This Hero for Hire (8 page)

She went into the station and headed directly for the ladies' bathroom so she could freshen up before joining James out on the road. The first thing she noticed about the bathroom was the sweet floral scent. And next she saw a single red rose taped across the center of the old twelve-by-fourteen-inch mirror above the washstand. Underneath it was a simple note. “L.M. Couldn't resist this flower when I saw it. Hope it makes you smile into this mirror. J.”

And it did. And she was smiling when she went into the squad room and thanked him.

* * *

“W
HAT
'
S
 
THE
 
MATTER
with you?” Susannah stared at Boone's rigid profile. Since he'd picked her up at the campaign office fifteen minutes ago, he'd hardly said two words, and those two she couldn't understand.

His lips didn't seem to move when he mumbled, “Nothing.” He kept his eyes on the road.

Well, that was a lie. Susannah knew when someone was bummed out, and Boone certainly was. She didn't think it was anything she had done. At least not overtly. Last night she'd coerced him into sitting with her while she watched
Notting Hill
for the third time, but tonight she'd promised to watch his choice, an action flick. And she was cooking—pasta and marinara sauce, and she'd bought some sausage that he could pan fry if he wanted to feed his red blood cells. They were learning the art of give-and-take, and she believed it was working...as professionals in a contrived situation, who had almost kissed. Oddly, she was also beginning to enjoy nearly everything about this relationship.

Watching for a change in his expression, she said, “Doesn't look like nothing. If you're worried that I'm not doing what I should be for my father's campaign, don't be. Everything's going fine.”

Her cell phone rang, preventing her from probing more deeply. She checked the caller ID. “It's my mother. I have to take this.”

He flashed her an incredulous look, as if to say, “Duh, why wouldn't you? It's not like we're talking here.”

“Hi, Mom.”

Miranda Rhodes was an energetic, enthusiastic, creative woman who treated each day as a gift from whatever goddess she was tuned into at the time. At least she had since she'd divorced Albee and taken flight into her own world. Susannah never understood what had drawn her parents together in the first place. While Miranda discussed details of the artist's showing she was sponsoring at her California gallery, Susannah listened attentively.

“Sounds like it will be a fabulous night,” Susannah said when she could fit in a word.

“What's going on in your life, sweetie?” Miranda asked. “Is your father back on the campaign trail?”

Susannah explained her father's recent activities, deciding to tell her mother that Albee had arranged private security for her while she was in Mount Union.

“Isn't that just like him?” Miranda said. “Always expecting the worst. Although it could be an interesting challenge. How many men are living with you at the moment?”

Susannah glanced at Mr. Grimface. “Only one. Daddy wanted three of his handpicked muscle guys, and I wanted zero. One very competent, extremely patient local cop was our compromise.” She checked Boone's profile to see if her flattery had brought a smile to his face. It hadn't. When asked, Susannah told her mother Boone's name and his brow furrowed. Maybe he didn't like being discussed.

“I remember his mother,” Miranda said. “Lovely woman. She worked in the hardware store in town. I don't think I ever met Boone. What's he like?”

Giving him a teasing look, she said, “Right now he seems pretty miserable.”

He huffed an impatient breath and gripped the steering wheel.

“Be nice, Susannah,” Miranda said. Her mom ended with an offer to free up some trust fund money if Susannah needed it.

“I'm not buying any property right now,” Susannah explained. “I'll be all right with the funds I've got and the grant I'm getting from the Georgia Department of Agriculture.” She assured her mother that she wasn't working too hard and her four friends would be arriving soon. Once they were here, the project would be in full swing.

Boone pulled onto High River Road and sped up. Anxious to get to that
Die Hard
movie, Susannah figured. She twisted her hands in her lap and observed his profile again. She really did care about what was bothering him. And, like her mother said, maybe she could help.

“You're the second person today who's called me miserable,” he said suddenly.

“There must be something to it then,” she said.

“Do I really seem miserable to you?”

