“Looks like you just came from Jodie’s wedding.” Emily pointed to Brynn’s long skirt with a hint of wistfulness. “We were all invited, but some of us had to work. I drew the short straw.”
“Get used to it, Em,” Brynn said with a sympathetic smile. She’d had to pull a few strings and juggle duty rosters to attend her best friend’s nuptials. “Duty comes first in our lines of work.”
The young nurse, only months out of college, nodded. “Want some coffee?”
Brynn checked the clock on the wall behind the desk. She wouldn’t leave until she’d had a report on Jared and could be in for a long night. “Sure. High-octane with cream and sugar, please.”
Emily disappeared into the break room and returned moments later with two foam cups. She handed one to Brynn and nodded toward the treatment room. “Must be tough, having a sick kid.”
Brynn sipped her coffee and attempted to put a lid on her worry over the little boy. So small and vulnerable, he’d touched her heart and broken through the objectivity she worked so hard to maintain on the job. “Illness is a fact of life.”
Emily cocked her head and considered Brynn through narrowed eyes. “You’ve been a cop how long?”
“Eight years.”
“That explains it.”
“What?”
“Why you’re so cynical.”
“Sheesh, Em, don’t spare my feelings,” Brynn said with pretended hurt. “Just spit out what you really think.”
“We’ve spent a lot of time together since I started work here,” Emily began.
Brynn nodded. Too much time. She’d logged more hours in the E.R. than she cared to remember, interviewing victims of accidents, domestic abuse and the rare but disturbing casualties of assault and other crimes. “And your point is?”
Emily shrugged. “You act like none of this—” her gesture encompassed the E.R. “—touches you.”
Brynn blinked in surprise. Did she really come across so hard-boiled? “If you don’t maintain emotional distance, jobs like ours will burn you out fast.”
“That’s easier said than done,” Emily admitted with a sigh. “Especially when kids like that sweet little boy are concerned, bless his heart.”
Brynn had to agree. Worrying about Jared had shaken her more than she cared to admit. “A sense of humor helps.”
“Any new jokes?” Emily asked.
Brynn grinned, happy to change the subject. “How can you tell if it’s a skunk or a lawyer who’s been run over on the highway?”
“I give up.”
“There’re skid marks around the skunk.” Emily’s laugh encouraged Brynn to continue. “How many lawyers does it take to change a lightbulb?”
“How many?”
“How many can you afford?”
Emily chuckled again and shook her head. “You know more lawyer jokes than anyone I’ve ever met. Do you really dislike them so much?”
“Lawyers? I like ’em about as much as I like Yankees,” Brynn admitted.
“I always figured lawyers and the police are on the same side.”
Brynn snorted with disgust. “If I had ten bucks for every criminal who’s lawyered up and gotten off scot-free because some crooked attorney manipulated the system, I could buy a luxury condo at Myrtle Beach.”
Emily folded her arms on the admissions desk. “But not all lawyers are crooked.”
“No,” Brynn admitted with a straight face. “Some are dead.”
“You are so bad,” Emily laughed and shook her head.
Although Brynn had made her comments in jest, she recognized her prejudice. For the most part, she considered herself fair and open-minded, but attorneys and Northerners pushed her buttons. Where attorneys were concerned, she agreed with the principle that every person was entitled to the best defense possible, but the shady shenanigans of too many un-principled lawyers had left a bad taste in her mouth for the profession as a whole.
And she hoped Emily wouldn’t get her started on Yankees. They flooded the town every summer, in their big RVs and fancy cars, passing through on their way to summer homes in the nearby mountains. Not that she envied their wealth. They’d probably worked hard for it. What Brynn disliked was their condescension, treating the locals like dim-witted morons from The Beverly Hillbillies, laughing at Southern drawls and taking great pleasure in explaining how much better everything was done up North.
Two particular Yankees had caused plenty of trouble recently in Pleasant Valley. Ginger Parker, with the morals of an alley cat in heat, had almost ruined Jim and Cat Stratton’s marriage. Ginger had been from New Jersey. And the antiques dealer who’d tried to rip off sweet old Mrs. Weatherstone had been based in Rhode Island.
