One Good Man
Charlotte Douglas
A Good Man Isn't So Hard To Find…Unless, as Jodie Nathan believes, that "good man" could lead to a broken heart. After all, Jodie's only experience with love had resulted in a pregnancy at the tender age of fifteen. Now, as the single mother of one rebellious teen, the last thing Jodie needs is to get involved with reformed bad boy Jeff Davidson. But not only is Jeff a former marine who has endured his share of pain, he's more sexy and compassionate than any man who's ever graced her doorstep. Can Jodie overcome the lingering pain of her past and risk giving Jeff the gift of a shared future?Because everyone needs… A Place To Call Home.
“If I can figure out a way to free up some of your time, will you promise to spend a day with me?”
“Sure, and buy me a winning lottery ticket while you’re at it,” Jodie replied.
Jeff ignored her sarcasm and went back to her initial agreement. “You promise? One full day?”
“My first free day is at least four years away, if you can wait that long—”
“I’m betting within the next two weeks,” he said. And he was serious.
She shook her head in disbelief. “Not unless you’re a miracle worker.”
“I’m a marine. We’re trained to do the impossible. I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain. Be prepared to keep yours.”
Okay, so he’d pledged Jodie the impossible, and he hadn’t a clue how he’d deliver on that promise.
But as he’d said, he was a marine. He’d think of something—anything—to spend some time alone with her.
Dear Reader,
In the words of an ancient Chinese saying, we live in interesting times. Due to tumultuous world events, we appreciate more than ever security, solace, acceptance and love as bulwarks against the troubles of the day. In my series A PLACE TO CALL HOME I’ve created a small town in upstate South Carolina where love and acceptance, along with only the occasional mayhem, abound. For the residents of Pleasant Valley, friends are family, and family is everything.
In One Good Man, book two of the series, Jeff Davidson, the town’s resident bad boy, returns home after serving with the marines. Military service has turned his life around, and he hopes to do the same for delinquent teenage boys by converting his farm into a rehabilitation center. But Jodie Nathan, a single mother with a hell-on-wheels fourteen-year-old daughter, finds Jeff’s plans her worst nightmare—and Jeff the man of her dreams.
I hope you’ll enjoy watching the sparks fly in Jeff and Jodie’s story, and, as we say in the South, y’all come back and visit Pleasant Valley again in book three, Spring in the Valley, in April.
Happy reading!
One Good Man
Charlotte Douglas
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The major passions of Charlotte Douglas’s life are her husband—her high school sweetheart to whom she’s been married for over three decades—and writing compelling stories. A national bestselling author, she enjoys filling her books with love of home and family, special places and happy endings. With their two cairn terriers, she and her husband live most of the year on Florida’s central west coast, but spend the warmer months at their North Carolina mountaintop retreat.
No matter what time of year, readers can reach her at charlottedouglas1@juno.com (mailto:charlottedouglas1@juno.com). She’s always delighted to hear from them.
Contents
Cover (#u34740617-3d36-562e-a9b2-2b2f4b868976)
Back Cover Text (#ud027be5c-7288-57fe-adb3-e855a3580ddb)
Dear Reader (#u7d450640-ff8e-5dd5-9aea-199f38e770c1)
Title Page (#ubb195a36-29c8-5474-b6c2-f8d0993f3f9b)
About the Author (#u77c3ef5d-2f0f-5b1b-b4d6-307e7c650194)
Chapter One (#u8b77fd18-aae1-5db1-aa70-272163e804c0)
Chapter Two (#ufc899a92-dc71-595f-a402-6675419de68b)
Chapter Three (#u76b33f56-9ce5-5e62-a556-9b8a29420a05)
Chapter Four (#ueeefec6b-e95a-537b-ba93-276bfe1fefa7)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Jeff Davidson eased deeper into the shadows of the gift shop. Thanks to his Special Operations experience, the former Marine shifted his six-foot-two, one-hundred-eighty pounds with undetectable stealth. But his military training offered no tactics to deal with the domestic firefight raging a few feet away.
With a stillness usually reserved for covert insertions into enemy territory, he peered through a narrow slit between the handmade quilts, rustic birdhouses and woven willow baskets that covered the shop’s display shelves.
On the other side of the merchandise in the seating area of the café, a slender teenager with a cascade of straight, platinum hair yelled at her mother, her words exploding like a barrage from the muzzle of an M-16. “You are so not with it. Everyone I hang with has her navel pierced.”
Jeff grimaced in silent disapproval. The kid should have her butt kicked, using that whiny, know-it-all tone toward her mom. Not that the girl’s behavior was his business. He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. He’d come to Mountain Crafts and Café to talk business with Jodie Nathan, the owner, after her restaurant closed. Lingering until the staff left, he’d browsed the shelves of the gift section until she was alone.
But before he could make his presence known, fourteen-year-old Brittany had clattered down the stairs from their apartment over the store and confronted her mother.
“Your friends’ navels are their mothers’ concern, not mine.” The struggle for calm was evident in Jodie’s firm words, and the tired slump of her pretty shoulders suggested she’d waged this battle too many times. “You are my daughter, and as long as you live under my roof, you will follow my rules.”
Was the kid blind? Jeff thought with disgust. Couldn’t she see the tenderness and caring in her mother’s remarkable hazel eyes? An ancient pain gnawed at his heart. He’d have given everything for such maternal love when he’d been a child, a teenager. Even now. Young Brittany Nathan had no idea how lucky she was.
“But, Mom—”
“You are not having your navel pierced, and that’s final.” This time Jodie failed to hide her exasperation.
“I hate you!” Brittany screamed.
The girl’s lips, sporting almost-black lipstick, contorted in anger. Her green eyes, rimmed with heavy dark eyeliner, sparked fire, and her multiringed fingers clenched. Judging from her T-shirt, jeans and shoes, Jeff thought, black wasn’t her favorite color. It was her only color.
She squared her thin shoulders for another assault. “Kimberly’s mom lets her pierce whatever she wants.”
“And if Kimberly wanted to jump off Devil’s Mountain, I suppose her mother would let her.” Weariness weighed Jodie’s reply.
“I wish you weren’t my mom!” Brittany aimed the words as if well aware of the wound they’d inflict. She pivoted on the heel of her clunky shoe, stomped out the front door and slammed it behind her.
Jeff started to leave his hiding spot but, at the stricken look on Jodie’s face, decided to lay low and give her a minute to compose herself. The woman didn’t deserve the grief her daughter had caused. Only thirty, Jodie had shocked the small town of Pleasant Valley, South Carolina, by becoming pregnant at fifteen. Instead of hiding the fact with an out-of-state abortion or giving up the child for adoption, she’d opted to raise her baby in Pleasant Valley, a gutsy move.
Jeff had been a senior in high school, an outcast in his own right, and he’d secretly identified with Jodie and the ostracism she’d suffered. The day after he graduated, he’d left town to join the Marines and hadn’t laid eyes on Jodie since. He still hadn’t gotten a really good look at her. Behind the lunch counter, she had folded her arms on its Formica surface and buried her head.
“Guess that disqualifies me as Mother of the Year,” Jodie muttered loud enough for Jeff to hear, pain as prevalent as the irony in her voice.
Jeff couldn’t detect sounds of crying. And remaining hidden would only add to his rudeness, so he stepped from behind the shelf and cleared his throat.
Jodie’s head snapped up, and her enormous hazel eyes widened with alarm.
With his first face-to-face look, Jeff’s breath caught in his chest. She wasn’t the scrawny, freckle-faced kid he remembered. Jodie Nathan had grown into a knockout. Even with smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes and her brown, sun-streaked hair tousled in disarray, her appearance was arresting: the delicate angles of her face reflected a maturity that added to her attractiveness; her feathery brows arched in obvious surprise; and her soft, sensuous mouth made a man think of long, deep kisses that led to more.
