His Touch

“What the hell are you doing here?” Brant demanded when he finally found his voice.

“How ’bout a cold one before we get down to the nitty gritty?”

Wordlessly Brant headed for the kitchen and returned with two beers. He handed one to Thurmon, who then made himself comfortable in the nearest leather chair.

Brant took a seat on the matching sofa. For a moment they nursed their beers in companionable silence.

“You didn’t come all this way for a social call.” Brant’s words were a flat statement of fact.

“You’re right, I didn’t.”

“If it’s about me joining you as a partner in your security firm, I haven’t changed my mind.”

“I’m not here about that, though the offer still stands.”

“Thanks again, but no thanks.”

“Can’t blame a fellow for trying.”

“Is Ronnie all right?”

“Great. Blowing and going, as always.”

“Still in practice with that same high-flying attorney, huh?”

“Yep. And making him a shit-load of money, too.”

“When is she going to take a timeout and have a kid?”

Thurmon sighed. “It’s her call. And from the way it’s looking, maybe never. We’re both on the career fast track and can’t seem to get off.”

Changing the subject, Brant said, “So unload.”

Obviously choosing to ignore Brant’s push to get to the point, Thurmon crossed a leg over one knee and looked around. “This is still a great place, but aren’t you lonely as hell here?”

“I’m used to being alone. I was married for twelve years.”

“Funny.”

Brant kept his features bland.

“Don’t you think you’ve been hiding long enough?”

That comment irritated the hell out of Brant. He hadn’t seen his friend for heaven knows how long and didn’t appreciate being raked over the coals for his style of living, rather than shooting the bull about things they had in common.

“I’m treading on dangerous ground, aren’t I?” Thurmon asked in the growing silence.

“You read my mind.”

“Are you still the same expert marksman you once were?”

Surprise raised Brant’s eyebrows. “Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay. Yeah, I am. As a matter of fact, I practice just about every day.” He wanted to add that it whiled away some of the hours, but he didn’t dare. To admit that would add fodder to Thurmon’s case against him. “Why?” he asked again.

“I have a favor to ask, that’s why.”

Brant’s guard, along with his hackles, rose. “Why do I sense I’m not going to like what’s coming next?”

“Because you’ve became paranoid?”

Brant snorted.

Thurmon laughed, then said, “Did I mention how good it is to see you, how much I miss having your ill-tempered self around?”

“No. But I take no offense, considering the source.”

Thurmon’s laugh merely deepened before his features sobered once again. “Actually it’s my wife who wants the favor.”

“Then why didn’t she ask? She knows my number.”

“She knew I wanted an excuse to see your sorry ass.”

“Veronica’s not in any kind of trouble, is she?”

“Nope. But she has a friend who is.”

“So? You have a security company, take care of it. I’m out of that business forever. All I care about now is mending fences with my kid.”

“How’s that going?”

“It’s not. If Marsha had her way, I’d never see him again.”

“Nothing like a woman scorned.”

“Hell, she’s the one who had the affair.”

“After you were never home.”

Brant’s eyes narrowed. “You were in the same boat and Ronnie never cheated on you.”

“True, but we didn’t have a kid who needed his father, either.”

Brant cursed, feeling Thurmon’s arrow hit where it hurt most—his heart. “That’s still no excuse for what Marsha did. But like I told her, that’s water under the bridge. I hold no grudges. Instead I’m moving forward and trying to fix things.”

“I’m about to give you that opportunity.”

“How’s that?” Brant’s voice overflowed with suspicion. He didn’t trust his friend as far as he could throw him.

“By getting you back to Texas.”

“Ah, so that’s where this is going? Figures.”

“Veronica’s friend needs a bodyguard, and you’re the best I have to offer.”

“Are you deaf? I just told you I don’t do that anymore. But then, you knew that before you came all this way.”

Thurmon leaned forward. “First off, you owe me. And while I never intended to remind you of the fact that I saved your life, I’m doing it now.”

“That’s hitting below the belt.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But you also know how I feel about Ronnie. I’ll do anything I can to keep her happy. And she wants you to help her friend, so here I am.”

