“Won’t you sit down?” She’d motioned to one of her striped Italian provincial chairs, noticing details about him as he took a seat. He wore his dark-blond hair fairly short. In the lamp light she glimpsed gold highlights on the tips, and the slight cleft in his chin. The rest of his features were hard, rugged male.
“I have a couple of questions,” he began. “First, what should I wear to work in the morning?”
“Anything casual. Everyone who works there wears jeans. You’ll be supplied an apron that goes around the neck.”
“That sounds fine as long as my colleagues don’t see me in it.”
Mitch Garrett didn’t need to worry. With his masculine features and tall, strong physique, he couldn’t have been more manly. When Bruno had asked her to report to the Lufka P.I. firm, she’d pictured working with some overweight, middle-aged television-attorney type.
The midthirties man with brown eyes almost piercing in their intensity had come as a total surprise. Coupled with his dangerous, unconscious air of power, his image had refused to leave her mind and was now indelibly inscribed.
She flashed him a smile. “We make the donuts at the back of the shop, so if any of your coworkers pop in when it opens, they won’t see you.”
“That relieves my mind more than you know. Now for the next question. What would be the best way for me to access your company’s personnel files without going to your office? I need to see everything.”
“If you’d like, after we’ve finished work tomorrow, we’ll drive to your office and I’ll download the files to your computer from my phone.”
“Excellent. When will we be finished work?”
“By 9:00 a.m.”
“Good. That means we’ll have enough time to go over the names and backgrounds of the employees until you have to pick up your son. I’m going to need other kinds of information, too.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “If you can be prepared to answer these questions I’ve written here, our work will go faster.”
“I’ll go over them before I get in bed.”
“You’ve been more than helpful already,” he said, and before she was ready to see him go, he got to his feet. “I know six o’clock will come early, so I’ll say good-night and we’ll discuss everything else tomorrow.”
Heidi walked him to the door. After he’d driven away, she sank down on the couch to read over his checklist. He wanted to know where every stop was along every route. He was so thorough, it was positively scary. Finally she got ready for bed, but it took her a long time to fall asleep. Today had turned into such a challenging day. A threat to the company from within the family ranks had prompted Bruno to hire a private investigator.
Of all the P.I.s out there, the man she’d been thrown into the middle of an investigation with was cast from a different mold than most men. If Jonas and Lucas were behind the thefts, they had no idea of the kind of force they were up against.
* * *
AFTER A SHOWER AND SHAVE, Mitch dressed in jeans and a T-shirt before leaving for the donut shop. When he pulled up in front of SweetSpuds, the sun had just peeked over Mount Olympus.
So many times he’d dropped by here on his way to work, never dreaming that one day he’d be making donuts with the most appealing woman he’d ever met. She seemed to have an inner beauty that made her whole being light up. By the end of the day today, he hoped he hadn’t been imagining it. Too many times he’d been disappointed by some feeling he’d thought was real, only to discover otherwise. Over the past few years these letdowns had taken their toll, making him feel older than his years.
He got out of his car, noticing the sign on the glass door. Open eight to six, Monday through Saturday. Closed Sunday.
“Good morning, Mr. Garrett.” She’d pulled in and parked next to him. When she climbed out of her Nissan, the sun gilded her mass of curls. His shuttered gaze took in the rest of her down to her sneakers. Yesterday she’d worn a suit. Today she was in jeans and a loose-fitting navy T-shirt. No matter what she wore, nothing could hide her gorgeous figure.
“Call me Mitch, please. Mind if I call you Heidi?”
“Not at all,” she said, looking for the right key to open the shop door. He followed her inside. It was a small facility. Behind the counter he saw a door that led to the back room. Next to it were the tall racks of shelving that held the donuts. The place served coffee and soft drinks from the side counter. In the front were four small round tables and enough chairs to serve sixteen people at a time.
“Come through this door and we’ll get started. The restroom for employees is back here, too.”
The modern kitchen was outfitted with a massive fridge and all the necessary equipment, including a washer and dryer. Built-in shelves held the fifty-pound bags of mix with the blue tags. More shelves on wheels contained the donut trays. A half-dozen donuts remained in one of them. When she saw where his eyes had wandered, she said, “Help yourself, Mitch.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He reached for one with chocolate icing. “My boss told me I was going to love this job.”
She chuckled. “Working here has ruined many a figure. I can’t tell you the number of diets I’ve had to go on over the years.” She handed him an apron from the cupboard, then grabbed one for herself.
As they put them on, Mitch flicked her another glance. He decided not to comment that her efforts obviously hadn’t been in vain. There wasn’t an ounce of surplus flesh he could see on her anywhere. “Did you always work for the company?”
“Yes,” she replied. “My parents’ home isn’t far from here. Dad started me off in this shop when I was old enough to sweep floors and help do cleanup. I was probably nine. Slowly I graduated to more duties.