Her sage sweater showcased the proud set of her shoulders, braced as if for a blow, and her erect posture lifted small but exquisite breasts. The counter hid her from the waist down, but if the rest of her was as alluring, awkward little Jodie had blossomed into a woman who could turn men’s heads, have a profound effect on lower parts of their anatomy. And break their hearts.
His own was hammering like a minigun, multibarrels firing. His penchant for coolness under fire shattered beneath her intense gaze.
“You heard?” she asked.
“Sorry.” He finally found his voice. “I didn’t mean to. I’ve been waiting to talk to you after the staff left.”
Her eyes narrowed, and uneasiness flashed across her face. “Do I know you?”
“Jeff Davidson. It’s been a while.”
Jodie relaxed slightly at the familiar name, cocked her head and studied him. “You’ve changed.”
“I’m older.”
“It’s more than age.”
He grinned. “I’ve grown up, too. The Marines didn’t tolerate blowhard delinquents.”
“You wanted to talk to me?”
“A proposition.”
Her expression hardened, and her enormous eyes glinted with anger. “Forget it. I wasn’t that kind of girl when you left Pleasant Valley, and I’m not that kind of woman now.”
“Whoa, back up.” He held his hands palms outward as if warding off a blow. “I’m talking about a business deal.”
The distrust in her eyes signaled her disbelief. “After observing my maternal ineptitude firsthand, you can’t possibly think I can help with your home for troubled teens.”
“Grant’s told you about my project?”
She shook her head. “Merrilee Stratton keeps my darling brother too engrossed in wedding plans for long chats with his kid sister. But rumors about you and your project are flying all over town.”
Jeff eyed her closely and detected no resentment when she spoke of her brother. Jodie was apparently happy about Grant’s upcoming marriage. But her tone had changed when she’d mentioned rumors. If he read her correctly, hers wouldn’t be the first negative attitude he’d encountered since returning home. Plenty of people would be glad to see Pleasant Valley’s former bad boy fall on his face. And get out of town.
But Jodie’s cooperation was crucial to his project. He couldn’t let her refuse at the get-go. To ward off an initial turndown, he’d involve her gradually. Win her over slowly. And if he hit a snag maybe Grant could help grease the skids.
“If you have a few minutes,” he said, “I’d like to fill you in on my plans.”
With a frown that creased the perfect silken skin between her eyebrows, she hesitated. “If you’re soliciting funds, you’re wasting time. My own wayward teen has busted my budget.”
Jeff shook his head. “It’s a business deal, like I said. You’d be paid. If you’re interested.”
He’d kept his voice casual, as if her compliance didn’t matter. He’d scare her off for sure if she knew how much he needed her help. Or how much more he wanted her involved, now that he’d had a good look at the grownup Jodie.
During his years as a Marine, Special Ops had been a man’s job, and he’d encountered precious few women. The ones who had crossed his path had been either officers or foreign nationals, all off-limits. He’d lived like a monk, and he’d liked it that way. His work had required intense concentration. Sexual liaisons and emotional entanglements dulled a man’s edge and might have gotten him or his team members killed.
But officers and foreigners belonged to his past. Jodie was his future and one hundred percent red-blooded American woman, the prettiest he’d ever seen. His long-suppressed interest soared.
“I can talk,” she was saying, “but only a minute. Want some coffee? I have a fresh pot.”
“Sounds good.”
Jeff reined in his galloping imagination and focused on the job at hand. Since his return, he’d been met with mixed reactions in his hometown, everything from curiosity to encouragement to outright hostility. He wasn’t certain exactly where Jodie’s attitude fell on that continuum, but at least she hadn’t cut him off without letting him speak, more than he could say for some folks.
As a teen growing up in this backwater town, his go-to-hell attitude had been a good cover against loneliness and his outcast status. As an adult, he struggled to overcome the residual effects of that rebellious past in order to succeed.
And he wanted success, not only for himself, but especially for the kids whose lives hung in the balance.
Jodie returned with two mugs of coffee and nodded toward a table at the front of the café. The closest to the door, he noted with wry amusement. In case she needed to bolt into the street.
“You afraid of me?” he asked.
“Should I be?” She settled into a seat across from him.
He swung his leg over a chair and sat. “Most people in town are.”
She leaned her head to one side and studied him again, as if trying to make up her mind. Her incredible eyes, the irises a brilliant green rimmed with dark brown, didn’t blink. “Some folks say the Marines turned you into a killing machine.”
“And what do you say?”
“Did they?”
“Did I kill anyone?” He threw an internal wall around those grim memories, nightmares that sometimes haunted his sleep, and forced a grin. “That’s classified, ma’am. If I told you—”
“You’d have to kill me?” She smiled at the tired old joke. “My brother says you’re a good man. And Grant’s usually right.”
“Well, damn,” Jeff said with an exaggerated drawl, “and here I was, about to ask if you wanted anyone whacked. A decent reputation could ruin my future career as a hit man.”
Her expression sobered for a second, as if she wondered if she’d misjudged him. Then, recognizing his teasing, she smiled, like the sun coming from behind a cloud. Only his deeply ingrained self-control kept him from laughing with delight at her beauty.
Her smile vanished as quickly at it had appeared and morphed into a no-nonsense look. “You mentioned a business proposition.”
Detecting the skittishness beneath her poised facade, Jeff reminded himself to go slow, one phase at a time. “I need a caterer.”
She shook her head. “I don’t usually—”
“Grant told me.” Jeff wouldn’t give her time to refuse. “He also said your business has been slow and won’t pick up till Memorial Day weekend.”
“My brother talks too much.”
“Cut him some slack,” Jeff said. “He’s a vet who works mainly with cows and horses. He needs interaction with people who can talk back.”
“He has Merrilee.”
“Lucky man,” Jeff said with sincerity. “But before you turn me down, at least listen to what I have in mind. It’s really simple.”
“I’m listening.” But she’d crossed her arms across those perfect breasts and leaned back in her chair, closing him out with her body language.
“We’re having a dorm raising this weekend.”
“We?”
“A group of my former Marine buddies. We’re going to build a timber-frame dormitory for the camp. I need someone to provide food.”
Jodie shook her head. “Maria Ortega’s the only cook I have, and Saturday’s a busy day at the café.”
“I don’t need a cook. Just someone to furnish sandwiches, drinks, and enough carbs to keep us going till the job’s done.”
“A few good men can’t make their own sandwiches?” She raised one eyebrow.
“They could if I had time to plan and shop for groceries. But I’m up to my neck buying building supplies. I really need your help.”
He could almost see the wheels turning behind those deep-enough-to-drown-in eyes. “Grant and Merrilee are coming to lend a hand,” he added. “Maybe Merrilee could help you. I’ll pay top dollar.”
“How many to feed?”
“Eighteen, counting the framing crew, and they’re all big eaters.”
She rose and crossed the room, leaned over and removed something from beneath the counter. The movement pulled her green wool slacks taut across her slender hips and small bottom, a delectable sight. His mouth went dry.
She returned with a pad, pencil and calculator. “I’ll figure on a variety of subs and potato salad. Chili, too, if the weather’s cool. Several dozen cookies—chocolate chip, sugar, peanut butter—and some of Maria’s famous cakes and pies. Iced tea and coffee.”
“Sounds great.”
“You haven’t heard the price.” She remained all business.
He clamped his teeth to keep from admitting that cost didn’t matter. He could probably find someone else to provide food for his friends, but since seeing Jodie again, he wanted her more than ever as part of his special plans.
Man, that blow to the head in Afghanistan must have scrambled his senses. This was little Jodie Nathan, he reminded himself. Then why was he struggling to breathe, as if he’d just run a twenty-mile obstacle course with full gear?
“How much?” he forced himself to ask.
She punched numbers into the calculator and named her price.