“Tightening the screws,” Brant said, barely suppressing his fury at being shoved into a corner with no way out.

“I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t of utmost importance.”

“Somehow that doesn’t loosen the screws any,” Brant responded tightly.

“If you help me out, you’ll be doing yourself a favor, as well. You’ll be close to Elliot and can mend those fences close up instead of from afar.”

Brant rose. “You’re a blackmailing SOB.”

Thurmon seemed to take no offense at the harsh words. “You’ll thank me, my friend. You wait and see.”

God, Brant hoped so. But he was afraid, something he could never let Thurmon or anyone else know. Yet he was even more frightened of never seeing his son again. So whether he liked it or not, the die had been cast.

Brant sat back down. “So what’s the problem?”

Three

Jessica sat at her desk in her office at city hall, her mind in an uproar. She had so many items on her agenda she didn’t know where to start. As a result, she simply hadn’t started. Instead she’d poured herself a second cup of coffee and was drinking it at leisure, something she rarely did.

Today, however, was going to be an especially difficult one, and she needed extra fuel to help her get through it. First off, she had a meeting scheduled with Councilmember Lance Saxon, her biggest adversary regarding the current brouhahas with the police and over the land annexation.

The bottom line was that Saxon didn’t like her personally or professionally. She suspected his disfavor stemmed from the fact that she was a woman. He couldn’t seem to surmount that hurdle and deal with her accordingly. He’d never said as much, of course—he had more political savvy than that. Still, she sensed his feelings. Like Porter, she had an uncanny knack for reading people.

Saxon was also outspoken and adversarial. Often she was capable of putting him in his place without losing her dignity or her professionalism, but there were times when he pushed her too far and felt the sting of her tongue.

She hoped this morning she could maintain her cool professionalism and make him understand once and for all her actions concerning the chief and the land. Since the controversy had occurred, Saxon had managed to swing several other councilmembers over to his side.

Not a good thing.

Jessica sighed, then took another sip of her coffee, letting her gaze wander around the room. Nice. Soothing. Smart. Those were the words that jumped to mind as her eyes touched on the mint-green and gold tapestry-covered chairs, the tall, full plants placed just right for the sunlight to perform its magic, and the artwork that adorned the wall, gathered from her trips abroad with Porter.

At the moment her office felt more secure than her home, as the office hadn’t been invaded by her nemesis. Jessica shivered, her thoughts reverting to her conversation with Veronica last evening and the decision she had made.

All morning she’d been regretting giving Veronica the green light on the bodyguard gig. Given more time, surely she could work through this situation on her own. On the other hand, the rose incident had frightened her to the core.

Someone hated her.

Enough to kill her?

Jessica gripped the cup so tightly she could see her knuckles turn white. She wouldn’t let this pervert win, dammit. She wouldn’t. Even if it meant having a stranger invade her life for a while. She could cope with that. But could the council? Should she even tell them?

Under the circumstances, what choice did she have? To date, the only one besides Veronica who knew about the threats was her assistant, Tony Eason, and even he didn’t know about this latest one. She dreaded telling him for more reasons than one.

“You’re here awfully early.”

“Ah, good morning,” Jessica said to the short but stout young man who all but fluttered into her room, dressed outlandishly, as usual. He had on a brightly flowered tie and salmon-colored sports coat. She winced inwardly at the combination but didn’t let on. “I was just thinking about you.”

Tony Eason smiled while shoving his small wire-rimmed glasses closer to the bridge of his nose. Once he’d removed his hand, his gray-green eyes peered into hers, something he always did, as if gauging her mood for the day.

He was single, in his early thirties, efficient and precise as a prim schoolteacher. The buzz around city hall was that Tony was gay. She discouraged and disapproved of such gossip when it pertained to anyone, but especially Tony. He was completely dedicated to her and the job, and she couldn’t imagine what she would do without him, and his sex life was no one’s business but his own.

“So how was your evening?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Uh-oh, what happened?”

“More of the same, only worse.”

