One Good Man

“If I can figure out a way to free up some of your time, will you promise to spend a day with me?”

“Sure, and buy me a winning lottery ticket while you’re at it,” Jodie replied.

Jeff ignored her sarcasm and went back to her initial agreement. “You promise? One full day?”

“My first free day is at least four years away, if you can wait that long—”

“I’m betting within the next two weeks,” he said. And he was serious.

She shook her head in disbelief. “Not unless you’re a miracle worker.”

“I’m a marine. We’re trained to do the impossible. I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain. Be prepared to keep yours.”

Okay, so he’d pledged Jodie the impossible, and he hadn’t a clue how he’d deliver on that promise.

But as he’d said, he was a marine. He’d think of something—anything—to spend some time alone with her.

Dear Reader,

In the words of an ancient Chinese saying, we live in interesting times. Due to tumultuous world events, we appreciate more than ever security, solace, acceptance and love as bulwarks against the troubles of the day. In my series A PLACE TO CALL HOME I’ve created a small town in upstate South Carolina where love and acceptance, along with only the occasional mayhem, abound. For the residents of Pleasant Valley, friends are family, and family is everything.

In One Good Man, book two of the series, Jeff Davidson, the town’s resident bad boy, returns home after serving with the marines. Military service has turned his life around, and he hopes to do the same for delinquent teenage boys by converting his farm into a rehabilitation center. But Jodie Nathan, a single mother with a hell-on-wheels fourteen-year-old daughter, finds Jeff’s plans her worst nightmare—and Jeff the man of her dreams.

I hope you’ll enjoy watching the sparks fly in Jeff and Jodie’s story, and, as we say in the South, y’all come back and visit Pleasant Valley again in book three, Spring in the Valley, in April.

Happy reading!

One Good Man

Charlotte Douglas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The major passions of Charlotte Douglas’s life are her husband—her high school sweetheart to whom she’s been married for over three decades—and writing compelling stories. A national bestselling author, she enjoys filling her books with love of home and family, special places and happy endings. With their two cairn terriers, she and her husband live most of the year on Florida’s central west coast, but spend the warmer months at their North Carolina mountaintop retreat.

No matter what time of year, readers can reach her at [e-mail]. She’s always delighted to hear from them.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Excerpt

Copyright

Chapter One

Jeff Davidson eased deeper into the shadows of the gift shop. Thanks to his Special Operations experience, the former Marine shifted his six-foot-two, one-hundred-eighty pounds with undetectable stealth. But his military training offered no tactics to deal with the domestic firefight raging a few feet away.

With a stillness usually reserved for covert insertions into enemy territory, he peered through a narrow slit between the handmade quilts, rustic birdhouses and woven willow baskets that covered the shop’s display shelves.

On the other side of the merchandise in the seating area of the café, a slender teenager with a cascade of straight, platinum hair yelled at her mother, her words exploding like a barrage from the muzzle of an M-16. “You are so not with it. Everyone I hang with has her navel pierced.”

Jeff grimaced in silent disapproval. The kid should have her butt kicked, using that whiny, know-it-all tone toward her mom. Not that the girl’s behavior was his business. He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. He’d come to Mountain Crafts and Café to talk business with Jodie Nathan, the owner, after her restaurant closed. Lingering until the staff left, he’d browsed the shelves of the gift section until she was alone.

But before he could make his presence known, fourteen-year-old Brittany had clattered down the stairs from their apartment over the store and confronted her mother.

“Your friends’ navels are their mothers’ concern, not mine.” The struggle for calm was evident in Jodie’s firm words, and the tired slump of her pretty shoulders suggested she’d waged this battle too many times. “You are my daughter, and as long as you live under my roof, you will follow my rules.”

Was the kid blind? Jeff thought with disgust. Couldn’t she see the tenderness and caring in her mother’s remarkable hazel eyes? An ancient pain gnawed at his heart. He’d have given everything for such maternal love when he’d been a child, a teenager. Even now. Young Brittany Nathan had no idea how lucky she was.