He tensed to keep his jaw from dropping. That much for subs and cookies? She’d obviously jacked up the cost in hopes he’d go elsewhere. But even if he didn’t need her cooperation later, he would have agreed to the rip-off. He wanted Jodie there when his project started, because somehow she had suddenly become an integral part of his dream.
“It’s a deal.” He whipped out his checkbook, hastily wrote a check, and slid it across the table. He held out his hand to cinch the agreement.
Jodie blinked in surprise, but she took the check and grasped his hand with obvious reluctance. Hers felt small and delicate in his, but her grip was strong.
“Add doughnuts for a morning break,” he said before releasing her. “And I’ll need you on-site to serve and clean up.”
Her eyes widened. “My being there wasn’t part of the deal.”
“At the price you quoted, you’re well compensated for your time.” He looked her squarely in the eyes. The younger Jodie he’d known had always been honest and trustworthy. A real Girl Scout. She knew she’d overcharged, and he guessed her conscience would force her to honor his conditions.
As if abruptly realizing he still held her hand, Jodie withdrew hers from his grasp.
Jeff shoved back from the table and stood. “I’ll see you at eight o’clock Saturday morning at my place.”
Jodie rose also. Her graceful movement called attention to her stunning figure, and he had to tear his gaze away. He strode to the door, opened it and turned to her.
“Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.” He didn’t try to hide his smile. He’d won, and she knew it. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
* * *
JODIE SANK INTO HER CHAIR before her knees gave way. She rubbed damp palms on her slacks and drew a deep breath in a futile effort to calm her racing pulse. When Jeff had stepped from behind the display shelves, he’d looked like the epitome of every woman’s dream. The perfect image for a Marine recruiting poster: tall, with broad shoulders, riveting gray eyes, neatly trimmed thick dark hair, a chiseled movie-star face marred only by a scar above his right cheekbone and a roguish smile with perfect teeth. And those muscles. Not a trace of flab. Just rock-hard strength. No wonder she hadn’t recognized the lanky teenager from high school who’d always needed a haircut, a shave, clean clothes and a decent meal.
And that voice. Deep, commanding, mesmerizing. If he’d asked for anything more than catering, she didn’t know if she could have resisted.
Her hands trembled and she clasped them together on the tabletop. What had he done to her? She hadn’t felt this shaken since Randy Mercer had swaggered into her father’s hardware store fifteen years ago. She groaned at the memory and laid her head on her hands. That time, two weeks later she was pregnant with Brittany.
God, she had to get a grip. She’d vowed never to let an attractive man overrule her good judgment again, and she’d managed just fine.
Until today.
Until Jeff Davidson had blasted in from the past, a gung-ho, kick-ass Marine who’d tossed her to the mat without so much as crooking a finger. She’d been certain that her exorbitant pricing would scare him off, but he hadn’t even batted those incredibly long eyelashes at the outrageous figure she’d quoted. He’d merely smiled and caught her in her own trap. She should have just said no. Now she’d have to donate her excessive profit anonymously to his project to ease her guilty conscience.
She drew another deep breath. He’d taken her by surprise, that was all. Next time she’d be prepared to resist his good looks and charismatic charm. Such attributes could only lead to trouble. She wouldn’t trade Brittany for anything, but Jodie had promised herself when her baby was born that she’d never, ever let her senses override her reason again.
Plenty of men had expressed an interest over the years. Jodie had briefly dated a few. But all had fallen short of the high standards she’d set after her first and only disastrous sexual experience. No one in Pleasant Valley had measured up to the qualities she admired in men, with the exception of her dad and her brother Grant, of course.
And none of the men she’d dated had exhibited the least interest in Brittany. Some had stated outright that the child was a deal-breaker in a relationship. So Jodie had remained single and happy. Men were definitely off her diet.
Her reaction to Jeff had been a fluke. It wouldn’t happen again.
She pushed to her feet, dismayed to find her legs still shaky, grabbed the coffee mugs from the tabletop and headed for the counter. While tucking his check into the cash register, she glimpsed Jeff out front astride his vintage Harley and talking to a policewoman. A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She hoped Officer Brynn Sawyer was giving him a ticket. Serve the handsome devil right.
She had stowed the mugs in the dishwasher when the bell over the door tinkled. Afraid Jeff had come back, she felt her pulse rev and her face flush. When she turned, however, it was only Brynn.
“You’re still in uniform.” Jodie hoped Brynn wouldn’t notice her reddened face, although the officer, trained to observe, never missed much. “Didn’t your shift end hours ago?”
Brynn perched on a stool at the counter. “I’ve been catching up on paperwork.”
“Want coffee?”
Brynn nodded. Even in her severely cut blue uniform, the tall, shapely woman with dark auburn hair was a knockout. Men had been known to exceed speed limits merely for the pleasure of being pulled over by Pleasant Valley’s gorgeous cop. Brynn, however, remained unaware of her beauty. She was too married to her job to pay attention to much else, especially the gaggle of admiring guys who often hovered around her. Totally focused, she performed her duties with above-and-beyond devotion. Everyone in town felt safer with Brynn on patrol.
“I’ve got some new material,” Brynn said, a twinkle lighting her midnight-blue eyes.
“Not more lawyer jokes, please,” Jodie said with a fake groan and filled her coffee mug.
Brynn had a thing about lawyers. And Yankees. Otherwise generous and open-minded to a fault, Jodie’s friend couldn’t tolerate either as a group. But if an individual attorney or Northerner needed help, Brynn was there in a New York minute.
“How many of those lawyer jokes do you know?” Jodie said.
“Only three.” Brynn’s grin was wicked. “The rest are true stories.”
Jodie couldn’t help laughing. Brynn always cheered her up, even after her worst rows with Brittany.
Brynn dumped artificial sweetener and cream in her coffee and stirred. “How does a pregnant woman know she’s carrying a future lawyer?”
“There’s no stopping you, is there?”
Her friend’s grin widened. “She has an uncontrollable craving for baloney. What does a lawyer use for birth control?”
“I give up.”
“His personality.” She barely paused for breath. “What happens when you cross a pig with a lawyer?”
Jodie laughed. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“Nothing. There’re some things even a pig won’t do. What do you call—”
“Stop, please.” Jodie struggled to speak through her laughter. “Is this how you interrogate suspects? Lawyer-joke them until they crack?”
“Now there’s a thought.” Brynn cut her a probing glance. “Guess you saw Jeff Davidson.”
“He has a catering job for me.” Jodie worked to keep her tone casual.
“You don’t do catering.”
Jodie shrugged. “I do now.”
“For the dorm raising?”
“How’d you know?”
“I’m invited.”
“You? You’re more tool challenged than I am. Unless we’re talking guns, of course.” Brynn was a crack shot who’d won several competitions. But, as far as Jodie knew, the officer had never fired her weapon on the job.
“I don’t have to work Saturday,” Brynn said. “And Jeff thinks my presence will lend respectability to his project. If I witness what’s happening, I can combat rumors.”
“So he worked his devilish charm on you, too?”
“Devilish charm?” Brynn gave her a blank look.
Being a cop must have inoculated her friend against male charisma, especially since so many men Brynn encountered were felons. Jeff had come close to that category in high school, Jodie remembered.
Brynn’s face lit with sudden comprehension. “Charm? Sister Jodie, our resident nun, found Jeff charming?”
“Of course not, but he tried to use his wiles with me.”
“If you didn’t find him charming, why are you catering for him?” Brynn, an expert at gauging reactions, was watching her every move.
Jodie was determined to appear unaffected by the Marine’s appeal. “Because he agreed to pay the outrageous price I quoted.”
Brynn wrinkled her nose. “Why do you suppose he did that?”
“Because he’s desperate?”
“He could feed his crew of Marines beef jerky and water and they wouldn’t complain. Maybe he fell for your charms.”
“Don’t be silly.” Jodie picked up a cloth, scrubbed a non-existent stain on the spotless counter and changed the subject. “I had another row with Brittany.”