“By high school I was making donuts and selling them after school and on Saturdays. I put myself through college in this shop. Later on I worked in the plant learning every job, then I was transferred to headquarters where I’ve been in charge of payroll and now personnel.”
“Sounds like you’ve done it all. Will you start Zack out here when he’s nine?”
“I don’t know yet. He’s got a mind of his own.”
“Meaning you didn’t?” he teased.
“My dad was my idol and still is. I’d do anything for him.” Her gaze met his. “Do you feel that way about yours?”
“I never knew my parents,” he said. “I was a baby abandoned in a church in Tallahassee, Florida. Someone found me lying inside an orange crate with the words Garrett Fruit Company stamped on it. I was always called the Garrett boy.”
Heidi let out a quiet cry.
“When I got old enough I called myself Mitch. I don’t know why. It’s one of those stories you read about on occasion and can’t believe. I went from foster home to foster home. At eighteen I joined the Marines. Don’t get me wrong. It’s been a good life, but a different one. It wasn’t my destiny to have a family of my own.”
She didn’t move a muscle, but her eyes darkened with emotion. “I’m sorry to have asked you that question. My home life was pretty idyllic. For a minute I forgot that not everyone starts out the same way.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Heidi. Most people know their parents, or know of them. I’d have given anything to know either parent. I don’t have a clue about my heritage on either side. If I have siblings or relatives, I’m not aware of them. No connections of any kind make me think your Zack is the luckiest of boys to have come from a family like yours you can date back to the nineteenth century.”
“I…I think he is, too.” Her voice caught, then she cleared her throat. “If you’ll wash your hands, I’ll give you some gloves to put on and we’ll get started.” He watched her put on a hairnet before joining him at the sink. Her little blue earrings glinted through the netting. No matter what sh
e did, she exuded a sensuality he doubted she was even aware of. But Mitch was feeling it and had to fight hard to concentrate on the task at hand.
Once the vat of oil was heating, she measured the mix from the bag and put it in the hopper, adding the precise amount of liquid ingredients. After the batter was power-mixed, she checked the oil to be sure it was the right temperature. Then she turned the switch and the dough dropped down through nozzles into the fat. He watched in fascination as rotors turned the donuts over at proper intervals and then moved them onto a conveyor belt for a sugar glaze. Soon they were guided onto trays.
“This goes fast because we use baking powder rather than yeast,” she explained. Before he knew it, she’d done another batch. This time it went through a chocolate-glazing process. Another batch received a white glaze with multicolored sprinkles, another with nuts. Already an hour had gone by. “Our general rule of thumb is to make sixteen hundred donuts a day.”
“That’s a lot of donuts.”
“I know, but the high school and college students will eat up a thousand of them by two in the afternoon. Would you believe we usually run out ten minutes before closing?”
“Yup. I’ve come here at the last minute and had to go away hungry.”
Her laugh delighted him. “Okay, we’ve already made eight hundred. Now let’s see you mix the next batch of dough in the hopper.”
He did all right, but she had to caution him to check the heat on the oil again. “The frying oil is the most expensive ingredient in the production process, and if the donuts absorb too much oil, it reduces the profit margin.”
You learned something new every day, Mitch thought. Somehow he managed to cook the second eight hundred without the place going up in flames.
She grinned when he let out a sigh of relief. “I know how you feel. Good job! Now comes the part we all hate.”
“The cleanup,” he muttered as he put the last of the loaded trays on the shelves.
“You catch on fast. I’ll wheel out this stack of trays to the front. It’s eight o’clock. Phyllis should be here by now setting up.”
They worked like a team washing the equipment, making everything so spick and span the kitchen gleamed. The vat of oil was cooled and discarded in metal containers she placed outside the rear door. After she removed her hairnet, they took off their gloves and aprons and did a wash that included towels and cloths. While they waited for everything to dry, he mopped the floor.
She eyed him over her shoulder. “You don’t have to do that. We have a janitorial service that comes in every night.”
“After doing KP duty, I’m afraid it’s a habit. Tell me something. How many of these shops do you own around the Valley?”
“Twenty.”
“I imagine their inventory is all sold out by the end of the day, too.”
“Always.”
“I’ve noticed that donuts get a bad rap by the media.”
“Our company is a great target for the people screaming about obesity, but the sales don’t change. Self-control is everyone’s problem, not the fault of the free enterprise system.”
He smiled at her. “My sentiments exactly.” Mitch liked the way she thought. In fact, there wasn’t anything about her he didn’t like, and that feeling was growing stronger by the second.
As he put the mop away in the utility closet she asked, “How long have you been a P.I.?”
Mitch had been waiting for that question to come up. He shut the door and turned to her. “Ten months or so.”
Judging by the silence, his answer had surprised her. “Then you’re barely out of the Marines.”
“Not exactly.” He took a steadying breath. “Tell you what. Before we go to my office, let’s head to the Cowboy Grub for breakfast and I’ll answer your questions. Have you ever eaten there?”