“But, Mom—”

“You are not having your navel pierced, and that’s final.” This time Jodie failed to hide her exasperation.

“I hate you!” Brittany screamed.

The girl’s lips, sporting almost-black lipstick, contorted in anger. Her green eyes, rimmed with heavy dark eyeliner, sparked fire, and her multiringed fingers clenched. Judging from her T-shirt, jeans and shoes, Jeff thought, black wasn’t her favorite color. It was her only color.

She squared her thin shoulders for another assault. “Kimberly’s mom lets her pierce whatever she wants.”

“And if Kimberly wanted to jump off Devil’s Mountain, I suppose her mother would let her.” Weariness weighed Jodie’s reply.

“I wish you weren’t my mom!” Brittany aimed the words as if well aware of the wound they’d inflict. She pivoted on the heel of her clunky shoe, stomped out the front door and slammed it behind her.

Jeff started to leave his hiding spot but, at the stricken look on Jodie’s face, decided to lay low and give her a minute to compose herself. The woman didn’t deserve the grief her daughter had caused. Only thirty, Jodie had shocked the small town of Pleasant Valley, South Carolina, by becoming pregnant at fifteen. Instead of hiding the fact with an out-of-state abortion or giving up the child for adoption, she’d opted to raise her baby in Pleasant Valley, a gutsy move.

Jeff had been a senior in high school, an outcast in his own right, and he’d secretly identified with Jodie and the ostracism she’d suffered. The day after he graduated, he’d left town to join the Marines and hadn’t laid eyes on Jodie since. He still hadn’t gotten a really good look at her. Behind the lunch counter, she had folded her arms on its Formica surface and buried her head.

“Guess that disqualifies me as Mother of the Year,” Jodie muttered loud enough for Jeff to hear, pain as prevalent as the irony in her voice.

Jeff couldn’t detect sounds of crying. And remaining hidden would only add to his rudeness, so he stepped from behind the shelf and cleared his throat.

Jodie’s head snapped up, and her enormous hazel eyes widened with alarm.

With his first face-to-face look, Jeff’s breath caught in his chest. She wasn’t the scrawny, freckle-faced kid he remembered. Jodie Nathan had grown into a knockout. Even with smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes and her brown, sun-streaked hair tousled in disarray, her appearance was arresting: the delicate angles of her face reflected a maturity that added to her attractiveness; her feathery brows arched in obvious surprise; and her soft, sensuous mouth made a man think of long, deep kisses that led to more.

Her sage sweater showcased the proud set of her shoulders, braced as if for a blow, and her erect posture lifted small but exquisite breasts. The counter hid her from the waist down, but if the rest of her was as alluring, awkward little Jodie had blossomed into a woman who could turn men’s heads, have a profound effect on lower parts of their anatomy. And break their hearts.

His own was hammering like a minigun, multibarrels firing. His penchant for coolness under fire shattered beneath her intense gaze.

“You heard?” she asked.

“Sorry.” He finally found his voice. “I didn’t mean to. I’ve been waiting to talk to you after the staff left.”

Her eyes narrowed, and uneasiness flashed across her face. “Do I know you?”

“Jeff Davidson. It’s been a while.”

Jodie relaxed slightly at the familiar name, cocked her head and studied him. “You’ve changed.”

“I’m older.”

“It’s more than age.”

He grinned. “I’ve grown up, too. The Marines didn’t tolerate blowhard delinquents.”

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“A proposition.”

Her expression hardened, and her enormous eyes glinted with anger. “Forget it. I wasn’t that kind of girl when you left Pleasant Valley, and I’m not that kind of woman now.”

“Whoa, back up.” He held his hands palms outward as if warding off a blow. “I’m talking about a business deal.”

The distrust in her eyes signaled her disbelief. “After observing my maternal ineptitude firsthand, you can’t possibly think I can help with your home for troubled teens.”

“Grant’s told you about my project?”

She shook her head. “Merrilee Stratton keeps my darling brother too engrossed in wedding plans for long chats with his kid sister. But rumors about you and your project are flying all over town.”

