
Praise for the novels ofSTEPHANIEBOND
"The perfect summer read."
---Romance Reviews Today on Sand, Sun...Seduction!
"[My Favorite Mistake] illustrates the author's gift for weaving original, brilliant romance that readers find impossible to put down."
---Wordweaving.com
"This book is so hot it sizzles."
---Once Upon a Romance on She Did a Bad, Bad Thing
"An author who has remained on my 'must-buy' list for years."
---Romance Reviews Today
"True-to-life, romantic and witty, as we've come to expect from Ms. Bond."
---The Best Reviews
"Stephanie Bond never fails to entertain me and deserves to be an auto-buy."
---Romance Reviews Today
Also by Stephanie Bond
BABY, COME HOME
BABY, DRIVE SOUTH
6 KILLER BODIES
5 BODIES TO DIE FOR
BODY MOVERS: 3 MEN AND A BODY
BODY MOVERS: 2 BODIES FOR THE PRICE OF 1
BODY MOVERS
This book is dedicated to every personwho recognizes that home is wherever you are loved.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stephanie Bond was raised on a farmin Eastern Kentucky where books---mostly romance novels---were her number oneform of entertainment, which she credits withinstilling in her "the rhythm of storytelling."Years later, she answered the call back to booksto create her own stories. She sold her firstmanuscript in 1995 and soon left her corporateprogramming job to write fiction full-time.Today, Stephanie has over fifty titles toher name, and lives in midtown Atlanta.
Visit www.stephaniebond.com for more informationabout the author and her books.
Contents
Alicia Randall burst into her editor's office. "I have my next story!"
Nina Halleck, executive editor of Feminine Power magazine, looked up from her desk and laughed. "Please, come in."
Alicia smirked. "Sorry, Nina, but you're not going to believe this. There's a small town in Georgia that imported women for their men."
Nina squinted. "Mail order brides?"
"More like bringing the entire catalog to town for the men to browse," Alicia said dryly.
Nina pursed her mouth. "Okay, that's a spin on matchmaking. What's the name of the town?"
Alicia settled a hip on the edge of Nina's desk, distantly registering the Manhattan skyline view. "The place is called Sweetness. Isn't that great? I can't make this stuff up."
"Was there a shortage of women in this Sweetness?"
"Apparently, it was an abandoned mountain town that was being rebuilt, and there were no women. So a year ago the town leaders---all men---took out an ad in a newspaper in the town of Broadway, Michigan for---" she looked at her notes "---single women with a pioneering spirit, offering free room and board, and lots of single, Southern men."
"Why Broadway, Michigan?"
"From what I can gather, Broadway was hit particularly hard by the downturn in the economy. I guess they thought women there would be desperate to relocate."
"Did anyone respond?"
"Yes...a large group of women went down, a hundred or so."
"And?"
"And---" Alicia leaned forward. "I want to go down there and see what's going on. It could be my next topic for the Undercover Feminist column."
Nina set down her pen. "Do you think they're doing something illegal?"
"Not necessarily. But doesn't it assault your sensibilities to think of a group of Neanderthals advertising for women to come and service them?"
"Do the Neanderthals have a name?"
Alicia checked her notes again. "Armstrong--- Marcus, Kendall and Porter Armstrong---brothers. Apparently they grew up in Sweetness. About ten years ago, an F-5 tornado blew the town off the map."
Nina grimaced. "Loss of life?"
"None. It was called the Sweetness Miracle."
"I think I remember when that happened. I was writing copy for TV news." Nina glanced upward, as if she were searching her memory banks. "No one was killed, but every building and home was destroyed...and maybe a water tower survived? Something like that."
"Sounds right."
"Hmm. So these Armstrong brothers are restoring their hometown?"
"According to the town website, they have a federal grant to rebuild based on a green initiative---recycling, alternative energy, tree-hugger stuff."
"Sounds...wholesome."
"It's a great cover," Alicia agreed. "Especially if they're starting their own commune."
"So what do you have in mind for a story?"
"I want to do an exposé of this chauvinistic matchmaking experiment of theirs."
"By going undercover? As what?"
"What else? A woman with a pioneering spirit looking for a single, Southern man."
Nina released a laugh. "You, on a manhunt? Alicia, when was the last time you even had a boyfriend?"
Alicia narrowed her eyes. "I wrote an entire feature on why that B-word should be stricken from every woman's vocabulary."
"I remember," Nina said. "Sorry---old habits die hard. Besides, when I called Henry my manfriend, he said it made him feel like a butler." She tilted her head. "But you digress...what administration was in power when you last had a man in your life?"
Alicia frowned. "I don't need a man in my life, and I don't want a man in my life."
"My point exactly---so how do you propose to pass yourself off as a woman on the prowl?"
"I took acting classes in college," Alicia said with a shrug. "Besides, anything for a good story, right?"
"If there is a story. The Armstrong brothers didn't exactly coerce those women into moving there, did they?"
"Not that I can tell."
"So...it's a free country. Maybe they have the right idea, bringing men and women together to build a community from scratch."
It was Nina's job to play the devil's advocate, Alicia conceded. "Tell you what---I have a few weeks of vacation coming, and my mother has been after me to visit her since she moved to Atlanta. Why don't I head down and check out this place while I'm there?"
"When did your mother move to Atlanta?"
"Six months ago with her new boyfriend...um, Bo."
"Bo? That's his real name?"
"Evidently."
Her boss considered her with shrewd eyes. "Alicia, are you sure this idea isn't to satisfy some sort of personal vendetta to prove men and women can't be happy together?"
Alicia scoffed. "The divorce rate in this country already proves that. Whatever I find in Sweetness will merely be anecdotal. Come on, I have a gut feeling that something will come of this. Will you authorize the expenses?"
Nina gave a rueful laugh. "Okay, it's your vacation." Then Nina took off her glasses and leaned back in her chair. "Alicia...the magazine has been approached about making your column a syndicated blog."
Surprise and happiness shot through Alicia. "That's great news!"
"Yes, it is," Nina agreed with a smile. "Congratulations. I wasn't supposed to say anything yet, but if this trip you're planning turns up something interesting, it might be the right material for a blog series. It could be your first piece, a way to pull in readers right up front and develop a following."
Alicia nodded. "Maybe I can get some of the women from Broadway to tell their personal stories...anonymously, of course."
"I like it," Nina agreed. "It has broad appeal and a human factor---I think readers will go for it." Then she gestured to Alicia's dark razor-cut hair, Nanette Lepore pantsuit and Stuart Weitzman pumps. "You're going to have to take it down a notch if you're going undercover in a mountain town, don't you think?"
Alicia gave a dismissive wave. "I've been camping before."
"When?"
"When I was nine, my dad and his second---no, third wife took me to the Met to camp overnight."
"The Met?"
"It was a special program---the museum set up tents in the atrium."
"Oh, yeah, that's exactly the same as living in a mountain town."
Alicia laughed. "Nina, I know this place will be different than my condo on the Upper East Side, but it's not completely primitive---I've read they have wi-fi and cell phone service."
"And spas and Starbucks?"
"I can acclimate."
Nina smiled. "This assignment is suddenly starting to sound more interesting. And who knows---maybe you'll find a big, strapping guy and live H.E.A."