Brynn sighed. “What’s she done now?”
“Wants her navel pierced.”
“Best place. Least defacing. Least visible.”
Jodie snorted. “Not the way she dresses. Besides, it’s a precedent. First the navel, then an eyebrow, then...” She stopped and shuddered. “I don’t know what to do, Brynn. She’s slipping away from me, becoming more rebellious and angry each day. And with her wild, out-of-control friends, she’s headed for more trouble.”
“I checked out the names you gave me. None of these kids have been arrested. Not like the last group.”
Jodie shook her head. “Maybe they just haven’t been caught.”
“Maybe you should get married.”
Jodie had taken a sip of coffee and almost spewed it. “What?”
“Brittany needs a father figure.” Brynn said matter-of-factly. “And you could use a husband.”
“She has father figures. Her grandpa Nathan and her uncle Grant.”
“And you have?”
The perfect comeback. “I have my job. Just like you.”
“Touché.” Brynn chugged her coffee. “I’ll give you a hand Saturday, since I’ll be at the dorm raising anyway.”
“Want to ride with Brittany and me?”
“You’re taking Brit?”
“She’s been working Saturdays with Grant at the clinic. But he’s going to the dorm raising, too.” Jodie sighed. “I don’t dare leave her unsupervised for a full day. Who knows the trouble she’d get into.”
“I’d better take my own vehicle. And my radio. In case I get a call.”
“All work and no play—”
“Isn’t that the second verse of the song I just sang for you?”
Before Jodie could reply, Brynn downed the rest of her coffee.
“Gotta go,” she said. “See you around.”
Jodie followed and locked the door behind her. Her visit with Brynn had grounded her and brought her raging hormones under control. Her reaction to Jeff Davidson had been a fluke. Come Saturday, feeding a horde of hungry men and keeping an eye on Brittany, Jodie could play her ice maiden role again with no problem.
Piece of cake.
She climbed the stairs and ignored the niggling reminder that a piece of cake was the first step in falling off a years-long diet.
Chapter Two
On Saturday, Jodie crawled reluctantly out of her warm bed before dawn. She’d worked past midnight preparing subs, making potato salad, baking cookies and gathering paper goods. With Saturday’s forecast high in the upper fifties, she’d also started two Crock-Pots of chili. Groggy from too little sleep, she stowed the food and supplies in her minivan and awakened her daughter.
Brittany dressed, muttered complaints all the way to the car and instantly fell asleep in the front seat.
Jodie considered her dozing daughter with a tenderness that brought moisture to her eyes. It seemed only yesterday that Brittany, a tiny precious bundle with blond ringlets and a delightful baby gurgle, had required the child carrier in the back seat. Only weeks instead of years since Jodie had piled Brittany and her nine-year-old teammates into the van for soccer practices. What had turned her once loving and adorable daughter so rebellious, so bitter? Did adolescence with its hormonal fluctuations and resulting emotional roller coaster make all teens this difficult?
Or had Jodie, as Brittany so often implied, failed as a parent?
Failed? How could she not? She’d been a kid herself when Brittany was born.
Shoving that thought away before it ruined her whole day, she debated waking Brittany to share the breathtaking sunrise over the beautiful farming valley from which the town took its name.
Jodie drove the familiar route at a comfortable speed, and the van hugged the narrow highway that meandered alongside the Piedmont River, broad and tranquil in some spots, in others a torrent of white water over a boulder-strewn bed. Slanting, dawn sunlight glinted off the spring green of willows, oaks and maples, struggling toward full leaf in mid-May. On either side of the river, rolling pastures lush with high grass and freshly plowed acreage stretched toward the haze-draped mountains that surrounded the valley like the sides of a bowl.
Jodie rounded a curve and passed the veterinary clinic where Grant and his future father-in-law, Jim Stratton, worked as partners. Their trucks already stood in the parking lot, because the vets’ day began with the farmers’, long before dawn.
Brittany awakened, crossed her arms, and set her face in its customary scowl. “Why do I have to come? I had plans with my friends.”
Exactly why you’re with me, cupcake. Brittany’s current pals gave Jodie nightmares. “I need your help.”
“Who is this Jeff Davidson?”
“A friend of your uncle Grant.”
“Huh,” Brittany said with a snort of disdain. “I didn’t know Uncle Grant hung with lowlifes.”
Jodie cast her a sharp glance. “Who said Jeff’s a lowlife?”
“The whole town knows he was no good.”
“Jeff had a tough time growing up.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
Jodie silently counted to ten. Her daughter had become a travel agent for first-class guilt trips. “Jeff’s father, Hiram, was a lowlife, no doubt about it. Never held a job and stayed stinking drunk his entire adult life. He was locked up so often Chief Sawyer named a cell after him.”
Brittany studied her black-painted fingernails without comment.
Jodie couldn’t tell if the girl’s boredom was real or feigned. “Jeff’s mother died when he was a baby.”
“Who took care of him?”
Ah, a note of interest from the blasé Miss Brittany? Would wonders never cease?
“His drunken father,” Jodie said. “It’s a miracle Jeff survived. When he was old enough, his father forced him to make moonshine deliveries.”
“Moonshine? Yuck.” Brittany made a face.
Jodie hoped her daughter’s response wasn’t based on personal experience. “Hiram ran a still somewhere on the mountain behind their house.”
Like a camera flash, a memory flared of Jeff, long dark hair blowing in the wind, black leather jacket zipped to his chin, roaring through town on his Harley, its saddlebags filled with Mason jars of white lightning cushioned with moss. The boy had been arrogant. Solitary. Lonely. With a don’t-come-close-or-I’ll-break-you-in-two expression.
Brittany squirmed in her seat. “Will his father be at the farm today?”
“Hiram died a year ago.”
Brittany was silent for a moment. “Anybody my age coming?”
“Not today.”
Lordy, Jodie hoped not. She had enough trouble with Brittany’s current friends. She definitely didn’t want her daughter fraternizing with Jeff’s clients, kids within a hair’s breadth of going to jail for a long, long time.
Reality check.
When Grant had first told her of Jeff’s project, a camp to rehabilitate potentially prison-bound teens, she’d been caught up in her brother’s enthusiasm.
“If Jeff hadn’t joined the Marines right out of high school,” Grant had explained, “he might have ended up in jail himself. So he understands where these kids are coming from. And where they might be headed.”
Good for Jeff Davidson, Jodie had thought. But now, considering her impressionable teenage daughter, the last thing Jodie wanted for her was more bad influences. And Jeff’s rehabilitation project would bring trouble to Pleasant Valley literally by the busload.
Jodie gripped the wheel to keep from smacking herself upside the head. Here she was, aiding and abetting, providing food and comfort to the enemy. What the heck had she been thinking?
Damn Jeff Davidson and his Marine-recruiting-poster charm. Thanks to her scrambled senses when he’d caught her by surprise, she hadn’t been thinking at all.
But Jeff wouldn’t have clients yet, she assured herself. The dorm wasn’t built, so the teens didn’t have a place to stay. And, thank God, the Davidson place was at the opposite end of the valley from town. When Jeff’s delinquents did arrive, they’d be too far away to interact with Brittany.
Jodie forced herself to relax. She and Brittany would feed Jeff’s building crew and take off. Her daughter would have no further contact with Jeff or his camp. For Brittany’s sake, Jodie didn’t want the rehabilitation facility in Pleasant Valley, but she remained open-minded enough to avoid the not-in-my-backyard syndrome. Jeff’s teens needed help. A nasty job, but somebody had to do it.
So long as the program didn’t affect her already problematic daughter, Jodie would file no objections.
She reached the end of the valley and headed the van up the winding road, a series of switchbacks that worked their way up the steep mountainside. Halfway up, she turned onto a gravel road, almost hidden by arching branches of rhododendron ready to burst into bloom. Heavy dew clung to white clusters of mountain laurel and bowed the heavily leafed branches of the hardwood forest. Jodie observed the unfamiliar route with interest. She’d never visited the Davidson farm and knew the way only from Grant’s directions.