Jeff eyed her closely and detected no resentment when she spoke of her brother. Jodie was apparently happy about Grant’s upcoming marriage. But her tone had changed when she’d mentioned rumors. If he read her correctly, hers wouldn’t be the first negative attitude he’d encountered since returning home. Plenty of people would be glad to see Pleasant Valley’s former bad boy fall on his face. And get out of town.

But Jodie’s cooperation was crucial to his project. He couldn’t let her refuse at the get-go. To ward off an initial turndown, he’d involve her gradually. Win her over slowly. And if he hit a snag maybe Grant could help grease the skids.

“If you have a few minutes,” he said, “I’d like to fill you in on my plans.”

With a frown that creased the perfect silken skin between her eyebrows, she hesitated. “If you’re soliciting funds, you’re wasting time. My own wayward teen has busted my budget.”

Jeff shook his head. “It’s a business deal, like I said. You’d be paid. If you’re interested.”

He’d kept his voice casual, as if her compliance didn’t matter. He’d scare her off for sure if she knew how much he needed her help. Or how much more he wanted her involved, now that he’d had a good look at the grownup Jodie.

During his years as a Marine, Special Ops had been a man’s job, and he’d encountered precious few women. The ones who had crossed his path had been either officers or foreign nationals, all off-limits. He’d lived like a monk, and he’d liked it that way. His work had required intense concentration. Sexual liaisons and emotional entanglements dulled a man’s edge and might have gotten him or his team members killed.

But officers and foreigners belonged to his past. Jodie was his future and one hundred percent red-blooded American woman, the prettiest he’d ever seen. His long-suppressed interest soared.

“I can talk,” she was saying, “but only a minute. Want some coffee? I have a fresh pot.”

“Sounds good.”

Jeff reined in his galloping imagination and focused on the job at hand. Since his return, he’d been met with mixed reactions in his hometown, everything from curiosity to encouragement to outright hostility. He wasn’t certain exactly where Jodie’s attitude fell on that continuum, but at least she hadn’t cut him off without letting him speak, more than he could say for some folks.

As a teen growing up in this backwater town, his go-to-hell attitude had been a good cover against loneliness and his outcast status. As an adult, he struggled to overcome the residual effects of that rebellious past in order to succeed.

And he wanted success, not only for himself, but especially for the kids whose lives hung in the balance.

Jodie returned with two mugs of coffee and nodded toward a table at the front of the café. The closest to the door, he noted with wry amusement. In case she needed to bolt into the street.

“You afraid of me?” he asked.

“Should I be?” She settled into a seat across from him.

He swung his leg over a chair and sat. “Most people in town are.”

She leaned her head to one side and studied him again, as if trying to make up her mind. Her incredible eyes, the irises a brilliant green rimmed with dark brown, didn’t blink. “Some folks say the Marines turned you into a killing machine.”

“And what do you say?”

“Did they?”

“Did I kill anyone?” He threw an internal wall around those grim memories, nightmares that sometimes haunted his sleep, and forced a grin. “That’s classified, ma’am. If I told you—”

“You’d have to kill me?” She smiled at the tired old joke. “My brother says you’re a good man. And Grant’s usually right.”

“Well, damn,” Jeff said with an exaggerated drawl, “and here I was, about to ask if you wanted anyone whacked. A decent reputation could ruin my future career as a hit man.”

Her expression sobered for a second, as if she wondered if she’d misjudged him. Then, recognizing his teasing, she smiled, like the sun coming from behind a cloud. Only his deeply ingrained self-control kept him from laughing with delight at her beauty.

Her smile vanished as quickly at it had appeared and morphed into a no-nonsense look. “You mentioned a business proposition.”

Detecting the skittishness beneath her poised facade, Jeff reminded himself to go slow, one phase at a time. “I need a caterer.”

She shook her head. “I don’t usually—”

“Grant told me.” Jeff wouldn’t give her time to refuse. “He also said your business has been slow and won’t pick up till Memorial Day weekend.”

