“Call in sick.”
She’d lifted herself on one elbow and skewered him with an outraged look. One eye, at least, had held outrage. The other had been hidden behind a curtain of magnificent auburn tresses, wild and tangled by his hands.
“I’m not sick. I can’t lie.”
“I know. I was just thinking wishfully.” He’d smiled and drawn her to him again. One of the things he loved about Brynn was her innate sense of right and wrong. She was incapable of being dishonest.
Was that why she hadn’t said she loved him? He’d wanted to proclaim his own feelings, but fear had held him back, fear he’d spook her if he revealed the depth of his emotions too soon.
He drew the abandoned pillow with her scent against him and inhaled deeply, as reluctant to let the smell of her go as he had been to release her. Patience, he counseled himself. Slow and steady wins the prize. And Brynn was as fine a prize as any man could ever hope for.
The no-nonsense tread of Lillian’s shoes sounded in the upstairs hall. Rand glanced at the clock and realized he’d overslept. He flung off the covers, swung his feet to the floor and headed for the shower.
An hour later, dressed in clean clothes and with Lillian’s hearty breakfast under his belt, he climbed the stairs to his study to return Charles Steinman’s call.
“Rand, good to hear from you.” Steinman’s too-hearty tone reverberated through the phone after Rand had run the gauntlet of switchboard, secretary and personal assistant to reach the senior partner. “Farrington’s chomping at the bit. Wants to know how soon you can cinch the deals on that acreage.”
“I can’t.”
A moment of dead silence hung in the air. “Sorry, Rand. I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
“You heard me, Charles. Buying the acreage in Pleasant Valley isn’t going to happen.”
“Why not? If you need more money for leverage—”
“Money won’t help,” Rand said. “These people are connected to their land through generations that go back before the Revolutionary War. They won’t sell at any price.”
“None of them?”
“Certainly not Joe Mauney or Eileen Bickerstaff.”
Steinman’s curse rang in his ear. “There’re not enough contiguous smaller farms to make up the area we need. The Bickerstaff and Mauney farms were our only hope.”
“Sorry, Charles.”
“Sorry? That’s all you can say? Where’s that ruthless competitive spirit you’re so famous for?” He spoke again before Rand could answer. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Actually, I feel better than I’ve felt in my whole life.”
“Maybe if I send Laudermann—”
“You could send the 82nd Airborne and it won’t make any difference. These people won’t sell.” Rand took a deep breath before launching into his next point. “I’m overnighting my resignation—”
“What?” Steinman sounded genuinely distressed. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m completely serious.”
“But, dammit, Rand, you’re one of the best in the firm. You can’t take this setback personally.”
“I don’t. I—”
“Don’t do anything hasty. Let me talk to Farrington. See what he wants to do. There may be other equally suitable spots nearby you can go after.”
Rand hesitated. He’d had enough of subterfuge. But he’d promised Steinman and Farrington he’d do his best. As long as he could stay in Pleasant Valley with Jared and Brynn, he didn’t have to resign. Yet.
“I’ll hold off on resigning. If Farrington wants me to investigate other properties, let me know.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Steinman cut the connection.
Rand returned the handset to its cradle and stared across the valley. In the distance, the rolling hills of Eileen Bickerstaff’s farm lifted toward the mountains, the orchards on their slopes thick with blossoms, giving the illusion of drifting snow. The peacefulness of the sight loosened the tension in his gut formed by his conversation with Steinman.
With a start, Rand realized it had been weeks since he’d resorted to popping antacids by the hour. Maybe, he thought with a smile, if he stayed in Pleasant Valley, he could throw away the whole damned bottle.
A WAVE OF EXCITEMENT flitted through Brynn’s stomach like a cluster of drug-crazed butterflies. She hadn’t seen Rand since leaving him asleep early Tuesday morning, and the closer to River Walk she drove, the greater her anticipation grew.