“Not most of the time,” she answered. “But since I've hardly been able to ignore the lack of words coming from your mouth, I can only conclude that you're miserable now.”

“Isn't a man allowed to feel miserable now and then?”

“Of course. Be my guest. Wallow all you want.”

“I don't wallow,” he stated. “And I don't appreciate people judging my mood based on a lack of idle chitchat.”

“Okay. I can go along with no chitchat if that's what you want.”

“Besides, like I just heard you tell your mother, I'm a patient man. Just because I haven't achieved a few goals in my life doesn't mean I'm giving up on them. Or ready to settle for less. And it certainly doesn't mean I'm letting my failures get me down.”

“I can't imagine you've had that many failures,” she said. “You love the town where you live. You have friends and family. You seem to like your job.” She gave him a smile that she hoped was just cocky enough. “You're very good at apprehending people.”

He smiled as he turned into the Rhodes's drive and headed for the house. “And I'm going to get to watch my movie tonight, right?”

“Absolu...” She paused and stared straight ahead where an old pickup truck and an equally ancient Ford station wagon sat in front of the house. “They're here!” she said. “Hurry, Boone.”

It must have been cop instinct that made him do the exact opposite. The truck lunged to a halt. “Whose vehicles are those?”

“They belong to my friends, my partners from Oregon.” She sat forward in the seat and grabbed the dashboard. “Go!”

“Okay, okay.” He stepped on the accelerator. “I just wanted to make sure we weren't driving into trouble.”

“You've got to stop imagining threats around every corner.”

He pulled alongside the rusted pickup, and Susannah was out of his vehicle before he'd come to a complete stop.

Her four friends got up from the porch steps and ran toward her. “You're here! I can't believe it,” she said. “I've missed you all so much.”

Omar, looking tired from the drive but relieved to see her, held open his arms. She ran into them and planted a kiss on his cheek. After filling herself with the warmth of his hug, she stepped back and smiled at each of her friends.

“Why are you out here?” she asked. “Didn't Maria invite you inside?”

“You mean the frightened little rabbit?” Omar quipped. “She said she was locking all the windows, and if we tried to get in, she'd call the police.”

Her friends did look a bit worse for the drive. Especially since neither of their vehicles had air conditioning, their clothes and hair were damp and mussed.

“I'll take you in,” she said. “You must want drinks and a visit to the bathroom. And we don't have to worry about Maria calling the cops. I've brought one home with me.”

She spun around to look for Boone and was surprised to see him leaning against his truck. She figured he'd be insinuating himself into the middle of the reunion, if only so he could pat down the new arrivals. But he seemed content to remain aloof.

Even more surprising was the look on his face. From several yards away she couldn't mistake the scowl. And no one would argue that at this moment, he did indeed look miserable. She wondered what goal he wasn't achieving now.

She waved at him. “Come meet my friends.”

He ambled over, the scowl still evident. Susannah introduced him to Stuart, the horticulturist; Randy, the botanist; and Sheena, the buxom gal from the mountains of Oregon who'd heard about their sustainable farm project and wanted to join in.

“And this is Omar,” she said, putting her hand on the man's shoulder. “He's sort of our guru. Knows more than all the rest of us combined.”

Susannah had seen warmer handshakes between two boxers the night before the big bout. “Omar is from India,” she said. “He's spent the last ten years setting up sustainable farms in the most remote villages of his home country. He's made quite a difference in his people's ability to feed themselves and lead better, healthier lives.”

She smiled up at her mentor. “He's the reason I know what I do today. I spent four years working with him and finally convinced him that his program could work well in America's rural communities.”

Boone scratched his neck. “So little Mount Union, Georgia, was lucky enough to get picked for your experiments.”

Not certain if he was being sarcastic, Susannah said, “Yes, I suppose you could put it like that. After we succeeded in northern California and Oregon, I couldn't wait to move near the East Coast and put our practices to use in my hometown.”

