One Good Man Page 2

  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 r
umors.”

  “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 breadt
h 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.