Brittany peered through the shadows cast by the trees. “Are you sure this is the right road? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Jodie was also wondering if she was lost when a clearing opened ahead. She stopped the van at its edge and surveyed the Davidson property. Unlike the fertile farmland of the valley, this terrain was rugged and rocky. The only structures were a run-down farmhouse, a ramshackle barn, its unpainted boards weathered gray, and a few outbuildings. To one side of the barn, a terrace had been carved out of the hillside long ago, a space barely big enough for a vegetable garden, a pond and a tiny pasture.
On the opposite side of the farmhouse, a larger terrace had been graded recently, judging by the bare red clay. Stacks of lumber lay beside a huge concrete-block foundation, and beyond, a driver on a track-hoe worked the land, enlarging the level surface one bucketful of hard clay and rocks at a time.
Brittany sat up straighter and peered out the windshield with interest. “Where’s the still?”
Jodie eased the van beside Brynn’s car in front of the farmhouse and shut off the engine. “Destroyed. After his father died, Jeff told the authorities where to find it.”
“Where does Jeff—”
“Mr. Davidson, to you, kiddo.”
Brittany heaved a sigh. “Where does he get the money for all this?”
Out of the mouths of babes, Jodie thought. Hiram Davidson never had two nickels to rub together, and Marine pay hadn’t made Jeff rich. How was Jeff paying for his project?
She started to comment, but Jeff bounded out the door of the farmhouse and sprinted down the steps toward them. Every bit of breath left her body in a whoosh.
With his killer smile flashing, he was dressed in khaki cargo shorts that revealed muscular, tanned legs, lace-up workboots with wool socks, a cable-knit sweater in olive drab and a soft cap with USMC emblazoned across the front in proud gold letters. At ease, but with an underlying alertness that could snap to attention in a millisecond, he looked handsome enough for a starring role on one of Jodie’s favorite television programs.
Move over, JAG Commander Harmon Rabb, and be still my heart.
Jodie took a deep breath to clear her head. She was thirty years old, a mother and a businesswoman. She had to stop reacting to the man as if she were some teenage Marine Corps groupie.
Four similarly attired men came out of the house behind Jeff and waited on the porch.
“Holy beefcake,” Brittany murmured.
“And all old enough to be your father,” Jodie said sharply. Instantly she wanted to snatch the words back. Of all the sore spots between them, the subject of Brittany’s father was the touchiest.
Jodie unfastened her seat belt and climbed out of the car. She had to have air. An unaccustomed heat flooded her. Hormones. Had to be. Did having a baby at fifteen precipitate early menopause? What else would throw her body into hot flashes?
Brittany left the car and joined her as Jeff reached them.
“You’re right on time.” His gaze, deep-gray eyes that seemed almost black, locked with hers.
For an instant time stood still and she forgot to breathe.
He turned to her daughter and broke the spell. “You must be Brittany. I’m Jeff.”
“Mr. Davidson, Brittany.” Jodie reminded her daughter. She’d raised her to treat grown-ups with respect. She wouldn’t let anyone undermine her efforts. Not even the world’s most attractive former Marine.
“Hi...sir.” Brittany looked ready to dig a hole and climb in.
Jodie groaned inwardly. Everything she did further alienated the girl.
“Your mom would make a good Marine.” Jeff turned his charm on Brittany, and she actually smiled.
“Only if she’s an officer,” Brittany said with the air of a conspirator. “She’s good at giving orders.”
“That means she loves you,” Jeff said. “Take it from someone who knows. My old man never gave a...hoot what I did.”
Jodie blinked in surprise. Jeff had taken her side, and not only hadn’t Brittany bristled, she was still smiling.
Jeff’s friends joined them, and he offered introductions. “Jodie and Brittany Nathan, meet my team.”
A tall and solidly built man with pale-blue eyes, ruddy cheeks and hair like corn silk offered Jodie his hand. “I’m Gofer, ma’am.”
After squeezing Jodie’s fingers in a crushing grip, he took Brittany’s hand.
“Hi, Mr. Gofer,” Brittany said. Jodie’s lesson on manners had apparently taken hold.
Gofer laughed. “My real name’s Jack Hager. My team calls me Gofer.”
Brittany cast Jodie a what-do-I-do-now look.
Before Jodie could respond, Jeff said, “We call him Gofer because ‘go-fer-broke’ is his favorite expression.”
A rugged man with deep black skin, broad shoulders, and a close-shaved head shook Jodie’s hand next. “Kermit. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“That’s your real name?” Jodie asked.
Kermit laughed with a rumbling sound deep in his broad chest and showed fine white teeth. “No, ma’am. It’s a nickname, too.”
Brittany, who’d been a huge Sesame Street fan as a toddler, asked, “Like Kermit the Frog?”
Kermit’s smile widened. “That’s the one.”
“Every time we pulled on our BDUs—” Gofer began.
“Battle dress uniforms,” Jeff explained.
“And smeared on camou-paint,” Gofer continued, “he sang, ‘It Isn’t Easy Being Green.’ So we call him Kermit.”
“And this is Ricochet.” Jeff pointed to a lanky fellow with soft brown eyes and curly brown hair who was nearly as tall as Jeff himself.
“Ma’am,” he responded with a respectful nod. “Brittany.”
“We call him Ricochet,” Gofer, apparently the most talkative of the group, explained, “because he can’t keep still.”
Had Ricochet actually blushed, Jodie wondered, or was his color a trick of the rising sun?
“Unless we’re on a mission,” Jeff added. “Then he’s as focused as a hound on a ham bone.”
“And I’m Trace, Ms. Nathan.” The fourth member of the team was tall and muscular with long, slender hands and the face of a poet. “Short for Tracey, my last name.”
“What do they call you, Mr. Davidson?” Brittany asked.
As one body, the four men snapped to attention and shouted in one voice, “Lieutenant Davidson, sir!”
“At ease,” Jeff ordered with a laugh. “And help these ladies unload their car.”
Jodie swallowed her astonishment. Outcast Jeff Davidson, whom everyone had believed would join Hell’s Angels and die in a bar fight, was an officer and a gentleman? Who would have thought?
Jeff motioned toward the building site. “We set up tables under a canopy and ran a power source. Having the food nearby will speed up our work.”
Jodie opened the van’s hatch. Kermit and Gofer each grabbed a Crock-Pot, Trace manhandled the massive coffeemaker she’d borrowed from the church, and Ricochet tucked a huge cooler under each arm and headed for the tables. Jeff began stacking boxes of baked goods.
“Where’s Brynn?” Jodie asked. “I see her car.”
“Inside.” Jeff used his chin to steady the pile of boxes in his arms. “With Daniel.”
“Another member of your team?”
“Nope,” Jeff called over his shoulder as he followed the other men. “My first client. He’s living with me until the dorm’s finished.”
“Cool,” Brittany said. “Can I meet him?”
“Not now. I need your help.” Jodie winced at the edge to her voice.
She definitely had her work cut out for her. Between feeding ravenous Marines and keeping her daughter away from Jeff’s first resident delinquent, it was going to be a long day.
* * *
FIVE HOURS LATER Jeff sat beneath a sugar maple and devoured a bowl of chili and an Italian sub. The morning had gone well. The timber framing crew from Asheville had arrived immediately after Jodie. Grant and Merrilee had made a brief appearance but had to leave when the vet received an emergency call.
With Jeff and his buddies, assisted by Brynn and Daniel providing additional grunt work, the massive dormitory with kitchen/dining/living room was taking shape. By dark, the framing would be complete, and Jeff and his Marines could add the roof, walls and finishing work over the next few weeks.
