by Alicia Scott
Josie was stirring her coffee again. Her movements were brisk and energetic. She’d appeared tired and disgruntled when he’d first arrived at her office; the strain around her eyes was genuine. But now she was catching her second wind. A delicate color tinged her cheeks and brightened her blue eyes. Her pale blond hair glowed soft and flaxen down around her shoulders. She still hadn’t buttoned her silk blouse, and when she leaned forward, he had a glimpse of frothy lace and creamy skin. She wasn’t a tall woman, or a large woman. But she carried herself with a definite energetic presence that took some getting used to. It wasn’t his mother’s nervous restlessness, it was genuine vitality. And he found it unbelievably attractive.
He really needed to get more sleep.
She spoke. He watched her tongue moisten her pale, pink lips, then saw them move.
“What?” he asked belatedly, realizing he’d just missed everything.
“I asked how your mother is. Ben mentioned last week that she was feeling ‘under the weather.’”
“My mom?” Jack frowned. He didn’t want to discuss his mother. He twirled his coffee mug with his fingers, almost burning himself as the hot liquid sloshed over the side. “My mom isn’t sick in the traditional sense, if that’s what you mean. She’s…she’s, uh, a little high-strung. Anxious, nervous. She gets a lot of migraine headaches.”
“Oh.” Josie sounded genuinely surprised, then sympathetic. “June must have been very difficult for her.”
“It was, but she got through. She does try very hard. Life just isn’t as easy for her as it is for others.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Your job is hard for her, isn’t it? If she worries all the time, having a cop in the family would be tough.”
“Yes.”
“But you did it, anyway.”
“It’s the only thing I ever wanted to be.”
“Oh.” For a moment, she sounded contrite.
Jack pushed away his coffee mug. “Besides, Grand Springs is hardly a big city. When I joined the force, we hadn’t had an officer seriously injured in the line of duty in years. These days… Well, things are changing, but I’m not about to give up my job just when it’s needed most.”
“Everyone in the world is moving to small towns to get away from crime,” Josie said with a sigh. “And instead, crime just follows us.”
“Grand Springs isn’t a small town anymore.”
“No, but it would be nice if the culture stayed that way.”
“It has. Folks are a lot nicer to one another here than in big cities. We still help one another out. You’ve been involved in the fund-raisers, you ought to know that as well as anyone.”
“True, the horrible June storm has really pulled the community together. People like your father have helped make a huge difference. Do you know how incredible it was the week after? After the Grand Springs Herald carried the first story on the damage, the response was amazing. The phone in my office rang off the hook with people wanting to know what they could do to help. We had six-year-olds bringing in their piggy banks, housewives mailing in grocery money. Plumbers, electricians and carpenters all donated their time to help rebuild. From all over the state, all over the country, we received donations and offers of assistance. Floods and mud slides make you respect the power of Mother Nature. The cleanup afterward makes you respect the power of community.”
“Absolutely.”
The waitress arrived with two plates of turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce. Both of them picked up their silverware immediately.
After a few bites, Josie leaned forward, her blue eyes bright with genuine earnestness on his face. “But, Jack, that was four months ago. Now Grand Springs faces the same issues all the other cities face. Grand Springs got three days of prime-time coverage, then the news moved on. And the people and donations moved with it. People donated enough alfalfa to feed a cow for one day, when we have to get that cow through a year. They helped rebuild a barn, but there is no livestock to fill the stalls. We are just at the beginning of the recovery process and people have already forgotten. Now they’ve moved on to the next TV show while we have nine months of serious cleanup ahead of us. I’m not sure how we’re going to get through it yet. Hal, he just doesn’t…”
Her voice broke, her frustration clear. Abruptly, she withdrew, cutting another bit of turkey with rapt attention. “Well, the next year will be a long one.”
He studied her. “I bet you have a few ideas on how to get through it.”