Tony perched on the edge of her large desk, placing the folders he was carrying on his lap. “This has gone on far too long.”

“I know.”

“So what happened?”

Jessica filled him in, leaving nothing out.

“Lord a mercy, we’ve …you’ve got to do something.”

“I am.” She told him then about Veronica and Thurmon’s friend.

“Mmm.” Tony rubbed his smooth chin. “A bodyguard. Not a bad idea. I should’ve already thought of that.”

“How do you think the council will react?”

“They’ll be concerned.”

“Or tell me I deserve it.”

Tony lifted a sooty brow, too perfect to belong to a man. “Saxon, perhaps, but he’s a pompous you-know-what.”

Jessica smiled. “He thinks he’s right and I’m wrong. That’s his prerogative.”

“I don’t think you could please the man no matter what you did.”

Jessica smoothed a pleat on her coral Ralph Lauren slacks that had a matching jacket hanging on the coatrack. She had purposely dressed in what she referred to as high style. Although her outfit was tailored, it was also very feminine. Even though she worked in a man’s world, she never wanted to join that world. She was content with herself as a woman and what she’d accomplished.

“Porter would know how to handle Saxon,” she finally said, more for her benefit than Tony’s.

“If your husband were still mayor, there wouldn’t be anything to handle.”

“So you also think it’s me?”

“Sure do. He can’t get over the fact that a woman is running the city. I bet he chokes on that every meal. Pleasant thought, isn’t it?”

Jessica almost smiled. “Shame on you.”

“Ah, forget him.” Tony gestured with a hand. “Even if he doesn’t come around to your way of thinking, the others will. The city has too much to lose.”

“We’ll see. But never forget how much influence Saxon wields or how much money he has. Both are synonymous with power.”

“I’m betting on you.”

“In any event, I’m going to send each member a letter explaining what’s going on, especially since I’m getting a bodyguard.”

“That’s probably smart.” Tony paused. “So when’s this bodyguard supposed to come on duty?”

“I’m not sure. Could be any time now, I suppose. Thurmon and Veronica are in charge of the arrangements.”

“Meanwhile, do you think it’s wise for you to be alone? I can always bunk on your sofa.”

“Absolutely not, even though I appreciate the offer.” Jessica’s full lips thinned. “I’m not about to let this maniac totally rule my life.”

“You’ll be careful, though, won’t you?”

Jessica heard the anxiety in Tony’s voice and realized how foolhardy she must sound. Last night’s incident, in particular, was not something to be taken lightly. Still, it was hard to admit she needed anyone. She’d grown so used to taking care of herself that she resented the loss of that God-given right.

“I promise I won’t take any unnecessary chances. But I’m sure Veronica and Thurmon will see that I don’t, so you can rest easy.”

“Good.” Tony stood, then peered at his watch. “Since it’s almost time for Saxon’s appointment, I’ll let these files slide until later.”

“Not if they’re important.”

“Nothing that can’t wait until after he leaves.” Tony paused, his features becoming solemn and pinched. “There is one more thing. I debated about telling you.”

“Don’t ever do that.” Jessica came as close to snapping at him as she ever had. “What is it?”

“Dale Lipton. He’s thrown his hat back into the mayoral ring.”

Jessica groaned out loud. “That’s not good news.”

“And Saxon will be backing him. Count on it.”

“Oh, I know. Lipton and Saxon are not only good friends but business partners of sorts, or so I’ve heard.”

“No problem. You’ve got class and smarts. They have neither.” He massaged the top of his head. “Besides, you’ve already trounced Lipton once. You can do it again.”

“I won’t give in or up without a fight. Last election, he fought low and dirty.”

“But you didn’t, and that’s why you beat him.”

Tony grinned at the same time his glasses slipped down on his nose, making him look like a figure out of a comic magazine, especially as a twig of unruly hair was sticking up from the crown of his head. But she didn’t dare say a word. He would have a fit if he knew his hair was mussed.

“As soon as things in the office and in my personal life settle, we’ll find a new chief, then I’ll get started on my reelection plans.”

“I have several people in mind to manage the next one. Well-qualified people.”

