Spring in the Valley Page 3

  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?”

  Chapter Three

  The children in the classroom turned and stared at Rand with open curiosity. Mrs. Shepherd smiled as if she’d just guessed an interesting secret. The adult volunteers on either side of him exchanged knowing looks. Only Brynn didn’t react, but stood at the front of the room as if carved from stone, her posture rigid, her expression impassive. She didn’t give him a clue to what she was thinking.

  Suddenly his bright idea of confronting her publicly didn’t seem so bright after all.

  He moved quickly toward the rear door of the class, but Brynn became instantly animated and made a swift but dignified exit through the door at the front of the room. She had a lead on him as she hurried through the hall to the exit, so he ran to catch up with her.

  This might be his only chance, and he didn’t want to blow it. He’d been trying for a week to contact her, and pulling this stunt showed how desperate he’d become.

  He couldn’t help it. Ever since the night of Jared’s illness, she’d haunted his thoughts. God knew what would have happened to him and Jared if she hadn’t miraculously appeared. Rand knew nothing about children. He knew even less about sick children. When Jared’s breathing difficulty had begun, Rand had panicked, shoved Jared into the car and taken off in the direction of town in search of a hospital. When Brynn’s siren sounded behind him, he’d been horrified to discover he was traveling ninety-five miles an hour on a dark, unfamiliar road. If she hadn’t pulled him over, he might have killed himself and Jared. He’d been so rattled, he’d been barely coherent when she’d stood by his car window and read him the riot act. As soon as he’d gathered his wits enough to inform her of Jared’s illness, she’d transformed into an angel in navy blue. As he’d watched over his sleeping child during the days and nights of Jared’s recovery, Brynn had filled his thoughts.

  And gratitude wasn’t all he felt. In his corporate career, he’d met plenty of slick, sophisticated, smart women, elegantly attired, carefully coiffed, magnificently made-up. But he’d never encountered a woman with Brynn’s genuinely natural beauty—and a warm heart to match. Fate had thrown so much sorrow his way recently, Rand considered meeting Brynn compensation for the sadness in his life, and he wasn’t about to let her get away.

  “Brynn, wait!”

  She barreled through the double exit doors into the sunshine, then wheeled to face him, fists on her hips, her eyes blazing with annoyance. “You have some nerve!”

  The deep blue hue of her eyes matched her uniform, and the sunlight sparked golden highlights in her auburn hair. Her full lips pursed in disapproval, her str
ong but lovely chin jutted at a defiant angle, and a delicate vein pulsed in the slender column of her throat.

  “I was desperate,” he said.

  “Desperate for what?” she demanded. “To embarrass the living daylights out of me? Everyone in town will hear about this and jump to all the wrong conclusions.”

  I was desperate to convince myself you’re as magnificent as I remembered, he thought. To persuade you to know me better.

  “To get in touch with you.” He couldn’t believe how calm he sounded when his heart was racing, not only from his sprint down the hall but from the sight of her in all her outraged glory. “You didn’t return my calls.”

  “I’ve been busy.” This time she avoided his gaze, and he knew she lied.

  “You have to eat,” he said.

  “What?”

  “All I ask is that you have dinner with me, to let me thank you for your help the night of Jared’s illness.”

  “You’ve thanked me already. Dinner isn’t necessary.” She pivoted on one foot and headed toward the parking lot.

  He fell in step beside her. “Are you always this rude?”

  She stopped again and turned on him. “Me? Rude? You’re the one who interrupted Mrs. Shepherd’s class.”

  “I didn’t interrupt. In fact, I contributed to the discussion.”

  “With a request to speak privately with me?”

  “How else was I supposed to get in touch with you, when you won’t return my calls?”

  “Did it ever occur to you I have good reason not to return your calls?”

  “Name one.”

  “You’re married.”

  “I’m not.”

  She stopped suddenly. “Divorced, then.”

  “Not guilty.”

  Her features spasmed with regret. “You’re a widower?”

  He shook his head.

  Puzzlement replaced regret on her lovely face. “But you have a son.”

  “Jared’s not my son.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Then why is he with you?”

  “I promise you, I haven’t kidnapped him.”

  He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. He’d thrown her a puzzle, one her investigative curiosity couldn’t resist. He wasn’t at liberty to divulge everything and would have to be careful not to reveal his true motives for coming to Pleasant Valley. If they became known, they could spoil his chances for success.