“My brother talks too much.”

“Cut him some slack,” Jeff said. “He’s a vet who works mainly with cows and horses. He needs interaction with people who can talk back.”

“He has Merrilee.”

“Lucky man,” Jeff said with sincerity. “But before you turn me down, at least listen to what I have in mind. It’s really simple.”

“I’m listening.” But she’d crossed her arms across those perfect breasts and leaned back in her chair, closing him out with her body language.

“We’re having a dorm raising this weekend.”

“We?”

“A group of my former Marine buddies. We’re going to build a timber-frame dormitory for the camp. I need someone to provide food.”

Jodie shook her head. “Maria Ortega’s the only cook I have, and Saturday’s a busy day at the café.”

“I don’t need a cook. Just someone to furnish sandwiches, drinks, and enough carbs to keep us going till the job’s done.”

“A few good men can’t make their own sandwiches?” She raised one eyebrow.

“They could if I had time to plan and shop for groceries. But I’m up to my neck buying building supplies. I really need your help.”

He could almost see the wheels turning behind those deep-enough-to-drown-in eyes. “Grant and Merrilee are coming to lend a hand,” he added. “Maybe Merrilee could help you. I’ll pay top dollar.”

“How many to feed?”

“Eighteen, counting the framing crew, and they’re all big eaters.”

She rose and crossed the room, leaned over and removed something from beneath the counter. The movement pulled her green wool slacks taut across her slender hips and small bottom, a delectable sight. His mouth went dry.

She returned with a pad, pencil and calculator. “I’ll figure on a variety of subs and potato salad. Chili, too, if the weather’s cool. Several dozen cookies—chocolate chip, sugar, peanut butter—and some of Maria’s famous cakes and pies. Iced tea and coffee.”

“Sounds great.”

“You haven’t heard the price.” She remained all business.

He clamped his teeth to keep from admitting that cost didn’t matter. He could probably find someone else to provide food for his friends, but since seeing Jodie again, he wanted her more than ever as part of his special plans.

Man, that blow to the head in Afghanistan must have scrambled his senses. This was little Jodie Nathan, he reminded himself. Then why was he struggling to breathe, as if he’d just run a twenty-mile obstacle course with full gear?

“How much?” he forced himself to ask.

She punched numbers into the calculator and named her price.

He tensed to keep his jaw from dropping. That much for subs and cookies? She’d obviously jacked up the cost in hopes he’d go elsewhere. But even if he didn’t need her cooperation later, he would have agreed to the rip-off. He wanted Jodie there when his project started, because somehow she had suddenly become an integral part of his dream.

“It’s a deal.” He whipped out his checkbook, hastily wrote a check, and slid it across the table. He held out his hand to cinch the agreement.

Jodie blinked in surprise, but she took the check and grasped his hand with obvious reluctance. Hers felt small and delicate in his, but her grip was strong.

“Add doughnuts for a morning break,” he said before releasing her. “And I’ll need you on-site to serve and clean up.”

Her eyes widened. “My being there wasn’t part of the deal.”

“At the price you quoted, you’re well compensated for your time.” He looked her squarely in the eyes. The younger Jodie he’d known had always been honest and trustworthy. A real Girl Scout. She knew she’d overcharged, and he guessed her conscience would force her to honor his conditions.

As if abruptly realizing he still held her hand, Jodie withdrew hers from his grasp.

Jeff shoved back from the table and stood. “I’ll see you at eight o’clock Saturday morning at my place.”

Jodie rose also. Her graceful movement called attention to her stunning figure, and he had to tear his gaze away. He strode to the door, opened it and turned to her.

“Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.” He didn’t try to hide his smile. He’d won, and she knew it. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

* * *

JODIE SANK INTO HER CHAIR before her knees gave way. She rubbed damp palms on her slacks and drew a deep breath in a futile effort to calm her racing pulse. When Jeff had stepped from behind the display shelves, he’d looked like the epitome of every woman’s dream. The perfect image for a Marine recruiting poster: tall, with broad shoulders, riveting gray eyes, neatly trimmed thick dark hair, a chiseled movie-star face marred only by a scar above his right cheekbone and a roguish smile with perfect teeth. And those muscles. Not a trace of flab. Just rock-hard strength. No wonder she hadn’t recognized the lanky teenager from high school who’d always needed a haircut, a shave, clean clothes and a decent meal.

And that voice. Deep, commanding, mesmerizing. If he’d asked for anything more than catering, she didn’t know if she could have resisted.

Her hands trembled and she clasped them together on the tabletop. What had he done to her? She hadn’t felt this shaken since Randy Mercer had swaggered into her father’s hardware store fifteen years ago. She groaned at the memory and laid her head on her hands. That time, two weeks later she was pregnant with Brittany.

God, she had to get a grip. She’d vowed never to let an attractive man overrule her good judgment again, and she’d managed just fine.

Until today.

Until Jeff Davidson had blasted in from the past, a gung-ho, kick-ass Marine who’d tossed her to the mat without so much as crooking a finger. She’d been certain that her exorbitant pricing would scare him off, but he hadn’t even batted those incredibly long eyelashes at the outrageous figure she’d quoted. He’d merely smiled and caught her in her own trap. She should have just said no. Now she’d have to donate her excessive profit anonymously to his project to ease her guilty conscience.

She drew another deep breath. He’d taken her by surprise, that was all. Next time she’d be prepared to resist his good looks and charismatic charm. Such attributes could only lead to trouble. She wouldn’t trade Brittany for anything, but Jodie had promised herself when her baby was born that she’d never, ever let her senses override her reason again.

Plenty of men had expressed an interest over the years. Jodie had briefly dated a few. But all had fallen short of the high standards she’d set after her first and only disastrous sexual experience. No one in Pleasant Valley had measured up to the qualities she admired in men, with the exception of her dad and her brother Grant, of course.

And none of the men she’d dated had exhibited the least interest in Brittany. Some had stated outright that the child was a deal-breaker in a relationship. So Jodie had remained single and happy. Men were definitely off her diet.

Her reaction to Jeff had been a fluke. It wouldn’t happen again.

She pushed to her feet, dismayed to find her legs still shaky, grabbed the coffee mugs from the tabletop and headed for the counter. While tucking his check into the cash register, she glimpsed Jeff out front astride his vintage Harley and talking to a policewoman. A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She hoped Officer Brynn Sawyer was giving him a ticket. Serve the handsome devil right.

She had stowed the mugs in the dishwasher when the bell over the door tinkled. Afraid Jeff had come back, she felt her pulse rev and her face flush. When she turned, however, it was only Brynn.

“You’re still in uniform.” Jodie hoped Brynn wouldn’t notice her reddened face, although the officer, trained to observe, never missed much. “Didn’t your shift end hours ago?”

Brynn perched on a stool at the counter. “I’ve been catching up on paperwork.”

“Want coffee?”

Brynn nodded. Even in her severely cut blue uniform, the tall, shapely woman with dark auburn hair was a knockout. Men had been known to exceed speed limits merely for the pleasure of being pulled over by Pleasant Valley’s gorgeous cop. Brynn, however, remained unaware of her beauty. She was too married to her job to pay attention to much else, especially the gaggle of admiring guys who often hovered around her. Totally focused, she performed her duties with above-and-beyond devotion. Everyone in town felt safer with Brynn on patrol.

“I’ve got some new material,” Brynn said, a twinkle lighting her midnight-blue eyes.

“Not more lawyer jokes, please,” Jodie said with a fake groan and filled her coffee mug.

Brynn had a thing about lawyers. And Yankees. Otherwise generous and open-minded to a fault, Jodie’s friend couldn’t tolerate either as a group. But if an individual attorney or Northerner needed help, Brynn was there in a New York minute.

“How many of those lawyer jokes do you know?” Jodie said.

“Only three.” Brynn’s grin was wicked. “The rest are true stories.”