“Of course, it’s my job. Besides, we’re hardly the first community to have to wrestle with this.” She popped a piece of turkey into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. When she spoke next, she punctuated her words with gesturing silverware. “There are lots of places to look at, lots of programs that have been tried elsewhere with various degrees of success. My personal favorite is the adopt-a-farm program, which gives the farmer support for a whole year. Or there are livestock donation programs, but that still leaves you with the issue of having to feed new stock when you don’t have fields or grain. Well, I’ve looked into it. I’ve written enough reports on the subject to fill a damn library. Hopefully, we’ll get somewhere soon.”
“But working with Hal is frustrating?”
She shot him a look. “You ought to know as well as anyone.”
He could hardly refute that. “Hal’s just the acting mayor, you know. We’ll have elections for a new mayor soon.”
“Yeah.” She appeared distracted, attacking the stuffing.
“Ever thought of running?” Jack asked neutrally.
“Who, me? No way. I don’t have the temperament for politics. The first time the school board tenured a bad teacher, I’d feel compelled to tan their hides. And maybe run the teacher out of town on a rail. Hmm, it’s a thought. Frankly, I’m still not sure why I’m the treasurer. Olivia can be very persuasive. I mean—” Her voice faltered. Her gaze dropped to her almost empty plate. “I mean, Olivia could be very persuasive,” she finished quietly.
That quickly, the light banked in her face. Her body seemed to curl in on itself. He could sense the grief that ran through her like a river. It shook him. He hadn’t seen grief like that since his older brother had died.
“You…you miss her?”
She smiled dryly. “Of course. Olivia was like a mother to me, but you don’t want to hear that, do you, Detective? You want me to be the evil town treasurer, plotting some political coup. Do you think I’m so dense I can’t see through your questions?”
“I…I…” He didn’t know what to say.
She shook her head. “You are so transparent. Cops are nothing more than bureaucrats, you know. You have Hal breathing down your neck, and his marching orders are clear—find who killed Olivia Stuart. From what I’ve heard, you have no real evidence, no real clues. So what do your little minds do? They manufacture this preposterous scheme where the overworked town treasurer decides to murder her best friend so she can earn sixty thousand a year as the overworked mayor of a town devastated by mud slides and a growing drug problem. Too bad Olivia didn’t have a butler, Jack. Then you could’ve just arrested him and saved us all some grief.”
“That’s enough.”
His voice was so controlled, it took her a minute to realize that he was angry. Very, very angry. Her stomach did that crazy flip-flop again.
“Why?” she found herself pushing. The blood hummed in her ears. The air picked up between them, and she knew she wasn’t the only one who felt it. She challenged him openly, knowing that she shouldn’t but unable to resist. “Tell me what I said that wasn’t true.”
“I am not looking for convenient answers, Josie, not even to get Hal Stuart off my back. I’m looking for the right answer. I want to know who killed Olivia Stuart. You had opportunity. You fit the description. You obviously don’t like cops—”
“So sue me.”
“You keep to yourself and you never talk a
bout your family, where you’re from. In my book, you obviously have something to hide.”
Her pulse accelerated. She wanted to yell no, she wanted to push away. She was so shaken, she remained sitting right where she was.
“I went to school in upstate New York,” she said abruptly. “Both my parents died when I was twelve. I was raised in a foster home. I have no family. I moved to Grand Springs because I wanted roots. I took the job because Olivia Stuart made me believe I could be good at it. She made me believe I’d found a home. Any other questions, Detective?”
She pushed away her plate. Now she could stand. She looked down at him with all the disdain she could muster and threw ten bucks on the table to cover her half of the meal.
“I know my rights. Next time you want to talk to me, it’s going to take more than a cheap dinner, Jack Stryker. You’d better show up with a subpoena or don’t show up at all. Too bad, too. I’d rather enjoyed talking with you. Well, that’ll teach me.”
She pivoted neatly in her heels and, with the aplomb of a duchess, walked away.