Alicia squinted. "H.E.A.?"
"Happily ever after."
She gave her boss and friend a pointed look. "That's funny...and pretty much contradicts everything this magazine stands for." She pushed off the desk. "I'll call you when I get there."
Brimming with excitement, Alicia left Nina's office and strode back through the noisy bullpen to her own office, with a smaller but equally nice slice of skyline view. The haze of summer hung over the city---it was a good time to get out of the brutal heat. The South would be steamy, but a change from the sizzling asphalt. Her mother had assured her a sweet magnolia-scented breeze blew round the clock.
She booked a flight to Atlanta and a hotel room in the area where her mother lived, then picked up her cell phone and dialed her mother's number. Candace didn't answer---she was probably out on Bo's fishing boat, Alicia thought with an eye-roll---so she left a voice message telling her mother when she'd be arriving.
She glanced over her emails, grimacing at a "save the date" message from her father for his fall wedding to socialite Miranda Kitt, Mrs. Robert Randall number six. She wondered why he even bothered with a ceremony anymore, but each of his young wives had wanted the pomp and circumstance.
Alicia heaved a sigh. Her parents' behavior had moved beyond humiliating years ago. It was almost comforting in its familiarity, and in some ways, she appreciated that they hadn't given her unrealistic expectations of romance like most women her age. The time her peers in college, grad school and her early career had spent trying to find a mate, Alicia had spent working odd jobs, honing her skills and furthering her network. As a result, at thirty-one, she was the youngest staff writer in the forty-year history of the heavy-hitting Feminine Power magazine, and making a name for herself with exposés in her Undercover Feminist column.
To date, she'd taken on the system by going undercover to reveal job applicant and interview inequities, discrimination in the health care system and academic tenure programs, plus gender service inequalities in everything from car repair to dry cleaning. The Undercover Feminist column had spawned a couple of investigations by national news networks, garnering lots of coverage for the magazine. If the town leaders of Sweetness, Georgia, had initiated a mass matchmaking trend that was detrimental to women, she intended to get the word out.
Alicia paged through the rest of her emails, then brought up a browser screen and typed in the website address for Sweetness, Georgia, The Greenest Place on Earth.
She moved from screen to screen, on the hunt for tidbits she could use once she arrived. The fledgling town featured a boardinghouse, a clinic with a helipad, a school, a General Store, diner, bank and hair salon. A business of recycling tires and other materials into indestructible mulch had proved to be lucrative, as had the windmill farm and produce from an expansive organic garden.
A lost and found warehouse of items recovered after the tornado had its own social networking page for former residents to stay in touch. A restored covered bridge was being touted as a tourist destination. A scientist had built a laboratory to study the medicinal effects of a mountain vine called kudzu. And the town was having a Homecoming weekend in a month to welcome back anyone who had ever lived there.
On the About page was a photo of the three Armstrong brothers standing outside, dressed in dirty work clothes. Theirs was a strong gene pool, Alicia acknowledged with grudging approval, all of them as big as trees and rather attractive in a rugged sort of way.
The youngest looking one---Porter Armstrong, according to the title underneath the photo---was obviously the personality of the three, grinning at the camera. The one standing in the middle---Kendall Armstrong---looked approachable, if less gregarious. The oldest looking one---Marcus Armstrong---looked the least pleased to have his picture taken. From his body language, she could tell he was the natural leader of the group, yet he seemed to hold himself apart...a loner. She could relate.
Those eyes... Alicia's stomach tightened. Marcus Armstrong had the most intense stare of any man she'd ever seen.
What would it be like to gaze into those eyes while sharing a pillow? Desire stabbed her low and deep. She shook off the sensation with a little laugh---Nina's teasing was getting to her.
But those eyes...
She picked up the phone and dialed the Research Department. "Neil, this is Alicia. I need a full background report on a Marcus Armstrong, currently residing in the town of Sweetness, Georgia. M-AR-C-U-S...?."
"Okay, let's get started," Marcus Armstrong said to his brothers, gesturing to the current month's schedule mounted on the wall of the trailer they'd chosen as their construction office. "We have a lot to go over."
A country song erupted in the room. "C'mon baby, drive south," the singer sang before Porter could get his phone out of its clip. "Hang on---it's Nikki," he said, then connected the call. "Hi, baby, what's up?"
Marcus bit down on the inside of his cheek. His youngest brother had become even more woman-whipped lately because he was feeling the pressure of not yet having proposed to his girlfriend, Dr. Nikki Salinger, who had come to Sweetness and started their family clinic. Porter, who had been a tough foot soldier in the U.S. Army and taken shrapnel in Afghanistan, turned into a blob of ooze when it came to Nikki. Marcus tamped down irritation as his brother made goo-goo small talk, then finally ended the call.
"Sorry," Porter said. "Nikki wanted to square away dinner plans. Go ahead, Marcus."
Marcus gave him a flat smile. "Thanks. As I was saying---"
Another song erupted in the room, this one blue-grass. "Baby, come home...baby, come home," the tenor crooned before Kendall could get to his phone. "Just a minute, that's Amy." He connected the call. "Hi, baby, what do you need?"
Marcus pushed his tongue into his cheek. His other brother, Kendall, had recently reunited with his first love, Amy Bradshaw, an engineer who'd returned to Sweetness to rebuild the Evermore covered bridge and, to Kendall's surprise, had revealed the existence of their twelve-year-old son, Tony. After a bumpy start, the three were now a family, although Kendall, too, was feeling the pressure to marry and make it official.
Marcus could add his brothers to the pile of love-addled workers who strung into the men's barracks late every night because they couldn't bear to leave their girlfriends.
And while he was happy enough for his brothers, in the scheme of things, having the influx of women here in Sweetness had been a royal pain in his ass. Sure, they had helped to move the town forward in some areas, but overall, they were a huge distraction from getting work done, and the to-do list to meet the federal deadline in six months was still long enough to keep him awake at night. If at that time they hadn't achieved a level of expected success in manufacturing and infrastructure, the land within the city limits and everything on it reverted back to the government and the future of Sweetness would be out of their hands.
Marcus glanced at his watch. But apparently, he was the only person concerned about yet another day getting away from them. He glared at Kendall and gestured with a rolling motion to hurry the hell up.
Kendall wrapped up the call and closed his phone. "Sorry about that. Amy wanted to firm up plans for dinner, too. We're all eating together tonight at the boardinghouse, Marcus. Join us."
"Yeah, join us," Porter said.
"No, thanks," Marcus said, less than thrilled at the idea of being the fifth wheel to their foursome...again. "And do you think the two of you could get rid of those pansy ringtones?" He gestured to the office door. "Maybe we should take the day off to look for the balls both of you seem to have misplaced."
Porter grinned. "One of these days, brother, you're going to meet someone who will inspire their own ringtone."
"Someone you'll be happy to hand your stones to," Kendall added.
"Right," Marcus said dryly. "That's never gonna happen."
Porter looked at Kendall. "Famous last words."
Kendall made a rueful noise. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall."
"Can we get back to work?" Marcus barked.
Porter scoffed. "Lighten up, Marcus. We've made tremendous progress in the past few months. We can afford to relax a little."
