suit a vivid contrast to the other more casually dressed businesspeople milling around the hall. That was the second time today someone had intimated that she was in over her head. What was up with that? Was she really so incompetent that she couldn’t handle a simple committee role? Or a man like Dante Luciano?

      She pursed her lips and sighed. Well…maybe Dante was a bit more than she’d thought she could handle before. But wasn’t that the purpose of the Man Plan? To push out of her comfort zone and have mind-blowing, awesome sex.

      Not an easy thing to do when everyone seemed to have so little faith in her abilities on any level—be it business or sex.

      

      LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Isabel arranged a winter bouquet of hothouse lilies.

      Was it her? Did she come across as incapable of running with the big dogs? Sweet little Isabel, why don’t you go read a book instead of trying to ride that skate-board? Oh, Isabel, don’t be silly, you don’t know enough people to win as class president; you’d just be hurt if you tried. Sweetheart, quit daydreaming. Pull your head out of the clouds and set goals, instead.

      All her life, she’d been pigeonholed. Protected. Because everyone expected it—hell, demanded it—she’d played it