Whistlin' Dixie (Tempered Steel Book 1)

by Adams, Maggie

  Ben proceeded to hand the release papers to a sputtering Dixie. “I’ve talked to Judge Larkin and he agreed with me. Since your brother and these boys have no priors, we feel it’s safe to let him go into your care.” He slid a glance at Mac over the rim of his glasses. “And unless Mr. Coalson changes his mind, the court date is set for two weeks from today at 2 p.m., unless we turn up some other evidence. If we do, we’ll be in touch.”

  Dixie smiled at the older man. It couldn’t be easy dealing with a tyrant like Mac Coalson. And the fact that her hand still tingled from his kiss was something she didn’t even want to think about. “Thank you, Sheriff. I assure you, when I find out who is behind this mess, you will be the first to know.” She flung her handbag over her shoulder, hitting Mac in the chest with grim satisfaction, then proceeded down the hall toward the entrance without a word of apology. “C’mon, Jamie. We’re gonna find us a vandal.”

  Mac passed her in two strides and held open the door with a smirk that belied the gentlemanly gesture. After a moment’s hesitation, Dixie passed through, her head held high and her nose in the air. As she walked to her car, she felt the eyes of that odious man on her, mentally stripping her bare and taking in her, uhm er, attributes. She glanced back in time to see the slow grin that lit his face. He winked. He had done it deliberately, and he wanted her to know it.

  Dixie slammed the door to the white Jeep and started the engine. She would not glance at the doorway of the station again to see if he was still watching her, she wouldn’t. How could she have been attracted, even for a moment, to that, that, ooohh, horrible man? The situation must have addled her brain, that’s the only explanation. As she drove away, she sent her brother a fulminating stare. “Now, suppose you tell me what really happened tonight?”

  Mac watched Dixie and her brother whip out of the parking lot. She was the most exasperating female he had ever encountered. Such a tiny slip of a woman standing up to him and giving him what for. It had been somewhat amusing until she had accused him of the vandalism. Then he had gotten pissed.

  Mac had been silently amused as the little scenario played out before him. Ben, trying his best to act like a big city law enforcer, citing this case and that to the parents of the kids; the Harris kid playing the belligerent teen, all righteous indignation and stiff pride; and Miss Harris was obviously the tragic heroine of this little play. But her remarks about insurance fraud definitely cast him as the villain; and for some obscure reason, he hadn’t cared for that one bit. Not to mention the fact that the damn kids were trespassing.

  He followed the red taillights as they receded into the night, grimly aware that the sexual awareness of her had not abated and he was getting hard. He could still feel the touch of her fingers on his arm. Hell, this was totally crazy. The absolute last thing he needed was to get sidetracked by some sexy blonde. People were counting on him. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted, even if he hadn’t been this attracted to a woman in quite awhile.

  “She kinda makes your blood boil, don’t she?” Ben asked as he came up behind Mac and handed him a cup of coffee.

  Mac acknowledged the question with a shrug. He was usually so calm and controlled. Granted, there were extenuating circumstances here, but he had never been known to lose his temper with a woman. Usually, he retreated into his icy politeness routine. But, he had admired the way she stood up to him, blasting him with her fury. At least, until she had pissed him off royally by accusing him of the vandalism.

  Ben smiled slightly. “Yes sir, she’s enough to make a man’s blood boil.” He peered at Mac who was still staring out into the night, sipping absently at the horrible coffee. “Question is, precisely why does she make your blood boil, my boy?”

  He cackled when Mac rolled his eyes at him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next afternoon, Mac was in his office, mentally calculating the approximate supply costs of a new condominium proposal, but his mind just wasn’t on his work. He gazed at the whitewashed walls of his office, smiling softly at the muted footsteps of one of his brothers overhead in what had once been the hayloft of the old barn. Now it housed the offices of three of his younger brothers. He swung around in his chair to the plate glass window behind him, where he could see the activity of the people he employed.