An unaccustomed lump blocked his throat. He’d never had friends while growing up in Pleasant Valley, mostly due to his father’s infamous reputation. Jeff hadn’t been like the other kids with their extended families, tidy homes with white picket fences and fathers who didn’t stay raging drunk and beat the crap out of them. And no one had understood better than Jeff that he didn’t belong. He’d built a wall around himself merely to survive.
But the corps had been different. Backgrounds and social status were irrelevant. All that mattered was that a man carried his load, became part of the team and watched his buddies’ backs. Determined to make the grade, Jeff had thrown himself first into training and later into missions with every fiber of his being. As gung-ho, kick-ass, hang-tough as the best of them, he’d not only developed self-esteem, he’d won the unqualified respect and undying loyalty of his men. And he loved them more than he’d loved his own blood kin.
“Dessert?” A soft, musical voice interrupted his thoughts.
Jeff glanced up at Jodie, standing in front of him with a plate of chocolate cake in each hand. He set aside his empty chili bowl and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “If you’ll join me.”
Her creamy complexion blushed like a Georgia peach. “I have to—”
“You’ve served everyone else. They’re fine.”
Jodie glanced across the clearing as if hoping to prove him wrong, but the framing crew, gathered at the back of their pickups, held full plates. Brynn, flanked by Brittany and Daniel, sat under the canopy at a makeshift table of planks and sawhorses. Gofer and Kermit had set up a chessboard on a nearby stump and were engrossed in a game. Picking up trash and stray tools and, as usual, unable to stay in one place, Ricochet wandered the work site. Trace reclined on the porch steps with his nose in a novel, Cold Mountain, whose namesake stood just over the North Carolina line near the Blue Ridge Parkway, fifty miles north.
Jeff patted the ground beside him. “Sit with me.”
With the tension of a wild animal trapped with no place to run, Jodie handed him a plate and sank beside him.
“I won’t bite,” he said.
“Hmmmph.” She avoided his eyes. “Thought you Marines ate civilians for lunch.”
He lifted the plate with its thick wedge of cake. “Only when there aren’t such delicious alternatives.”
Not that Jodie wasn’t delicious in her own way. The delicate fragrance of her magnolia-scented shampoo teased his nostrils and fanned a hunger unrelated to food. He stowed his desire and put a lock on it. He had promises to keep, and no woman, not even one as pretty as Jodie, could distract him.
“You have a name for this place?” she asked.
Jeff shrugged. “I’ve always called it home, such as it is.”
“I mean your project, your camp. It has to have a name.”
He’d named it, all right. Maybe if Jodie knew the story behind that name, she’d be more amenable to helping later. “I’m calling it Archer Farm.”
“Archer? As in bows and arrows?” She seemed confused.
“Archer, as in Captain Colin Archer,” Jeff said quietly, steeled against the pain the name evoked.
“One of your team?” She indicated the Marines scattered across the building site.
“The best of our team, but he’s not here today. Except in spirit.”
Jodie took a bite of chocolate cake and waited for him to continue.
“Arch saved my life in Afghanistan.”
Remembering, Jeff could almost feel the biting cold of that winter night, see the star-strewn heavens above the dark mountain peaks, taste the grit of the desert and hear the keening wind.
“We were on a re-con mission to identify the exact location of a terrorist group hiding in a complex of connected caves. Our job was to secure coordinates, convey them to headquarters and get out. Smart bombs would do the rest.
“Harris and I took point, and, in spite of all precautions, Harris somehow tripped a land mine.”
Jodie set her cake aside, as if her appetite had fled.
“Harris died instantly,” Jeff said, “and I was injured. Couldn’t move. Men with guns poured out of those caves like a scene from a Schwarzenegger movie. Only all too real.”
Jodie shuddered, drew her knees to her chest and hugged them.
“The team tossed smoke grenades and laid down covering fire. Arch fought his way through and carried me out.”
“Must have been scary,” Jodie said.
“Scary is too mild a term. I was terrified out of my mind.”
“Captain Archer must have been, too.”
Jeff nodded. “People have the wrong idea about courage. Bravery doesn’t mean you’re not afraid. It means doing what you have to, in spite of your fears.”
“So you’re naming your project after the man who saved your life?”
“He did more than that. Arch went back after Harris.”
“But Harris was dead.”
“Marines don’t leave their men behind. Ever.”
“So Archer was a hero twice over that night.”
“He was more than a hero. He was my best friend, the closest thing to a brother I ever had.” Jeff took a bite of cake and forced himself to swallow past the tightness in his throat. The creamy chocolate tasted like dust and ashes.
“Was?”
“He was killed a year later by a suicide bomber in Baghdad. I’d have been with him if I hadn’t been in sick bay with food poisoning.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
Bitterness consumed him. “Hell of a way for Arch to die. The bravest man I know killed by a fanatical coward.” Jeff shook his head in disgust, using anger to hold back tears. “He should be here today. This project was our dream.”
“You’ve been planning this a long time?”
“Ever since Arch and I met in boot camp. He came from a tough Chicago neighborhood, an orphan raised by his elderly grandmother. The Marine Corps was his ticket out, same as mine.”
“But you came back here.”
Jeff nodded. “Arch and I agreed that once we left the service, we’d build this place together. We wanted to help other troubled kids before they were swallowed up by the legal system and sent to prison.”
“Kids like Daniel?” Jodie’s voice sounded strange, as if under tight control.
Jeff nodded. “I took Daniel, even though the dorm’s not ready. He’ll live with me until it is.”
“Why the hurry?”
Jeff wished he could read her better. Her expression gave nothing away, and he couldn’t tell if she was sympathetic or merely polite.
“Because Daniel was only days from being sentenced to an adult correctional facility. One he’d never survive.”
“What did he do?” Jodie’s question held an agitated note.
“He’s a smart kid who made stupid mistakes.”
“They don’t lock you up for being stupid,” she said with a tinge of sarcasm. “What was he charged with?”
Jeff sighed. From the harshness in her voice, he’d apparently lost the battle for Jodie’s support, but a Marine didn’t quit. He wouldn’t concede the war. Not yet.
“Shoplifting,” he admitted with reluctance. “Grand theft auto, resisting arrest and assault on a police officer.”
Jodie gasped. “Does Brynn know?”
Jeff looked across the yard where Brynn laughed with Brittany and Daniel over their desserts. “She’s Archer Farm’s law enforcement liaison. She’ll have files on all our clients.”
Jodie stood abruptly. “Excuse me. I have to speak with my daughter.”
Disappointed, Jeff watched her hurry away. Jodie Nathan with her Mountain Crafts and Café had exactly the resources Archer Farm needed to succeed. He could probably locate other help, but he doubted he’d find anyone he wanted to work with as much as Jodie.
Chapter Three
Jodie forced herself not to run. More than anything, she wanted to snatch Brittany from Daniel’s presence, shove her in the car and take off, as fast and far from Archer Farm as Jodie could drive.
But she knew better. She was no expert in teen psychology, but she’d learned enough. If Brittany even suspected her mother didn’t want her at Archer Farm, Jeff’s project would become her daughter’s most desirable destination.
Jodie wanted to stop, scream and shake her fists at the heavens. Why, every time her sex drive kicked in, did her brain check out? What kind of spell had Jeff Davidson cast that she’d allowed herself to become involved with his plans? Between Brittany and the business, Jodie already had her hands full. She didn’t need more temptations dangled in front of her very impressionable child, and she particularly didn’t need the distraction of a man as good-looking and compassionate as Jeff.
Anger and frustration threatened to strangle her. Being a single mom was hard enough. Why did Jeff have to add to her problems by bringing his jail-bound teens to Pleasant Valley? Why not Chicago where his pal Archer had come from?
Hard to farm in Chicago, logic reminded her.
Jodie wasn’t operating on logic, however, but pure, unadulterated maternal instinct. Jeff’s clients posed a potential threat to her child, and Jodie pledged every effort to keep Brittany away.
