Книга - This Hero for Hire

This Hero for Hire
Cynthia Thomason


He's more than her protector… Being a cop in a small Georgia town is a pretty peaceful job, and one that Boone Braddock takes pride in. Babysitting the governor's daughter, however, isn't Boone's idea of police duty. Especially when it's Susannah Rhodes, who has an impulsive streak a mile wide.Boone was Susannah's crush in high school. He's still unmistakably handsome. Worse yet, it's impossible to keep anything from him–like the real reason she's returned home. And it's more impossible still to keep her distance. Because a long time ago, the two had shared something special. Something that was never finished….







He’s more than her protector…

Being a cop in a small Georgia town is a pretty peaceful job, and one that Boone Braddock takes pride in. Babysitting the governor’s daughter, however, isn’t Boone’s idea of police duty. Especially when it’s Susannah Rhodes, who has an impulsive streak a mile wide.

Boone was Susannah’s crush in high school. He’s still unmistakably handsome. Worse yet, it’s impossible to keep anything from him—like the real reason she’s returned home. And it’s more impossible still to keep her distance. Because a long time ago, the two had shared something special. Something that was never finished....


“I was impulsive with you once before…”

Susannah pressed that wonderfully impulsive mouth to his.

The kiss was meaningful in a way that hinted they were no longer just friends, protector and charge. But the contact was short, too short. Just when Boone was moving to take her into his arms, she pulled away.

She stared at him for a few moments. Her head tilted to the side as she studied his reaction, his dumb, totally blindsided reaction. And then she frowned.

“Just as I guessed.” She hugged the passenger door and glared out the windshield. “Drive on, Officer. We’re done here.”

He had no intention of starting his truck at that moment. They were so not done.

“What do you want from me, Susannah?” he said. “What do you want me to do right now? What do you expect?” When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “Because I do have a reaction in mind.”

She twisted in the seat. Her lips curled in a tempting grin. “Yeah? Is Boone Braddock learning that spontaneous can be fun?”

He took her into his arms and held her close. “Among other things.”

He could play her game. Only right now, it didn’t feel like a game at all.


Dear Reader (#ulink_c2d53bd4-957f-5cd7-95a7-502abadc987b),

Farming techniques may seem like an odd subject for a Heartwarming romance book, but I truly became fascinated with the topic a few months ago while at my local farmers’ market. I began studying the signs above the produce. Words like all natural, organic, free-range, etc., lit a fire in the research side of my brain.

I’ve never paid much attention to the food I ate. If it was on a grocery shelf, it was good, right? But not everyone thinks so, and the conflict for This Hero for Hire was born. Take an educated agroecologist who wants to change the tried-and-true farming practices in her old hometown and pit her against a traditional small-town cop who’s hired to protect her by his state’s most influential citizen, and boom, you’ve got sparks. Watch what happens when Susannah and Boone grapple over the same fertile acres of prime north Georgia land, and discover that love is the best compromise of all.

I love to hear from readers. Contact me at cynthoma@aol.com or visit my website at

www.cynthiathomason.net (http://www.cynthiathomason.net).

Cynthia Thomason


This Hero for Hire






Cynthia Thomason






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CYNTHIA THOMASON

inherited her love of writing from her ancestors. Her father and grandmother both loved to write, and she aspired to continue the legacy. Cynthia studied English and journalism in college, and after a career as a high school English teacher, she began writing novels. She discovered ideas for stories while searching through antiques stores and flea markets and as an auctioneer and estate buyer. Cynthia says every cast-off item from someone’s life can ignite the idea for a plot. She writes about small towns, big hearts and happy endings that are earned and not taken for granted. And as far as the legacy is concerned, just ask her son, the magazine journalist, if he believes.


I come from good old Kentucky farm stock,

and so I dedicate this book to all those who put

healthy food on our tables.


Contents

Cover (#u06816776-3cd4-5687-8c86-1004c5cfdc6e)

Back Cover Text (#u9de1440f-c7ed-5226-a6bb-ce048caa7315)

Introduction (#u2c250b2e-f4cf-514b-8465-88bacb032737)

Dear Reader (#ud7e3a176-4fd4-5379-8f1e-aa0521256e59)

Title Page (#u254b8a3c-b6d5-595c-bd95-6213e1f4ec19)

About the Author (#ufab716fc-b42a-57ce-8644-8986b3db4c4d)

Dedication (#u4ee8ee59-2abe-587b-bad5-07c9398f7e19)

CHAPTER ONE (#u27b59275-02da-5351-a23c-b6a2fe742271)

CHAPTER TWO (#u6011c33a-c681-5717-84ec-aa7fdd7ddd86)

CHAPTER THREE (#u5308bdbd-547f-58f8-8fc2-7e00e096c7e0)

CHAPTER FOUR (#uead21efd-e20e-55c3-a42b-66879397d8e2)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_c98f8031-3728-5135-a482-957fe38dc4b5)

THE VOICE ON the phone sounded familiar. But it couldn’t be. Albee Rhodes? Governor Albee Rhodes? Why would Georgia’s esteemed governor be calling small-town cop Boone Braddock? But Chief of Police Stickler’s face had been unusually guarded when he’d insisted that Boone abandon the barking dog complaint he’d been filling out and take a phone call in Stickler’s private office.

“I just want you to have some privacy,” the chief had said.

Boone had wondered why he needed privacy. Had someone in his family taken ill or been in an accident? Boone had just spoken to his brother in Atlanta, and everything had been fine with his wife and Boone’s two adorable nieces. Boone’s mom and dad had been settled in a New Mexico RV park for the past week, enjoying retirement, so as far as he knew, everyone was fine in his world.

Trying not to read anything dire into an unexpected call, Boone had picked up the phone in the chief’s office and said, “This is Braddock.”

His announcement was followed by the booming voice of Georgia’s governor. “Boone, my boy! How are you? Long time no see, eh?” After a pause, the voice continued. “This is your governor, Boone.”

Boone sank into Stickler’s oversized desk chair and took a deep breath. “Governor Rhodes?”

“The one and only. I’m back in the bosom of my hometown for a short visit.”

“That’s nice.” What was he supposed to say? Wanna get together for a beer?

“How are your folks, Boone? Everybody okay?”

“Yes, sir, all doing well.”

“You and I haven’t had a real sit-down since your academy days.”

Boone couldn’t recall any time he’d had a “sit-down” with the governor. Maybe the man was talking about the one time after Boone received his associate’s degree in law enforcement when the family was celebrating his accomplishment and Rhodes, in full-on political mode, had patted Boone on the back in the Mount Union Diner. Did that constitute a conversation? Boone didn’t think so.

Undaunted by his misrepresentation of the facts, Albee continued. “Are you enjoying life as one of Mount Union’s finest?”

Boone thought of the barking dog report and didn’t know quite how to answer the governor’s question. Boone had never lived anywhere else, he loved his hometown and being a cop here had a lot of rewards, but heart-thumping excitement wasn’t one of them. “It’s okay,” he finally managed to say.

“Just had a long talk with Stickler about you, Boone. He says you’re doing a good job and that he can always count on you.”

“Nice to know.”

“Bet you’re wondering why I’m calling today.”

That was an understatement. “I’m curious, yes, Governor.”

“I have a special assignment for you, son. Stickler thinks you’d be perfect for the job, and I agreed with him. This is a family matter, Boone, and requires some tact, finesse, you know what I’m talking about.”

Boone didn’t know. He did know that Albee’s wife had left him years ago, so this detail probably didn’t involve Miranda Rhodes. And the governor’s daughter, Susannah, had left Mount Union at least fifteen years ago, if he remembered correctly. When the governor made one of his infrequent stops in Mount Union, he was almost always alone in his big house on High River Road. Alone except for bodyguards and staff, that is.

Boone gripped the phone more tightly. “What would you like me to do, sir?”

“You’re acquainted with my daughter, Susannah, aren’t you?”

Boone blinked. No way this had anything to do with Susannah Rhodes. Boone barely knew her, hardly remembered her.

“You two kids were in high school together. You must have crossed paths.”

“I think we were two years apart, sir. Susannah was a sophomore when I was a senior.” Boone’s mind jumped to a mind-boggling, impulsive moment in the equipment room outside the Mount Union High School gymnasium. A fresh-faced, pink-cheeked, honey-blond rich kid with a ponytail had pulled him alongside the wrestling mats and planted a remarkable kiss on his mouth. “I just wanted to do that,” she’d said before leaving him standing there like a beached bass gasping for air. Yes, he remembered Susannah and especially how she’d looked walking away from him.

She probably would have been Albee’s pride and joy if she hadn’t been in trouble most of the time. At least that’s what was rumored about the father-daughter relationship.

At the end of Susannah’s sophomore year, Albee had shipped her off to a private school for girls in Atlanta, and from that time on, she was only home during holidays. Because the Rhodes and Braddock families didn’t socialize—ever—Boone never saw her again. But he’d heard stories about her since, involving disciplinary problems at the school and even minor brushes with the law, mostly rebellious teen stuff. She traveled a lot, he knew that, seeming to prefer anywhere but quaint little Mount Union, Georgia. Boone wondered now if she’d settled down since she’d been out from under her father’s influence. Anyway, because of that awkward kiss, and many other reasons, Boone did not want this assignment to involve Susannah Rhodes.