She’d talked with him on the phone the past few days, but work had kept her too busy for more than the briefest of conversations. But memories of their love-making had consumed her thoughts throughout the week. She’d spent Tuesday investigating a B&E—breaking and entering—a couple blocks down Mountain Street from her home, where a computer and DVD player had been stolen. Wednesday she and Lucas Rhodes had answered a call about a domestic dispute at the trailer park on the edge of town on the Carsons Corner highway. They’d disarmed the drunken husband of his knife, arrested him and driven his battered wife to the E.R. for stitches in her forearm.
Thursday, Rand had called with an invitation to a birthday party for Jared on Saturday, and, in between paperwork and rousting a stray cow from Mrs. Fulton’s flower beds, Brynn had racked her brains for a suitable gift for the little boy.
She had mixed feelings about the party. On the one hand, the presence of Jodie and Jeff and Grant and Merrilee would prevent a repeat of Monday night’s incredible lovemaking, a good thing, since Brynn shouldn’t have allowed things to progress that far in the first place. On the other hand, since she’d left Rand’s bed Tuesday morning, all she could think of was seeing him again, watching him smile, hearing his voice….
“Hey, Brynn, you still with us?” She looked up to see Lucas standing in the office doorway. Lucas had grown up in the valley, too, although a few years ahead of Brynn. Muscular, dedicated and with rugged good looks, the man someday was going to break some woman’s heart—if he hadn’t already. Lord knew, Aunt Marion had tried hard enough to throw Brynn and Lucas together, but they were just friends. Good friends.
“What did you say?” Brynn asked.
“I asked about the paperwork on that domestic abuse, but you were miles away.”
She fumbled for an excuse for her daydreaming. “You were a little boy.”
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame. An easy grin crossed his face. “Last time I looked.”
“I need a birthday present for a two-year-old boy, and I haven’t got a clue.”
“Does he like cars?”
Brynn rolled her eyes. “He’s too young to drive.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, he loves cars.”
“Then stop by my place when you get off work. I may have just what you’re looking for.”
With any other man, Brynn would have considered the offer a come-on, but she and Lucas had been partners and buddies too long to believe his suggestion anything other than a genuine desire to be helpful.
And he’d been right on the money. Together they’d stashed his handiwork into the back of Brynn’s SUV, where it rode now, covered with a tarp. The moment she’d laid eyes on it, she’d known it was the perfect gift, but the closer she drew to River Walk, the more her reservations grew. What if Jared didn’t like it?
Even more nerve-wracking were her thoughts of Rand. With her best friends and their husbands present, how was Brynn supposed to remain nonchalant? She didn’t want to hurt Rand’s feelings by seeming aloof, but she didn’t want Merrilee and Jodie to guess what was happening between Rand and her, either. Especially since Brynn wasn’t sure exactly what was happening or where it would lead.
She parked on the landing behind Jodie’s van and hurried around the house to the main deck overlooking the river. Jodie and Jeff stood talking with Rand, and her heart stuttered at the heat in Rand’s eyes when he spotted her.
He looked more handsome than ever in jeans slung low on his narr
ow hips and a rugby shirt with broad red-and-blue stripes. A breeze off the river ruffled his fine hair, and a web of tiny lines formed at the corners of his eyes where he squinted in the bright sunlight. He had been leaning with his back against the rail, his hands braced on the banister, straining the muscles of his biceps against the fabric of his sleeves. His gaze held hers until Jared streaked past him, and Rand pushed away from the railing to follow the boy.
“Bwynn!” Jared raced toward her and she braced herself for his hug. “It’s my bifday!”
She knelt beside him and returned his embrace. “I know, sweetie. Happy Birthday. I have a surprise for you.”
He drew back and looked her over from head to toe. “Where? In your pocket? Is it little?”
“Oh, no,” Brynn said with a laugh. “It’s big. We’ll need Uncle Rand and Jeff to carry it.”
“You want a hand?” Rand asked.
Along with all the rest of you, Brynn thought longingly, and nodded.
Jeff and Jodie joined them.
“I can help, too,” Jeff said.
“Maybe we should wait till after lunch,” Brynn suggested with a questioning look at Rand.