Not that there weren’t Southern snakes in abundance, but, at least in a five-county radius, Brynn knew who they were. Strangers, especially from the North, always put her on alert and on edge. If that attitude made her opinionated, it also made her cautious. And she couldn’t be too cautious in her line of work.
“You don’t fool me,” Emily was saying. “I know you too well. For all your ranting about lawyers and Yankees, you’d be first on the scene if either needed help. And you’d provide it gladly.”
“That’s my job,” Brynn countered.
Before she could say more, Dr. Anderson came out of the treatment room and approached the desk.
“How’s the kid?” Brynn asked.
The young doctor pursed his lips, then sighed. “He’s in severe respiratory distress. I have him on oxygen and antibiotics. We’ll have to wait and see how well he can fight this off.”
Brynn’s heart went out to the little boy, so ill without his mother. “How soon before he’s out of the woods?”
“Depends on how strong he is. Could be a couple of hours. Could be a few days.” The doctor’s solemn expression indicated a third possibility. The boy might not recover at all.
Brynn felt a rush of sympathy, not only for Jared, but for his father. She couldn’t imagine how Randall Benedict was feeling now, without anyone to stand watch with him over his sick child.
Her radio squawked and she keyed the mike. “Sawyer here.”
“We have an accident with injuries west of Carsons Corner,” the dispatcher announced. “I’ve dispatched Rhodes.”
“Understood,” Brynn replied. “I’m coming in.”
The Pleasant Valley police department was small, usually manned at night by only the dispatcher and one patrol officer. In bad weather or other emergencies, additional help was needed, and Brynn often had to pull an extra shift. With the police station across the street from the medical center and a clean uniform in her locker, she could report for duty in mere minutes.
Brynn said goodbye to Dr. Anderson and Emily and headed for her car. But she couldn’t get Randall Benedict and Jared, a worried parent alone in a strange town and his dangerously ill little boy, out of her mind. She turned before exiting the automatic doors.
“I’ll drop by later to see how the kid’s doing,” she said before plunging into the night and the blowing snow.
Chapter Two
The light pressure of a hand on his shoulder jolted Rand out of a deep sleep. He came instantly awake and centered his attention immediately on Jared. The boy, dwarfed by the hospital bed, lay still.
Too still.
Terror squeezed Rand’s lungs like a fist, and he couldn’t move from the hard plastic chair where he’d slept. Couldn’t breathe. “My God, he’s not—”
“Jared’s fine,” a drawling feminine voice assured him. “The crisis has passed. His fever’s broken, and he’s breathing without difficulty now.”
Relief cascaded through him, and, for the first time, Rand became aware of the woman whose hand still grasped his shoulder. “You’re sure?”
“Dr. Anderson was just in, but he didn’t wake you. You’ve had a long night.”
Sunlight filtered through the curtains of the hospital window, and Rand checked his watch—8:00 a.m.
He stood, lea
ned over Jared, and placed his hand on the boy’s forehead. The toddler’s color was normal, his fever gone, his breathing easier. The oxygen mask had been removed. Weak with relief, Rand turned to the nurse—
And saw instead the police officer who’d escorted him into town.
“You here to arrest me?” His mind, fuzzy from lack of sleep, struggled to make sense of the officer’s presence.
His question apparently took her by surprise. “Arrest you?”
“For speeding. I know I was driving like a bat out of hell last night, but—”
“I just stopped by to check on Jared.”
She smiled, and suddenly she was no longer an officer but the most beautiful woman Rand had ever seen. Midnight-blue eyes glowed with compassion, and her mouth turned up at the corners in an alluring smile. Even with her auburn hair tucked neatly into a French braid, it appeared thick and luxurious, the kind of hair he’d love to run his fingers through. And its color complemented perfectly the apricot flush of her cheeks and her flawless complexion. Tall—she had to be at least five foot eight—her body filled her navy blue uniform so sensually it should have been against the law. In contrast to the severe lines of her uniform, the faintest hint of her floral scent swirled through the room.
