Читать книгу Spring In The Valley - Charlotte Douglas - Страница 10

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 Café 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?”

“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 café 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 Café, Brynn stomped the snow off her boots and opened one of the double glass doors. A blast of warm air and a mélange of delicious aromas greeted her. In a couple months, the café 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 déjà 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.”

Kenny screwed his face in disgust. “What’s the fun of having a gun if you can’t shoot it.”

The class laughed, and Brynn smiled. “Oh, I shoot it a lot. At target practice. Anyone who carries a gun must know how and when to use it.”

“Officer Sawyer is being modest,” Mrs. Shepherd interrupted. “She has a caseful of trophies that she’s won in shooting competitions all over the country.”

“Awesome,” Jennifer Clayton, a redhead in the middle of the room, who reminded Brynn of herself at that age, said. “Just like Annie Oakley. We learned about her this year.”

Sid Paulie, whose folks ran the drugstore, stuck his hand in the air as if grasping for a lifeline.

“Yes, Sid?” Mrs. Shepherd said.

The boy sat up straight, pleased to be recognized. “How much money do you make, Officer Sawyer?”

In the back of the room, Rand shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Interest sparked in his expression, and Brynn felt a smidgeon of irritation. The clothes he wore today probably cost more than her pay for the month, so why was he so captivated by her finances?

But her salary always came up in school sessions, so she had her stock answer ready, thank goodness, because Rand’s steady scrutiny was turning her brain to mush.

“Police officers make about the same as school-teachers,” Brynn explained to Sid. “It’s not a lot of money, but enough for a decent living. People who become police officers and teachers don’t choose those jobs for the money. They do them because they like to help people.”

Kenny raised his hand again. “How do the police help people? Don’t you just give them tickets or lock them in jail?”

Brynn opened her mouth to answer, but a voice at the back of the room beat her to a response.

“May I answer that, Mrs. Shepherd?”

Looking more flustered than Brynn had ever seen her, the veteran teacher peered at Rand, apparently noting his presence in the midst of the other adult volunteers for the first time. “And you are?”

“Rand Benedict.” He held up the laminated visitor card on a lanyard around his neck to indicate he’d checked in with the office. “I recently moved to Pleasant Valley. Last week during the snowstorm, my boy Jared was dangerously ill and having trouble breathing. I was rushing him to the hospital when Officer Sawyer came along, radioed ahead to the emergency room and led the way to the hospital with lights flashing and sirens wailing. That’s one example of how the police help people,” he explained to the class.

“Is Jared okay?” Jennifer asked.

“He’s fine now, thanks to Officer Sawyer and Dr. Anderson.” Rand seemed as at ease among the children and parents as if he spoke to strangers every day. That confidence, Brynn thought, must give him a hell of a courtroom presence.

Jimmy Clayton, Jennifer’s twin brother, spoke up. “There was an accident on the highway near our farm last year. Officer Sawyer gave the driver CPR until the ambulance got there. My dad said she probably saved the lady’s life.”

“So you see, Kenny,” Mrs. Shepherd explained with a kindly smile, “police officers do much more than give tickets and lock people up.”

“Thank you, class,” Brynn said, anxious to make her escape. “You’ve been an excellent audience.”

She turned to leave, but Rand spoke again from the back of the room. “Mrs. Shepherd, may I ask one more question?”

Irritated by his interruptions and struggling not to show her annoyance, Brynn turned back toward the class.

“Of course, Mr. Benedict,” Mrs. Shepherd answered with her characteristic courtesy.

Rand nodded and locked gazes with Brynn, who felt skewered like a butterfly on a pin with no hope of escape. She forced herself to relax. Just one more question and she was out of here. And away from the magnetic charm of Rand Benedict.

“Officer Sawyer.” Rand addressed her directly, and even from the back of the room, she could read the devil in his eyes. “May I speak with you outside?”