She finished folding everything from the dryer and put things away. “Many times. It’s close to the office and one of my favorite places.”
“And mine. I’m glad we’re in agreement because I’m starving. Sugar does that to me. I should never have eaten a donut on an empty stomach.”
“I’m afraid I learned the same lesson a long time ago.” She started out the self-locking rear door ahead of him.
It was ten after nine and already there were half a dozen cars, not counting theirs and Phyllis’s, in the parking area. He got a sense of satisfaction from realizing those people would be eating the donuts he and Heidi had cooked from scratch. They weren’t just any donuts. That recipe had come from the Old World, guarded and unchanged to this day.
As he helped her into her car, their glances met briefly. He felt the strangest sensation lift the hairs on the back of his neck. The culprits had been emboldened enough to have stolen hundreds of bags of mix, maybe more by now. If they suspected someone was on to them, they could present a physical danger to those around them. He didn’t like the idea of her being anywhere near.
Chapter Three
Heidi sat in a booth across from Mitch. He’d ordered cinnamon rolls with his eggs and bacon. She’d decided on a ham omelet and corn bread. As she munched on the last of it, she said, “I won’t need to eat another thing until tomorrow. If you want to know a secret, I’ve tried to figure out this restaurant’s recipe for their bread since the first time I tasted it.”
He eyed her steadily over the rim of his coffee cup. “You still don’t have it down pat and refined?”
“Afraid not.”
“Are you as big a whiz in the kitchen as you are making donuts at the shop?”
“I love to cook, but when you have a little boy who doesn’t eat a lot and prefers a peanut butter and honey sandwich to anything else, there’s not much point. What about you? Do you turn into a master chef when you go home to your family at night?” Since they were working together, she would at least like to know his marital status. If he had a wife, the knowledge might help her to stop the fantasizing.
After draining his coffee, he put the cup down, submitting her to a frank regard. “I never married and am better at warming up a frozen TV dinner.”
Never married? It went to show that she really didn’t have a clue about men. Furthermore, a whole history of unknowns lay behind his smile, but there was one thing she did know for certain. He was the most exciting man she’d ever met.
“I’m surprised,” she responded and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “When we were talking about my son’s haircut, you sounded so knowledgeable, I got the impression you must have children.”
“No, but I do know a lot about little orphan boys who need to act tough and are counting the hours until they’re free to make their own choices.”
Heidi couldn’t comprehend his life, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine how hard it would have been trying to fit into a foster family. He’d said he’d had more than one. “Did you always want to go into the military?”
“No, but after high school it seemed to be one of the fastest ways to get an education funded. I put the time into pay back Uncle Sam’s loan, then got out and went to work as a federal marshal. I’ve been one for six years.”
Federal marshal.
They live dangerous lives.
“Meaning you still are?” Everything he told her came as a surprise, intriguing her. She realized he’d had a harder fight from the beginning than most people. And it had turned him into the kind of man she and her great-uncle wanted on their side.
“I’m on medical leave. I was shot in the shoulder and flown out here to TOSH for the surgery and rehab.”
She winced. “Shot?”
“To make a long story short, an escaped felon who wanted revenge tried to kill the judge who’d sent him to prison. I was on duty to protect him. In the process of saving the Honorable Judge Wilken, I had to kill the
felon. But I hadn’t counted on him having another prison escapee for a partner named Whitey Filmore. We exchanged gunfire and I got the worst of it.”
“What happened to him?”
“He’s still on the loose.”
Her stomach clenched. “That’s terrifying.”
“It’s the nature of the business I’m in. Recently there’s been a dramatic increase in the number of threats against members of the judiciary. Our department assesses the level of danger. On average, about a hundred threats are logged each year. We develop a plan to determine the appropriate preventive response for each one.”
“In other words you always have to watch your back,” she said, tight-lipped.
“Yes, but I didn’t do such a good job that time. During the recovery period after the surgery, my boss contacted Roman Lufka, the owner you met at the P.I. firm, and he put me to work so I wouldn’t go crazy with nothing to do.”
“You mean your boss got you out of the way to preserve your life.”
“That, too.” His smile didn’t make her feel relieved or reassured. “I’ve received expert medical care and I’m now fully recovered.”
She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath. “That’s a great blessing. Your health is everything.”
“Agreed. Once I’ve solved your case, in all likelihood I’ll be going back to Tallahassee.”
The news that he’d be returning to Florida shouldn’t matter to her, but to know what awaited him made her sick inside. She bit her lip. “If you go back, he’ll be lying in wait for you.”
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take. Somebody has to do the job. We can’t allow our judges to be killed off because there’s no protection for them. Where would our country be if we didn’t have men and women fighting for our freedoms?”
“You’re right, of course.” But she didn’t have to like it. “Do you miss Tallahassee?”
“Not particularly, but it’s where I was found and grew up. When I was in the group home, I used to think my birth mother might come looking for me if I stayed put.”
The Marshal's Prize (Harlequin American Romance) Page 4