But Jeff also threatened Jodie’s well-ordered single life in a way no other man had. She liked him, he was interesting, he made her pulse race and she wanted to spend more time with him. Which was exactly why she vowed to keep herself away from Jeff and Archer Farm, as well.
Slowing her steps to a casual saunter, she approached the table where Brynn sat with Brittany and Jeff’s first client.
“How many lawyers,” Brynn was saying, “does it take to change a lightbulb?”
“How many?” Brittany said.
“Three. One to climb the ladder, one to shake the ladder, and one to sue the ladder company.”
Brittany and Daniel laughed, until they took a look at Jodie’s face. Brittany’s laughter died in her throat, and Daniel shoved to his feet.
Well, well. A felon with manners.
Even as she thought it, Jodie recognized she wasn’t being fair. Daniel didn’t look like a hardened criminal. Thin and tall, with his freckles, wide blue eyes, shaggy hair that needed cutting, and deer-in-the-headlights expression, he reminded her of a scared little kid who wanted his mother. And he couldn’t be many days over sixteen.
Dear God, why was life so complicated? Why couldn’t the bad guys look like bad guys?
Jodie inhaled deeply, forced herself to relax and smile. “I see you haven’t exhausted your repertoire,” she said to Brynn.
Her friend, looking especially ravishing out of uniform in snug-fitting jeans, leather boots and a sweatshirt that brought out the dark blue in her eyes, grinned. “I haven’t even started on my Yankee jokes.”
Jodie groaned, rolled her eyes and sat. She’d wait until the crews started back to work after lunch, ask Brittany to help load the car and leave. Their departure would seem natural then, instead of the panicked flight she wanted this very moment.
“Tell us, Aunt Brynn.” Brittany adored her mother’s friend, who, unlike Jodie, could do no wrong in her daughter’s eyes.
Brynn didn’t need encouragement. “A young man from the Smoky Mountains studied very hard all his life and won a full scholarship to a prestigious Ivy League college in New England. He’d never left home before, and he soon lost his way on the large campus.
“So he stopped an older student and asked in his slow mountain drawl, ‘Could you please tell me where the library’s at?’”
Daniel and Brittany exchanged amused glances at Brynn’s exaggerated twang.
“The older student looked down his nose with a sneer at the newcomer and replied in clipped Yankee tones, ‘If you spoke proper English, you would know never to end a sentence with a preposition.’
“The mountaineer grinned. ‘Of course. Thank you kindly for the grammar lesson. Now, will you please tell me where the library’s at, jack—’”
“Brynn!” Jodie interrupted sharply, but Brittany and Daniel caught the officer’s drift and howled with laughter.
“Sorry,” Brynn said. “I hang around cops too much.” She turned to Brittany. “That language is not appropriate for a young lady. And you, Daniel, must be especially cautious of how you speak. You need to make the best impression possible, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the boy agreed with a respectful nod.
The sound of an engine straining on an uphill grade broke the silence, and a delivery truck from the local builders’ supply rumbled into the clearing.
Across the yard, Jeff jumped to his feet. “Let’s help unload.”
“Ooo-rah!” his team answered in unison and double-timed it to the truck. Daniel and Brittany got up and joined them.
“Get the feeling those guys would follow Jeff to hell and back?” Brynn asked.
“From what he’s told me, they already have,” Jodie said quietly and watched the men heft heavy timbers onto their shoulders as if they weighed no more than matchsticks.
“Is that why you looked so spooked a minute ago? Too many war stories?”
Jodie shook her head. “I’m worried about Brit, and I’m taking her home as soon as I can. Daniel has a rap sheet as long as my arm. She shouldn’t be around him.”
“He needs a friend, Jodie.”
“Someone else’s daughter can be his friend.”
“Aren’t you being harsh?”
“The boy’s jail-bound. I don’t want him steering Jodie in the same direction.”
Brynn shook her head. “I’ve seen his rap sheet. And I’ve read between the lines. He’s a good boy who fell in with the wrong crowd. Did the wrong things for the right reasons. Otherwise the judge would have made Daniel reservations at the Gray Bar Inn, not here.”
“The Gray Bar Inn?” Jodie couldn’t help smiling. “Are you never serious?”
“I am now.” Brynn’s expression backed up her words. “Give him a chance, Jodie. If people turn their backs on Daniel, he’ll believe he’s no good, and then he’s truly lost.”
“What about Brittany?”
“Cut her some slack. You’ve instilled good values in her. She knows what to do.”
Jodie wished she had Brynn’s certainty, but said no more, because Jeff had apparently assured the teens they weren’t needed, and Brittany and Daniel were returning to the table.
“Mom, Daniel says there’s a creek up the mountain that’s full of tadpoles. Can we check it out?”
Jodie bit back the no that sprang instantly to her lips and met Brynn’s pleading gaze. “Okay, but stay within shouting distance. We’ll be leaving soon.”
With whoops of delight, the teens turned and raced like children toward the worn footpath that led into the forest behind the farmhouse.
Jodie sank onto a bench. “I hope I’m not making a mistake.”
“I’ll wander up and check on them in a few minutes,” Brynn promised.
Jodie stowed the empty Crock-Pots in the van, but left the remaining food in coolers. As hard as the men were working, they’d be hungry again soon. True to her word, Brynn followed the teens up the mountain. Ricochet’s cleanup left Jodie nothing to do, so she returned to the bench beneath the canopy and watched the massive dorm take shape.
The framers and Marines were manhandling the roof trusses, when one of the heavy beams slipped and landed a glancing blow on Gofer’s foot. A blue streak, a virtuoso performance of profanity, colored the air, and, in addition to her concern for the man’s injury, Jodie was glad Brittany was out of earshot.
“Got a first-aid kit?” she called.
“On the porch,” Jeff directed.
With his arms around Jeff and Kermit’s shoulders, Gofer hobbled toward the canopy.
Jodie ran across the yard and up the porch steps, grabbed the kit and returned to the canopy. Jeff and Kermit had eased Gofer to a bench, and Jeff was removing his buddy’s boot.
“Guess I owe the pot a fortune,” Gofer said between gritted teeth.
Jeff nodded but didn’t take his eyes from the injured foot. “At a dollar a word, to use your favorite expression, I’d say you went for broke.”
Gofer drew in a breath that hissed between his teeth and looked up at Jodie. “The team’s trying to clean up its vocabulary, to set an example for our teens.”
Kermit hovered, looking over Jeff’s shoulder to assess the damage to Gofer’s foot. “We made a pact,” he explained to Jodie, “a dollar a word for any curses. Gofer, old bud, you just filled the jar. That fu...dging foot must be hurting like...heck.”
“I’m okay,” Gofer grumbled. “I don’t want to slow you guys down. The framers quit at four whether the damn, uh darn thing’s done or not.”
Jeff stood. “The building can wait until I’m sure you’re okay.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Jodie offered.
“Yeah,” Gofer said, “she makes a much prettier nurse than you, Lieutenant.”
Jeff paused and studied Gofer as if to assure himself the man would be all right.
“Thanks, Jodie.” Jeff threw her a look that melted her insides, and, with Kermit, hurried back to the site to help retrieve the fallen truss.
Jodie knelt in front of Gofer and gingerly finished removing his bloody sock. “No wonder you swore. The beam split your big toe. You ought to have stitches.”
“Just a scratch, ma’am,” the Marine said without wincing, although his face had the pinched look of a person in agony. “I’ve had worse.”
Jodie cleaned the wound with peroxide, slathered it with an antibiotic cream that also killed pain and bandaged the toe. “You should stay off it.”
She expected protests, but Gofer merely nodded in agreement, and leaned back, elbows on the table, breathing hard. “You an old friend of the lieutenant’s?”
Jodie recognized that he was trying to focus on something besides his throbbing foot.
