LOVE in a Small Town (Ladies of Legend Boxed Set)

by Janet Eaves

  Polly loosened her hold on the weapon, then slowly relinquished it completely. She rose slowly and started to back away from Wall, her eyes on Catcher. “What? What did you want to tell me?”

  Catcher glanced from her to Wall then back. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. That I need your forgiveness. That I love you.”

  “Well isn’t that friggin sweet!” Karl spit, jackknifing into a sitting position, grabbing a second knife from his boot, and throwing it in one motion. The knife hit Polly in the right shoulder as Catcher shot Wall in the arm.

  With the perp writhing and screaming in the floor, Catcher ran to Polly. She was doubled over, cursing at the pain. “Baby? Let me see. Are you alright?”

  Polly nodded, furious. “You shoot that piece of shit or I will! And get this friggin knife out of me!”

  Catcher smiled at her. “I see you’re fine. I’ll get us some backup and you some help. Can I use your cell phone? I seem to have broken mine.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Polly refused to let Paskle Denvers see her sweat. She hadn’t been afraid of him before and she had no reason to be afraid of him now, except he literally held her future in his soft pencil-pushing hands. She watched him as he strode from side to side before the large window situated behind his massive desk. She bit her lip, now completely healed from the knife wound except for the slight numbness where the some of the stitches had once been. Catcher said it could be a year before the numbness faded, if it faded at all.

  But her newest injury wasn’t the problem. Nor all the other slowly fading scars that she would carry for life. What she wanted, needed, was freedom. Freedom from The Agency so she could lead a normal life. Freedom that usually only came one way when you signed your life over to the Federal government’s special operations unit. Only she didn’t want to wear a body-bag or a toe tag. “Sir?”

  Chief Denvers stopped his pacing and settled himself behind his desk, steeped his fingers under his chin, and studied her. “You knew when you signed up there was no out.”

  Polly swallowed; nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “And you know your services to our government are still as necessary today as they were the day you first signed up with us. We still don’t know how Wall found you, though we suspect he followed another agent to Legend some time ago. Stevens is still pretty upset with us over that. If you’d been whole and we hadn’t been distracting you with pretending he’d come back, you would have spotted the signs.”

  “Yes, sir, I know.”

  “Sorry about the ruse. Seemed necessary at the time. Dirty business we live. But it’s what I chose and what you chose. So why should you be treated any differently than any other agent who is tired of the game?”

  Polly took another deep breath. She’d practiced what she had to say over and over and now couldn’t seem to form the thoughts necessary to make her case. She licked her lips. “Sir, I gave years to the Agency. I have never asked for anything. Not once. And you know, always, no matter my own feelings or opinions, fulfilled every assignment. But I can’t kill anymore. I’m physically healed for the most part, but I just can’t continue as I did before. I don’t have it in me.”

  She glanced down to the tiny yellow ribbon Catcher had tied onto her finger and smiled. She looked back to her boss. “I want a normal life. I want to have a husband and family. I want a dog. I want to be that mom than all the other kids in the neighborhood think is the coolest because she can bake the best cookies.”

  Paskle frowned. “Cookies? You want to bake cookies?”

  “Yes! And I want to sit down to dinner with my family and know I won’t receive a call with a time and destination and be expected to be there. I want normal, Sir. I want my life back.”

  He slowly scrubbed his chin before sending her a flat stare. “There is only one way out of this agency for you.”

  Fury flew through her but Polly held her tongue. “Sir?”

  “We’ll have to erase your memory.”

  Polly blinked. “What?”

  “We will have to erase your memory.”

  There was a lot in her life she’d like to forget, Polly realized, but there was a lot she wanted, needed, to remember. To not remember Catcher and how he came into her life. To forget her remaining family and the friends who were even now unaware of who and what she’d been. To forget the kindness of those who stood by her as she recovered. To forget who she was. That was just asking too much.

  Was it even possible?

  “Sir?”

  Paskle burst out laughing. “Gotcha!”