"I have to agree," Kendall said. "The bank will be open any day now, that's huge. Dr. Devine's laboratory is underway, and he's been written up in at least six national newspapers. The General Store has expanded, and now we have a pharmacy in the clinic. Our mulching business has doubled again in the last six months. The recycling plant is hiring. We're breaking ground on the hotel today. We have a new fire truck and fire hydrants on the sidewalks my beautiful fiancée built for us." He smiled a proud smile. "And our population is growing every month." He pointed to the black chalk board next to the door exhibiting the number "845."
"The hair salon is busy, too," Porter added.
"Well, that's a huge relief," Marcus said dryly.
"I'm just saying that at this rate, the strip of retail stores we built will be filled in no time."
"We have business applications now for a tax preparer, a real estate broker, a shoe store and a bakery," Kendall added.
"Any applications for a Justice of the Peace?" Marcus asked. "Because we have to have a peace-keeper in residence before the deadline."
"No," Kendall said. "But Regina Watts, the recruiter who's been helping us get word out about open positions, is working on it. The problem is, the salary we're offering is a tad less than what the market is paying."
"How much less?"
"The average salary for a Justice of the Peace is about fifty grand...and our budget only allows for fifty dollars. Regina's hoping to find an attorney who's retired...or independently wealthy."
Marcus sighed. "Keep me posted." He looked at Porter. "When will the church be completed?"
Porter squirmed in his chair. "The basement is finished. The building sections are supposed to be here by the end of next week."
Kendall clapped Porter on the shoulder. "Does that mean a proposal is on the horizon?"
Porter frowned. "Nikki and I aren't in a hurry to tie the knot."
"Really? So you don't mind if I mention it tonight at dinner?"
Porter's frown deepened. "I'd rather you didn't. Have you and Amy set a date?"
"Not yet," Kendall admitted. "But she knows how I feel."
Marcus grunted. "The whole damn town knows how you two fools feel---you spray-painted it all over our water tower!"
Kendall shrugged. "I couldn't let Porter show me up. But at least I've already asked and gotten my answer."
"I'm not worried about Nikki saying yes," Porter said with a nervous little laugh.
"Then why haven't you broken ground on your house?" Kendall asked.
"Why haven't you broken ground on your house?" Porter retorted.
"Girls," Marcus snapped, "can you save the chit-chat for later?"
Porter straightened in his chair. "There are plenty of other couples waiting for the church to be built. The place will be stampeded."
"Then I guess you'd better be finding us a minister, too," Marcus said to Porter.
Porter sighed. "Okay."
Kendall smiled into his hand. "Before the marriages get underway, we're going to have to turn one wing of the boardinghouse into a family wing. And we need someone dedicated to managing the house. It's getting too much for the volunteers to keep up with."
Marcus nodded and made a note of it on his list. "What else?"
"The tourist traffic to see the covered bridge has ballooned," Kendall added. "I see more strangers in town every day."
"Which brings us to our most pressing problem," Porter piped up. "The diner. We aren't prepared to feed tourists. Or the crowd we're expecting for Homecoming weekend."
"Right," Kendall said. "Plus the Department of Energy representative will be back any day for another inspection, and we need to pass with flying colors. If we could make sure there's no food fight in the diner this time, that would be a plus."
Porter laughed. "We'll have to keep Colonel Molly and Rachel Hutchins at opposite ends of town."
"That shouldn't be a problem," Kendall said. "I noticed Rachel's been hanging around Devine's laboratory quite a bit since he moved in."
"Much to Dr. Cross's consternation," Porter added.
Marcus frowned. "What does one thing have to do with the other?"
"Didn't you know?" Porter said. "Dr. Cross has a huge crush on Rachel."
"But he's got to be a foot shorter than her," Marcus said.
Kendall splayed his hands. "The man is ambitious."
Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. Now even he was being pulled into the soap opera the town had become. "Can we get back to the D.O.E. report? All our recycling initiatives passed on the last inspection except for the dining hall. But since then, we converted it into a bona fide restaurant, and we're recycling ninety-five percent of the restaurant waste."
"But the food is still terrible," Kendall said, "and the service is lousy. They can't handle a big crowd. Colonel Molly is impossible to work with---the waitresses don't last long."
Marcus frowned. "I'll talk to her."
"The diner stands to make or lose a lot of money as the town grows," Porter pressed. "It needs your business know-how behind it."
Marcus bit down on his cheek. "Let's keep our eye on the goals for the federal deadline. In addition to a Justice of the Peace, we need to show we have adequate emergency response systems in place---fire and rescue. We have to break ground on a housing development, a jail, a library and city hall before cold weather sets in. Then we have to prepare for elections and buy polling machines."
"We're on track for all of those things to happen," Kendall said calmly, making a steeple of his hands.
"But we can't afford for anything to go wrong at this point," Marcus said. "An explosion at the laboratory, or the discovery of something toxic where we want to put the housing development, would sink us."
"We know, Marcus," Kendall said. "But our first priority is still the diner. It's the key to making everything else we have planned go smoothly."
"So I hope you're ready to do battle with Molly," Porter said.
Marcus frowned. "I can handle her." But he'd have to tread carefully---they were indebted to the retired U.S. Army colonel. She'd fed their original crew of two hundred and fifty men three meals a day for the first several months single-handedly.
Those were the days, Marcus thought. Before the women from Broadway, Michigan, had arrived, bringing with them their Northern attitudes and their endless high-maintenance demands---not the least of which was insisting the town charter include provisions that key positions be held by females, including the manager of the diner. The next thing he knew, they'd be unionized.
"Speaking of the diner," Kendall said, "don't forget we have a meeting this afternoon with Rachel for an update on plans for Homecoming weekend." He arched an eyebrow at Marcus. "I understand she has lots of parties planned, so you'd better line up a date."
"I already have a date," Marcus said.
"Who?" they demanded.
"Mother," he said. "Remember, she's moving back Homecoming weekend."
"How could we forget?" Porter asked. "She only reminds us every time she calls."
"Amy is taking Tony down to help Mom pack a few of the heavier things," Kendall said.
Marcus nodded. Kendall's son was an Armstrong, through and through. Marcus loved the boy like he was his own. The thought of having a son sent a shot of longing through his loins...until he thought about having to deal with the child's mother. Women were just too much trouble.
To confirm his point, Porter's and Kendall's phones started singing with their telltale "baby" ringtones.
"Are we finished?" Porter asked.
"Oh, yeah, you're both finished, all right," Marcus muttered as he headed toward the door. He planned to spend the morning at the recycling plant, then fish over his lunch hour...and count his lucky stars he wasn't tied to a pesky, demanding woman.
"Thank you for the clothes, Mother," Alicia said as she exited Candace's house wearing and carrying a suitcase full of blue jeans, T-shirts and other clothes that were, in her opinion, too flashy for her mother to be wearing. Since leaving New York, her mother's style had changed dramatically...presumably to appeal to her much-younger boyfriend, Bo.
What her mother saw in the bonehead of a redneck, Alicia couldn't fathom. She supposed it had something to do with his sexual prowess, but she didn't want to go there in her mind.