Jack watched her retreat with frustration, wanting to stop her, not knowing what to say. He just didn’t have the answers.
His turkey congealed in the gravy on his plate. He pushed it away with more force than necessary. Damn, damn, damn.
Chapter Four
“So what is your sign?”
Josie looked up from the buffet table where she was adjusting the garlands of fresh flowers trimming the punch bowl. Jack Stryker stared down at her, an assessing look in his eye. She’d half expected to hear from him today—certainly his reputation for persistence indicated he wouldn’t let her go after one messy dinner. Instead, she’d made it through her workday with only the usual hassles. She’d left work at five to help set up the high school gym for the Band, Bingo, Bake Sale fund-raiser. They’d just gotten the last of the balloons up when people started arriving. Now the lights were dim, the buffet table full, and the gym floor vibrated with gaily dressed couples doing the two-step.
She noticed Jack had exchanged his usual shirt and tie for jeans, a western dress shirt, a wide belt and well-worn boots. The shirt was deep blue and accentuated his eyes. The belt, with its tasteful silver buckle, brought her gaze to his trim waist. The heeled boots made his long, lean legs even longer and leaner. Damn him.
Abruptly, she stabbed her finger at the nuclear red punch. “I helped mix that. Wanna test it for poison?”
Then she turned and walked away.
He caught her elbow before she cleared the buffet table and pulled her up short. She shot him through with a single meaningful gaze. “I’m warning you, I’m a murder suspect. Hanging out with me could ruin your Boy Scout reputation.”
“I’m a cop. I’m supposed to spend time with murder suspects. Would you like to dance?”
“Oh geez, and you asked that so sweetly. But sorry, I’m a city girl. I don’t two-step.”
“I’ll teach you how.”
“No. No, no, no.”
He’d already swept her into the dance area, his palm firm and warm on the small of her back. He had strong hands. Good feet, too. She stepped on his boots twice just to make him pay for kidnapping her. He didn’t appear to notice.
“Work still busy?” he murmured in her ear as he swung her around.
She was wearing a simple cotton dress of deep purple flowers blooming on white. The flared skirt swirled around her bare legs in a rather heady sensation. Her traitorous blond hair was clipped back in a large barrette. Now she wished she’d left it down so his hands could run through it.
Okay, stop it right now, imagination. I’m warning you…
“Work?” he prompted again, swinging her around.
“Busy enough,” she answered belatedly as he pulled her back against his hard torso.
“Aren’t you going to ask about my day?”
They moved back. Wait, they moved forward. How did people make this look so simple?
“All right,” she muttered, her focus on his quick-moving feet. “Did you torture any small animals today, put any innocent people on the rack?”
“Only one or two.”
“Ah, slow day at the office.” He dipped her abruptly. She found herself staring at the ceiling, then suddenly she was vertical again.
“Well, the thumbscrews are still being fixed. There’s not much we can do without them.”
“That’s understandable.” Her voice was getting breathless. “Where’s your ‘date’?”
“My father’s probably at the bake sale. My mother’s an excellent cook, but she watches her sugar intake—doctor’s advice—and my father has the world’s worst sweet tooth. Let out of the house, he’s been known to binge. I would imagine right about now he’s searching out the biggest, gooeyest pecan pie he can find. By midnight, he’ll be tucked in a corner with a fork, shoveling for all he’s worth. I’ll probably have to drive him home high as a kite and with pecans smeared all over his cheeks.”
“Ah, a sugarholic, huh?”
“Of the worst kind. Don’t tell anyone. The man has his reputation to consider.”
“Ben’s secret is safe with me.”
The music ended. Somehow Jack was guiding her toward the far end of the gym, where no lights or people intruded. She struggled briefly. He simply walked faster.
“Big brute,” she muttered under her breath, tugging to free her arm.
“I just want to talk,” he said soothingly.