  Polly shook her head. “What?”

  “Gotcha!”

  Uncertain, Polly frowned at him. “Did you just make a joke, sir?”

  Paskle laughed. “I am human, Chapman.”

  “No, sir. I don’t believe you are. I would have noticed.”

  His smile faltered as shrewdness entered his eyes. “Of course, Stevens can’t be relieved of his duties yet. We need him.” At her surprised expression he nodded. “Oh, yes, Chapman. We know all about your personal relationship with our agent.”

  “I can help him, sir. Wherever he goes, I can go, too. I can help him. We love each other.”

  Paskle’s brows rose as his fingers drummed the desk. “Love? You want me to release the best assassin and the best healer I have because you are in love?”

  Polly knew she was fighting a losing battle. “Yes, sir. I do.”

  “Well then.”

  “Sir?”

  He smiled. “Good for you, Chapman. It’s about time.”

  “Sir?”

  “Call me Paskle. You don’t work for me anymore. And give my best to Stevens. He already came in and cleared your way out. All we needed to know was that you were in control. You have too many skills and too much knowledge. We couldn’t release you until we knew you wouldn’t crack and reveal things better left covered up.” He leveled a look at her. “Of course, if we ever hear that you or Stevens revealed anything to do with this agency, we will have to kill you.”

  Polly smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  He stood and held out his hand. “Good luck to you both.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She shook his hand, her steps light as she headed for the door.

  “Chapman?”

  She turned back. “Sir?”

  “You might want to consider running for sheriff of your little town when you get home.”

  “No, sir. Our law enforcement is just fine as it is.” She flashed him a smile. “Though I might just run for dog catcher.” She chuckled to herself as her former boss’s laughter followed her out into the hall.

  Epilogue

  Polly snuggled against Catcher’s side as they sipped margaritas. The sunset was always spectacular from the cabin’s balcony, but this night was the best yet. Or so it seemed. Of course, she thought with a smile, she was seeing life through rose colored glasses these days. She and Catcher were married and the new owners of this gorgeous mountainside chalet. They had the cutest little yappy dog she had ever seen. And they were trying, with incredible regularity, to start that family they wanted.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  Polly lifted her smile to her husband’s lips. “You are finally free, too. The Agency has really let us both go. I guess until today I never thought it would really happen. And we are together, forever. My life is perfect.”

  Catcher nuzzled her neck. “Mine, too. Ready for bed?”

  She giggled and swatted him. “We just got out of bed.”

  He led her back through the French doors, kissing her neck, shoulders, and cheek before snagging her lips for a taste. “Exactly. But I think you could use a little more physical therapy.”

  THE END

  BUILDING A DR EAM

  A Ladies of Legend Novella

  By Magdalena Scott

  Chloe McClain is an artist, so she’s used to creating something from nothing. This time, though, the project is bigger than her usual canvas—this time she’s bought a big dilapi
dated building to rehab into a classy art gallery. Should be easy enough; she’ll hire Greg Andrews and his construction crew. Greg’s work has gotten good reviews from everyone in Legend. Of course there is kind of a rush on the project…

  Greg is a professional, and his professional opinion is that Chloe’s pile of bricks should be put out of its misery. There’s no way he can bring the place up to code by her deadline, let alone turn it into the showplace she has in mind. But Chloe’s a McClain, and besides a wide stubborn streak, that means deep pockets. Speaking of which, Greg can’t keep his eyes off the back pockets of Chloe’s jeans…

  When you live in Legend, Tennessee, there are certain things to remember. People in Legend pull together. Community before self. And you never want to take a wrong step around a McClain—even the cute females.

  For Carl,

  who could build just about anything I designed.

  Chapter One

  The customer is always right.

  Greg Andrews looked around the interior of the derelict building and knew that was one of the stupidest sayings ever inflicted on the service profession. The customer’s got no clue would come a lot closer. He sighed, knowing that if the customer had the money, he’d likely take the job anyway. Although it made him want to hurl just thinking about the amount of work required to do the thing right, it could be an interesting project.