"And for the car," Alicia added, then came up short in the driveway at the sight of an old blue pickup truck sitting next to the rental car she'd offered to trade for her mother's sedan so she wouldn't roll into Sweetness looking like a temporary visitor.
"Oh, I meant to tell you," Candace said, her voice animated. "While you were packing, Bo said it would be better if he took my car to work and you took his truck to the mountains. It has four-wheel drive."
Alicia tucked her tongue into her cheek---she supposed he'd meant it as a generous gesture.
She glanced up at her mother and felt a pang of sympathy. Candace Randall had met her idiot boyfriend in Atlantic City. Still slim and beautiful with creamy skin and dark hair, Candace was hanging on to her youth with both hands. She was obsessed with her exercise and beauty routine, constantly fussed with her hair and makeup. What little time Alicia had spent with her mother and Bo, she was glad she'd opted to stay at a hotel because the man---and she used that term loosely---fed Candace's insecurities with sly, denigrating remarks.
It left Alicia feeling sick at her stomach to see her mother so desperate for affection. Worse, her mother seemed at loose ends, playing housewife in a small rental house in a shabby subdivision while her sweaty boyfriend worked landscaping jobs---a skill he did not put to use around their own residence, Alicia noted wryly, stepping over tall weeds in the seams of the concrete driveway.
And Jesus, it was hot down here. The temperature was at least a hundred degrees, and the air was as thick as cream. The sweet-scented breeze her mother had promised seemed to have died, along with the luster of her whirlwind romance.
"That was nice of him," Alicia said, then took the keys her mother offered. She'd never been behind the wheel of a truck before, but it couldn't be much different than any other vehicle. And maybe a pickup would help her blend in better once she arrived in Sweetness. She opened the passenger door and stepped back as a wave of pent-up heat rolled out.
"So you're doing a story on Sweetness?" Candace asked.
"Maybe," Alicia said vaguely as she lifted her suitcase into the seat. The cab of the truck was an oven. "I won't know until I get there."
"Since you borrowed my wardrobe, I assume this is for your Undercover Feminist column? Is something strange going on up there?"
"That's what I intend to find out," Alicia said mildly.
"I remember reading something in the newspaper about the town building a covered bridge. It sounds like a very pretty place," her mother said, her voice wistful.
Alicia closed the passenger door, then reached forward to squeeze her mother's hand. "Are you okay, Mom?"
Candace hesitated, her dark eyes troubled. Standing in the unforgiving sun, she suddenly looked her age. She glanced back at the small house in the little neighborhood, a far cry from the posh home she'd once shared with Alicia's father. Then Candace conjured up a smile. "I'm fine." She pulled something from the pocket of her worn jeans and extended it to Alicia. "I made something for you."
Alicia took the item, a bracelet made of braided leather and silver wire, with a metal charm in the shape of a blossom. "You made this?" Her mother had always admired and acquired beautiful jewelry, but Alicia had never known her to be artsy.
Candace nodded and helped her fasten the clasp. "The charm is a magnolia blossom. It stands for beauty and strength, fitting for my successful daughter."
Alicia was touched. "It's lovely. Thank you." She admired it, then looked up. "Mom, are you sure everything is okay?"
"I'm sure." Candace wet her lips. "Have you talked to your father recently?"
Alicia hesitated. Was her mother in a funk because she'd heard about the upcoming nuptials? "He sent me an email the other day."
"I heard he's getting married again."
Bingo. "So it would seem."
"I'm sure the girl is your age," Candace said, studying her manicure.
"Younger," Alicia confirmed. "Only a young woman could put up with Robert, you know that."
"You shouldn't call your father by his first name," her mother chastised. "Are you going to the wedding?"
"I don't know. I haven't given it much thought." Alicia pushed aside the hurt she felt for her mother and smiled. "And you shouldn't either."
Candace's smile was slower, fainter. "You're right, of course. You're always right. Drive safely, my dear."
Alicia clasped her in a hug. "I'll call you after I get there and get my bearings---who knows, I might be back tomorrow."
Her mother brightened. "Then maybe we could dress up and go into the city, have a nice dinner."
So her mother was well aware she'd taken a big step down in her expectations by shacking up with Bo. And she was obviously still pining for her ex-husband, who had married four times since their divorce twenty-five years ago.
Alicia wondered how it was possible to love someone for so long, although she conceded that her parents hadn't dealt with their feelings at the time of their split. They'd lost a baby to miscarriage, her mother had told her later, when she was old enough to understand. Candace hadn't been able to shake herself from the melancholy, didn't want to be a wife anymore...and hadn't been too keen on mothering Alicia either. Now in the afternoon of her life, she was nursing regrets.
All the more reason to avoid the complications of a relationship in the first place, Alicia thought.
"Going into the city would be nice," she agreed, then gestured to the truck. "I'd better get on the road." She shouldered her purse, opened the driver's-side door of the pickup truck and pondered how to get up into the stained cloth seat.
"There's a handle," her mother said, pointing to the top of the door frame, then down to the bottom. "And you can step on the running board."
Alicia reached for the handle and put her foot on what she assumed was the running board, then swung awkwardly into the seat. She crinkled her nose---the interior was filthy and smelled like cigarettes. She'd definitely be turning on the air conditioner full blast.
"The air conditioner is on the fritz," her mother said. "Sorry."
Alicia gave her a tight smile. "I'll roll down the windows."
"Only the passenger window goes down," her mother said, then winced. "Halfway."
Perfect. "Anything else I should know?"
"Um...Bo said you might need some gas."
Alicia reconsidered her rental car still sitting in the driveway, with a working air-conditioner and a full tank of gas. But the last thing she wanted to do was drive into the small town and advertise the fact that she was a reporter on an expense account. Besides, this was an adventure, she reminded herself.
So she closed the door and after wrestling with the seat belt and the manual seat adjustment, she started the engine. Bo's muffler, it seemed, was also questionable. Alicia waved to her mother and pulled out of the driveway.
By the time she reached a convenience store with a gas pump, her thin T-shirt was already stuck to her back. The heat was unbearable---she wasn't sure how she was going to make the four-hour drive without some kind of ventilation.
Inside the convenience store, she was startled to realize men were openly ogling her legs. She already felt self-conscious in the short denim skirt and white sandals her mother had lent her, and the attention was unsettling. She usually didn't garner a second glance in Manhattan, where she blended in with all the other thirtysomething women who wore dark business suits and blister-inducing stilettos. Besides, all the men in New York had their faces buried in the financial pages.
Were Southern men really as sexually assertive as their stereotype? The intense gaze of Marcus Armstrong rose in her mind, stirring unbidden desire in her stomach. She squashed the sensation, attributing it to feeling like a fish out of water.
Pulling her mind back to her objective, Alicia removed a large bottle of water from the refrigerator case. She was hungry, but the breakfast sandwiches were wrapped in grease-soaked paper, so she passed. The other offerings were pastries and packaged fare with names like "honey claw" and "cow pie," none of which she found appetizing. If she were in Manhattan, she'd be having an egg-and-avocado sandwich on sunflower-seed bread and the world's best coffee from Alfred's café a block away from her office building.
She was definitely a city girl, she mused. If Sweetness was more primitive than this area, she hoped her visit would be of short duration.
