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“Just moved in. I bought the place called River Walk.”
Her magnificent eyes widened at his mention of the name. “Great location, right on the river. Good trout fishing.”
“And lots of fresh air and sunshine. Just what the doctor ordered for Jared’s health.” He glanced at Jared, sleeping peacefully, and felt a stab of guilt. “Guess I didn’t get him out of New York fast enough.”
“You’re from New York?” Brynn’s question seemed strained.
“New York City. Jared and I moved to River Walk to escape the pollution. Jared, as you can tell, has weak lungs. I’m hoping the country air will improve his stamina.”
Brynn flashed a brittle smile. “Will you be working in town?”
He shook his head. “I’m with a New York law firm.”
A wary look flashed across her very pretty face. “You’re a lawyer?”
Rand frowned. She’d uttered the word in a derogatory tone usually reserved for wife beaters, serial killers and child pornographers. “A corporate attorney.”
She backed toward the door. “Not many corporations in Pleasant Valley.”
“I’m taking a sabbatical, time for us to settle into our new life.”
Brynn reached behind her and grabbed the door-knob. “Dr. Anderson says Jared should recover completely in a day or two. That new antibiotic did the trick.”
Rand didn’t want her to leave. Not until he’d learned a whole lot more about the delectable Officer Sawyer. “Come to dinner when Jared’s better. I’d like to show you our place.”
Now that was the understatement of the year.
“Maybe.” Brynn couldn’t have sounded more noncommittal. “I’ll have the cafе send that breakfast over.”
Before Rand could protest, she slipped out the door and closed it firmly behind her. Officer Sawyer hadn’t appeared the type who would spook easily. He sank back into the bedside chair, wondering what he’d said that had sent her running as if the devil were at her heels.
BRYNN STOMPED through the snow that covered the sidewalk, heedless of the creeping dampness at the cuffs of her uniform trousers, oblivious to the cold that nipped her cheeks. As steamed as she felt, she was amazed the snow didn’t melt in her path. How could she be so stupid, going all fluttery inside over a guy with three strikes against him?
Married, most likely. He hadn’t been wearing a wedding band, but that wasn’t concrete proof of anything.
Yankee, by his own admission.
And a lawyer.
But try as she might, she couldn’t get Rand Benedict out of her mind, especially the way his deep brown eyes had widened first with surprise, then blatant approval when she’d seen him this morning. And that voice. No nasal Yankee twang. Just seductively rich, deep and smooth, like an anchorman’s on the network news.
He had shed his cashmere overcoat, too, using it as a blanket over his knees, exposing broad shoulders, well-developed biceps and an enticing chest beneath his pristine white T-shirt. Sitting at a desk and hoisting law books didn’t produce that kind of physical perfection. He probably worked out in an expensive Fifth Avenue health club. In New York City, for Pete’s sake! She’d have more in common with the man if he came from Mars.
Then why couldn’t she get him out of her head? He’d occupied her thoughts during the entire night shift, causing Todd Leland to eye her more than once with curiosity when he had to repeat a question. Fortunately, she hadn’t been called out on the road. In her present state of out-of-her-mind, she’d have ended up with Jay-Jay pulling her patrol car from a snowbank with his tow truck.
Brynn had worried all night about little Jared, too. She could have simply called the hospital to check on him once her shift was over. But, no, she’d gone and stuck herself smack-dab in temptation’s path by returning to the hospital where Rand Benedict would be waiting.
Reaching the entrance to Jodie’s Mountain Crafts and Cafе, Brynn stomped the snow off her boots and opened one of the double glass doors. A blast of warm air and a mеlange of delicious aromas greeted her. In a couple months, the cafе would be crowded with tourists stopping for breakfast on their way to the North Carolina mountains, but in late March, the working locals had already eaten and left, and the dining area was practically empty.
“Morning, Officer Sawyer.”
Sixteen-year-old Daniel, a teen from Archer Farm whom Jodie had hired as a busboy, looked up from the table he was clearing. Of all Jeff’s clients, Daniel had made the most progress in rehabilitating himself. Tall and lanky with carrot-colored hair and freckles, Daniel had gained poise and self-confidence over the past few months. And a reputation as a hard worker.
“Hey, Daniel,” Brynn greeted him. “Do you have time to make a delivery for me?”
His face lighted with its usual puppy-dog eagerness. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Take a large coffee, large o.j. and several kinds of muffins over to the hospital. To Mr. Rand Benedict. And put them on my tab.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Daniel tucked the tub of dirty dishes under his arm and hurried toward the kitchen.
Just because Rand was off-limits didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a little pampering after the hard night he’d endured. She’d promised him breakfast, and with that obligation fulfilled, she’d forget him.