  Yes, the old barn he had bought and rehabbed for his company offices might not be the image most contractors wanted to cultivate, but it suited Mac just fine. Solid and strong, it had withstood the ravages of time and weather. Around here, that was an important factor in building anything.

  He swore under his breath as he once again reflected on the events of last night. He didn’t care that Ben hadn’t found any evidence to convict those boys; they were guilty as sin in his estimation. And if they ever did find anything to pin them to the crimes, those boys would be lucky if the whole town didn’t lynch them. Tempers ran high in a town devastated by disaster.

  He looked further out and down the hill to see the lazy activity of Main Street. Grafton was nestled between the banks of the Mississippi River and the Piasa Bluffs. It was a quiet village that had been a popular tourist spot complete with antique shops and quaint family restaurants featuring home style food and friendly hospitality. The twenty mile bike trail that meandered through the woods and ran parallel to the Mississippi River was a favorite attraction, as well as the Barge Bar, which boasted rides on a renovated steamboat or a pirate ship.

  But all that had changed with what was known now as the Damn Flood. Not as epic as the Great Flood of 1993, which had completely devastated towns all along the Mississippi as the muddy river breached dams and flooded thousands of acres, but it was bad enough two years ago to close down the entire town of Grafton. Flooding and wicked storms had left the community a quagmire of mud, snakes, and mold. Most buildings had been torn down rather than face the exorbitant costs of renovation, but several townspeople were determined to save the old, beautiful limestone homes and businesses, including the Catholic Church. Mac was one of those people, but it was a damn monumental task.

  “Mac, Miss Harris is on the line again. Do you want to take it? She’s called every hour since early this morning. She says it’s imperative that she speak with you,” Dottie Hayes intoned through the intercom system. As his secretary and right hand, she was a formidable figure. Even at sixty, the only consolation she made to her age was what she called her sensible shoes. She referred to her gray hair, age spots and wrinkles as proof that she had lived in this life, not just existed in it. She was a lot like his barn, sturdy and dependable. That’s why Mac relied so heavily on her.

  “Tell her I’ve left for the day. With any luck, she’ll believe you,” Mac answered wearily.

  “Coward,” Dottie replied before she ended the conversation. Of course, she had heard all about the fight at the police station last night. The town may look a little worse for wear but the gossip lines were up and running as usual.

  Mac scowled as he picked up his pen and checked the partial list of supplies needed to repair the damage to the most recent vandalization on the house near Otter Creek, but his thoughts once again turned to Dixie Harris.

  He remembered how angry and embarrassed she had looked when their eyes had met as she left the building. After he had calmed down, he realized that her speech had been sincere. But although she felt badly about the vandalization, she was equally determined to see her brother’s name cleared. He couldn’t blame her. It was hard enough being young and new in a small town without adding scandal to your name.

  He could see the headlines of the local paper already – NEW TEACHER’S BROTHER LINKED TO VANDALISM OF LOCAL CONSTRUCTION COMPANY HOMES. He also knew the gossips over at Kate’s Café would have a field day. The incident last night was already being picked apart and embellished until very little of the real truth remained.

  He grimaced as he took a swallow of the cold coffee sitting nearby. “Just put her and her petite but perfect body in the back of your mind,” he mumbled under his brea
th. But how in hell was he supposed to do that when she kept calling him every hour? No doubt trying to plead on her brother’s behalf. Well, no amount of begging or pleading was going to change his mind. No matter how appealing the thought - and Mac acknowledged that the thought, indeed, held definite appeal.

  He could just see her standing in his office, her lovely shape poured into some short, tight, red dress that was silhouetted against the setting sun outside his windows; her blue eyes awash with tears as she begged him not to press charges against her brother. Her shiny blonde hair would be down around her shoulders with a lock curved invitingly on the tops of her breasts. She would glide around the desk, thrusting her breasts out as she sidled closer to him, all the while stating she would do anything, ANYTHING, he asked if would let her brother go. She would go down on her knees between his legs, moistening her lips with her tongue as she glided her hands up his thighs to his….