If Boone were going to add another comment, he didn't have time. The front door to the mansion opened, and Maria stepped outside. She wiped her hands on the apron that covered her ample body. “What's going on out here, Miss Susannah? What am I supposed to do about these people?” The look she gave the group conveyed the disdain she must have felt.

“They're my friends, Maria,” she said. “They need refreshments and use of the bathroom. Please show them inside.”

Maria stood aside so the group could enter the house. Once they passed her, she muttered, “Stay on the first floor only. We have a bathroom down here. Then come directly to the kitchen. I will get you drinks.”

Boone flashed Susannah an unmistakably smart-aleck grin. “Ouch. Seems Maria isn't as trustful of your vagabond farmers as you and I are.”

She frowned at him. “Like you're trustful. They could have been burned from the glare of your eyes the way you were scrutinizing each of them.”

“Just doin' my job, ma'am,” he said. “But that reminds me...”

“Yeah?”

“How do you think Maria will feel about having four more houseguests? I don't think she'll take too kindly to cleaning up after this bunch.”

“Do you think I've lost my mind?” Susannah said.

He pursed his lips as if he were giving the question serious consideration.

“Stop it. I've told them that they're staying at the Best Western on the highway. I can't have them stay here and take a chance that my father would come home.”

He nodded. “Okay. So my other question—how does this affect my movie tonight?”

“We'll still watch your movie. But first I'm going to dinner with them.”

“I'm going to live to regret saying this, but not without me you're not.”

“Good. I was hoping you'd come. And why would you regret it?”

“Because I'm sure you'll pick a restaurant where everything on the menu is green.”

She laughed. “Only Omar and I are vegetarians.”

“You and Omar are pretty tight, huh?”

“We work well together.”

“I could tell.”

All at once she understood why Boone had basically been scowling for the past ten minutes. He thought she and Omar were an item. She could set him straight right now, but was enjoying Boone's discomfort a bit too much. If he didn't figure it out first, she'd tell him before the movie started that Omar was only her mentor. “We'll go to the barbecue place in town. How's that?” she asked him.

He took her elbow and turned her toward the front door. “That's fine. But no talk about how pigs are transported for slaughter. You've already ruined fried chicken for me.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

D
ESPITE
 
THE
 
TANTALIZING
 
aromas of spicy barbecue sauce and baked beans throughout the Bustling Porker Restaurant, Susannah and Omar managed to keep to their vegetarian restrictions. While the other members of the organic farming group, and Boone, picked slide-off-the-bone rib meat from their racks, the two veggies dug into their meatless potpies. In a sense, Boone had to admire them. No way could he convince himself to order a meal of broccoli and carrots when slow-roasted pork was on the menu.

At the start of the meal, the conversation remained light and comfortable. The old friends discussed the cross-country drive from Oregon, what the trip had done to their finances and a few hints about what they hoped to accomplish in Georgia. Susannah had no trouble convincing her partners that the plot of land she'd chosen was ideal, the soil rich and fertile.

She seemed pleased to learn that their project in Oregon had been left in capable hands. A rich fall harvest was expected, which meant profits for the team.

Boone tuned in to the juke box when the discussion turned to farming methods and fertilizers—until Randy, the fellow Susannah had introduced as the botanist, mentioned that they'd passed a fertilizer factory on the road into Mount Union. He became increasingly agitated, indicating he wasn't happy that such a facility was so close to their land. Randy, a tall, lanky, muscular young man with wild brown hair and at least a three-day's growth of beard, had definite opinions on the subject.

“It's like our worst enemy is sitting a few miles away waiting for us to fail,” he wailed.

“Which we won't,” Susannah said.

“We can grow the finest produce in all of Georgia,” he said, “but what difference will it make if criminals like those who own the plant are allowed to operate?”

As a cop, Boone prided himself on picking up on potentially troublesome situations. When Randy's voice lowered and his gestures became tense and furtive, Boone's instinctual curiosity was aroused. “The owners of that plant aren't criminals,” he said. “You may not agree with the use of chemical fertilizers on food, but there is no law against it that I know of.”