When he’d rushed Jared into the E.R. last night, Rand had been so frantic with worry that the police officer’s appearance had barely registered. Otherwise, he would have noted those spectacular eyes, like the blue velvet of a moonless summer sky. Even if he hadn’t been distracted, he couldn’t have seen how curvaceous she was. She’d been bundled up in her police parka and a long dress. Long dress? Had she really been wearing one or had his worry-crazed mind played tricks on him?
“You okay?” she asked.
He flushed, embarrassed that he’d been staring. “What?”
“You’ve had a rough night. You should go home and get some sleep.” Her words, slow and sensual, made him think of the heady fragrance of magnolias and steamy Southern nights.
“I won’t leave Jared alone.” He checked once more to reassure himself that Jared was truly better.
“Anyone I can notify for you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Thanks—” His gaze traveled to the name tag on the pocket above the enticing curve of her breast. “Officer Sawyer—”
“Call me Brynn.” She offered her hand.
He grasped it and noted instantly the contrast of cool, silky skin, long elegant fingers and a no-nonsense grip that he released with reluctance. “Thanks, Brynn, but I have my cell phone if I need it. And I’m Rand, by the way.”
“I can stay while you take a break. I don’t mind. He’s a sweet little kid.”
“You’re very kind, but, no. Jared’s had a tough time lately, and when he wakes up, he should see a familiar face.”
“At least let me bring you breakfast.”
He scrutinized her closely, assessing her motives. She wasn’t coming on to him. In spite of her obvious sexual attributes, she didn’t flaunt them. Her concern seemed genuine with no strings attached, probably an example of the legendary Southern hospitality he’d heard so much about.
“Doesn’t the hospital have a cafeteria?” he asked.
“You can eat here if you’re a masochist,” she replied with a friendly grin. “But Jodie’s Café is just down the street. They have the best cranberry-pecan muffins in the Upstate.”
“Upstate?”
“Northwest South Carolina.”
“Sorry. I haven’t learned the local lingo.”
“You live on Valley Road, right?”
“Just moved in. I bought the place called River Walk.”
Her magnificent eyes widened at his mention of the name. “Great location, right on the river. Good trout fishing.”
“And lots of fresh air and sunshine. Just what the doctor ordered for Jared’s health.” He glanced at Jared, sleeping peacefully, and felt a stab of guilt. “Guess I didn’t get him out of New York fast enough.”
“You’re from New York?” Brynn’s question seemed strained.
“New York City. Jared and I moved to River Walk to escape the pollution. Jared, as you can tell, has weak lungs. I’m hoping the country air will improve his stamina.”
Brynn flashed a brittle smile. “Will you be working in town?”
He shook his head. “I’m with a New York law firm.”
A wary look flashed across her very pretty face. “You’re a lawyer?”
Rand frowned. She’d uttered the word in a derogatory tone usually reserved for wife beaters, serial killers and child pornographers. “A corporate attorney.”
She backed toward the door. “Not many corporations in Pleasant Valley.”
“I’m taking a sabbatical, time for us to settle into our new life.”
Brynn reached behind her and grabbed the door-knob. “Dr. Anderson says Jared should recover completely in a day or two. That new antibiotic did the trick.”
Rand didn’t want her to leave. Not until he’d learned a whole lot more about the delectable Officer Sawyer. “Come to dinner when Jared’s better. I’d like to show you our place.”
Now that was the understatement of the year.
“Maybe.” Brynn couldn’t have sounded more noncommittal. “I’ll have the café send that breakfast over.”
Before Rand could protest, she slipped out the door and closed it firmly behind her. Officer Sawyer hadn’t appeared the type who would spook easily. He sank back into the bedside chair, wondering what he’d said that had sent her running as if the devil were at her heels.
