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“Wifout me?” Brynn didn’t understand, didn’t know where Heaven was or why so many people, friends and strangers alike, had gathered at their house, especially without her mother there to greet them. Or why her father’s usual big grin had disappeared and he looked so sad.
“Tell her to come home.” Frightened, Brynn started to cry. “Right now.”
“She can’t, pumpkin.” Her father looked as if he wanted to cry, too.
“But I want my mommy!” Her wails drew the attention of the people in the room. And then something happened that frightened her as much as her mother’s absence. Her big, strong father broke into sobs and clutched her against his broad chest so tight, it hurt.
Brynn pushed her memories aside to concentrate on the job at hand. She slowed only slightly as Valley Road became Piedmont Avenue, Pleasant Valley’s main drag. This late, no stores were open, and the weather was too raw for pedestrians. The Jaguar followed at a safe distance.
After rounding the curve at Jay-Jay’s Garage, she pulled into the emergency room entrance of the medical center and parked, grabbed her radio and hurried from the SUV. The Jaguar stopped behind her. Randall Benedict jumped from his car with his boy bundled in his arms and rushed past her.
Trained to form instant assessments, Brynn noted that the man was tall, well over six feet, but with an athletic build, apparent even under his expensive camel-colored cashmere overcoat. Beneath it, she caught a glimpse of designer sweatpants and an immaculate T-shirt. Judging from his Gucci loafers without socks, he’d dressed in a hurry. Even in his disheveled state, the man looked too handsome to be true. Had to be fantastically good-looking, Brynn admitted, for her to notice. Too bad he was married. And where was his wife, anyway? What woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to spend every minute with such a gorgeous husband and adorable little boy? What mother wouldn’t stay with her seriously ill child?
Possibilities flitted through Brynn’s mind. Benedict could be divorced, but that seemed unlikely. Only under the most unusual circumstances did judges take a child as young as Jared from his mother. More feasible was the probability that Mrs. Benedict simply hadn’t arrived in Pleasant Valley yet. The man was a newcomer. Perhaps his wife had remained at their former home to oversee its sale and the loading of moving vans. Or she could be on a business trip. Or taking care of a sick parent. Any number of reasons could explain her absence.
Brynn studied Randall Benedict closer. After her first glimpse of him, he appeared remarkably self-confident and self-possessed. He moved and spoke with the ease of a man who knew what he wanted and was accustomed to getting it. Further inspection revealed worried furrows in his high forehead, the edge of tension around his generous mouth and a slight tick below his right eye at his sculpted cheekbone. Although his entire body was rigid with anxiety, he cradled the toddler with remarkable tenderness.
“Hang on, tiger,” he murmured in a reassuring tone. “The doctor’s going to help you feel better.”
“Wanna go home,” the boy wheezed.
“We’ll go home soon,” Benedict promised with a gentleness at odds with his earlier response to Brynn. He paused as she caught up with them. “I can’t thank you enough for your help,” he said to her.
“No problem. That’s my job. Let’s get your son inside.”
“He’s not—” Benedict began, but stopped, shook his head and hurried toward the entrance.
Not going to make it. She shoved the pessimistic thought aside. “Jared will be fine. Dr. Anderson’s a very competent physician.”
Brynn accompanied them through the automatic doors of the emergency room, where Dr. Scott Anderson, the young E.R. specialist who’d joined the hospital staff last year, was waiting for them in the foyer. The doctor motioned Benedict and Jared into a treatment room, followed with a nurse in tow and closed the door. Brynn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until relief washed over her that the little boy was now in the doctor’s capable hands.
While she waited for news of Jared’s condition, Brynn stopped at the desk to speak with Emily Carmichael, one of the night nurses. As Emily chattered away, Brynn couldn’t stop thinking about Randall Benedict, who stirred her interest. And so attractive he’d stirred her senses in a way no other man ever had. Just her luck to find the one man she might like to know better was almost certainly married and with a son. She considered family sacred, which made Benedict definitely off-limits and reinforced her conviction that she was meant for single life. Catching Jodie’s bouquet had been a fluke that had sent Brynn’s thoughts in directions they had no business taking. As far as marriage was concerned, she was wedded to her job. Period. End of story.
“Looks like you just came from Jodie’s wedding.” Emily pointed to Brynn’s long skirt with a hint of wistfulness. “We were all invited, but some of us had to work. I drew the short straw.”
“Get used to it, Em,” Brynn said with a sympathetic smile. She’d had to pull a few strings and juggle duty rosters to attend her best friend’s nuptials. “Duty comes first in our lines of work.”
The young nurse, only months out of college, nodded. “Want some coffee?”
Brynn checked the clock on the wall behind the desk. She wouldn’t leave until she’d had a report on Jared and could be in for a long night. “Sure. High-octane with cream and sugar, please.”