  The thundering of a lumber truck pulling out of the lot broke through Mac’s dream, causing him to splash the rest of his coffee down the front of his shirt. “Enough!” He slapped a palm on his desk. You don’t need to complicate the situation with thoughts of sex. At thirty five, you don’t need the frigging daydreams. There are plenty of women around here just waiting for you to point your finger and they’d come running. You don’t need Dixie, spitting fire, Harris. She hates you for trying to nail her brother for the vandalism. She wouldn’t give you the time of day, much less anything else! And with that lecture firmly in mind and his raging hormones once again under control, he adjusted himself, and turned all thoughts of Dixie Harris and office seductions from his brain. Picking up the supplies list, he got down to work as the sun began its slow descent toward dusk.

  *****

  Dixie tapped her fingers against the wheel. All day wasted trying to talk to that obstinate man and she was no closer to communicating with him she was this morning. “Well, Grandpa Harris always said that if the mountain won’t go to Mohammed, Mohammed can go to the mountain,” she mumbled to herself as she pulled her white Jeep into the parking lot of the Coalson Construction Company. Gazing at the fresh brick-red paint on the barn, she contemplated the man she was determined to see sometime today. After all, her family’s good name and her brother’s reputation depended on it.

  Well, the man was definitely a mountain. All of six feet and then some, she surmised. ‘Course being only five foot nothin’ herself, almost everyone seemed large. Still, he was a handsome man with all that black wavy hair and shining eyes. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that. Too bad he didn’t smile more often, but it was highly unlikely the Devil smiled unless had had garnered another soul.

  It was the gall of the man that made her gnash her teeth in frustration. She knew a brush off when she heard one. “Refuses to take my call, eh? Too busy to be bothered? In a meeting?” she mimicked the litany of excuses that his secretary had given to try and appease her. Hopping out of the Jeep onto the pavement, she brushed a wisp of silver blonde hair away from her eyes with an impatient gesture. She hardly noticed the cold wind biting into her cheeks. She was so fired up with temper she’d forgotten her coat.

  Dixie managed to content herself with waiting until the last excuse had come. Totally infuriated, she had grabbed her car keys and raced to the construction company office. She intended to prove that Mac Coalson was a liar and a coward, and the proof was sitting directly in front of her as she crossed the parking lot. The large black GMC truck with the Coalson Construction Company logo and address sat there. The license plate proudly proclaimed that this particular truck belonged to the “CCC BOSS”. Mac Coalson was not “gone for the day” as his secretary, who Dixie nicknamed “the old dragon” in one of her more furious moments, had claimed. “Well, just look out Mr. Mackenzie Coalson because whether you like it or not, here I come!”

  With that promise reinforcing her determination, she stuck out her chin, took a fortifying breath and marched across the sidewalk, squinting against the late afternoon sun. She yanked at the heavy oak door, and the force of the cold March wind combined with the weight of the door nearly knocked her off her feet, but she was on a mission and hardly gave pause as she stormed through the office lobby and down the hall toward the door marked “MAC COALSON-PRESIDENT”. She quickly sidestepped a startled employee, sailed right past the “old dragon” before she could grab her, opened the door and slammed straight into the “mountain” himself!

  Mac had just stepped up to the door with some revisions for Dottie when it was flung open and a sweet-smelling bundle of femininity launched herself right into his arms. He instinctively dropped his papers and wrapped his arms around an impossibly small waist. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her fragrance, willing his mind to memorize the feel of the woman in his arms. He knew immediately who he held, and his entire body reacted to her softness.

  After a few seconds, he tightened his grip and opened his eyes, knowing who he would see. She was already struggling against him which only intensified his arousal. Dixie Harris was staring at him like he was the big, bad wolf. Maybe he was. He certainly felt like ravishing her. One minute he was fantasizing about the seduction of this particular woman, and the next thing he knew, she was wrapped around him like she belonged there. The moment was worthy of an episode of “Twilight Zone”.