“Then you're part of the problem,” Randy said. “You don't care that poison is being manufactured just ten miles out of town?”

“That plant has operated for years,” Boone said. “The farmers around here—hardworking family men, I might add—depend on that fertilizer to ensure a good harvest.”

Randy leaned over the table toward Boone. “That's exactly the problem. No one cares about anything but the almighty dollar. You and everyone else in this town should open your eyes and pay attention to the junk that is going into your food supply.” He scoffed, an unpleasant, guttural sound. “Your protect-and-serve instincts should light up every time you drive by that plant.”

“If there were violations at that factory, I would know about it,” Boone defended, raising a finger at Randy. “I'd strongly suggest that you keep your opinions from spreading around town. Otherwise, you'll have folks upset over stuff that isn't all that important.”

“Not important?” Randy started to rise.

From the corner of his eye, Boone watched Susannah cringe. She placed her hand over Boone's. “I suggest we finish our meal and call it a night,” she said.

Boone did a mental ten count and reminded himself that he was trained to contain controversy, not escalate it. Unfortunately, he had to admit his ignorance on this subject. Randy looked at each of his partners for approval. Most of them were simply staring, probably anticipating major trouble and hoping to avoid it. “What's the matter, Boone?” Randy said. “You suddenly develop a bad case of indigestion?”

Susannah pushed back her chair and stood. “Okayyyy...” She drew out the word as if it had several syllables. “Good discussion. Let's call it a draw and go our separate ways.”

“I'm for that,” Boone said, rising also. “I still have a movie I want to watch. And I need the diversion.”

Once the bill was settled, the Oregon group headed for the motel and Susannah and Boone drove back to the house in Boone's pickup. By her silence, Boone didn't know if she thought he was wrong to have voiced his opinions to her friends. After all, he didn't exactly have college smarts to back up what he'd said. He decided to take a chance and find out several details at once.

“I gotta say, Susannah, if you have to have a boyfriend in that group, I'm glad it isn't Randy.”

She laughed. “A boyfriend? Not a chance. Randy's dedicated. And committed, but he does get carried away sometimes.”

“That's a polite way of putting it,” Boone said, keeping his eyes on the road in case she was giving him a glaring look.

“Anyway, what makes you think that any of those guys are anything more than a business partner?”

“I don't know. Your total exuberance at seeing them again, maybe?”

“I was happy to see them. We're a team. Won't you be happy to see Lila when this job is finished?”

The corner of his mouth raised. “Sure.”

“But just out of curiosity, if you had to pick one for me, who would it be?” Her voice had taken on a teasing edge.

“Omar, I guess,” he said. “He seems to be your favorite, and he's the most level-headed. But...”

“But what?”

But I don't want you connected to any of them like that
. “But nothing. I forgot what I was going to say.”

“Omar is a kind and brilliant man,” she said. “His wife and three children think so, too.”

Boone took his eyes off the road long enough to judge if she was telling the truth or teasing him. “He's married?”

“Happily. His wife is in Oregon, where the kids are in school. We're hoping to have enough money in a few weeks to bring them out for a visit.”

“But I saw you hug him, and it looked like a pretty serious boyfriend-type hug to me.”

“It was serious. I've known Omar for years. I studied with him in India for a lot of that time. He's the most gifted agroecologist I've ever met. And he's a fine man.”

Boone nodded. “Oh. I guess I was wrong about him being your boyfriend.”

“Yes, I guess you were. And Boone, I'm thirty-two, and since you were two years ahead of me in school, you must be thirty-four...”

“Yeah. So?”

“So we're adults, and I stopped referring to my crushes as
boyfriends
once I got out of high school.”

“Really? So what
do
you modern women call them now?”

“Significant other, partner, roomie, if the word applies. Or sometimes just main squeeze.”

He chuckled. “Sure you do. How many different squeezes have you had?” He had absolutely no right to know this answer but hoped she'd respond anyway.

“Not many. A few were memorable. Most were in my life one week and gone the next. I've devoted most of my time to my work.”