“I figure you have to recall Susie,” Rhodes continued. “She’s the type of girl a fella remembers.”

No kidding. “We were barely acquaintances, sir...”

“No matter. You’re still my choice for this assignment. In fact, if you don’t have any clear memories of Susie, it might be even better.”

Strange thing for a father to say. Besides, Boone did have a few personal memories of Susannah. Cute, spontaneous, popular and out of his league, despite that jaw-dropping teenage kiss.

The governor chuckled, an unnatural, practiced sound. “Susannah had some problems growing up, I won’t deny it. Mostly because she flocked to birds of a different feather, not our nice, genteel Georgia gals. Like her mama, Susie was always looking for the next adventure. But I wouldn’t want you to have any preconceived opinions about the kind of woman she is now. I think she’s finally worked that wild spell out of her system.”

Boone tapped a pencil on the top of the chief’s desk. He was getting a bad feeling about this whole conversation. “What is the nature of this assignment?”

“Susannah’s coming home, Boone. She arrives in...well, I don’t know exactly. Maybe one day, maybe three. I don’t have to tell you that this announcement took me by surprise. She’s been in Oregon for these last couple of years, and now, on the spur of the moment, she’s decided to come home to Georgia. Says she’s going to help on my reelection campaign.”

“I’ll bet that makes you happy, sir.” Again, this conversation between two near strangers was perplexing—Boone didn’t know what part he was supposed to be playing. He didn’t know if Albee and Susannah had maintained loving ties through the years, or if they’d hardly seen each other. One thing he did know was that he probably wouldn’t recognize Susannah Rhodes all grown up and filled out.

“Oh, it does. I’m pleased as can be that my girl’s coming home, but I won’t be here much of the time she’s back in the house. This is a big state, son. You know that. And I’ve got a campaign to run and a lot of people who need to be persuaded that Albee R. Rhodes is the man they want for another four years.” He chuckled again, a politician’s laugh. “I’ve got to be shaking hands statewide for the next few weeks, not babysitting a grown woman.”

“Babysitting, sir? Susannah’s only two years younger than I am. That makes her thirty-two. I can’t imagine that she’d need babysitting.”

“Well, of course not, Boone. That was a poor word choice.”

“So how exactly do I fit in with Susannah’s homecoming?” It was time to cut to the chase. He still had a dog complaint to file, and he was meeting the two high school football coaches at the tavern later for darts. His life was full and busy, for the most part, without adding a spoiled rich woman to his schedule.

“Susie’s a good girl,” Rhodes said. “She’s got a heart as big as all outdoors, but she’s always been a bit unpredictable. Her mother encouraged that trait, not that I approved....Well, it doesn’t matter. Susie can also be stubborn. Thinks she’s invincible, like all you young folks do.”

Boone didn’t think that about himself. He learned in the academy that no one was immune to the dangers in the real world. All it takes is one bullet or one out-of-control automobile. But okay, he’d go along with Rhodes. “What does this have to do with me?” he asked.

“She won’t let me put a security detail on her. Says it’s a waste of money, and she doesn’t need it.”

Figuring where this conversation was headed, Boone said, “She probably doesn’t need a detail, sir. This is Mount Union, Georgia. I doubt anyone will bother or harass her.”

“Not any of our good Mount Union folks, I agree,” the governor said. “But I’m sorry to say that there are people who want to see me toppled in my race for reelection, people with strongly opposing political beliefs. You may not be aware of this, but Georgia is becoming a hotbed of political strife these days. Blue counties, red counties, politicians with widely varying agendas.”

“Still, sir, I don’t think any of this strife will affect your daughter.”

“Can’t take that chance. These next few weeks are crucial as far as swaying voters is concerned. Someone from the press might hear that Susannah is in town and try to corner her for a damaging quote to use against me. Not that she’d intend to say anything that would hurt my chances, but I remember a time or two when some surprising things came out of her mouth.”

And Boone suddenly remembered that mouth in inappropriate detail.

“I want you on Susannah’s case 24/7,” Albee said. “Keep your eyes and ears on her and don’t let anyone you don’t know get her all flustered. Trouble seems to have a way of finding my little girl.”

“Has there been a specific threat against either you or your daughter?” Boone had to ask.

“Oh, nothing specific, but threats are part of the nature of the political arena. I wouldn’t worry if Susie weren’t coming home.” The governor cleared his throat. “Political campaigns are messy, son. You know that. Folks start digging for dirt that is best left unturned.”

Boone couldn’t help wondering what details involving the governor’s family were best left buried. “Well, sir, if there has been a threat, maybe you should advise Susannah not to come.”

Rhodes’s voice lowered a degree. “Like that girl would ever listen to me. And I don’t want to discourage her. Truth is, I’m pleased that she wants to help me. I’ve always hoped she would show a side more like me than her mother. I just want to be able to go out among the good folks of Georgia knowing Susie’s in the hands of an upstanding Mount Union boy.” He chuckled. “I don’t mean that literally, Boone. About your hands...”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Just watch out for her. And be mindful that sometimes she’s been known to exhibit small lapses of judgment. Susie is spontaneous, tends to speak before she thinks. You know what I mean.”

Boone didn’t know, other than that one kiss, which was spontaneous to a fault.

“That’s why I handpicked you—a single guy with no family responsibilities.”

“I do have responsibilities, Governor,” Boone argued.

“Oh, sure, but I want Susie to be your primary one for the next couple of months.”

This was perhaps the craziest idea that Boone had ever heard. He definitely was going to decline the opportunity to be a nursemaid to the governor’s daughter. “I appreciate your confidence in me, Governor, but, as you’ve pointed out, I already have a job, and it keeps me pretty busy.”

“Don’t worry about that, Boone. I’ve cleared this with Stickler. He knows you’ll be working private duty for a while. And I’ll pay you more than what you’re making on the police force. Normally I’d have two or three men staying at the house with Susie, but she won’t hear of it.”

“What makes you think she’ll want me hanging around?”

“She knows you...”

“Not really, Governor.” A nod or two in a high school hallway—and one impulsive kiss—doesn’t equal a lasting friendship. Boone had barely spoken to Susannah Rhodes before she went off to boarding school, and he doubted she would appreciate a local cop dogging her every move.

“You’ll move into the house, of course. Take your pick of five bedrooms.”

This was going too far. Boone had his own apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was his. And he was custodian of his grandfather’s land. He had obligations he couldn’t walk away from just because a high-brow politician decided he wanted to hire someone to keep his pampered offspring out of trouble. And that’s what this was about, Boone had decided. Boone was supposed to keep darling Susannah from causing a commotion that might cost her daddy the election. This was not what Boone had trained for.

He didn’t want to insult the governor, so he stalled. “Let me think this over, sir. I’ll get back to you.”

Rhodes repeated his self-deprecating chuckle. “I don’t know how to put this exactly, Boone, but there isn’t much to think over. Stickler suggested you. He praised your abilities on the force. And when he brought up your name, I recognized it right off. You’re a hometown boy, and that’s what I want—someone who knows the Rhodes family and how important this election is and will do his best to see that Susie’s homecoming is as smooth as glass.”

Boone stood and stared into the squad room. Chief Stickler was pretending to go over some reports, but he looked up when Boone let out a deep sigh. He cut a sheepish grin at Boone and raised his hands as if to say, “Nothing I could do.” Stickler then raised two fingers in the air and mouthed the words, “Two months, that’s all.” He followed the gesture with another one—the universal sign of greed, thumb rubbing against fingertips.

No doubt, Boone could use the money. His grandfather had left a modest bank balance to keep his small farm running, but eventually the financial responsibility would fall on Boone’s shoulders. Chickens would still have to be fed, two horses would have to be cared for and fences would have to be mended. The election would be in early November. Could he be a nanny for two months?

“Boone? You there, son?”

The governor’s voice brought him back. “Yes, sir. When did you say Susannah would arrive?”

“Couple of days probably. But you never know with her.”

“I won’t be able to be out at your place twenty-four hours a day. I have chores, things I have to do...”

“I know about your duties at your grandpa’s place, and that’s okay. Stickler said when you can’t be there, that nice young Officer Menendez in your department can fill in for you. Important thing is for you to be there at night and to guarantee that Susie won’t be caught off guard by someone who doesn’t have the family’s best interests at heart.”

The governor’s plan had underlying ramifications that Boone didn’t want to think about. How the heck was he supposed to dictate behavior to a member of Georgia’s first family? How was he supposed to keep her from saying the wrong thing if a person from the media showed up? Boone thought of his partner, Lila Menendez. He knew she’d hate this detail, too. Lila was a good cop, honest and hard working. But she wouldn’t want to take care of a Georgia peach who probably had never even had a bruise on her delicate skin.

After getting a few more details, Boone disconnected and walked into the squad room. He promptly thanked his chief for being part of an ambush that Boone was going to live to regret.

“Sorry, kid, but it was the governor,” Stickler said. “What was I to say?”

“Anything but yes,” Boone answered.

At least, if the governor’s timetable were correct, he had a couple of days before his duties would commence. Because there didn’t appear to be anything he could do to avoid this assignment, maybe he could at least put himself in the proper mindset.

Two hours later a call came into the station. A citizen was reporting that a truck had gone off the pavement on High River Road. Boone was dispatched to investigate.