On the way to the counter she spotted a battery-operated neon-colored plastic fan that mounted on a car's dashboard with suction cups. The display model was generating a little breeze, and although Alicia found the item horribly gauche, she thought it couldn't hurt, so she sheepishly plucked one from the stack. In a mirror near the counter she winced at her reflection. She had styled her hair this morning in a more casual version of her normal sleek bob, but humidity had taken over and it was already a frizzy mess. Luckily the eclectic racks at the counter also offered a package of elastic hair bands, so she added them to her bounty, along with a flip map of Georgia. The woman at the register gave her a big smile and called her "sugar."
It was like being in another country, she mused.
Alicia looked around as she made her way back to the pickup truck with her purchases. Outside speakers blared twangy music, and the parking lot was jammed with trucks, muscle cars and motorcycles. Even the women drove huge SUVs, and everyone snatched up cartons from the barges of beer and soda sitting all around. Every person she passed nodded and smiled, as if they knew her. The first few times it happened, Alicia was startled, worried that someone had recognized her.
But that was ridiculous---who would recognize her? Even if anyone here read Feminine Power magazine, she didn't resemble the polished woman in her head shot. She climbed back into the suffocating truck cab and mounted the little fan on the dashboard. She parted her damp, frazzled hair in the middle and braided it into low pigtails. Then she retrieved a mini voice recorder from her bag and spoke into it.
"I'm on my way to Sweetness, Georgia, on an undercover manhunt. Estimated time of arrival, about four hours. I'm hot, sweaty and driving a pickup truck. Not exactly sure of what I'm getting into, but here goes."
The battery in the battery-operated fan died one hour into the drive to Sweetness. The radio in Bo's pickup truck picked up nothing but howling country music stations. And when Alicia had to stand on the brake to allow a furry brown creature to cross a two-lane road, everything underneath the seat came rolling out at her feet, including a half-empty can of hot beer that soaked her sandals, and a pair of zebra-striped panties monogrammed with Pam.
Since, to her knowledge, her mother didn't go by the nickname Pam, it seemed safe to assume that Bo was spending his days laying more than sod.
Alicia sighed for her mother. If Southern men were more sexually assertive than men in cooler climates, it would follow that they were less likely to confine their attention to one woman.
Which brought her back to the matter at hand, she thought as she slowed to turn from a state road onto a more narrow paved one so new it wasn't reflected on the map she'd bought. But from the sign posted, it would allegedly take her to Sweetness.
These people were so far off the beaten path they could be operating the world's largest brothel and no one would know.
The truck had been climbing for a while now, but the landscape suddenly grew considerably steeper. Violet-colored mountain peaks towered all around, studded with evergreen trees and sheared red rocks. Candace had told her about the orangey clay that passed as soil in most of Georgia. It made for majestic contrast in the landscape, a photojournalist's dream.
Alicia had hoped the temperature would be cooler at this elevation, but instead it felt as if she was getting closer to the sun. She was absolutely miserable. Her makeup had melted off long ago, as had her deodorant. Her clothes were soaked through with perspiration, and her feet and legs were sticky and dirty from the spilled beer. She could smell herself.
She'd planned to arrive a little dressed down from her normal appearance, but this was ridiculous. If her appearance offended people, there'd be little chance of anyone talking to her. Undercover was one thing---repellent was something else altogether. Besides, she was supposed to be looking for a man, not sending them running in the opposite direction.
A sign on the right announced, Sweetness, Georgia, 3 miles. She slowed to take in the landscape on either side of the recently paved road. The expanse of green underbrush had been cut back...someone was taking care to ensure visitors got a good first impression. To the left ran a postcard-pretty creek--- Timber Creek, according to the flip map. The water looked clear and gentle, especially since her throat ached with thirst.
She spotted a metal bridge that spanned the creek. A sign next to it read Sweetness Recycling Plant, although no structure was visible, just unending trees and a prolific vine that she assumed was the "kudzu" she'd read about.
In her research, she'd also stumbled onto a factoid that raised the hair on her arms---apparently, the North Georgia mountains were host to numerous rattlesnakes and scorpions.
Scorpions, for God's sake.
Because the relentless heat, humidity and remoteness of this place wasn't off-putting enough.
Ahead in a bend she saw a red covered wooden bridge, obviously the landmark her mother had read about in the newspaper. From the website she recalled the original bridge had been destroyed by the tornado that had devastated the rest of the town.
The structure was magnificent, she conceded, and so perfectly situated in its surroundings, it looked as if it had been there a hundred years. It tugged at her.
She slowed to pull onto the side of the road to get a better look and to stretch her legs. Even though the sun was high overhead in a cloudless sky, it was a relief to escape the stifling cab of the truck. But when she climbed down, the full impact of her grubby condition hit her. Her clothes were plastered to her wet, gritty skin, and her feet were nearly black. She cursed her mother's boyfriend, wishing she'd thought to bring moist wipes or something. She did have a couple of washcloths in her toiletry bag, if only she had some water---
Alicia stopped and glanced down at the creek flowing by, the water crystal clear and inviting. If she could make it to the water's edge, she could wash her feet, she mused, laughing to herself. But when she spied a path down to the water and didn't see anyone around, she started thinking it wasn't a half-bad idea. It certainly beat showing up at a hotel looking like a vagrant, or asking for a key to use a gas station bathroom.
From her suitcase she retrieved her toiletry kit and a clean T-shirt, then on impulse grabbed a bra, too, reasoning she could change underneath the shirt. At least she'd look presentable and smell respectable when she rolled into town.
Her mind made up, she locked the truck and made her way gingerly down the rocky path. She wasn't much of an outdoorswoman, but Pilates had given her good coordination and balance. She nervously eyed the weeds and rocks along the path, certain they were riddled with snakes and scorpions. When she reached the edge of the water, she was relieved to find herself unscathed, and to see she was hidden from the road. The opposite bank was equally as tall and rocky, so she felt safe to remove her sandals. After scrutinizing the clear depths for water snakes, she waded in up to her ankles.
Alicia sighed in pure pleasure at the rush of cool liquid over her feet. Instantly her body temperature started to fall. She enjoyed the sensation for several minutes before crouching to wash her feet with one of the cloths. When she finished, she wiggled her clean toes, then felt compelled to dip her hands in the running water and splash her face---heavenly. She laughed ruefully, thinking if only her boss Nina could see her now, bathing like a hedonist. She wrung out the cloths and held them against her neck, groaning in relief.
She was crouched on a smooth rock, obscured by an outcropping. She glanced all around and, feeling confident she was alone, lifted her T-shirt over her head, then hurriedly ran the wet cloth over her exposed skin. The sun was so hot, the water evaporated almost instantly. Feeling braver now, Alicia looked right, then left, then reached around to unhook her bra.
Marcus almost dropped his fishing pole. When the dark-haired woman had first appeared on the opposite creek bank, he'd been irritated. He hadn't expected to catch anything at this shallow spot in Timber Creek---the scorching sun had driven the fish to deeper, cooler waters. But he'd expected to be alone with his thoughts for ten damn minutes.
He was sure she would spot him, but from the way she'd panned the area with no reaction, he guessed he blended into the foliage where he sat a little ways downstream holding his pole. He'd assumed she was another tourist stopping to take pictures of the bridge. If he was the neighborly type, he might've waved...but no one had ever accused him of being neighborly.