  He couldn’t help but grin as his eyes traveled over her expressive face. Her sweet mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, and her pretty face was beet red. He could feel her chest heaving against him through her simple sweater dress as she frantically tried to break his hold and pull out of his embrace. He looked down and sure enough, he could see the rounded beauty of her breasts with just a hint of pale pink lace from her bra. He hardened even more. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip and allowed her to step away from him.

  “Oh, m’gosh. I’m so sorry.” Dixie was totally flustered. All her righteous indignation flew out the window to be replaced by complete mortification. How on earth was she supposed to continue now? She stepped back, to give herself some room to breathe; the man seemed to suck all the oxygen from the room, but quickly stepped back to brush the few wrinkles she had made from his gray suit jacket. Good manners came before righteous indignation in her mind.

  She looked up suddenly and caught his grin. Her nervousness increased along with her anger, and, much to her annoyance, she began to babble. “I, um, I just wanted desperately to talk to you and since you wouldn’t answer my calls, well, I’m afraid my temper got the best of me. and I, well, I just reacted, that’s all. Grandpa Harris always did say I had the Devil’s own temper and I guess he got the right of it. Oh dear, let me help you with these papers.”

  She bent to gather the notes, talking all the while, “You see none of this would have happened if you had just answered my phone calls like a polite person would have done, but I guess that can’t be helped now, can it? Still, I think you should at least allow me to explain why I’m here, and then we can put all this unpleasantness behind us.” She flashed him a weak smile that faded as she noticed that his eyes were focused on her bottom while she was trying to talk some sense into him. Anger warred with her embarrassment, and with shaking hands, she thrust the papers at him, almost dropping them again in her effort not to make contact. “Here”.

  Mac made a quick grab at them, accidentally brushing his knuckles across her right breast. She gasped and jumped back, only to stumble on her high heels. Mac managed to save her further injury by grabbing her arm to steady her.

  “Let me go!” She wrestled from his grasp, embarrassment making her voice sharp.

  “Honey, you should be thanking me instead of yelling at me. I saved you from falling on your delightful little fanny.” His silver eyes twinkled as he pinned her with his gaze.

  Dixie’s anger returned full force. “Just what century are you from, Mr. Coalson? Or are the women around her so shallow and lacking in self esteem that they feel your particularly insulting brand of charm is cute? I assure you
I don’t. Now I would like to get down to business if you don’t mind.”

  She secured her purse around her like a shield as she finished her tirade. There, that should put the chauvinistic pig in his place. Just because his picture was in the dictionary under tall, dark and handsome was no reason for his insulting behavior. Feeling rather smug, she was surprised to notice that Mac Coalson’s broad shoulders were shaking and his head was in his hands. Was he crying? Good grief! What next?

  “Look,” she sighed, “I didn’t mean to upset you …”

  Dixie’s apology was abruptly cut of as booming laughter echoed off the walls and Mac raised his head. He was laughing at her!

  Mac hadn’t understood half of what she had been saying, she was talking too fast, sometimes mumbling under her breath, but he loved the sound of her voice. That soft southern drawl of hers had quite a twang when she got going, and he thought it was charming. Hell, he thought she was charming as she tried to dust him off, pick up his papers, and reprimand him on his lack of manners all at the same time. But the coup de grace was that she sincerely believed he had been wounded by her little feminist speech. Miss Harris was turning out to be quite a surprise.

  Whack! “How dare you laugh at me!” Her voice sounded hoarse but the stinging in his cheek was what left him speechless. The little hellcat had hit him!

  Dixie felt like a fool. Her and her damn temper. She had actually hit the man; hauled off and smacked him in the face. And now she didn’t know what to do. She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t stop. He was looking at her with those fabulous eyes widened in shock. They suddenly narrowed, and he reminded her of a panther at watch over its prey, content that there would be no escape.

  Her common sense - or maybe her instinct for survival - kicked in and told her to get out while the getting was good. The door was still open. She took a step toward it. Even as that thought occurred, he slammed it shut, cutting off her only escape. She continued to stare at him, frantically thinking of something to calm him down.