Calls to High River were rare and usually involved a couple of old-time farmers bickering over whose cow was whose, or occasionally it was a minor vandalism report from one of the mini mansions belonging to Mount Union’s elite population. Of course, the governor’s personal residence was out there, too, and right now, that’s all Boone could think about.

When he reached the scene, he saw a truck on its side in a ditch. An older model Suburban was parked on the shoulder, perhaps a Good Samaritan who’d stopped to help. The lady who’d phoned in the report, a longtime High River Road resident, had called both the police and EMTs. Boone arrived before an ambulance, but he quickly deduced that one was not going to be necessary. The driver of the truck, a man Boone recognized, was outside the vehicle stomping around in the dust, waving his arms and shouting.

“Anybody need an ambulance?” Boone called to the driver.

“Not yet,” the middle-aged man hollered back. “But if I catch her, she darn well might!”

Who was he referring to? One of the hens he just noticed running around? The truck had been carrying chickens to slaughter, a common sight on Georgia roads. But these lucky broilers had postponed certain death by an odd quirk of fate that had sent their truck off the road. A few crates remained in the bed of the truck, the panicked poultry prisoners squawking and trying to flap their wings in the confined space. This was not how they thought their day would end up.

Not all the birds faced such a frightening scenario. Dozens of the doomed cluckers were right now scurrying over the meadow bordering Route 213. Free as...well, birds, Boone thought, hiding a smile. He watched the scattered hens run in circles in the bright sun.

The truck driver, a Mount Union citizen named Hank Simpson, darted among his escaped birds, trying to nab as many as he could. Grabbing a wild chicken by one leg wasn’t a pleasant job at any time, but it was fairly easy if the birds were packed into row houses. Trying to wrap your hand around the spindly appendage in an open meadow was nearly impossible. Boone had no interest in trying to help in a situation that would only make him look considerably less intelligent than a broiler. And necessitate him covering his peck marks with iodine when he got home.

“Give it up, Hank!” Boone hollered. “You’ll be lucky to round up a dozen.”

The driver, who’d obviously eaten too much fried chicken in his life, stopped long enough to pant and point a trembling finger at a figure bent down beside the ditch. “Arrest her!” he shouted. “She’s releasing hens faster than I can round them up.”

Oh, boy. This wasn’t just about Hank’s careless driving. The accident had another witness. Crouched in the dirt was a lady whose sole purpose was opening crate doors to let the birds escape.

“Hey, you there! Stop that,” he called.

The truck driver raced toward the woman, but she quickly outmaneuvered him and began working furiously on another set of crates. More chickens ran into the sweet late summer afternoon.

She wasn’t so lucky avoiding Boone. He grasped her arm and hauled her upright. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She breathed heavily as she struggled against his grip. She looked familiar. She was about five foot five, slim, dressed in jeans and a pink T-shirt. Well, it might have been pink, just like her hair might have been blond, if the woman hadn’t been covered head to toe in chicken feathers. A noxious odor that any boy raised in the chicken farming area of Georgia would know rose from her clothes and clogged his nose. He jerked his head away from her. “Phew!”

She made a half-hearted effort to pick a few feathers off her shirt. “You could offer to help, you know. Think how these birds must feel. They have to breathe this rotten air every day of their lives.”

That voice! He remembered it from high school. I just wanted to do that. No. This couldn’t be happening. Boone didn’t have time to contemplate the identity of this chicken savior, not with flashing lights from an approaching ambulance demanding his attention and the huffing, shouting Hank Simpson bearing down on them. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “What did you think you were doing letting all these birds out of the crates.”

“Are you gonna arrest her, Boone?” Simpson demanded.

Boone held up his hand, an attempt to calm the man long enough to get the facts. He continued staring at the woman. Maybe he was wrong, and she wasn’t Susannah. “Well?”

“I was saving their lives,” she said. “This truck practically rolled over. Most of the crates have fallen out and some slipped into the creek bed. If I hadn’t opened the doors, the birds would have drowned.”

“That’s hogwash,” the driver said. “I would have gotten the crates out of the water in time, and they would still have been full of chickens!”

“I don’t see how, Hank,” Boone said, taking in the number of crates that had landed in the creek. “I think the lady might be right about the chickens dying.”

“Of course, I’m right,” she said. “Now will you let go of me?”

“Don’t take off,” he warned. “What you did is still illegal.” He let go of her arm. “You can’t just go around tampering with other people’s property.”

“Even if that property consists of living, breathing creatures that can’t take care of themselves?” She stared with disgust at the old truck, which had obviously made many trips to the slaughterhouse in its years on the road. “What you see here, Sheriff...”

“Officer,” he corrected.

“Whatever. What you see is abusive treatment of the worst kind.”

“Ma’am, this is the way all broilers are taken to slaughter. Hank wasn’t doing anything that isn’t done on a weekly basis around these parts.”

“That, Officer, does not make it right. The way those poor poultry were stuffed into the boxes is abominable. Did you know that a quarter of them would have been dead by the time they reached Augusta? And many of those still alive would have suffered severe injuries.”

Boone scratched the back of his neck. “I’m really not up on my chicken statistics, ma’am, but I feel the need to point out the most relevant detail here. These chickens were destined for a fate much worse than being injured anyway.”

She stared off into the distance, where hens were scampering over the meadow. And she smiled. “There’s a right way and a wrong way to do a job,” she said.

“And a legal and illegal way,” Boone replied.

The ambulance came to a stop. Boone asked the woman if she had been in the accident and if she needed medical attention.

“No. I’m fine. And I had nothing to do with the truck ending up in the creek. Your buddy here...” She pointed to the driver. “He took that last curve with a bit too much enthusiasm.”

Boone dismissed the ambulance and went to his vehicle to get the standard incident report and a clipboard. When he returned, he said, “These birds are the property of Mr. Sam Jonas, and his driver here, Hank, was just doing his job.”

Hank pounded his fist into his opposite hand. “And someone’s got to pay for the loss of income this crazy woman caused today.”

“Maybe you should start by explaining to your employer that you can’t drive a truck!” she said.

Hank stepped forward, and Boone placed his palm on the man’s chest. “Let’s all calm down now. We’re obviously not going to get those chickens back.”

“Then do your job and arrest this woman,” Hank said.

“I intend to.”

“What?” The woman crossed her feather-covered arms over her chest and glared at him. “This would have been a massacre if I hadn’t come along when I did.”

Boone didn’t quite consider the loss of a few chickens going to slaughter as a definitive example of a massacre, but he knew better than to say that out loud.

“You caused a loss to one of our citizens, ma’am,” he said. “Hank’s right that someone’s got to pay, either for the loss of his chickens or by spending some time in jail—or both.” He swept his arm toward his squad car. “Sooo...if you’ll just follow me.”

“You’re taking me to jail?”

“For now, yes, I am.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She looked across the road, where the large, weathered SUV was parked. “What about my car?”

“I’ll make sure it’s towed into town,” Boone said. “And I’ll call another tow to get you out of the ditch, Hank.”

He scratched the SUV’s license plate number on his report and stopped short. He hadn’t been wrong. The blond hair, the voice, the governor’s mention of Oregon. This day was only getting worse. “You’re from Oregon?” he said.

“Yes, so?”

“What’s your name?”

“Susannah Rhodes. Does the name Rhodes mean anything to you, Officer?”

Did it ever. It meant he had to tell this woman’s father that he’d put his worrisome little princess, covered in chicken dung, in jail. But on the other hand, it also meant he might have found a way out of this ridiculous assignment. Surely Albee wouldn’t want him for this detail now.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_c563bd50-1b87-58fe-96a5-8244b49d3218)

THIS WAS INCREDIBLY not good. Sitting in the police cruiser with the so far nice but ultra lawful police officer, Susannah could almost hear her father’s voice. “In town less than an hour and already you’re in the back of a police car.”

It would be impossible to keep him from hearing about this incident. The Chief of Police would call him even if she didn’t. And there was no way to keep him from being disappointed in her—again. She was going to jail for destruction of property! Whereas she believed she deserved a medal for humanitarian actions. Well maybe not that exactly, but the simple truth was, she didn’t have time for jail.

She stared out the window at the Georgia farmland. Green, lush meadows and fields, animals grazing peacefully on hillsides under towering oaks and fragrant magnolias. Seventeen years ago she couldn’t wait to leave a place where no one seemed to want her. In the past few days, though, she’d actually been looking forward to coming back.

Not that she expected her relationship with her dad to be a quick fix. During her infrequent weekend visits over the years she and her father had been like strangers, each frightened of saying the wrong thing. They had too much history between them, too many times in her youth when he’d confronted her with that scowl on his face.

But helping on his campaign could be the start of healing old resentments. As long as he didn’t find out her other motive for returning to Georgia. And as long as he realized she wasn’t the same girl who’d left all those years ago.

“Are you okay?”

She snapped her attention to the back of the officer’s head. So he’d decided to speak to her in a tone far more mellow than his official one. Okay. Perhaps conversation would make the man feel more lenient toward her.

“I’d like to put the window down if that’s all right,” she said.

His alert eyes, so mesmerizingly green that she could see the color in the rearview mirror, stared at her. “Sorry. Those windows must be kept locked at all times. Safety regulations.”