“Jeff’s several years older than me.” She couldn’t admit that the man whose team worshiped him like a hero hadn’t had any friends. “He graduated high school with my brother.”
“The vet I met this morning?”
Jodie nodded. “Archer Farm’s going to keep Grant busy. Jeff has quite a menagerie.”
“Horses, goats, cows, chickens, ducks and pigs. For the teens to take care of. Teaches ’em responsibility. Might even teach some of them how to love.”
“You a psychiatrist?” Jodie asked with a smile.
“Psychologist,” Gofer answered.
“Really? They taught you that in the Marines?”
He shook his head. “I’d almost finished graduate school when I decided to fight terrorism. I immediately joined the Marines. After leaving the service last year, I completed my Ph.D. And signed on with Jeff as Archer Farm’s resident counselor.”
While talking with Gofer, Jodie had observed Jeff leaving the work site and disappearing into the woods behind the house. He returned with Brynn in tow and approached Gofer.
“Officer Sawyer’s going to drive you into town, Gofer,” Jeff said. “You could have broken bones. I want that foot X-rayed.”
“No need, sir. I’m fine.”
Brynn placed her fists on her hips. “You resisting an officer, soldier?”
Gofer looked from Brynn’s determined expression to the set of Jeff’s firm jaw and grinned. “You’re an officer who’s hard to resist, ma’am.”
“Please, call me Brynn. Or Officer Sawyer. Anything but ma’am. It makes me feel old.”
Gofer’s grin split his face. “You don’t have to worry about age, ma’am.”
“Want a couple of guys to carry you to the car?” Jeff asked.
“If Brynn will give me a hand,” Gofer said, “I can manage.”
He pushed gamely onto his good foot. Brynn slung his arm around her shoulder and steadied him as he hopped to her car where she helped him into the front seat.
“I’ll bring him right back,” she called. “See you soon.”
Jodie found herself alone with Jeff. His face knotted with worry as he watched Brynn drive away.
“He’ll be okay,” Jodie assured him.
Jeff nodded. “Gofer’s a good man. He gave up joining a lucrative practice to work here. I hate to see him injured on top of his other sacrifices.”
Jeff’s concern was genuine, and for an instant Jodie fantasized what having Jeff care for her that deeply would feel like. The former Marine towered beside her, arms and chest bare where he’d stripped off his sweater in the afternoon sun to expose tanned muscles that sent her hormones into chaos. She tried to focus instead on the tattoo on his biceps, the Marine Corps emblem emblazoned with Semper Fi. But his tantalizing smell distracted her. So much for deodorant ads, she thought in desperation. Sweaty with his hair flecked with sawdust, he probably hadn’t a clue that his masculine scent was driving her wild.
Time to deliver herself from temptation. Besides, Brynn had left Brittany alone in the woods with Daniel, a situation that raised the hair on the back of Jodie’s neck.
“I’ll find Brittany.” She silently cursed the breathlessness in her voice. “And we’ll be going. I’ll leave the leftovers. There’s probably enough for supper, at least for your team.”
Jeff gazed down at her, his gray eyes exuding a warmth that sent her already giddy senses whirling. “I can’t thank you enough for today.”
Jodie thought of a hundred ways he could thank her, most of them deliciously indecent, and more heat scorched her. She was probably red as a beet and looked like an idiot. “You don’t have to thank me. You paid well.”
He grinned. “I did, didn’t I? But you were worth every penny.”
She wasn’t about to ask him to elaborate. “I’m glad the food met with your approval.”
His expression sobered. “Some folks in town won’t approve of your being here. You took a risk, catering for me. And I’m grateful.”
The old Jeff, the ostracized teenager who had on rare occasions dropped his don’t-give-a-damn attitude to reveal his loneliness, peeked through the tough Marine demeanor, then disappeared so quickly, she thought she’d imagined his outcast look.
“I don’t let other folks influence my decisions.” She wished she could say the same for her hormones.
“I’ll return your coolers and equipment tomorrow,” he offered.
“Don’t bother.” She practically tripped over her tongue in her haste to reply. “Grant can pick up everything next time he checks your livestock. That’ll save you a trip.”
Jeff considered her, as if trying to discern her motives, and she looked toward the building site to avoid his scrutiny.
“I don’t want to keep you from your work, so I’ll get Brittany and we’ll be going.”
Before he could reply, she sprinted toward the footpath in the woods. Brittany had mentioned a creek, and Jodie seriously contemplated a dip in its icy waters to cool her blood and clear her head.
Chapter Four
In the bride’s parlor of the Pleasant Valley Community Church, Jodie set aside her bridesmaid’s bouquet of pale-pink roses and baby’s breath, adjusted Merrilee Stratton’s triple-tiered veil and smoothed a strand of pale-blond hair that had escaped from her friend’s French twist.
“You look gorgeous,” Jodie said. “There’s nothing prettier than a June bride. Are you nervous?”
Merrilee shook her head and adjusted the pearl-encrusted neckline of her satin gown. Excitement sparkled in her sky-blue eyes.
“No second thoughts?” Jodie asked.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. That’s how long I’ve loved your brother.”
With her stiletto-heeled sandals killing her feet, Jodie sank onto the sofa, careful not to wrinkle the long skirt of her periwinkle-blue satin dress, and pondered how life was full of surprises. Six years ago, Merrilee had moved to New York to pursue her career in photography, and Jodie thought she’d lost her friend to the big city for good. Who would have guessed that Merrilee’s parents, poster couple for happily marrieds, would separate, bringing Merrilee home on the first plane out of New York last March?
And who would have guessed that, in a few short months, Merrilee would reunite her parents, sell a photographic book on country vets to a major publisher and decide to follow her career in Pleasant Valley as Grant’s wife?
“I’ve always wanted a sister,” Jodie said.
“We’ve been like sisters since we were kids. My marrying Grant only makes it official.”
Cat Stratton, Merrilee’s mother, wearing an elegant designer dress in rose-colored silk that matched her cheeks, breezed through the door. The older woman, Jodie’s high school English teacher and lifelong neighbor, had never looked happier. Evidently, her husband’s midlife crisis had passed, and marital bliss had returned to the Stratton home.
“Wow, Mrs. Stratton,” Jodie said, “you’re a knockout in that dress.”
“Thank you, dear. And look at the two of you. Who would ever have thought that the little girls who made mud pies in my backyard would turn into such beauties.” Cat’s eyes brimmed with joyful tears.
“Thanks, Mrs. S.” To give mother and daughter a private moment, Jodie stood. “I’d better check on Brittany.”
Jodie slipped out the door, wandered into the meditation garden and headed for a redwood bench beneath a crepe myrtle heavy with bright-pink blooms. Making it through the wedding and reception before her shoes killed her was going to take a miracle.
At least she didn’t have to worry about running into Jeff Davidson. Grant had invited Jeff and his team to the wedding, but Archer Farm would open officially on Monday. And Jeff had admitted to Grant that, although the new building was almost finished, he had a punch list the size of a book to complete. Jeff, stripped to the waist, muscles rippling, his entrancing gray eyes concentrating on his task, was probably wielding a hammer or a paintbrush now, up to his very broad shoulders in last-minute details. And too far away, thank goodness, to distract Jodie from enjoying the wedding of her brother and her best friend.
Jodie closed her mind to the enticing picture of the bare-chested Marine. Jeff’s absence suited her just fine. She had succeeded in avoiding him the last four weeks, in spite of his efforts to make contact. She’d had one of her staff or her voice mail field his numerous calls. And she’d slipped upstairs when he’d come into the café looking for her. Even the morning he’d brought his entire team for breakfast. So far she’d eluded him completely.
Except in her thoughts.
And her dreams.
As hard as she tried, Jodie couldn’t scrub the man from her mind, which was all the more reason to keep her distance. Arrogant young Randy Mercer had taught her an indelible lesson. Attractive men who sent her brain into shutdown mode were trouble with a capital T
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