But none of these compared to what she got from her father. Honorable Judge Russo was Mia’s real-life Atticus Finch. Her disillusionment may have occurred with politicians, but her father was the real deal. Prudent. Just. Ethical. These were accurate descriptions of the judge, because the accolades decorating his office were well earned. If she did right by him, then there was no doubt she was doing right by the highest of standards. His approval was the most significant achievement she could ever receive, and she had planned to show him that she could take on the political world at the highest level and win. With that idea dead, she settled for showing him she could become Dr. Mia Russo, and he had happily endorsed her plan of applying to doctoral programs.
Flipping through the yearbook pages, Mia soon located her own picture: the dorky girl in glasses with a smile which occupied fifty percent of her face. A single response floated to her mind.Yikes. Was it possible to burn every copy of her class’s El Dorado High School yearbook? Who needed a reminder of her past awkwardness?
Although Rumpelstiltskin had no problem recognizing her, making it obvious some of her physical awkwardness remained to this day. This was made worse by the fact that, with a tall, athletic frame and hair anyone would classify asgood, the man was the opposite of a troll monster. Sure, he wasn’t as broad and muscled as Brawny, but with the sleeves of his gray shirt pushed up, she couldn’t help noticing his forearms, the same ones which leaned impatiently against the glass jewelry cabinet. She was a sucker for sexy forearms and this might have been the best pair she’d ever seen in real life. Her ex-boyfriend, Thomas, definitely didn’t have the strong, capable forearms with a slight crisscrossing of veins like the jeweler. She couldn’t help wondering what the rest of him looked like.
While mentally fanning herself, Mia made the snap decision to invest in a full makeover as soon as the jewelry store position was hers. Rumpelstiltskin wouldn’t know what hit him when she strolled in looking like…well, not a supermodel. Who was she kidding? She’d at least need the biological beauty building blocks to pull this off and her smile still took up fifty percent of her face. It was best if she remained realistic and instead dreamed about being an amazing, upscale version of herself. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Her only goal was causing Rumpelstiltskin’s jaw to smack on the display cabinet. This would, fingers crossed, leave a big enough mark, his sexy forearms would have to reach for the glass cleaner again.
“It’s two-ply,” she would say while suavely tossing a roll of paper towels at the flabbergasted jeweler.
Or something like that.
Under the photo were her high school achievements. Her finger swiped down the list. Mr. Mystery Man got it almost complete, but there was one he hadn’t listed.Most Likely to Succeed. It was a good thing people in high school weren’t keeping close tabs on her because they’dmost likelyask her to give the title to someone more worthy.
Sitting in her childhood bedroom, Mia couldn’t view her life and see any part she would call a success. For now, it was easier to put off her future with more education, something she never had any problem succeeding in. Though she hated a career in politics, her life (and her parents’ money) had already invested a lot into it—into her. Mia didn’t want to risk another misstep, a worse one.
But she wasn’t here to mull over her successes or lack thereof. Mia’s challenge was to discover Rumpelstiltskin’s true identity. She hadn’t noticed him during her first venture into the store. She was too occupied with visions of beautiful jewelry and the handsome man in the plaid shirt. But during their subsequent conversation, she had ample time to take in his appearance which should help her now as she scanned the images of past classmates.
Mia’s impression? He was someone serious and reserved, like the well-worn, long-sleeve gray shirt he wore. He didn’t have the personality of a typical salesman. If he was like this in high school, it could be why she didn’t remember him. There was a quietness about him. They might not have interacted much at all.
His eyes, on the other hand, were another matter. They were probably a deep brown but had the dark glint of obsidian, and they managed to blaze into hers with the intensity of the sun. Mia didn’t want to make a habit of staring into his gaze too long for fear he’d pick her apart and figure out her inner workings, which were nobody’s business but her own. There was something about his eyes that might have been familiar, but it was all locked behind a thick haze. Or maybe it was because she couldn’t connect the eyes with the body.
His jawline was peppered with the black dots of a perpetual five o’clock shadow. This same jaw was locked into place as if his skull was carved from a single block of oak. This block was topped with a thick mane of hair as dark as his eyes, raven black.
But there was nothing extraordinary about his appearance, nothing to help Mia in her current goal. A three-inch-long scar, lazy eye, or a broken nose would have made this challenge too easy. It also would have been nice if the apparent chip on his shoulder or sexy forearms could have been captured by the school’s photographer. She closed her eyes, and tried to imagine what a younger version of the man would look like, but couldn’t get past the intensity of his dark eyes. The whole thing was incredibly aggravating.
She sighed and continued flipping through the pages. She searched under the name Lanza. Nothing. Next, each photo was studied with a detective’s attention to detail, looking for anyone who fit his physical description. She wasn’t able to narrow it down to a definitive person. She had to admit, he seemed confident in his dare, as if there was no chance of her discovering his identity, same as the real Rumpelstiltskin. Maybe he had been in an accident, and they reconstructed the majority of his face. (If so, he should be on billboards because the surgeon did an extraordinary job.) Or perhaps they didn’t go to school together, and he was a creep who kept tabs on her all these years. Even if this was simply a riddle created by a bored, nameless jeweler, Mia didn’t like to lose.
“How’s your weird search going?” her father asked from the doorway.
“Not good. I’m beginning to think the whole thing was a figment of my imagination. Maybe I’ll walk down Main Street again, and the jewelry shop won’t even be there. I’ll pull a nearby person aside and say, ‘What happened to El Dorado Jewelry?’ and they’ll tell me it burned down thirty years ago and Victor Lanza still haunts the area, like an old prospector’s ghost.”
“Sure.” Her father, the skeptic, was unimpressed with her creative story.
“Oh, I just came up with an idea!” Mia said. She pushed the yearbook off her lap, retrieving her cell from where it sat on the bed. She found the store listing and hit call.
After a few rings, a deep, gruff voice as fan-worthy as his forearms, spoke. “El Dorado Jewelry.”
“Hello, I’m interested in purchasing some of your finest rings,” she said in her most affected, rich lady voice. “With whom am I speaking to, young man?”
There was a slight pause on the other end before the voice replied, “Nice try, Mia.”
“Dammit! Is it Victor Jr.?”
“No.” And he hung up.
Chapter Four
The time onthe clock read four forty-fivep.m. That was it. The day was practically finished. Ross might as well flip theOpensign to—
The bell jingled.Goddammit.
He stalked from the small office, expecting to find bad news in the form of a young woman with a single dimple.
“Hey, Ross!” Luna, his younger, spitfire cousin with mahogany-brown hair stood inside the shop, much to his relief.
“Oh, thank god. It’s just you, Lulu.” A hand went to his chest to calm his racing heart.
“Luna. How many times do I have to tell you? A twenty-one-year-old, sophisticated woman going off to college is not called Lulu. Who were you expecting?”