“For whom? If you’re concerned for my safety, then roll them down. As you pointed out, I’m giving off a rather noxious odor, and I’m about to asphyxiate.”

He considered his answer for a moment. “Okay, I guess I can roll one of them down, the one opposite from where you’re sitting. By the way, those chickens were escaping at top speed, so how did you manage to get so covered by feathers and...other things?”

“Chickens molt when they’re scared, and these were terrified. They didn’t know I was letting them loose. They just reacted to a human.”

Blessed fresh air rushed in the open window, and Susannah took a deep breath. “That’s better. Thanks. And, by the way, in case I didn’t say it, thank you for not handcuffing my wrists together. I feel a bit anxious in situations of confinement.”

“No problem. You’ve been handcuffed before?” he asked.

Well, there was that one time back in college during the sit-in, but she didn’t need to tell him that. “I just know I wouldn’t like it.”

He smiled. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“A girl’s got to have her secrets,” she said. “And I appreciate you letting me get my purse from the Suburban and locking the vehicle. I have lots of supplies in the back and it would be a shame if they were stolen.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s not good to steal someone else’s property.”

Another jab at the chicken incident. She began plucking feathers off her clothes, careful not to get crusty bits of chicken poop under her fingernails. When she tried blowing the feathers out the window, they only sailed back at her face. So she began making a pile of down next to her on the seat. “Are you going to put me in a cell?” she asked after a moment.

“We have paperwork to do first. And I’ll give you a chance to clean up in the ladies’ room. After that, it’s a real possibility. You might want to contact an attorney. I know Sam Jonas, and I’m betting he will file criminal charges.”

“Great. You should know I’m not a habitual lawbreaker.”

“I didn’t think you were. And if you don’t have a criminal record, you should be able to post bail pretty quickly, I imagine.”

“I just have a hard time not reacting when I see unethical treatment of animals.”

His eyes cut to her again. “You one of those animal activists?”

“I believe in the fair treatment of all animals, yes. But I don’t consider it my life’s mission. I’m a nonviolent person. I don’t throw paint on fur coats or anything.”

He didn’t comment, so she tried a different subject. “I used to live here, you know.”

“Yes, I remember you. We were in high school at the same time.”

She leaned forward and slipped her fingertips through the metal mesh separating the front seat from the back. “Really? I only went to Mount Union High my sophomore year. I went away to school after that.”

She studied what she could see of his face in the mirror; she hadn’t gotten a really good look at his features at the accident site. Maybe they’d been friends. She hoped his memories of her weren’t negative.

He’d removed his ball cap, giving her a view of medium-length, slightly mussed, light brown hair. His eyebrows, darker than his hair, were thick and even. And those eyes, so serious, so intense. He’d smiled at her a couple of times, once back by the truck, when she’d sneezed, releasing feathers into the air. She’d found his smile so charming, she thought she might make an ally of him. So far, other than a couple of minor kindnesses, there was no sign that this guy was anything but by-the-book. But he did look familiar. She wished he would turn toward her so she could see his entire face. Even so, she was certain they’d had brief contact at one time.

“Did we know each other?” she asked after her scrutiny had become obvious.

“Not well. I was a senior when you were a sophomore.”

“Can I ask your name?”

“Sure. It’s Boone Braddock.” His gaze stayed on her face for a couple of seconds, as if he expected a reaction.

She steeled herself not to give him one. Boone Braddock! He was the good-looking senior she’d coaxed into the gym equipment room. She’d had such a futile crush on him. After she’d kissed him, he’d just stood there as if it were the worst moment of his life. She couldn’t get out of the gym fast enough.

But if this man was a Braddock, maybe fate might be on her side after all. She’d try talking to him without bringing up the gym incident. Judging from how he behaved at the time, he probably didn’t remember the kiss anyway. He may not have even known her name that day.

“Boone, of course! Your family lives out on Glenville Road, and your grandfather has that nice level piece of property there.”

He glanced back at her. “You remember my grandfather’s land?”

Be careful not to give too much away, Susannah. She didn’t know how much Cyrus Braddock had told his grandson. “I just remember driving past and thinking it was a lovely piece of property.”

“Well, that’s us.”

Of all the people she could have run into her first day in town, she meets up with one of the Braddocks, a family member of the very man she’d come to do business with. It was time to convince this hometown boy that she was not a criminal, but instead a modern woman who cared about the environment and the future of current and coming generations.

She asked a couple of leading questions and learned that Boone’s older brother, Jared, lived in Atlanta, and his parents were traveling the country in a motor home. She refrained from asking about Cyrus Braddock, Boone’s grandfather. She didn’t want to appear too curious about the man she’d come to see, at least not until she’d straightened out any misconceptions this cop had about her. She’d made positive strides with Cyrus in their correspondence, but the trust they’d established could be broken if his grandson influenced him.

Right now she should concentrate on getting herself out of an uncomfortable situation. The cop was going to book her. Her father was going to want to kill her. And her friends were in Oregon.

When they were near the town limits, she reopened conversation with the intent of raising Boone’s opinion of her. Maybe he didn’t know about her deal with Cyrus. Maybe he didn’t remember the kiss. “You Braddocks weren’t into chicken farming, were you?”

“No. My grandfather has a few chickens on his land, but they’re layers, and mostly we just take the eggs to the shelter over in Libertyville.”

“Now, see?” she said. “That’s very noble. And I’ll bet you let your chickens run free.”

He eyed her again in the mirror. “We do, but like I said, we aren’t breeders. I don’t have anything against the folks around here who raise chickens for profit. It’s an important industry in this state. A lot of people depend on the income from their broilers, including Sam Jonas.”

Was he going to keep intimidating her with the name Sam Jonas? She knew she was in trouble. And did Boone actually admire Jonas’s approach to raising chickens? It wasn’t her place to educate this cop about ethical treatment, especially when she wanted to make a good impression on him. But she’d never been one to play it safe when simple human decency was involved.

She cleared her throat. “I understand that raising chickens is a big industry in this state, but you have to agree that the way those birds were being transported back there was in no way humane. Besides being crammed into crates so tight they couldn’t even spread their wings, the chickens had no protection against the elements.”

Boone looked up through his windshield. “Susannah, it’s sunny and seventy-five degrees today. I don’t think any chickens suffered from frostbite.”

“Have you ever been to a chicken farm, Boone?”

“Of course. It’s not pleasant, but the majority of poultry is raised for human consumption. The birds have very short life spans, so comfort isn’t the main concern for the breeders.”

“I’m not talking about comfort. I’m talking about conditions that border on extreme cruelty.” She was preaching again and toned down her approach with unemotional facts. “Did you know that chickens are the only animals not protected by ethical treatment laws? From the time a chick is born, it never sees the sun. It’s drugged and overfed and lives in filth in cramped quarters. That might not be so bad except the only contact they have with humans is when the catchers come to grab them by one leg to stick them in another even more cramped crate for transport to slaughter.”

She checked the rearview mirror and tried to find at least a hint of compassion in Boone’s eyes, but his features were hidden in shadow. “How would you like to be held upside down by one leg by a creature twenty times your size?” she added.

He glanced over the seat at her. “I think we ought to keep this discussion within the realm of reality.”

“Okay, fine. But here’s another fact for you. By the time the chickens arrive at their destination, nearly half are already dead from exposure or stress.”

“Really?” Boone rubbed his hand over his chin. “Makes me glad I wasn’t born a chicken.”

She gulped back a gasp. “Is this a joke to you?”

“I’m a country fella, Susannah. I see lots of chickens. I eat lots of chickens.” He wrinkled his nose. “Lately I’ve smelled lots of chickens. I don’t spend a whole lot of time worrying about their living quarters.”

“Or anything else that is medieval about our treatment of farm animals,” she said under her breath.

“What’s that?”

“I said I need to use my cell phone. Can I take it out of my purse, please? I’d like to call my father.” She figured he would allow a call to the governor, but she was lying about liking to make it. Dreading was the more appropriate word.

Boone stopped at one of the four traffic lights in Mount Union. He turned ninety degrees to see her clearly. Oh, yes, she remembered that face. Remembered it very well.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he said. “You’re going to need the governor’s help. You won’t find too many people in this town who are sympathetic to your version of this incident.”

Including the governor. Susannah had no doubt that Boone was right. Mount Union, Georgia, had never been a center of environmental progress or fair breeding and farming techniques. Here, farming was carried out the way it always had been, with farmers using the cheapest or most efficient methods to ensure the highest profit. And because Boone Braddock was as much a product of the region as those chickens back there, Susannah didn’t expect any sympathy from him. Still, he had that nice smile she’d never quite forgotten...

And he’d been fair with her. She had broken the law, she supposed, though she’d upheld principles that should be important to everyone. Plus, she hadn’t counted on being caught. She was practically a stranger in this area, so she hadn’t been worried about being recognized. She would have gotten away with “The Great Escape Caper” too, if some passing motorist hadn’t called in the accident. She could have freed the chicks and jumped in her Suburban before the truck driver had the presence of mind to write down her license plate number.

“Just so you know,” she said. “I didn’t come here to rescue chickens.”

“Gosh, I’d hate to think what you’d do if you really were involved in rescuing something.”