“Now’s as good a time as any,” Rand said with a nod at Jared, who was hopping from one foot to the other with excitement. “Don’t know if he can take the suspense much longer.”
Brynn keyed the SUV’s remote and unlocked the hatch. “It’s in the back.”
She climbed to the main deck and, holding Jared in her arms to keep him from underfoot, stood with Jodie while the men removed the tarp-wrapped item slightly larger than a steamer trunk from her car and manhandled it up to the deck.
“What’s under that thing?” Jodie asked.
“Lucas made it in his woodworking shop,” Brynn explained. “He’d intended to sell it at the Daffodil Days flea market but it wasn’t finished in time. Lucky for me. I just hope Jared likes it.”
Rand and Jeff set the bundle on the floor of the deck, and Brynn placed Jared on his feet.
“Ready, tiger?” Rand asked.
He and Jeff had loosened the tarp in preparation for the unveiling.
“Weady,” Jared said. He clasped his hands and held his breath.
“Tah-dah!” Rand exclaimed, as the men whipped the tarp aside, then added, “Wow,” when he had a look at what he’d uncovered.
“A car!” Jared squealed with delight and ran toward the sleek wooden replica of a NASCAR racer, complete with shining red paint, an identifying numeral and even a steering wheel that moved.
The large tires rotated also, but only if someone pushed from behind.
“It’s a combination car and toy chest,” Brynn explained. “After you’re through playing in it, you can store your toys.”
Jared clambered into the driver’s seat, gripped the steering wheel, and spun it first left, then right. “Brrrden, brrrden.”
Rand’s gaze met hers over the boy’s head. “It’s perfect.”
“This’ll be a hard act to follow.” Jeff squatted on his knees to admire the car’s workmanship and ran a hand over the car’s sleek lines.
“Under other circumstances, I’d be worried,” Rand said, “but here comes my gift now.”
Grant’s pickup had pulled into a parking place on the landing, and Merrilee and Grant climbed out. Grant reached behind the driver’s seat for a large cardboard box that he tucked beneath his arm.
The new arrivals exchanged greetings and admired Brynn’s gift. Grant handed the box to Rand.
“Jared.” Rand set the box on the deck. “I have a present for you.”
Jared eyed the box with curiosity, but clung to the steering wheel of his racer, reluctant to let go. When the box on the deck jiggled slightly and a muffled sound emanated from it, the boy’s curiosity won out. He climbed out of the car and approached the box, interested but skeptical. “Is it a beah?”
“No, not a bear,” Rand said.
“What is it?”
“Look and see, tiger. It won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Rand knelt with his arm around the boy as Jared folded back the flaps of the box.
“A puppy!” Jared reached into the cardboard container and withdrew a wiggling brown bundle of fur that immediately licked his face.
“She’s a chocolate Lab,” Grant explained.
“She’ll need a name,” Brynn said. Watching Rand watching Jared made her insides warm and tingly.
“Candy,” Jared said, “’cause she’s choc’late?”
“What kind of candy?” Rand asked.
“Snickers,” Jared replied instantly.
“I think,” Grant said with approval, “that Snickers is a perfect name. And Snickers is housebroken and has had all her shots.”
“Another rescue?” Brynn asked.
The vet nodded. “Rand contacted me early last week and Snickers arrived yesterday, just in time. Although I have to admit, Gloria, spoiled rotten dog that she is, didn’t want to see her leave. She thought we’d brought her a playmate.”
“Gloria will have a playmate soon enough,” Merrilee announced with a glowing look.
Grant put his arm around Merrilee’s shoulder and drew her to him, and they fielded a flood of congratulations.
A lump formed in Brynn’s throat. Grant had fallen in love with Merrilee over seven years ago, but Merrilee had taken off for New York and a career. Only a family crisis had brought her home and them back together, and now they were expecting a family of their own.
A family…
She turned her attention to Rand and Jared, both sitting on the deck and playing with Snickers. Longing burrowed through her. She wanted Rand in her life, and Jared, too. Within the longing, another emotion flickered. Hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would work out for Brynn and Rand. After all, prospects for Grant and Merrilee had seemed grim for a long, long time, but look at them now, happily married and expecting their first child.