When she'd slipped off her shoes and waded into the creek, he'd been amused by the look of sheer pleasure on her face. When she'd crouched to splash her face, he'd presumed she was travel-weary. But when she'd pulled her T-shirt over her head to reveal a lacy pink bra, he'd gotten nervous.
He should've divulged his presence, but at that point he was afraid he'd embarrass her. So he'd tried to look away while she dabbed a wet cloth over her skin.
Tried to. It was no big deal, he'd told himself. She wasn't revealing more of her long, lithe body than she would in a bathing suit...maybe less. She was, after all, still wearing a skirt.
But when the bra had come off, he knew he was in trouble.
He sat there, frozen. Well...most of him. His lower half reacted rather fiercely. He felt like a schoolboy, thrilled by his first sight of female breasts.
It wasn't his first sight, but it had been a long...long...long time. And hers were spectacular.
Sitting high and full, her breasts were perfectly tilted upward, like an offering. Judging from the pale hue of her skin, she didn't make a habit of undressing in the wild. But the tattoo he couldn't make out at this distance suggested she wasn't modest.
She was a vision, kneeling on the rock, splashing water on her bare chest. Her nipples tightened to a point, coinciding with his own body tightening in places he'd disciplined himself to forget about. He knew he should try to disappear before she realized he'd seen her, but he was afraid he'd only attract her attention and make matters worse.
And besides, he was mesmerized. He found himself hoping she'd slip off her skirt and the matching pink panties she was probably wearing to skinny-dip for a while. He held his breath when she stood---her body was silhouetted in the golden sun, her hands at her narrow waist as if she were contemplating exactly what he was thinking. But then she leaned over to fish another bra from the pile she'd made on a dry rock, and quickly put it on, followed by a different T-shirt.
Marcus exhaled slowly, still afraid to move. He watched her while she put on her shoes and made her way back up the rocky footpath until she disappeared onto the bank. The loud rumble of an engine turning over reverberated down to him---the lady needed a muffler. He waited until the vehicle pulled away before he dared to stir. He didn't realize how tense he'd been until he stood and his muscles protested.
She'd driven in the direction of town, he mused, wondering what her business was. Probably just a tourist...or maybe an acquaintance of someone else living here...maybe the girlfriend of one of the men.
The idea that she could be visiting one of his workers bothered him, although he wasn't sure why. He didn't even know the woman, but didn't the fact that she was so transient that she'd stopped for an impromptu bath in the creek tell him all he needed to know about her character and background?
He gave himself a mental shake to loosen the half-naked image of her from his mind. If he had time for a woman in his life, it would be someone who had her act together, not a high-maintenance nightmare.
But he didn't have time for a woman---he had a town to build.
A few months before his father had passed away, he'd invited a teenage Marcus to go fishing, just the two of them, which was unusual since his younger brothers almost always tagged along. Marcus had known his father had something on his mind. Later, when their baited lines were dropped into a deep pool of water, and they were each chewing on a blade of sourgrass, Alton Armstrong in his quiet, wise way claimed that Sweetness was more special than anyone realized. He'd said it was a golden place that molded people instead of the other way around, and that life in the mountains, despite its challenges, was a way of life worth passing on to the next generation. He must've had a premonition about his own death because that day he'd extracted a promise from Marcus to keep the Armstrong family planted in Sweetness, no matter what.
That promise was the reason Marcus had gathered his brothers together after they'd all left respective branches of the military to rebuild this town, why Marcus had practically blackmailed Amy Bradshaw to tell Kendall about his son once Marcus discovered his existence---the boy was an Armstrong, and the family had to stay together...in Sweetness. Which meant Sweetness had to prosper.
Nothing was going to distract him from his promise or his goal. He felt the mantle of responsibility of this town's future every morning when he opened his eyes and every night before he closed them. If they stayed on track, at year end they would meet the requirements of the federal program and the land that made up the city limits of Sweetness would be turned over to the chartered resident shareholders, including him and his brothers.
But he was afraid if he took his eye off the ball for a minute, was distracted by anything personal, something would happen to derail the entire plan he'd worked so diligently to orchestrate. And he would let his father down.
He couldn't allow that to happen.
Marcus glanced at his watch, realizing it was almost time to meet Rachel Hutchins at the diner to discuss the events she was organizing for Homecoming weekend. While he was there, he might as well talk to Colonel Molly about her managerial style.
He leaned over to lift his fishing pole and reel in his line. At the sight of his empty hook, he frowned---while he was distracted by the topless water nymph, some lucky fish had gotten away with a fat mealworm...which seemed fitting considering his previous line of thinking.
When he reached for his tackle box, something bobbing in the water caught his eye. He squinted, then waded in to scoop it up. It was a bracelet---braided leather and wire, with a dangling charm. Nice. And since the leather wasn't yet saturated, he realized it probably belonged to the topless woman.
Marcus scratched his head---assuming he ran into her, how would he return the bracelet without revealing he'd been privy to the little show she'd put on? He considered the trinket for a moment, then dropped it into his shirt pocket and decided not to worry about it.
He'd probably never see her again.
"Guess where I am," Alicia said into the phone.
"Rocky Top?" Nina asked.
"Right. Just checking my phone reception."
"What's the place like?"
Alicia squinted up at the white water tower that loomed over her approach. Welcome to Sweetness, the tank proclaimed. But spray-painted over the black lettering was I Nikki in red and I Amy in blue.
"It's...quaint." A car coming toward her honked, then the driver waved as they went by.
"What was that?" Nina asked.
"Everyone down here honks and waves," Alicia said. "I'm driving a pickup truck."
"Get out."
"I'm not kidding."
"Wow, when you go undercover, you go deep. What's your plan?"
Alicia slowed as what she presumed was the downtown area came into sight. "I'm going to find a place to talk to people without raising any red flags." The sidewalks were surprisingly crowded. Everyone turned to look at her vehicle. "I have a feeling that everyone here can spot a stranger."
She panned side to side, taking in the odd-looking buildings that appeared to have been constructed with a motley collection of materials---recycled materials, she realized. Her gaze landed on a sign that read Hair Salon, and she smiled into the phone. "Gotta run---I just found a place where people talk."
After disconnecting the call, she followed signs for parking to a large grassy lot. The town was obviously preparing for the arrival of many cars, probably the Homecoming event she'd read about. She parked Bo's smelly truck and climbed out, then made her way back to the town's main street. On the way to the hair salon, she took stock of the businesses she'd read about on the website---the General Store, bank, the clinic and other buildings, including one that simply read Diner. It looked like a movie set for a small town...this place was surreal.
Or unreal?
The sidewalks, she noted, were more extensively networked than the buildings, hinting at more construction to come. And they were uncommonly beautiful. The light-colored concrete contained bits of colored glass---more use of recycled materials, she realized.
The people looked laid-back, dressed for the sweltering weather and moving slowly. By the matching T-shirts and hats a clump of kids wore, she assumed some sort of team sports game was about to be played. The presence of children was a little jarring---for their sake she hoped nothing illicit was going on in this town.