  He would write up an estimate, present it, and see what happened.

  Greg made rough notes on the yellowed paper hinged to his clipboard. He had pored over the owner’s meticulous drawings, understood what was expected, and appreciated the possibilities. Sure would be a lot easier, though, to just knock down the building and put up something new. Not that anyone besides him would consider the possibility. It hadn’t taken long to realize that people in Legend, Tennessee, weren’t much into new. A lot of them were into preservation. Since moving himself and his business here a year and a half ago, Greg had done mostly renovation work. He could build new houses—loved building new houses—and had a guy on his crew who was as talented and fast as anybody in the business on new construction. They’d had to adapt, though. He’d hired some local help with different skills. Even changed his business name from Andrews Construction to Deluxe Home Improvements when he came here. Nobody in Legend knew or cared about the Andrews name. Deluxe, though—that was the way to go. People saw Deluxe in the phone book, or on the little signs he put in the yards of satisfied customers, and they were likely to call.

  Business was good. He had as much work as he and his employees could handle. Walking to the middle of the large empty room, he tried to imagine its transformation—and nearly broke his leg when part of the rotten floor gave way. Cursing fluently, he jerked his leg free and carefully moved back the way he’d come. He roughly tossed his long blond braid over his shoulder so it hung down his back.

  Yeah, this is definitely looking good so far.

  ****

  “You must be kidding,” Greg said, walking carefully around the hole he’d dropped his leg into earlier. “No way can this be rehabbed in a month. No possible way. Mike said you had a time frame in mind—but thirty days is plain crazy.”

  “Fine,” said Chloe McClain. “I’ll get someone else.” She closed a small notebook and slid it into the back pocket of her snug jeans, then stuck the ballpoint behind her ear. The motion made the cascade of bell-shaped earrings tinkle softly. The sterling silver caught what little light came through the crud-encrusted windows. There was also a diamond stud up high in one ear. Greg had never considered ears to be particularly sexy, but on Chloe McClain, it seemed everything was sexy. At least, everything he’d seen. Her blonde-and-dark-brown streaked hair was wavy and cropped close to her head, but it grew a bit long in the back, and curls caressed her delicate neck. Her eyes were big and brown and bright as a child’s. The long lashes and dusky eye shadow had him wondering what those big dark eyes would look like if Chloe were feeling passionate about something besides an ugly old building. Her mouth was generous and shaped as perfectly as any he’d seen on lipstick commercials. Even her nose intrigued him. Short and straight, but turned up on the end. It made her look spunky, and he had an idea it wasn’t false advertising. Her body wasn’t runway model thin, but slender and pleasantly curvy. She looked even better once you started talking to her. Then her eyes began to snap, her head moved in emphasis to her words, the music started from her strange earrings, and that gorgeous mouth had you looking there more of the time than you probably should. Good thing she was nuts, or he might be attracted to her.

  “So… You’re Mike’s sister?” he asked. Mike McClain had worked for Greg a while now, but there were so many McClains in and around Legend, Greg couldn’t keep them straight.

  “Cousin.” She rolled her eyes, turned on the heel of her beat-up sandal, and headed for the door, where she flicked off the lights. Greg looked up at the half dozen bulbs hanging from the ceiling, suspended by dangerous-looking wires. Pathetic. The whole place was pathetic. He sure didn’t want to get into a situation of trying to bring this dump up to code in thirty days, let alone do the project to her unreasonable expectations.

  Chloe shut the door after them, and locked it. Right. As if anybody in his right mind would actually want to go in there.

  “Well. Thanks for the opportunity, Miz McClain. Sorry I can’t help you with this. Good luck finding somebody else.

  “Uh-huh. Thanks. Well, I’ve got some contacts around. I’m sure there’s somebody who could take it on. I need to have the place ready to go on deadline, or else…” She let the sentence trail off.