She closed her eyes with the sun on her face, the breeze in her hair, the twitter of birds in her ears and the fragrance of flowers filling her nostrils. The promise of spring: new life, new beginnings.
Brynn opened her eyes to find Rand’s gaze on hers. His eyes were filled with promise, too.
IT WAS ALMOST midnight when Brynn drove away from River Walk. Rand’s goodbye kiss and the remembrance of his arms around her still warmed her.
She’d been the last to leave. Rand had asked her to stay the night, but she’d declined, explaining that their relationship was moving too fast, that she wanted to take things slower to make sure they didn’t ruin a good thing by rushing it. She’d loved him all the more when he’d understood.
Jared’s party had been a huge success. Rand had fit in easily with Jeff and Jodie and Grant and Merrilee, and they had shared stories, jokes and laughter as they lazed on the deck and watched Jared, playing with his new puppy and his race car.
Rand had even exhibited his newfound skill as a chef, preparing steaks and vegetables on the impressive outdoor grill. Lillian had provided a bottomless pitcher of sangria and a huge birthday cake for Jared, and, sated with good food and drink and surrounded by her favorite people, Brynn had experienced a perfect day.
Wrapped in a glow of contentment, she pulled into the driveway of her house. She was so preoccupied with memories of the day that she took a moment to realize something was wrong. Lights streamed from every window, and Uncle Bud’s car was parked behind her father’s in front of the garage.
Her heart hammered in her chest. Neither her dad nor Uncle Bud was a night owl. Staying up so late meant only one thing: a crisis. A dozen dire alternatives surged through her thoughts, but her main concern was for her father.
Brynn parked the SUV and hurried inside. To her immense relief, her father and Uncle Bud were sitting in the living room and stood when she entered. A quick scrutiny assured her that her father appeared healthy, although his usually genial expression was grim.
“What’s wrong?” she asked and glanced around the room. �
�Where’s Aunt Marion?”
“Marion’s at home. She’s fine,” Uncle Bud answered quickly, “but we need to talk to you.”
“Me?” Brynn glanced from her uncle to her father. Both men met her gaze with somber expressions. “About what?”
Her father ran his hand through his thick silver hair and grabbed the back of his neck. His blue eyes, so like her own, burrowed through her. “Tell us, pumpkin, just how much do you know about this Randall Benedict?”
Chapter Eleven
Hunt and Bud Sawyer were an unlikely pair of brothers. Bud, the older, was short with a wrestler’s build, a perpetual smile and a fringe of gray hair surrounding his bald pate, giving him the appearance of the Friar Tuck character from old Robin Hood movies. Hunt, tall and lean with a quiet dignity, looked more like an elder statesman than a small town police chief.
Tonight both shared the same worried expression. If Brynn hadn’t known better, she’d have thought her father and uncle had waited up, determined to defend the virtue of the youngest female of their clan, but both men knew Brynn could take care of herself. Something other than Brynn’s reputation was troubling them.
Something to do with Rand. And from the scowls on their faces, that something wasn’t good.
“You both know as much as I do about Rand Benedict,” she hedged, shoving aside intimate memories. “He’s the attorney from New York who bought River Walk. He’s staying there with his nephew, his ward, while on sabbatical from his law practice.”
Uncle Bud’s frown deepened and drew his bushy eyebrows together. “You sure he’s on sabbatical?”
“Except for drawing up Eileen Bickerstaff’s will,” Brynn admitted, “but that was a personal favor, not a work assignment. What’s got you two riled up?”
“Sit down, pumpkin.” Her dad waved her toward a chair and folded his own tall frame into his usual seat by the fireplace.
Brynn took the chair across from her father, but Uncle Bud continued standing and paced the rug.
“I just got back,” Bud said, “from a meeting of the Upstate Chambers of Commerce. Learned that the folks around Westminster had a problem a while back. Some lawyer representing Farrington Properties tried to buy a couple thousand acres of lakeside acreage.”
Spring in the Valley Page 12