“Which involves saving the planet and forcing us all to eat unfertilized cardboard vegetables.”

She grinned. “That's a rather biased way of putting it. You're talking about my life's mission, you know.”

No other vehicles were on the road to the mansion, so Boone slowed down so he could study Susannah's face. She was teasing him, and her smile was warm and natural. The lights from his dash reflected in the blue of her eyes and turned her cheeks rosy under those darn freckles he couldn't seem to get out of his mind.

The past few weeks had been interesting. He couldn't say for sure when Susannah had stopped resenting him and they'd started to get along. Maybe it was that dinner the first night they were alone in her house. Maybe it was when he agreed to lease her forty acres of level Blue Ridge land. What Boone could pinpoint in his mind was when she gained a foothold in his thoughts and began invading his dreams. It was the day she was covered in feathers and smelled like she'd spent the night in a chicken coop. And now, by some miracle they were making this awkward arrangement work as long as he ignored the almost constant longing that coiled his insides into knots.

He smiled back at her. “So, no boyfriend or partner now?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Like I told you, I haven't had a
boyfriend
since I was in high school. And then I didn't really have one. I just wanted one.”

His hands tensed on the steering wheel. “Anyone I know?”

“Pull over and stop the truck.” Her voice was a low throaty rasp that caused his nerve endings to tingle almost as if she'd touched him.

He braked on the shoulder of the road and put the car in park. “Why are we stopping?”

She raised her eyebrows and regarded him from under thick, dark lashes. “I'm sure my father told you all about me. He thinks I'm impulsive, that I act without considering the consequences.”

“I think he might be right,” Boone said. When he noticed her full lips pull into a firm line, he added, “On occasion, anyway.”

She inched closer to him, and he was suddenly thankful he'd gotten a bench seat in his pickup. No gearshift or console to block her path. When her face was a mere few inches from his, he held his breath. What had started in the field that day was going to happen. He felt it in the pounding of his heart. He felt it in the fisting of his hands.

“I was impulsive once with you,” she said. “And I have this urge, spurred on, no doubt, by my irresponsible spontaneous nature, to try again.”

Oh, man. His entire body tensed. If this didn't happen, he didn't know how he would be able to drive on.

She placed her hands on each side of his face, and her lips began to tease his. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip and pressed that wonderfully impulsive mouth to his.

The kiss was deep, 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 getting into the feel of her, just when he was moving his arms to take her into them, she pulled away.

A cool breeze from the air conditioner swept over the sweet dampness she'd left on his lips. He felt his lips move, but no sound came out. That figured. He hadn't yet come up with any words to say other than, why didn't you do this two weeks ago? Without a doubt Susannah Rhodes was wonderfully, enchantingly unpredictable.

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. Nothing. Just like that day in the gym when you gawked at me as if I were some sort of alien being.” 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. “Do you want me to yell at you? Tell you that you're out of your mind to go around kissing guys like that? Because I'm not going to yell at you even though you are a little crazy.”

“That seems to be the consensus around here,” she said without looking at him. “Sorry I bothered you. Let's go home.”

“Not yet. You haven't answered my question. What do you want me to do right now, at this moment? 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 up in a tempting grin. “Yeah? Is Boone Braddock learning that spontaneous can be fun?”

He took her arms in his hands and pulled her close. “Among other things.” And he covered her mouth with his own type of kiss, one that was hungry and intimate and dominant. And long enough to matter. He could play her game, only right now it didn't feel like a game. It felt right and natural and just enough Susannah-crazy to make his heart race.

When he pulled back, she blinked moist eyes at him. “I feel better now,” she said on a whisper.

“Good, because that's exactly what I wanted to do back in the gym all those years ago.”

“When I was young and innocent?”

He started the truck. “Sure. I'll believe that if you want me to.” He pulled onto High River Road, his hands shaking almost too much to drive.

“We still have a movie to watch,” she said as they approached the house.

Yes, they did. But suddenly John McClane and his ability to make someone die hard was the farthest thing from his mind.