Ignoring his jibe, she said, “I am involved in a cause, though. I came to manage my father’s campaign in this part of the state. He thinks I can be a big help in his reelection.”

Boone’s eyes widened. “You could be, I suppose. But then he doesn’t know about your interference in chicken transport yet.”

Susannah cringed. Her father was going to be furious with her. Because her father never tried to change anything about farming techniques, except for maybe getting more revenue from the federal government, the local farmers had overwhelmingly supported him in the last election, and now she’d royally pissed one off. Ironically, she really was here to help his campaign, though that was a secondary goal. Albee Rhodes was a good man and wanted the best for Georgians, maybe not in the same way that Susannah did, but he was every bit as sincere with his intentions.

“I promise I’ll try to stay out of the business of local breeders while I’m here.”

He smiled. “I think that’s a good idea and the best method to ensure that Governor Rhodes gets the most votes.”

“But you’re still taking me to jail?”

“’Fraid so. In fact, if you don’t remember, it’s that brick building on the left just ahead.”

She drew a fortifying breath and punched her father’s private cell number into her phone before she sat back and cupped her hand over her mouth. She didn’t want Boone to overhear her conversation and think she was the type of princess who would call on daddy to get her out of trouble. If she had any other option today, she wouldn’t be making this call. She wasn’t a princess, but darn it, she just didn’t have time to sit in a jail cell right now. Her truck was full of supplies and more were coming. She needed to negotiate a land purchase, and she needed to do it now. Her partners were depending on her.

* * *

LILA MENENDEZ WAS seated at her desk when Boone escorted Susannah into the station. He could do nothing to avoid the familiar smirk on Lila’s face. He gave her a warning look and she wisely pretended to be interested in some paperwork.

Boone showed Susannah to the ladies’ room and, according to standard procedure, posted a guard outside the door. Then he went to the squad room to begin the report.

“We don’t get too many serious criminals in this town,” Lila said when he’d taken his seat behind the desk. “How many casualties did she cause? At least a couple hundred, I’m told.”

Trying to ignore the sarcasm, Boone said, “Don’t start, Menendez. I’m not having my best day.”

“Understood, partner. How about I buy you a beer after our shift and you can tell me all about Operation Flying Feathers?”

That’s all Boone needed. He’d known for months that Lila had a crush on him, and he’d used about every dodging tactic he could think of to avoid encouraging her. Going out for a beer with several officers was one thing. Going out with just Menendez was another.

He was trying to come up with a logical reason why he couldn’t accept her offer when he was saved by a loud commotion nearby. Governor Rhodes had arrived, booming voice and all, as well as a couple of muscle-bound guards. Boone made no effort to stop filling out his report and speak to Rhodes. The wheels of justice for the rich and famous would continue to turn as always, but at least he would get the facts down on paper.

“This is my cue to leave,” Menendez said, getting up from her desk. “Rich people make me nervous. I’ll check in with you later about that beer.”

She left and the guard escorted Susannah to the middle of the room, where her father waited. She almost reminded Boone of a scared child who’d been brought before the principal. The cops present turned to stare at the partially plucked evildoer. One cop chuckled out loud. A few tried to pretend they didn’t know what was going on. Boone kept working. He figured he was already on the outside of the governor’s good graces. He couldn’t ignore Rhodes’s booming voice, though.

“Have you got the keys to your vehicle?” Rhodes asked Susannah.

“Yes, they’re in my purse.”

“Okay.” He nodded at a big man dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt. “Buster will take you out to your Suburban, and you can drive it home.”

“Okay. And Daddy, I’m sorry. I’ll pay you back...”

“You can pay me back by not getting into any more trouble en route to the house.”

“I think I can make it without breaking another law, even if that means innocent animals have to suffer for it.”

Rhodes frowned. “I’d like to believe that, Susie.” His facial features softened as he wrapped a big hand around her arm. “Despite everything, it’s good to have you home again.”

Her shoulders relaxed. Her lips trembled when she tried to smile. “Thanks for saying that.” She attempted to give him a hug, but he stood straight and rigid with his arms at his sides.

“When you get to the house, take a shower,” the governor said. “You smell.”

Susannah walked up to Boone’s desk. “Boone? Can I call you Boone?”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you today.”

He sat back in his chair and stared at her. She had plucked and picked just enough so he recognized a bit of the Susannah he remembered. Her hair, shorter now than when she was in high school, still reached just below her shoulders and was the same pretty, natural blond, kind of like Georgia wheat. Her cheeks were soft and porcelain-looking, and her lips were full and pink. Her nose was defined by a sprinkling of freckles. She had some Georgia left in her, after all. “All part of the job,” he said, though he’d decided this had been one crazy day.

“I’d like to guarantee you that we won’t run into each other again while I’m home,” she said. “But I’m afraid that’s not true. Our paths will definitely cross at a later time.”

Had the governor told her he’d hired Boone to watch over her? Or did she mean something entirely different? She sounded almost prophetic, as if she had her own agenda for seeing him in the future.

“Go on, now,” Rhodes said. “I’m staying behind to have a word with Officer Braddock.”

“I don’t think he can be bribed, Daddy,” she said.

“I don’t need to bribe him, Susie. I’ve bought and paid for two hundred chickens today just so you can go home and soak in a hot bath.”

“Put it on my bill,” she said, but not in a smart-alecky voice.

She and Bodyguard Buster left the station, and Rhodes pulled up a chair next to Boone’s desk. He clasped his hands on his lap. “Quite a spitfire that one,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“In case you’re wondering, I didn’t call in any political favors to get her freed, Boone. I just made a phone call to Old Man Jonas and agreed to pay him a fair price for his chickens.” Rhodes frowned. “More than fair. And Sam agreed not to press charges.”

“I suppose that would work,” Boone said.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Rhodes said. “People with money can buy their way out of almost any scrape.”

Boone was thinking exactly that.

“But in this case, I think Susannah had a point. If she truly did save those birds from drowning, then I should support her efforts.”

Boone leaned back in his chair. “I think she saved some chicks. So you paid her chicken ticket because you approve of what she did?”

“No, I don’t approve, but I can’t condemn. Her heart was in the right place. And there’s another reason...”

Boone waited.

“Truth is, I can’t have Sam Jonas telling the media about the governor’s uncontrolled daughter interfering with one of the staple industries of this fine state.”

Especially this close to an election, Boone thought.

“So you see how this went down, son. Chickens freed from an inhumane death and rumors squelched with a check payable to Sam Jonas. It’s a win for yours truly, as I see it. And a better ending than most political stories these days.” The governor smiled. “I hope this won’t affect your ability to look after her while she’s here. I’m still counting on you.”

Was he kidding? Boone assumed he was already fired. He’d arrested the governor’s daughter! But apparently not. Well, if the governor held some outlandish notion that he still wanted Boone for this assignment, Boone had figured out how he could logically back out.

“Pardon me, sir,” he began, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to watch Susannah for you.”

“Why the blazes not?”

“I’m hardly her favorite person.”

The governor’s chest puffed out, straining the buttons on his shirt. “I don’t care if she likes you. I just care if you take care of her. And besides, Susie won’t hold this chicken business against you. Actually, you’re even more perfect for the job now. You’ve reacquainted yourself with Susie. You know the kinds of scrapes she might get herself into—all because of an innate decency that has been her downfall on more than one occasion.”

Rhodes slapped his hand on the desk. “No, sir, Boone, I want you and you only.”

Boone almost winced. Besides what had just happened between them, despite that kiss in the equipment room, he and Susannah had hardly said two words to each other growing up. He couldn’t convince himself that she would accept him shadowing her every move.

Undaunted, Rhodes went on. “But in all fairness, I should fill you in on a little of Susie’s background. She’s never been an ordinary child, though I can’t tell you how many times I wished she were. I would have preferred if she had been content to sit on the sidelines of issues and be a nice young Georgia lady. But that kind of life wasn’t for her. She’s always been a pot stirrer, stirring things up until lids were ready to explode.”

The question, which was certainly none of Boone’s business, popped out of his mouth before he’d thought enough to suppress it. “Is that why you sent her off to private school?”

The governor’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t want to do that, but I didn’t think I had a choice. Susannah’s mother took off when Susie was only thirteen. That’s a tender age, and Susie acted out. Guess I can’t blame her. After all, Miranda encouraged her free-wheeling behavior, telling her that she was creative and spunky.” The governor huffed. “What good is spunky for a young lady? So, yes, I picked an all-girls academy in Atlanta that was known for discipline and a thorough schooling of the social graces.”

Susannah Rhodes in a stuffy girls’ school? Boone couldn’t picture it. “How did that work out, sir?”

Rhodes shrugged. “At least the reason for the headaches she caused me over the years were contained in another locale. And I believe Susie was happy there. I wasn’t breathing down her neck. We weren’t arguing every night at dinner. If anything, she saw boarding school as an opportunity to concoct new ways to circumvent the rules.

“You may find this hard to believe, Boone, since you’re a fine, upstanding Georgia boy, a believer in our traditions...”

Why did that analysis make him seem boring?

“...but I’m proud of Susannah. She’s made her own way, and the world is probably the better for her active participation in it.” He smiled. “That’s not to say she doesn’t require a reminder every once in a while, like today. And protection from outside influences that might try to corner her to get some dirt on me. That’s where you come in.”