The hair salon, she noted wryly, featured a striped barber's pole next to its sign. She opened the door and was immediately struck by how busy the place was---and how...segregated.
Women sat on one side of the salon, apparently waiting for one of the three female stylists working there. Men sat on the other side, waiting for one of the two barbers attending old-fashioned barber's chairs. There was literally a wall down the center of the establishment.
Alicia's back stiffened. Privacy was one thing, but even the waiting areas were separate?
The other thing that caught her eye was the sign that said all haircuts were five dollars.
She was in the Twilight Zone.
She walked into her gender-appropriate area and smiled at a rounded, dark-haired woman sitting there, waiting her turn. The woman looked her up and down, but offered a smile. "Hello."
"Hello," Alicia said. "Do you know if they take walkins?"
"Oh, sure," the woman said, "but you might have to wait a while. I'm Susan Sosa."
The introduction took her by surprise---no one in Manhattan offered their name unless they were applying for a job. "Alicia," she responded, her mind racing for an alias last name. "Alicia Waters."
"Nice to know you," the woman said, then nodded at Alicia's bag. "Beautiful purse."
Alicia realized her Chanel bag didn't exactly go with the rest of her outfit. "It's a knockoff," she lied, "but thanks."
"Have a seat," Susan said, gesturing to the empty chair next to her. "When did you move here?"
"I just arrived," Alicia said, taking the proffered seat. "Actually, I was wondering what you could tell me about the town."
Susan smiled. "It's nice. I moved here about a year ago."
"From where?"
"Michigan. Believe it or not, I answered an ad."
What a stroke of luck to find one of the original women who'd come to the town looking for a man. "A newspaper ad?"
The woman nodded. "Sweetness was just being built and they needed women. I was single, laid off from my job, and I needed a fresh start, so here I am."
Alicia offered a girlfriend smile to the pretty woman. "And how is it working out?"
"I like it here, it's simple." She grinned. "And there are lots of men."
"I've heard that men run this town...is that true?"
"I guess so. The Armstrong brothers sort of run everything."
"What are they like?"
Susan shrugged. "The younger brothers are nice enough---they both have sweethearts."
"What about the older brother?"
"Marcus? He doesn't like women."
"He's gay?"
Susan laughed. "No. He just keeps to himself. He has a temper, so people tiptoe around him."
Alicia mulled the information, then gestured to the two waiting areas. "Do the men and women do everything separately?"
"Pretty much," the woman said with a nod. "We live separately and sleep separately."
Alicia tried to hide her surprise. "You do?"
"Like I said---simple."
"Even the married couples?"
"There aren't any married couples. The women and children live in the boardinghouse, and the men live in barracks."
Alicia blinked.
"Susan," called one of the stylists, holding up a cape. "Are you ready?"
"Excuse me," Susan said. "Nice talking to you."
Alicia managed a smile, but was digesting the woman's words. What was going on in this town? She pushed to her feet and headed toward the door---she needed to find a way and a reason to stay here for a few days to find out.
"Earth to Marcus," Porter hissed.
Marcus started, realizing he'd zoned out on the meeting with Porter, Kendall and Rachel Hutchins about the Homecoming weekend plans. Darn that dark-haired woman and her spontaneous outdoor bath. "Sorry, repeat that?"
Porter gave him a pointed look. "Kendall and I were just telling Rachel how grateful we are that she spearheaded this effort."
"Er...right," he said to the pretty blonde who had proved to be an organizational dynamo. "Everything sounds...great."
When he realized his comment made it seem as if he hadn't been listening, he added, "I know you've put a lot of work into this project."
Rachel smiled. "So you'll do it?"
He panicked. "Do what?"
"Hang the banner across Main Street," she said, her voice irritated now that she knew he hadn't been listening at all.
"We were saying we'll need the cherry picker basket on the fire truck ladder to hang the banner," Kendall said, giving him a quizzical look. "And since the fire department is your area..."
"Oh, right," Marcus said. "No problem---I'll take care of it. What else?"
Rachel gave him a little frown. "Here's a schedule of the weekend events, and everything that's still left to do in the next month."
"We'll provide any men you need," Marcus said magnanimously.
"Yes, Kendall just said that," Rachel said, her voice flat.
"Okay...anything else?"
"Just our food," Rachel said, craning for a server.
"Our waitress seems to have disappeared," Porter said.
"Molly probably ran her off," Rachel offered. "That woman is impossible. And that help-wanted sign in the window is useless---word has gotten around. No one wants to work here."
Marcus glanced around at customers sitting at cluttered tables, antsy and impatient. Others hadn't yet been waited on. Irritation simmered in his empty stomach at the thorn in his side this place had become.
From the back came a horrific crashing noise, then Molly's raised voice. "Get out of my kitchen!"
A young waitress came running out in tears, then bolted for the door. Molly emerged, shaking a spatula. "And don't come back!"
Some of the customers got up and left.
Marcus stood and strode behind the counter, his anger zooming to the surface. "What's the problem, Molly?"
The boxy woman squared her body to his. "The problem is no one around here has a head on their shoulders!"
"Molly," Marcus said, banking his ire, "can I have a word with you in private?"
She crossed her arms over her matronly bosom. "No. Whatever you have to say, say it here."
Marcus set his jaw and decided it was time to stop sugarcoating the situation. "You've had a dozen waitresses and they've all left. There's a common denominator here, Molly, and it's you!"
"I run a tight ship---it's not my fault these flibberty-gibbet females can't keep up!"
He pursed his mouth. "The bad service aside, the food still isn't good enough. We're expecting another inspection any day now, and a big crowd Homecoming weekend. Something has to change."
She snorted. "If you think you can do a better job running this place, Mr. Marine MBA, be my guest."
His mouth quirked. "You know the town charter specifies a woman in key positions, and the manager of the community-owned restaurant is one of those positions."
She gave him a little smile. "Yes, it does. And believe me, no other woman around here can do this job."
Exasperation with her and every other woman in town seized him. The fact that this restaurant could jeopardize all his plans made him see red. He'd faced down armed enemies on foreign territory, yet he had to come home and do battle in his own backyard? He lifted a shaking finger and didn't bother to lower his voice. "I can take the next woman who walks through that door and teach her how to run this place better than you!"
The door opened and they turned to see a dark-haired woman standing there holding the help-wanted sign from the window.
Marcus's mouth went dry---it was the woman from the creek.
"This will be fun to watch," Molly said, then untied her camouflage apron and handed it to him. "Good luck."
Alicia stepped to the side to dodge the bulldog of a woman who charged her way, gave her a smirk, then marched out the door. Alicia glanced around the nearly empty diner and was drawn to a tall, broad-shouldered man standing behind the counter looking in her direction.
That blue-eyed gaze was unmistakable. It was Marcus Armstrong, in the flesh.
As she walked forward, her mind scrolled through the information from the background report she'd ordered.
Marcus Alton Armstrong, thirty-eight, joined the U.S. Marine Corps while still attending high school, had made the military a career, served in Bosnia and Iraq with distinction. In between stints overseas, he'd earned an International Business degree and an MBA. A hero, a scholar, and a straight arrow. Never married, no children.