“Well, I just want to win the lottery. When I get my wish, you can have yours.” She finally jerked her arm free, rubbing her elbow though his grip hadn’t been bruising. “Just so you know, I don’t go for the he-man type.”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you about.” Having succeeded in getting her into the corner, he now planted his hand above her head, pinning her against the wall. He stood much too close. She could smell fresh aftershave and soap. Maybe a hint of toothpaste. His lean cheeks held a faint sheen from dancing. She wanted to wipe the dewdrops from his forehead with her fingertips. Then she wanted to trace the line of his jaw, discover the rasp of his beard.
Dammit, didn’t he know cops were supposed to be fat and puffy?
She fidgeted with her cotton dress, hating the traitorous tremor in her hands. Her dress was sedate enough—as town treasurer, she was very conscientious about her appearance. The sheer lace teddy and bra she wore beneath the dress, on the other hand… Lately, her lingerie habit had been way out of control.
Worse, this morning she’d found herself staring at her drawer filled with lingerie, wondering if Jack liked white, black or red. He struck her as a pastel man—pale pink, mint green, baby blue, creamy peach.
Tonight, God help her, she’d selected creamy peach.
She stared at Jack hotly, ready to blame him for all the riotous thoughts, doubts and fears that occupied her mind these days. Her father’s daughter, she came out of the gate swinging.
“I already told you, if you want to ask me any questions, you need a subpoena.”
“I got that message last night. So today, I asked Rio questions instead. He speaks very highly of you.”
“Oh.” She was slightly mollified. She liked Rio Redtree a great deal. The Grand Springs Herald’s top investigative reporter was as shrewd and brilliant as they came. His report on Hal’s stock holdings in one of the strip mining companies had certainly taken the wind out of the acting mayor’s sails. Josie was prepared to love the man for that alone. Rio had just married Olivia’s daughter, Eve, and they were now a very happy couple with their five-year-old daughter Molly. Grand Springs seemed to be filled with happy couples these days. Josie began scowling again.
“Rio mentioned your involvement in all the rebuilding activities. He seems to think you’re God’s gift to fund-raising.”
“Rio is an excellent judge of character.”
“Uh-huh. He was rather surprised by your decision to date Don Matthews. You know, the druggist.” His voice went from casual to intent in less t
han a heartbeat.
“My, my, you have been busy,” Josie murmured. She was no longer amused.
“I spoke to Don, too.”
“I bet you did.”
“He says you two had a ‘nice time’ together.”
Josie snorted with disdain. “Don Matthews is the most egocentric, narcissistic man I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. Present company excluded, of course.”
“Thank you. He said you expressed a great deal of interest in his work.”
“Of course I expressed a great deal of interest in his work. Frankly, mixing liquids is the only exciting thing about the man. It was either that or spend a whole dinner listening to ‘blah-blah Porsche, blah-blah condo, blah-blah my new smart phone, blah-blah my stockbroker.’ The man obviously got his conversational training from Donald Trump.”
“Come on, Josie. The man took you to Randolphs, the most expensive restaurant around. How boring could it have been?”
“Well, let’s see. Before we finished the appetizer, I was already making mental notes to pick up my dry cleaning and get my teeth cleaned. That’s always an indication of a good time.”
“Don seemed smitten with you, and a little disappointed that there wasn’t a second date. Did you learn everything you needed to know about prescription drugs the first time around?”
“No, I learned everything I needed to know about boredom. And Don wasn’t smitten with me. He doesn’t even know me. He just wanted to been seen with a blonde.” She pushed against Jack’s chest. He didn’t move. “Jack Stryker, step back or I’ll scream. I’ll do it, too, and we both know it.”
“One more question.”
“I don’t like your questions!” She jabbed his chest with her index finger. “Let me question you, Mr. Hotshot Cop. Did Don say that I asked about pure potassium?”
“No.”
“Did he report that I got any prescriptions or medication from him?”
“Did you?”
“No, I did not, you most insufferable man! And I would hope he didn’t tell you otherwise.”