Brynn wandered through the gift area, a wide hall lined with shelves filled with handmade quilts, willow baskets and rustic birdhouses, many made by the boys at Archer Farm. The passage led to the dining room on the deck overlooking the river. The arching glass roof and walls kept out the snow and cold and provided a breathtaking view of the Piedmont River below and the mountains beyond.
“Hey, honeybun, come sit with us,” a familiar voice called.
Brynn’s aunt, Marion Sawyer, sat with Merrilee Nathan at the only occupied table on the deck. Glad for an excuse not to be alone with her troublesome thoughts, Brynn joined them.
“You two are up early,” Brynn said.
“I’m filling in as hostess for the breakfast shift while Jodie’s on her honeymoon,” Merrilee explained. Her face flushed and her eyes glimmered at the mention of the honeymoon, and Brynn guessed Merrilee was recalling her own last summer with her veterinarian husband Grant, who was Jodie’s brother.
“And I have a house to show at nine o’clock,” Aunt Marion explained, “although the clients may cancel because of the weather.”
Brynn shrugged off her parka and took a seat at the table. Merrilee retrieved a mug and silverware from a nearby serving station and poured Brynn’s coffee.
“You didn’t sell River Walk, by any chance?” Brynn asked Marion. Along with her husband, Bud, Marion ran the local real estate office.
“Don’t I wish?” the older woman with huge bones, big hair, a strong jaw and a heart as large as the rest of her said. “That commission alone would have equaled my last year’s income.”
Brynn had never been inside the riverside “cabin,” a massive log home with expansive windows and multitiered decks, built before she was born, but she’d often checked out the exterior of the empty house while on patrol. “Isn’t it in pretty rough shape?”
“Needs some cosmetic repairs,” Marion agreed, “new appliances and upgrades in the bathrooms, but it’s still a valuable property with over five thousand square feet, a guest house and location, location, location.”
“How come you’re so interested in River Walk?” Merrilee leaned forward and eyed Brynn closely, like a bloodhound scenting a trail.
“Aren’t you?” Brynn sidestepped the question. “It’s practically across the highway from you and Grant.”
“And it’s sold?” Merrilee asked.
“Apparently.” Brynn filled them in on her encounter with Rand and Jared Benedict.
“Poor little kid,” Marion murmured. “Dr. Anderson’s sure he’s going to be all right?”
Brynn nodded, sipped her coffee and tried to ignore the laserlike glare of Merrilee’s sky-blue gaze.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Merrilee asked.
“About what?”
“About Rand Benedict.” Merrilee exchanged a long look with Marion.
“I’ve told you everything I know about the man,” Brynn insisted with a shrug, striving for nonchalance.
Merrilee narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t told us why you’re absolutely glowing when you talk about him.”
“I’m glowing because I just walked two blocks in the snow, not because he asked me to dinner.” Brynn started to push away from the table, but Marion grabbed her wrist.
“Whoa, not so fast,” her aunt said.
Cornered, Brynn sank into her chair. “What?”
“Tell us the rest,” Marion said.
“I told you—”
“—the bare bones,” Merrilee interrupted. “Now fill in the blanks.”
Irritated at their persistence, Brynn ran a finger under the suddenly too-tight collar of her uniform. “There are no blanks.”
Merrilee shook her head. “This is Merrilee June, your old buddy, you’re talking to, your friend who’s taken part in every bit of mischief you’ve ever committed. I know that look, Brynn.”
“The dead-tired-after-working-all-night-and-want-to-go-home-and-sleep look?” Brynn hedged.
“Un-uh.” Merrilee shook her head. “The I’m-hiding-something look.”
“What would I have to hide?” Brynn asked, feigning innocence.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Aunt Marion said. “What’s this Rand Benedict look like?”
Handsome as sin. Good enough to eat. Pulse-pounding perfect. “He’s nice looking.”
Merrilee rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Brynn. I can tell you’re interested in the guy. You get this soft, misty look when you talk about him.”
“I am not interested. And even if I were, he’s a married Yankee lawyer.” She didn’t know for certain he was married, but claiming the fact would help get her off the hook. She hoped.
“You sure he’s married?” Marion asked. Brynn’s aunt had been trying to find a husband for her only niece since Brynn had turned eighteen. Having gone through all the eligible bachelors in Pleasant Valley and the surrounding counties, Marion obviously viewed Rand Benedict as fresh meat.
“He has a son,” Brynn said, hoping to convince them that Benedict was unavailable. “He’s bought a house too huge for just the two of them. Maybe he’s waiting for his wife to join him.”
“Maybe he’s divorced,” Merrilee countered.
