This Hero for Hire. Cynthia Thomason
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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