Emily disappeared into the break room and returned moments later with two foam cups. She handed one to Brynn and nodded toward the treatment room. “Must be tough, having a sick kid.”
Brynn sipped her coffee and attempted to put a lid on her worry over the little boy. So small and vulnerable, he’d touched her heart and broken through the objectivity she worked so hard to maintain on the job. “Illness is a fact of life.”
Emily cocked her head and considered Brynn through narrowed eyes. “You’ve been a cop how long?”
“Eight years.”
“That explains it.”
“What?”
“Why you’re so cynical.”
“Sheesh, Em, don’t spare my feelings,” Brynn said with pretended hurt. “Just spit out what you really think.”
“We’ve spent a lot of time together since I started work here,” Emily began.
Brynn nodded. Too much time. She’d logged more hours in the E.R. than she cared to remember, interviewing victims of accidents, domestic abuse and the rare but disturbing casualties of assault and other crimes. “And your point is?”
Emily shrugged. “You act like none of this—” her gesture encompassed the E.R. “—touches you.”
Brynn blinked in surprise. Did she really come across so hard-boiled? “If you don’t maintain emotional distance, jobs like ours will burn you out fast.”
“That’s easier said than done,” Emily admitted with a sigh. “Especially when kids like that sweet little boy are concerned, bless his heart.”
Brynn had to agree. Worrying about Jared had shaken her more than she cared to admit. “A sense of humor helps.”
“Any new jokes?” Emily asked.
Brynn grinned, happy to change the subject. “How can you tell if it’s a skunk or a lawyer who’s been run over on the highway?”
“I give up.”
“There’re skid marks around the skunk.” Emily’s laugh encouraged Brynn to continue. “How many lawyers does it take to change a lightbulb?”
“How many?”
“How many can you afford?”
Emily chuckled again and shook her head. “You know more lawyer jokes than anyone I’ve ever met. Do you really dislike them so much?”
“Lawyers? I like ’em about as much as I like Yankees,” Brynn admitted.
“I always figured lawyers and the police are on the same side.”
Brynn snorted with disgust. “If I had ten bucks for every criminal who’s lawyered up and gotten off scot-free because some crooked attorney manipulated the system, I could buy a luxury condo at Myrtle Beach.”
Emily folded her arms on the admissions desk. “But not all lawyers are crooked.”
“No,” Brynn admitted with a straight face. “Some are dead.”
“You are so bad,” Emily laughed and shook her head.
Although Brynn had made her comments in jest, she recognized her prejudice. For the most part, she considered herself fair and open-minded, but attorneys and Northerners pushed her buttons. Where attorneys were concerned, she agreed with the principle that every person was entitled to the best defense possible, but the shady shenanigans of too many un-principled lawyers had left a bad taste in her mouth for the profession as a whole.
And she hoped Emily wouldn’t get her started on Yankees. They flooded the town every summer, in their big RVs and fancy cars, passing through on their way to summer homes in the nearby mountains. Not that she envied their wealth. They’d probably worked hard for it. What Brynn disliked was their condescension, treating the locals like dim-witted morons from The Beverly Hillbillies, laughing at Southern drawls and taking great pleasure in explaining how much better everything was done up North.
Two particular Yankees had caused plenty of trouble recently in Pleasant Valley. Ginger Parker, with the morals of an alley cat in heat, had almost ruined Jim and Cat Stratton’s marriage. Ginger had been from New Jersey. And the antiques dealer who’d tried to rip off sweet old Mrs. Weatherstone had been based in Rhode Island.
Not that there weren’t Southern snakes in abundance, but, at least in a five-county radius, Brynn knew who they were. Strangers, especially from the North, always put her on alert and on edge. If that attitude made her opinionated, it also made her cautious. And she couldn’t be too cautious in her line of work.
“You don’t fool me,” Emily was saying. “I know you too well. For all your ranting about lawyers and Yankees, you’d be first on the scene if either needed help. And you’d provide it gladly.”
“That’s my job,” Brynn countered.
Before she could say more, Dr. Anderson came out of the treatment room and approached the desk.
“How’s the kid?” Brynn asked.
The young doctor pursed his lips, then sighed. “He’s in severe respiratory distress. I have him on oxygen and antibiotics. We’ll have to wait and see how well he can fight this off.”
Brynn’s heart went out to the little boy, so ill without his mother. “How soon before he’s out of the woods?”
“Depends on how strong he is. Could be a couple of hours. Could be a few days.” The doctor’s solemn expression indicated a third possibility. The boy might not recover at all.
Brynn felt a rush of sympathy, not only for Jared, but for his father. She couldn’t imagine how Randall Benedict was feeling now, without anyone to stand watch with him over his sick child.
Her radio squawked and she keyed the mike. “Sawyer here.”