“Well, hot damn,” Brynn said with more sarcasm than she’d intended. “That would make him a real catch. A divorced Yankee lawyer.”
“Maybe the two of you could find something in common,” Aunt Marion, ever the optimist, suggested.
“Maybe the two of you should mind your own business,” Brynn said with a smile to soften her words. “I’m not in the market for a man.”
“Then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t accept his dinner offer,” Marion responded with maddening logic.
“And every reason why you should,” Merrilee added.
“Name one,” Brynn shot back, outflanked and outnumbered.
“He’s new in town.” Merrilee studied her perfect pink fingernails with exasperating calm. “You should make him feel welcome.”
Aunt Marion bent her head toward Brynn, her eyes flashing with curiosity. “And you’d have the perfect opportunity to learn more about him.”
“Why would I want to know?” Brynn refused to admit how much the prospect of discovering more about Rand appealed to her.
“Pffft,” Marion snorted. “This is Pleasant Valley, honeybun. Everyone wants to know everything about everyone else. And it’s particularly important for the police to have all the facts. Think how much trouble Jim and Cat Stratton might have avoided if you had dug up the goods on that Ginger Parker when she first came to town.”
“I’m a police officer,” Brynn said. “If you want someone to dig up dirt on Rand Benedict, hire a private eye.”
“We’re not suggesting the man has skeletons in his closet,” Merrilee said with a shake of her pretty blond curls. “If he really is a single parent with a small son, he needs the help of a supportive community.”
“From what I saw,” Brynn said, “Rand Benedict can afford to pay for all the help he needs.”
“You can’t buy friends,” Merrilee observed quietly.
Brynn winced. Maybe police work had made her cynical, just as Emily had said. “You’re right,” she conceded with a sigh. “If the man asks me again, I’ll consider going to dinner.”
Hope flared in Marion’s eyes, and Brynn was quick to add, “But just because it’s the neighborly thing to do, and I only said I’d consider it. By the way, what did you think of Jodie and Jeff’s cutting their wedding cake with a Marine officer’s saber yesterday? That’s a first for Pleasant Valley.”
With the subject safely shifted, Brynn leaned back in her chair and enjoyed her coffee. Rand Benedict lived out of town and didn’t seem the type to mix with the locals. In a few days, Aunt Marion, Merrilee and Brynn herself, she hoped, would forget all about him. After all, the man had said he was on sabbatical, not a permanent resident. She’d probably never see him again.
Over a week later, Brynn surveyed the eager young faces of Mrs. Shepherd’s third-grade class with a sentimental sense of dеj? vu. It didn’t seem that long ago that she and Jodie had sat next to each other in the rows beside the windows and Merrilee had been in the first grade classroom down the hall.
Outside the tall windows of the ancient brick building, a row of spectacular Bradford pear trees bloomed like stalks of white cotton candy against the brilliant blue sky. Beneath them, beds of cheerful yellow daffodils, hearty survivors of the brief spring storm, nodded in the breeze. Last week’s snow had melted almost immediately, replaced by warm balmy days that had induced an outbreak of spring fever in the school’s population. Needing a diversion from routine, Mrs. Shepherd had asked Brynn to present her Officer Friendly program to the class.
Brynn had completed her standard talk on avoiding strangers and observing traffic and gun-safety rules and was handing out junior officer cards when she noted a newcomer who had just slipped in the rear door and joined the parent volunteers at the back of the class.
Rand Benedict.
What was he doing at the elementary school? Jared wasn’t old enough to enroll. But Rand, dressed with great casual style in khaki chinos and a sage-green knit shirt that brought out the deep brown of his eyes, sat with one hip propped atop a low bookcase, perfectly at ease, as if he had every right to be there.
He’d phoned the station several times over the past week and left Brynn messages, asking her to return his calls, but she hadn’t. In spite of her halfway promise to Merrilee and Marion, she didn’t intend to accept his dinner invitation. Being alone with a man she found both entirely too appealing and at the same time completely wrong for her would be an exercise in frustration. By not responding to his calls, Brynn had hoped to make him realize she wasn’t interested. And until this moment, she’d believed her lack of response had worked.
“Now, class,” Mrs. Shepherd was saying, “before Officer Sawyer leaves, does anyone have questions?”
Brynn dragged her attention from Rand to the class. In the front row, Kenny Fulton, a skinny little hellion whose father owned the town’s only department store, waved his hand. “Have you ever shot anybody?”
Aware of Rand’s gaze, which was making her cheeks flush and her body temperature rise, Brynn answered, “No, Kenny, fortunately, I’ve never had to draw my gun in the line of duty.”
“How come?” the boy demanded.
“Because most people have enough respect for the law to do what an officer says without the need to display deadly force.”