“Good. We’ll get together on that soon.”

Tony headed toward the door. “Oh, something else.”

“What?”

“Since the council okayed that Zurich mayoral conference, does that mean I’m to make plans for you to attend?”

“Of course. It’s a chance I’d be foolish to pass up.”

“Well, with all this mess going on, I wasn’t sure.”

Jessica didn’t hesitate. “Now you are.”

“Great. I’ll buzz personally when Saxon arrives.”

“Thanks,” Jessica said with a downturn of her mouth.

Tony’s lips twitched. “Any time.”

Once she was alone, Jessica stood, walked into her bathroom and trashed her cold coffee. But instead of heading back to her desk and tackling the phone messages and mounds of paperwork, she went to the window and stared at the Dallas skyline.

Lovely city. Lovely time of the year. Her favorite, in fact. The flowers and trees were in full bloom. Everything looked and smelled fresh, especially after a cleansing rain shower like the one they’d had last night.

Now the sun was shining. Maybe that was a good omen.

She needed that. Since Porter’s death, she had made her career her life in an effort to soak up the loneliness that oftentimes haunted her. She knew she had been a good mayor. She had made things happen for the city—good things. She definitely earned more money than she was paid rather than being paid more than she earned.

Her goal was to continue to be the best, most conscientious mayor she could be, then seek reelection, a prospect that no longer loomed brightly. But it would, as soon as she rode out the current political storm. Because she felt so justified concerning her bold actions, she was determined to remain strong and unbending in her decisions.

The chips would just have to fall where they would.

Her buzzing phone jolted her back to the moment at hand. She crossed to the desk and pressed the button. “Yes.”

“Mr. Saxon’s here.”

“Send him in.” Jessica walked to the coatrack and slipped into her jacket just as the door opened and Saxon strode in.

“Morning, Mrs. Kincaid.”

He rarely showed her the respect of her title, which didn’t bother her. It merely showed how unprofessional and insulting he could be when it suited him. Today was apparently one of those days.

“Good morning,” she forced herself to say as politely as possible. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I hope you’ll still feel that way after I leave,” he countered with his usual bluntness.

She ignored that and asked him to sit down.

Lance Saxon was of average height, with a balding head and jowls that shook when he made any kind of sudden movement. The circumference of his middle was also noticeable, indicating that he lived the good life to the max.

He took a seat, but by the time she sat behind her desk, he was standing again, seeming to tower over her, his nostrils flaring.

Keeping her emotions in check, Jessica smiled, then asked, “So what’s on your mind?”

“Oh, I think you know. But for starters, I insist you reinstate the police chief.”

Thirty minutes later Lance Saxon strode out of her office, but not before stopping, turning and firing off one more verbal round. “Rest assured, you won’t get away with your actions, Mrs. Kincaid.”

Though her legs were less than steady, Jessica had forced herself to follow him to the door with another smile plastered on her face. Now that he was actually leaving her office, her hand circled the knob so hard she experienced a wince of pain.

That was when she saw him.

Standing in her outer office, staring at her. A moment of panic seized her and held her motionless. Had her nemesis managed to get… No. The pervert harassing her wouldn’t look like this man.

Was that her bodyguard?

Most likely, she assured herself, feeling her stomach unknot. As far as she knew, she didn’t have any more appointments until after lunch. Where was Tony? Not at his desk, unfortunately.

“You’re obviously Jessica Kincaid.”

His low, rather rough-sounding voice had a strange effect on her nerves. She stiffened. “And who might you be?”

“Brant Harding, your bodyguard.” His lips twitched, as if he would have loved to smile, only his lips wouldn’t cooperate.

Jessica swallowed, suddenly at a loss for words. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the likes of this man. For some crazy reason, she felt an instant visceral response. The first thought that came to mind was the word dangerous; with his dark, brooding looks, he reminded her of a stalking panther.

No man had ever struck her with such animal force, leaving her more than a little disconcerted.

Wetting her lips, she said inanely, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“That’s obvious.”

She flushed, something she didn’t do often. “Won’t you come in?”