“We have an accident with injuries west of Carsons Corner,” the dispatcher announced. “I’ve dispatched Rhodes.”
“Understood,” Brynn replied. “I’m coming in.”
The Pleasant Valley police department was small, usually manned at night by only the dispatcher and one patrol officer. In bad weather or other emergencies, additional help was needed, and Brynn often had to pull an extra shift. With the police station across the street from the medical center and a clean uniform in her locker, she could report for duty in mere minutes.
Brynn said goodbye to Dr. Anderson and Emily and headed for her car. But she couldn’t get Randall Benedict and Jared, a worried parent alone in a strange town and his dangerously ill little boy, out of her mind. She turned before exiting the automatic doors.
“I’ll drop by later to see how the kid’s doing,” she said before plunging into the night and the blowing snow.
Chapter Two
The light pressure of a hand on his shoulder jolted Rand out of a deep sleep. He came instantly awake and centered his attention immediately on Jared. The boy, dwarfed by the hospital bed, lay still.
Too still.
Terror squeezed Rand’s lungs like a fist, and he couldn’t move from the hard plastic chair where he’d slept. Couldn’t breathe. “My God, he’s not—”
“Jared’s fine,” a drawling feminine voice assured him. “The crisis has passed. His fever’s broken, and he’s breathing without difficulty now.”
Relief cascaded through him, and, for the first time, Rand became aware of the woman whose hand still grasped his shoulder. “You’re sure?”
“Dr. Anderson was just in, but he didn’t wake you. You’ve had a long night.”
Sunlight filtered through the curtains of the hospital window, and Rand checked his watch—8:00 a.m.
He stood, leaned over Jared, and placed his hand on the boy’s forehead. The toddler’s color was normal, his fever gone, his breathing easier. The oxygen mask had been removed. Weak with relief, Rand turned to the nurse—
And saw instead the police officer who’d escorted him into town.
“You here to arrest me?” His mind, fuzzy from lack of sleep, struggled to make sense of the officer’s presence.
His question apparently took her by surprise. “Arrest you?”
“For speeding. I know I was driving like a bat out of hell last night, but—”
“I just stopped by to check on Jared.”
She smiled, and suddenly she was no longer an officer but the most beautiful woman Rand had ever seen. Midnight-blue eyes glowed with compassion, and her mouth turned up at the corners in an alluring smile. Even with her auburn hair tucked neatly into a French braid, it appeared thick and luxurious, the kind of hair he’d love to run his fingers through. And its color complemented perfectly the apricot flush of her cheeks and her flawless complexion. Tall—she had to be at least five foot eight—her body filled her navy blue uniform so sensually it should have been against the law. In contrast to the severe lines of her uniform, the faintest hint of her floral scent swirled through the room.
When he’d rushed Jared into the E.R. last night, Rand had been so frantic with worry that the police officer’s appearance had barely registered. Otherwise, he would have noted those spectacular eyes, like the blue velvet of a moonless summer sky. Even if he hadn’t been distracted, he couldn’t have seen how curvaceous she was. She’d been bundled up in her police parka and a long dress. Long dress? Had she really been wearing one or had his worry-crazed mind played tricks on him?
“You okay?” she asked.
He flushed, embarrassed that he’d been staring. “What?”
“You’ve had a rough night. You should go home and get some sleep.” Her words, slow and sensual, made him think of the heady fragrance of magnolias and steamy Southern nights.
“I won’t leave Jared alone.” He checked once more to reassure himself that Jared was truly better.
“Anyone I can notify for you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Thanks—” His gaze traveled to the name tag on the pocket above the enticing curve of her breast. “Officer Sawyer—”
“Call me Brynn.” She offered her hand.
He grasped it and noted instantly the contrast of cool, silky skin, long elegant fingers and a no-nonsense grip that he released with reluctance. “Thanks, Brynn, but I have my cell phone if I need it. And I’m Rand, by the way.”
“I can stay while you take a break. I don’t mind. He’s a sweet little kid.”
“You’re very kind, but, no. Jared’s had a tough time lately, and when he wakes up, he should see a familiar face.”
“At least let me bring you breakfast.”
He scrutinized her closely, assessing her motives. She wasn’t coming on to him. In spite of her obvious sexual attributes, she didn’t flaunt them. Her concern seemed genuine with no strings attached, probably an example of the legendary Southern hospitality he’d heard so much about.
“Doesn’t the hospital have a cafeteria?” he asked.
“You can eat here if you’re a masochist,” she replied with a friendly grin. “But Jodie’s Cafе is just down the street. They have the best cranberry-pecan muffins in the Upstate.”
“Upstate?”
“Northwest South Carolina.”
“Sorry. I haven’t learned the local lingo.”
“You live on Valley Road, right?”