  “Or else?” Not that he cared. Just making conversation.

  “Or else I can’t do the exhibition I’ve committed to.” She pushed some round-lensed dark glasses onto her nose, and caught her lower lip between her teeth. Frown lines marred that perfect brow, below the fall of wispy dark and light bangs.

  Exhibition. Whatever. He needed to move on down the street. “So what kind of exhibition is that?” He hadn’t meant to ask.

  “Nothing. I need to go.” A sultry breeze came down the street, making the bells in her earlobes play again. She turned without another word and walked away from him into the breeze. Greg shivered. Some brush-off. Why he cared, he wasn’t sure. He enjoyed watching her from behind until she turned the corner and was gone.

  Oh well. Cute, but not my type. Dating a cousin of Mike’s would surely be more than he wanted to deal with anyway. Might get awkward when it ended. Greg’s relationships generally ended dramatically. Yelling and name-calling were sometimes part of it, and he sure didn’t need Mike to be in that picture. It was complicated being a single man in Legend, Tennessee.

  ****

  “You what?” Mike McClain was clearly incredulous the next day when he heard about it.

  Greg dumped the old grounds from yesterday’s coffee, and jerked a new filter out of the plastic bag on the open shelf. “Turned her down.”

  “You can’t do that!” Mike was in his usual spot in the Deluxe Home Improvements office. He slid way down on the worn green Naugahyde couch with his long legs crossed in front of him and his head resting on the plastic paneled wall. At least he had been in that position until Greg told him about Chloe. Now Mike sat ramrod straight, his eyes bulging a little.

  “Of course I can turn down a job. Don’t get weird on me, Mike. This is my business, and if you’re gonna try to tell me what to do, we could have a problem.” His free hand fisted as he finished pouring water into the reservoir, concentrating on slowing his breathing so he wouldn’t say something more. He didn’t appreciate being second-guessed. Especially by the help. Of course, Mike was a friend, too, but Greg couldn’t let any of his guys forget who was boss.

  “Greg, that’s plain stupid. You can’t turn her down. She’s Martin’s sister.”

  “So?” Martin McClain owned a real estate business. He was also an occasional fishing and card-playing buddy. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Chloe i
s Martin’s sister. Martin gives us referrals all the time. Remember the job at Charles and Dorothy’s? The library redo? Martin’s the one who suggested you to them. That was a cherry job, Greg, and they could have hired somebody from out of town. They have the money to do it. But we got it, and I did fantastic with it, if I must say so—”

  “Yeah, yeah. The place looked just the way she wanted. You did great, Mike. I told you so then.” Mike had also ended up getting his estranged wife and daughter back in the bargain, so he really didn’t need to make such a big deal of throwing this into Greg’s face. Mike was this perfect family man now, acting more like a newlywed than a guy with a two and a half year old daughter ought to, in Greg’s opinion.

  “Greg! Listen to what I’m saying!” The McClains have done you some major favors since you came to town. You’ve had great referrals. This job of Chloe’s may be a hassle, but you better rethink it. Not only is she a McClain, but this show of hers is big. She’s made a name for herself with her paintings of the mountains, and lately she’s doing some other kind of art… I forget, but Betsy’s all excited about it. Chloe had a chance to do a show at a gallery in Knoxville, but decided she wanted to bring Legend into the spotlight with her. That’s why she needs her own gallery ASAP. The timeline on this thing is set in stone. She’s promised to do it in Legend and bring in some big tourism money because of the artsy people who’ll be here for it. You let Chloe down, you’re letting down the entire McClain clan, which is not a good idea. More than that, you’re letting down the whole town of Legend. You know Legend can use this kind of opportunity. It could even translate into more business for you in the long run.” Mike stood up, obviously too agitated to remain still. “You do this job and do it right, and it’ll reflect great on you for years.” Mike put his hand on the doorknob, shook his head and frowned. “You let Chloe down when she’s got her big chance and is sharing it with her hometown, and I think you might want to think about relocating.”