Was the governor suggesting that Boone was to be a disciplinarian? He definitely wasn’t in agreement with that role. “Sir, I’m not comfortable with the idea of being the one to remind your daughter about her behavior. I’ve seen enough today to know that she won’t like the idea, either, especially not from me.”

“You let me worry about Susie’s reaction. Besides, it’s okay with me if you think of yourself as fulfilling a security detail, a description that’s probably more to your liking. But while you’re keeping watch over her, you can see that she doesn’t jump blindfolded off a cliff, can’t you?”

“If I see the cliff before she does, then yes, I suppose so.”

“Good.” The governor stood and extended his hand to Boone. “It’s settled then. I’d like you to come out to the house tonight for supper, Boone. The three of us will sit down and go over our responsibilities.” Rhodes grinned. “And I promise that even after paying a big bill today and adding more than two hundred chickens to my holdings, I won’t serve one!”

Was there a way around this invitation? Boone didn’t think so. “All right. Have you told Susannah anything about hiring a special security person? And have you even hinted that the person is me?”

“All in good time, Boone. I’m figuring to do just that once a bottle of good ol’ Georgia chardonnay is breathing on the table. Nobody knows my Susie like I do.”

Watching the governor walk out the door to the big black Cadillac parked at the curb, Boone wasn’t convinced that the man knew his daughter as well as he thought he did. He wondered if anyone did.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ec96b207-88aa-5949-b152-52d9ac980b9f)

BOONE TURNED ONTO High River Road as the sun was setting over the harvested corn fields. The temperature had dropped to a cool sixty-eight degrees, a great night for bass fishing in Lake Cullowhee if he weren’t headed to the governor’s mansion. There was no other outcome to this evening than having it be a disaster. Boone wished he’d been able to come up with a reason to decline the governor’s invitation—and his job offer.

His phone rang. Boone pulled the device from his pocket and recognized the familiar number. He immediately pictured Menendez with her black hair pulled back under her cop hat, her dark eyes focused on her pledge to serve and protect. He’d managed to avoid her and thus her invitation for a beer, but this might be business, so he switched on his speaker. “Menendez, what’s going on?”

“Hello, Braddock. I looked for you after work, but you’d taken off. So I’m calling with an offer you won’t be able to refuse.”

Despite his usual reservations at hearing one of Lila’s “offers,” Boone couldn’t help but picture the smile that transformed her serious expression into a poster for youth and exuberance. Bright coral lipstick usually framed her white, slightly crooked teeth. Menendez was a cutie, and she was a good rookie cop and a fine partner, but at twenty-four, ten years younger than Boone, he felt like he was mentoring his little sister. He just couldn’t switch his admiration for Menendez into anything personal.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I was cleaning out some boxes today, and I came across the first three Terminator movies on DVD. Made a quick trip to the supermarket and picked up a six pack of microwave popcorn.”

She paused, and Boone knew where this was leading.

“Are you in?” she asked when he didn’t respond.

“It’s tempting,” he said. “But I’m sort of on duty tonight.” He switched on his high beams to see better on the dark, narrow road.

“But you worked today. You were the lead investigator in the poultry prison escape.”

“I was the only investigator, and I hear the laughter in your voice. Don’t even try to hit me with more one-liners. I’ve heard them all.”

She chuckled. “So what duty did Stickler give you tonight?”

Since Lila might be involved in protecting Susannah part time, Boone had planned to fill her in on the details of the assignment tomorrow—if he didn’t come up with a way out of the job tonight. But for now, he’d skirt the issue. “I’m actually on my way out to Albee Rhodes’s place.”

“You’ve been invited to the mansion?”

“Yeah, but it’s business. The governor wants to talk to me about a detail coming up. I don’t have all the particulars about it yet.”

“I’m impressed,” Lila said. “Why don’t you stop by later after you hear what the governor wants? We can still get in one movie and a couple bags of popcorn.”

Lila had tried about a half-dozen times to get Boone to “stop by” her place. He’d always come up with an excuse. Tonight he didn’t have to invent one. He didn’t know how late he would be at the mansion. One of these days he’d just have to quit coming up with lame excuses and sit Menendez down and tell her to set her sights on one of the other single guys in Mount Union. He didn’t look forward to that discussion. He liked her, but just not like that. Besides he’d almost married a lady cop after his academy days, and that had ended badly when, after devoting two years to a relationship, Clair had been offered a detective’s job in Macon and he’d watched her drive out of his life. Once burned...

“I could be late,” he said. “I’ll see you at the station tomorrow. I’ve had a rough day policing chickens. But Menendez?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. That was definitely the best offer I’ve had all day.”

He disconnected and wondered if he should have said that. He reminded himself to discourage Menendez’s romantic interest. His headlights reflected off the high iron gates of the Rhodes’s property. He turned into the drive and pressed the button on the security speaker. After identifying himself to a man whose gravelly voice probably belonged to Buster or one of the other strong arms the governor kept around, the gates swung open and he drove in. The house, set back from the road, was nestled in stands of oak and magnolia trees. The sprawling, two-story white stone façade glistened in the last rays of the sun.

He drove around the circular drive and chose a paved spot next to a low wall of manicured shrubbery. He could have driven his personal truck out here, but decided on the police cruiser to keep the meeting professional. He’d left his uniform on the hanger, though, and chosen a knit sport shirt and khakis. At the last minute he’d added a casual sports coat. As much as he wondered what Susannah would look like cleaned up and feather free, he cautioned himself several times that this meeting was about a quasi security job. Nothing else.

Boone expected a staff member to open the door when he rang the bell. So he was surprised when Susannah stood in the entry.

She stepped back and motioned him in. “Hi, Boone. Glad you could make it.”

She looked much better than was good for the cop who’d arrested her a few hours earlier. And the same cop who was supposed to enter into a security arrangement with her. In fact, she looked like she could have stepped out of a fashion magazine. No jeans tonight. She wore a belted, sleeveless dress that showed off a nice little figure. The dress had tiny yellow flowers on a white background, and she had on white sandals that looked nice against pink toenail polish. Dainty earrings sparkled in front of the loose hair tucked behind her ears. Either she wore very little makeup, or what she did wear didn’t cover the freckles. He imagined the governor liked this look, more Georgia-traditional. Boone took a deep breath of Susannah Rhodes–inspired lilac air and stepped inside.

“I think I’m on time,” he said.

“You are.” She smiled. “Somehow I thought you’d be punctual.” She led him to a room off the foyer. “Daddy’s in the study having a drink. He’d like you to join him while I check on dinner preparations.”

“You cook?” He wanted to take back the question the instant he’d asked it. Why wouldn’t she know how to cook? Just because she came from money? Boone had never been one to jump to conclusions about people based on their backgrounds or how fat their wallets were.

“I do. I’m a vegetarian...”

That figured. He was sure her diet excluded chicken.

“But when my father told me he’d invited you to dinner, I asked his housekeeper to prepare a pork loin for the two of you. I don’t cook animals. You understand.”

Sure, he understood. This girl was from Georgia, the unofficial barbecue capital of the nation?

“I think you’ll like it. Maria is a good cook.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

“By the way, do you know why my father asked you here tonight?”

Oh, great. Apparently that chardonnay hadn’t chilled enough for Rhodes to tell his daughter the plan. Boone wasn’t surprised that Susannah didn’t seem to know. She was being far too cordial for someone who’d been told she was going to live under a microscope.

He didn’t want to lie, so he said, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“My father has had to apologize for my actions many times in the past,” she said, “but inviting an arresting officer to dinner seems a bit extreme.”

They approached a set of open pocket doors, which revealed walls lined with books. “He’s inside. You can go in and I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

“Okay.”

Before he stepped across the threshold, Susannah leaned in close to him and whispered, “Oh, this afternoon I recalled something about you and me from our high school days.”

His breath caught. “You did?”

“Yeah. An incident that happened in the gym equipment room at Mount Union High.”

Her warm breath teased his skin and raised the hairs on his nape. Was she baiting him? Had she heard her father’s plan and wanted to maintain the upper hand by reminding him of the time she’d knocked his socks off in high school?

“Ring any bells?” she asked. Her question was almost a challenge.

And those bells were clanging a warning he’d do well to heed. Was he going to end up the butt of a joke she was waiting to spring on him? “Equipment room?” he said. “The two of us?”

“Somehow I didn’t think you’d remember.”

His mind struggled to come up with something to say that didn’t sound completely inane. Luckily Governor Rhodes appeared in the open door.

“What’s your poison, Boone?” he asked, nodding toward a bar in a corner of the room. “If you drink it, I’ve probably got it.”

Aware that Susannah had disappeared down the hallway, Boone said, “I’m on duty, Governor. I’ll just have a club soda if that’s all right.”

“Nonsense. You’re not on duty. This is a friendly dinner between neighbors. I’ll fix you a whiskey neat. One won’t compromise your principles.”

Boone accepted the glass, thankful his hand was steady. The warm, smooth liquid felt good going down his throat but didn’t erase the memory of that crazy moment in the equipment room.

* * *

DINNER CONVERSATION CENTERED around Mount Union, what had stayed the same and what had changed. Susannah decided that little was different from her high school days. A few new people had moved in, and some of the young ones had graduated and moved on. All the talk about her hometown renewed her fondness for where she’d grown up. And she liked that Cyrus Braddock’s grandson believed that this cozy town was the best one on Earth. She’d once thought so, before she became the Rhodes’s black sheep and was sent away to school.