BRYNN STOMPED through the snow that covered the sidewalk, heedless of the creeping dampness at the cuffs of her uniform trousers, oblivious to the cold that nipped her cheeks. As steamed as she felt, she was amazed the snow didn’t melt in her path. How could she be so stupid, going all fluttery inside over a guy with three strikes against him?
Married, most likely. He hadn’t been wearing a wedding band, but that wasn’t concrete proof of anything.
Yankee, by his own admission.
And a lawyer.
But try as she might, she couldn’t get Rand Benedict out of her mind, especially the way his deep brown eyes had widened first with surprise, then blatant approval when she’d seen him this morning. And that voice. No nasal Yankee twang. Just seductively rich, deep and smooth, like an anchorman’s on the network news.
He had shed his cashmere overcoat, too, using it as a blanket over his knees, exposing broad shoulders, well-developed biceps and an enticing chest beneath his pristine white T-shirt. Sitting at a desk and hoisting law books didn’t produce that kind of physical perfection. He probably worked out in an expensive Fifth Avenue health club. In New York City, for Pete’s sake! She’d have more in common with the man if he came from Mars.
Then why couldn’t she get him out of her head? He’d occupied her thoughts during the entire night shift, causing Todd Leland to eye her more than once with curiosity when he had to repeat a question. Fortunately, she hadn’t been called out on the road. In her present state of out-of-her-mind, she’d have ended up with Jay-Jay pulling her patrol car from a snowbank with his tow truck.
Brynn had worried all night about little Jared, too. She could have simply called the hospital to check on him once her shift was over. But, no, she’d gone and stuck herself smack-dab in temptation’s path by returning to the hospital where Rand Benedict would be waiting.
Reaching the entrance to Jodie’s Mountain Crafts and Café, Brynn stomped the snow off her boots and opened one of the double glass doors. A blast of warm air and a mélange of delicious aromas greeted her. In a couple months, the café would be crowded with tourists stopping for breakfast on their way to the North Carolina mountains, but in late March, the working locals had already eaten and left, and the dining area was practically empty.
“Morning, Officer Sawyer.”
Sixteen-year-old Daniel, a teen from Archer Farm whom Jodie had hired as a busboy, looked up from the table
he was clearing. Of all Jeff’s clients, Daniel had made the most progress in rehabilitating himself. Tall and lanky with carrot-colored hair and freckles, Daniel had gained poise and self-confidence over the past few months. And a reputation as a hard worker.
“Hey, Daniel,” Brynn greeted him. “Do you have time to make a delivery for me?”
His face lighted with its usual puppy-dog eagerness. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Take a large coffee, large o.j. and several kinds of muffins over to the hospital. To Mr. Rand Benedict. And put them on my tab.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Daniel tucked the tub of dirty dishes under his arm and hurried toward the kitchen.
Just because Rand was off-limits didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a little pampering after the hard night he’d endured. She’d promised him breakfast, and with that obligation fulfilled, she’d forget him.
Brynn wandered through the gift area, a wide hall lined with shelves filled with handmade quilts, willow baskets and rustic birdhouses, many made by the boys at Archer Farm. The passage led to the dining room on the deck overlooking the river. The arching glass roof and walls kept out the snow and cold and provided a breathtaking view of the Piedmont River below and the mountains beyond.
“Hey, honeybun, come sit with us,” a familiar voice called.
Brynn’s aunt, Marion Sawyer, sat with Merrilee Nathan at the only occupied table on the deck. Glad for an excuse not to be alone with her troublesome thoughts, Brynn joined them.
“You two are up early,” Brynn said.
“I’m filling in as hostess for the breakfast shift while Jodie’s on her honeymoon,” Merrilee explained. Her face flushed and her eyes glimmered at the mention of the honeymoon, and Brynn guessed Merrilee was recalling her own last summer with her veterinarian husband Grant, who was Jodie’s brother.
“And I have a house to show at nine o’clock,” Aunt Marion explained, “although the clients may cancel because of the weather.”
Spring in the Valley Page 2