He strode into the room. Reluctantly she closed the door behind her, fighting off the insane feeling that she was sealing her doom.

Four

Jessica sensed Brant Harding was as uncomfortable with the situation as she was. It didn’t take any brain-power to figure that out. So why had he come? And why didn’t she just send him on his way? Good questions, but with no good answers.

“Shall we get down to business?”

Although his tone was not exactly brusque, it touched on it. “I have no problem with that,” she said, feeling her temper rise, which was totally out of character for her. It took a lot to rile her, but there was something about this man that set her on edge. As the seconds ticked on, that edge seemed to sharpen.

Why hadn’t she asked Veronica more about him when she’d had the chance? She kicked herself mentally for that oversight. At the time, however, she had assumed he was an older man, the Saxon type, perhaps, with a bald spot on the top of his head. Well, he certainly wasn’t old—early to mid-forties, she gauged. Nor did he have a bald spot.

Shifting her thoughts abruptly, Jessica turned and made her way into her office proper.

Brant didn’t sit down, but then, she didn’t invite him to, either. Briefly their eyes met before both looked away.

However, Jessica didn’t have to stare at him to know what he looked like. The image of his tall, well-honed body dressed in a pair of casual slacks, sports shirt and boots was imprinted on her mind. He seemed to dominate her office, and it wasn’t small, either. It was the man himself. He exuded that kind of power and authority.

No wonder he was a crackerjack agent. Still, that didn’t excuse his curt behavior. Without having to be told, she knew no one had been able to make him show up here—favor or no favor. She imagined Brant Harding did his own thing, in his own time.

Handsome? No. His features, which were etched with an almost bitter overtone, were too strong for that. Noticeable? Oh, yes. His thick dark hair was entwined with silver and appeared like it wanted to curl, which merely added to its richness. And his dark eyes were surrounded by thick sooty lashes, lashes that most women would kill for, herself included.

A living, breathing work of art was what he was.

Clearing her throat and hoping she’d successfully maintained her composure, Jessica jerked her mind back on track. Remembering her manners, she offered him a cup of coffee.

“No, thanks. But I would like to know who that guy was and what he meant by his parting shot.”

He was also a man who came straight to the point, Jessica noted. A man who apparently didn’t believe in wasting words.

“His name is Lance Saxon, and he’s a councilmember.”

“He’s obviously not happy with some of your latest decisions.”

“That’s an understatement. He’s by far my biggest critic.”

“Is it because of the police stink?”

“So you know about that.”

He shrugged his shoulders, which were the width of a fullback’s. “Thurmon told me you’d cleaned house.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. What I did was relieve the chief of his duties, along with two officers whom I put on suspension.”

Dark eyebrows quirked. “Sounds pretty drastic to me, but I’m sure you had your reasons.”

God, he was irritating. “Evidence was uncovered that the officers were on the take and the chief knew it but did nothing. In addition, there was strong evidence of police brutality, not just in one incident but several. The same officers were involved each time.”

Jessica paused and drew a clear breath. “Pending further investigation, I thought it best for the city that I take such a bold move.”

“So everything is well documented.”

“I have folders filled with complaints,” Jessica said.

“So you do indeed have your guns loaded.”

“That seems to surprise you,” she responded in a testy tone, having difficulty hiding her growing irritation. “Or maybe it’s that you don’t approve.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t.

” Brant’s eyes narrowed. “It’s what the council thinks that matters.”

“If I were a m—” Jessica broke off, choking on the word man.

Brant finished the sentence for her. “If you were a man, you might have more support, right?”

“That’s right,” she said, unable to suppress the bitterness that sometimes caught her unawares. “I suppose you feel the same way.” Not that she gave a damn.

Again he seemed a bit shocked at her directness, though his tone was even and unruffled. “Actually, I don’t have an opinion one way or the other.”

“Good,” she muttered, turning away from his intense gaze.

“Not all on the council are on your side, I take it.”

Jessica faced him again. “Saxon especially, like I said. He’s determined to make me reinstate the chief and the officers, then make a public apology.”