The lushness of Braddock land wasn’t the only reason she’d come back to Mount Union, though she knew the methods she’d studied would succeed here. Deep down she hoped she would feel like she belonged again. She had wandered for so long that a profound yearning to call someplace home had turned her thoughts to Georgia. And her father’s campaign had provided the incentive she needed to return and reconnect. And maybe make amends with him. She had been a difficult child, especially after her mother left.

“Be sure and tell Maria that the roast was delicious, Susie,” Albee said when he’d placed his napkin over his plate. “And your vegetables were good, too.”

For some reason, the praise made her look at Boone. Would he compliment her cooking skills? And if so, why did it matter?

“Yeah, those glazed carrots were really tasty, Susannah,” he said.

She took the last bite of her pasta and spinach salad and stood. “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll clear the plates and bring in dessert.”

“No dessert just yet, darlin’,” Albee said. He got up and refilled her wineglass. When he walked around the table, Boone covered his glass with his hand. Albee returned to his seat. “There’s a small matter I’ve been meaning to discuss with you two kids.”

Here it comes, an end to what had been a surprisingly pleasant evening, despite Boone not remembering anything about the kiss. She figured that mortifying incident had long since faded from his memory. Just as well.

Susannah had suspected an ulterior motive in her father’s invitation to Boone. So far, she hadn’t been able to figure out what it was. She set the plates on the buffet and took her seat again. It was time to find out. “What’s going on, Daddy?”

Albee cleared his throat. “You know I’m glad you came home to help with my reelection campaign, don’t you, Susie?”

“That’s what you’ve been saying.” She looked at Boone, who seemed to find something fascinating in the linen threads of the tablecloth. “But that was before I released Sam Jonas’s chickens.”

Albee waved his hand as if he were swatting a fly. “I’ve already decided that incident is in the past, Susannah. Tomorrow is another day. And speaking of tomorrow, I’m leaving in the afternoon for a three-week tour of the Atlanta suburbs. Planning to hold town hall meetings and do interviews on the local TV stations.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she said. “All exposure should be helpful this close to the election.”

“I’m leaving my campaign headquarters in Mount Union in your capable hands, darlin’. You know what to do to canvass this area.”

She nodded. “I remember what you told me from your first campaign. We can talk more in the morning before you leave, but I’ve spoken with your outgoing campaign manager, and he filled me in on what has to be done.”

“Harry’s a good man. Call on him if you have any questions. I won’t be back here for the entire three weeks,” Rhodes pointed out.

“Yes, I know.” Susannah slowly twirled her wineglass. “We’ve discussed all this, Dad. I’ll do the best job I can for you.” She turned to stare at Boone when she heard him cough. “I’m thinking that Boone and I are wondering the same thing. What does all this have to do with him?”

“I’ve hired this young man, Susie,” Rhodes announced.

“Boone is joining your security team?” For some reason she found it strange that this cop would leave his beloved Mount Union. Even if the money were good.

She looked at Boone, expecting him to answer. He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

“Then what did you hire him for?”

“Now, Susie,” Rhodes began, “don’t get excited when I tell you...”

Suddenly she knew. Fisting her hands on top of the table, she glared at her father. “You didn’t! Tell me you didn’t hire Boone to watch over me while you’re away.”

Albee affected a wounded expression. “You didn’t give me any choice, honey. I tried to get you to agree to a couple of fellas from my regular security team, but you wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Of course not! I don’t need a security detail. The whole idea is ridiculous. And besides that, what makes you think I’m any more receptive to having a Mount Union cop watching my every move?”

“He’s a local boy. You two know each other...”

Susannah stood. “That was years ago, and we barely spoke to each other!” She felt her face flush. There was that kiss. “Anyway, I wouldn’t feel any differently if he were my brother! I’m not going to be totally alone in this house. We have a housekeeper and a gardener...”

The governor grunted. “One’s older than the other. And they don’t live on the property.”

Susannah’s breath came in short, strong gasps.

“Besides,” her father continued. “I’ve compromised with you. Boone is just one guy, not a detail.”

“I don’t need to be protected by one guy or a hundred.” She released a deep breath as an even more disturbing thought occurred to her. “You don’t trust me, do you, Daddy? You think I’m going to screw up somehow and hurt your election chances.”

“Now that’s just nonsense,” Albee said. “This is the first time you’ve come home for any length of time in years, and I’m concerned about you. Things have changed since you were a girl. I have enemies...”

“Well, I don’t! At least none other than Sam Jonas.”

She took two steps until she was standing over Boone. He turned his head to stare up at her with those intense green eyes. “Did you know about this?” she asked.

“Not before this morning,” he said.

“Well, you can forget about it. I hereby absolve you of any responsibility for my protection or well-being.”

Her father fixed her with his most determined glare. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, Susannah. I’ve hired Boone. He comes well recommended...”

“I’m sure he does, Daddy. I’ve seen him handle escaping chickens, and I can tell he’s a qualified professional.” She immediately regretted the snarky comment.

“Wow, thanks for that,” Boone said. “I guess I know how to handle chickens. Just maybe not local royalty, is that it?”

“Sorry, but you don’t have to take this so personally,” she said. “This is no reflection on you. But I can take care of myself.”

He just nodded his head several times. Was he agreeing with her or biding his time until the governor gave in? Susannah almost felt sorry for him. He’d probably been roped in by the governor’s powers of persuasion and didn’t know how to say no. She didn’t know this cop well, but she’d already determined that he wasn’t the type to be happy playing nursemaid, even if he probably was raking in a good paycheck.

A few moments of awkward silence followed until the governor finally said, “I’m sorry you’re upset, Susannah, but this is how it’s going to be. Either you let me leave this house tomorrow with a feeling of confidence about your safety or you can gas up that truck of yours and head back to Oregon, where you’re not in the middle of a nasty election. Much as I’d like to have you on my team, and I do, I won’t risk your well-being to make it happen.”

She was going to lose this argument, but Susannah tried one more point. “So you’d rather have this man...” She almost backtracked at the affront in Boone’s eyes. He was getting good at pretending to be insulted. “...A stranger, move in with me?”

“He’s not a stranger. He’s a Braddock, for heaven’s sake. Family’s been here for generations.” Albee narrowed his eyes. “And he knows that if he tries anything, I’ll have his hide covering my library floor.”

Boone pressed his lips together and stared at Susannah’s scowling expression. “I don’t think we need to worry about that, Governor.”

Now he was insulting her?

She crossed her arms, tapped the toe of her sandal under Boone’s chair. “Don’t you have anything to say about this?” she asked him.

“I had plenty to say this morning when this all came up,” he said. “Yet, here I am, having dinner like I was one of the family. But I’ve had a few more hours than you’ve had to adjust to the idea.”

She switched her focus to her father. “So, Daddy, how will this work exactly? Are you going to have a cot moved into my bedroom so my new best friend can keep an eye on me 24/7?”

“Now you’re the one who’s being ridiculous and downright out of line,” Albee said. “We have six bedrooms in this house. As long as Boone picks one near yours...and stays there, I’ll be satisfied.” He pointed a finger at Boone. “Just remember, son, I know your mama and daddy.”

Susannah wondered what communication procedures her father had set up between him and Boone. Was the cop expected to report her comings and goings every day? She knew if the governor had had his way and installed his own security team in the house, she wouldn’t have had a chance to pursue her goal with Cyrus Braddock. His men would report everything to their boss on a daily basis.

She apparently was going to have to live with this arrangement, so maybe she could make a friendly adversary of Boone, if not a friend in the truest sense of the word. At least he might not run to his boss with every single detail about her activities. After all, they were both pawns in her father’s scheme. More important, because her plan involved Boone’s grandfather, she had to establish a cordial line of communication between her and the cop.

She stuck out her hand and smiled, though the effort almost made her lips hurt. “I guess I should welcome you to our home, Officer. This is going to be interesting.”

He hesitated as if he feared she’d magically shoot a fire bolt from her palm. But then he took her hand and held it. Not really a shake, but more a gentle acceptance of the inevitable as fellow victims of gubernatorial manipulations. “I thought we decided earlier that you’d call me Boone.”

“Fine, Boone. I’m not going to cook meals like this every night,” she said. “And I won’t cook meat, ever. You will have kitchen privileges, but you should know your way around an oven.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t abide messes. Clean up after yourself and don’t expect the housekeeper to trail after you picking up your dirty socks.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Now she wondered if he was actually beginning to enjoy this. He’d undergone a transformation in the past few minutes. When he’d arrived at the front door, he’d looked much like a deer in headlights. Now he exuded a confidence that bordered on cocky. And oddly, she found herself drawn to this side of Boone. He wasn’t a pushover. As long as she could get him on her side...

He stood. “If we’re done here, Governor, I think I’ll pass on dessert. I’ve got to pack a bag. I’ll be here when you call tomorrow afternoon. I have a few chores to attend to at my grandfather’s place in the morning.”

“You’re going to your grandfather’s?” she asked. This was the chance she needed. Arriving for a meeting with Cyrus accompanied by the old man’s grandson could be a real bonus. “I’d like to ride along if that’s okay.”

“You want to go to my grandfather’s? It’s on the other side of town.”

“I know. Remember earlier when I told you I’ve always thought that piece of property was especially lovely? And tomorrow is supposed to be a beautiful day. A nice drive would be a good chance for us to get to know each other better.” And a great chance for her to let Cyrus Braddock see what buddies she was with his grandson.

“I think that’s a fine idea,” Albee said. “You two kids get together in the morning, and I’ll talk to you before I leave about election issues, Susie.”

She walked Boone to the door. Yes, she could make this work. A bit of charm, an appearance of cooperation. She might even persuade Boone to her way of thinking.

“See you tomorrow, Boone,” she said. “I look forward to seeing your grandfather again. I remember him from when I was a little girl and he brought the ponies to the fair.” And I’m almost one hundred percent certain that he and I will make a deal on that level piece of property.

Boone’s eyes narrowed and grew a dark, almost forest green. “You won’t see my grandfather, Susannah.”

“Why not?”

“He died almost three weeks ago.”

“What?” She gripped the doorframe. Her mind raced. Despite her shock, she had to say something appropriate. “I...I’m sorry to hear that.” If he only knew.

“Thanks. His passing was very unexpected. I’ll pick you up at eight.”


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_580e1b99-63a5-509f-a5df-1234659a7a68)

BOONE TURNED HIS windshield wipers up another notch and glanced at the passenger in his truck cab. “So, exactly what weather forecaster predicted this beautiful day you were talking about?”

Using her palm, Susannah swiped at the condensation on the window and peered out at the continuing rain. “I can’t remember now. Obviously not a very good one.”

“You could have canceled, you know. I would have understood.”

“A little rain wouldn’t stop me. I wanted to drive out here.”

“With me?”

“Of course with you.” She gave him a brief smile. “What good would it do me now to try and avoid you anyway?”

Boone reminded himself not to be flattered. The Rhodes family seemed to operate with ulterior motives, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Susannah had one beyond her professed desire to “get to know him better” by driving to his grandfather’s farm. Something was up. A woman didn’t just return to her roots and announce that a certain patch of land had stayed in her memory for years. If she did have something up her sleeve, he was going to discover what it was.

She turned slightly in her seat and seemed to be studying his profile. “I like your cowboy hat,” she said.

Automatically he removed the hat and set it on the seat beside him. Running his fingers through his hair he remembered he needed a haircut. “Don’t really need it today,” he said. “No sun.”

“You don’t look anything like a cop today.”

Of course he didn’t. He was about to feed chickens and muck horse stalls. His oldest worn jeans and rattiest police academy T-shirt was his uniform for barn chores. He smiled. “I’m only a cop forty hours a week. The rest of the time I’m strictly into maintenance.”

They only had about five miles to go to reach his grandfather’s land. Boone would do what he usually did—feed, water and turn out the two horses if the blasted rain stopped. Then he’d gather the eggs the layers had left him, shovel horse poop and put down fresh straw. When those chores were accomplished, he’d check the farmhouse, make sure everything was as it should be. This was a lonely job these days, now that no one was living in the place.

He supposed he’d have to decide something about the house and the contents fairly soon. Every stick of furniture his grandparents had purchased for the house remained inside. The china cupboard still held his grandmother’s fancy dishes.

His brother, Jared, had been sending hints that they should be considering their options with regard to their inheritance. But not yet. Boone still liked sitting on the front porch some evenings and watching the sun set over the Blue Ridge foothills. When his grandfather had built the house fifty years ago, he’d positioned the structure to catch the finest views.

But hanging onto the house for its views wasn’t the primary reason Boone wanted to wait on a decision. He loved the house. When he was ready to give up his place in town and commit to caring for property full time, he might move out here. Jared wouldn’t be interested in moving in. He liked his modern, fully equipped new place in Atlanta. Jared liked everything he had. A good job that had required a college education, a beautiful wife and two gorgeous girls Boone adored. The man who had everything could wait while Boone at least had his sunsets.

“How long will we be here?” Susannah asked.

“About an hour, hour and a half. I’ve hired a local kid to come in the afternoons to repeat the chores I do this morning.”

“Seems like a lot of responsibility,” she said. “Are you thinking of selling Cyrus’s horses and maybe cutting down on the work?”

“I’d never do that. First of all, they aren’t my grandfather’s horses. The bay is mine. The palomino is my brother Jared’s.” He thought about adding that the horses were like his family now that Jared was living in Atlanta and his parents were off in their motor home, but he refrained. How could this woman understand that kind of an attachment to a four-legged beast? In fact, despite her campaign for ethical treatment of animals, he wondered if she’d ever had a pet.

Even though Boone’s family was spread around the country right now, he did have friends, and he was grateful for them. Guys on the force, Bobby and Mike, the two coaches at the high school. Even Menendez if she would only be satisfied with friendship.

After another few minutes, he pointed ahead. “There’s the old place now.” He rolled down his window and stuck his arm outside. “I think the rain has nearly stopped, too. Maybe I can make quick work of this before it starts up again.”

He slowed and turned into the gravel drive, bypassing the house and heading directly for the barn. He parked where two well-worn ruts perfectly fit his truck tires. “You want to wait here in case the sky opens up again?”

“Heavens no.” She jumped down from the cab. “I want to look around. And I’m happy to help you.”

Gee, what job should he give her? Let her handle two sixteen-hand horses, lift heavy shovelfuls of hay or muck out smelly stalls? Which one would she like? He was pretty sure she’d never done any of those things, but he could appease her if she really wanted to lend a hand.

“Sure,” he said, joining her at the front of the truck. “How about gathering the eggs from the coop? A basket is hanging just inside the barn door. If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll make sure the layers are outside having their breakfast before you go in.”

“Why should that matter? I think I proved yesterday that I’m not afraid of chickens.”

Without thinking, he raised one of her hands. “Have you ever tried to take eggs from under a chicken before?”

“Never had the pleasure.”

“Well, they don’t like it. If you don’t ease in from the side without the chick seeing you, she’s likely to leave a trail of peck marks on this delicate hand.” He grinned. “And a few feathers on this clean jacket.”

“My hands aren’t so delicate,” she said, and he had to agree. She had long, slim fingers and blunt-cut nails. But the knuckles were wide, and her skin was just the slightest bit calloused.

She took her hand from his. “But I don’t think I’d like to test the ladies’ patience. I’ll wait until you get them outside. And I can do more than gather eggs,” she said, removing her rain jacket and tossing it into the truck.

“That should be fine for today,” he said, noticing the bright yellow T-shirt she wore tucked into her jeans. She was a ray of sunshine on this cloudy day. He shook his head. He had no business thinking of her in terms of stupid metaphors. She was his job and, on this day, his mysterious companion...one with a soft, semi-delicate hand that had felt surprisingly good nestled in his own.

“While you get the chicks outside, I think I’d like to walk out to that level field over there,” she said, pointing to an enviable stretch of flat land that his grandfather had farmed for years. Unfortunately, age had caught up with Gramps, and the land had lain fallow for almost a decade.

“Sure. Go ahead.” Boone started to go to the barn but stopped and turned back when his curiosity got the best of him. Now was as good a time as any to get to the bottom of this concern for Braddock land.

“Susannah, what’s your interest in this place, that field particularly?” he asked. “You didn’t ride this far merely to get to know me. There’s plenty of time for that. We’re going to be sharing the same house.”

Her eyes widened. “Well, yeah. But it’s like you just said. We’re going to be living together. I don’t think it’s too soon to get to know someone who’s going to be my roomie.”

“Okay, but that’s not the full story. And before we leave here this morning, I’m going to find out what it is.”

She frowned at him. “Now you sound like a cop. I didn’t think you were on duty, Boone.”

He brushed his hair off his forehead and settled his hat low on his brow. “I’m starting to think I’m never going to be off duty again as far as you’re concerned.”

“Fine. Obviously you think I have some secret plan, so when the chores are done, we’ll talk.”

He smiled. “So I’m right? There is a secret plan?”

“Something like that. And you’ve got to know some time. But go on and do what you have to do.”

The mystery deepened. Boone walked into the barn and relaxed when he heard the familiar and comforting sounds of his horses. Pawing sounds, recognition sounds, whinnies of hunger. He picked up a pitchfork and got to work. This was natural. This he understood. Even if he didn’t understand Susannah Rhodes. Yet.

* * *

WITH THE EGG basket draped over her arm, Susannah stood at the entrance to the barn and peered inside. The rain had stopped for good, and the sun was now hot and bright slanting through the cracks in the old wood siding. “Boone, are you in here?”

“Out here,” he answered. “Come on through the barn and out to the paddock.”

She walked down the wide aisle, her footsteps kicking up bits of dust and straw. The barn was old but tidy. She expected to wrinkle her nose at smells every bit as offensive as the odors that had clung to her yesterday. But no. She only sniffed leather tack, fresh straw and the fertile scent of grains. Boone had obviously finished cleaning the stalls and replaced the soiled hay with new.

Coming into the open again, she saw Boone leaning against a weathered, wooden fence. One booted foot was on the bottom rail. His arms were crossed on the top. The felt cowboy hat remained low on his forehead. He turned when he heard her approach. “How’d you do with those eggs?” he asked.





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