And insanely handsome in person. Everything about him reflected this rugged setting. His hair was sun-streaked, his skin deeply bronzed. His dramatic eyes were set in a rocky face, with a jutting nose and a square jaw. He was as tall as an evergreen with biceps like boulders. His drab-colored pants and cargo shirt said he was happy to blend into the background, but his sheer physical presence made that impossible. He looked formidable...the kind of man who was always in control.
From the way he was staring at her, Alicia was sure she must look a fright---her hair was still damp around her face where she'd splashed herself in the creek, her makeup was long gone, and she was seriously regretting pulling her hair into pigtails.
Why had she come to this town? Oh, right...
To expose this man for the extreme chauvinist he was.
"Hi," she said, offering a smile and holding up the help-wanted sign. "Who can I talk to about a job?" When she'd seen the sign in the window, it had seemed like a natural fit---she'd worked dozens of restaurant jobs while going to school.
Although admittedly, she'd been fired from every one of them. Firing in her case had been literal---she'd been a decent cook and a popular waitress, but she'd shown an unfortunate propensity for setting fires. That part she would keep to herself, Alicia decided.
Instead of answering, he glanced around the diner as if he were looking to palm her off onto someone else. Two men at a nearby table she recognized from the website photo as his brothers looked at him with raised eyebrows, but made no move to relieve him. Finally, he turned back to her.
"I guess that would be me. I'm Marcus Armstrong."
He had an amazing voice, as deep as a bottle of scotch, with a nice husky finish. But his backbone was rigid, and his mouth was unsmiling.
"Are you the owner?" she asked.
"Closest thing to it," he bit out.
"What's the job?"
He took his time answering, scowling at her T-shirt---Candace's T-shirt, actually. A hot flush climbed Alicia's neck at the "I'm a peach" slogan that implied she was a juicy mouthful.
"A little of everything," he hedged, as if he were doubtful she could fill the bill.
"Hey," a man seated at the counter called, "can I get some service?"
Alicia made a split-second decision and sprang into action. She walked over to the guy, pulling a notebook from her bag along the way. "Yes, sir, what can I get for you?"
She wrote down the man's order as he read it from the menu---T-bone steak, medium-well, fries and a fountain drink---then assured him she'd get right on it.
She turned back to Marcus and smiled. "I've got this."
He was still scowling---the man must be having a bad day. Instead of waiting for him to respond, she fished a drinking glass from under the counter, scooped in ice from the adjacent ice maker, and filled it from a fountain drink hose. She plopped in a straw, then set it in front of the man, who smiled in appreciation. She turned on the stainless steel grill, then retreated to the kitchen, stepped around a mound of broken dishes in the floor and stowed her purse on a counter. After washing her hands in one of the deep sinks, she draped a white hand towel over her shoulder. Because the contents of the commercial refrigerator and freezer were labeled with compulsive precision, she had no trouble finding a bag of French fries, a T-bone steak and garnishes.
Juggling the food, she made her way back to the grill and placed the steak on the clean, hot surface, then emptied the fries into a wire basket and lowered it into a vat of hot grease. Throughout, she was conscious of Marcus Armstrong's gaze upon her. When everything was happily sizzling, she seasoned the steak with salt and pepper and retrieved a plate from the clean stack sitting outside the enormous conveyor dishwasher. She removed a pair of tongs from a hanging rack and flipped the steak. When the fries turned a nice golden color, she used a mitt to carefully lift the basket to a hook for it to drain.
When the steak was done, she plated it and the steaming fries, added garnishes, then set it down in front of the customer. "How's that?"
He cut off a piece of the steak and put it in his mouth, then nodded. "It's perfect."
"Anything else?"
"I'm good for now," the man assured her.
She backed up to lean on the counter next to the grill, crossed her arms, then turned a triumphant smile toward Marcus Armstrong. "You were telling me about the job?"
He worked his mouth from side to side. "I need a manager...and someone to help cook until I can fill that position, as well."
"Then I'm your woman."
His jaw hardened---he obviously didn't appreciate her attempt at humor. "I take it you have restaurant experience?"
"That's right---cooking, waitressing, hostessing, managing."
He didn't seem particularly happy to hear she was qualified. "It's going to be a lot of work to get this place up to speed. I have to warn you, I'm not the easiest person to work for."
Alicia's pulse jumped. When she'd seen the help-wanted sign, she'd thought working at the diner would be a great way to meet and establish a rapport with some of the women who'd answered the ad. Spending time with the man himself would be a bonus for the blog.
"I can take whatever you dish out," she said, lifting her chin.
He narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you interested in how much the job pays?"
She caught herself---she had to act authentically. "Of course. How much?"
"Minimum wage and a room in our boardinghouse."
She couldn't care less about the money, but it was nice to know she wouldn't have to arrange for a place to stay while she was here. "That sounds fair."
"What's your name?"
His suspicious look unnerved her, but she offered the alias she'd previously given in the hair salon. "Alicia Waters."
"Waters?" he repeated, as if he knew she was lying.
She nodded and maintained eye contact, although it was difficult because his gaze was so intense.
"Where are you from?" he asked. She had the feeling he wasn't just making conversation, but rather, wanted to know everything about people who intended to live or work in the town...his town.
She shrugged. "All around, but mostly the Northeast."
"What brings you to Sweetness?"
She would have to be careful around this one. "I came to Atlanta for the weather, then I read about your covered bridge in the newspaper and thought Sweetness sounded like a pretty place to live." She gave him what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. "And I understand there are lots of single men here?"
He stopped just short of an eye-roll. "That's right."
"Sounds good to me," she said cheerfully. "Is there anything else I should know about this town?"
He considered her for a few seconds. "Because we're new, we have more rules than most places."
She made a face, but said, "I guess I can abide by a few rules."
He hesitated, then with an expression akin to pain, he stepped forward to extend his large hand. "Okay...you're hired."
She placed her hand in his, and it was instantly swallowed. The contact was electric, conducting pulses up her arm.
"You won't be sorry," Alicia murmured.
He kept her hand and stared into her eyes until she started to feel warm. He was so big and sexy, she felt the urge to do ridiculous, girly things, like twirl her hair and preen. No man had ever made her sweat before.
Suddenly his eyes widened and he flung his arms around her. Alicia was stunned at the sudden contact and her body reacted instantly.
Until she realized he was reaching around her.
"You're on fire!"
He yanked the towel off her shoulder and flung it to the floor. It was engulfed in flames. He stomped out the fire, then spun her around and swatted her back, shoulders and backside. Which didn't feel terrible, but still...
"Hey, hey, hey!" she yelled, slapping at his hands.
He stepped back, then jammed his hands on his hips. "Are you okay?"
She twisted to look at her clothes. They were singed and smoking, but intact. "I think so. The towel must've touched the grill."
He grunted. She could tell he was already sorry he'd hired her.
Oh, well, she'd just have to change his mind. She smiled prettily and batted her eyelashes. "Should I take some more orders?"
"No," he said with a frown. "We're going to close for the rest of the day so I can try to hire back some former employees." His frown deepened. "And so I can get an extra fire extinguisher."
She swallowed a sheepish smile. "What do you want me to do?"
The words left her mouth innocently enough, but once they reached the space between them that was charged with tension, they took on a weighted meaning. Images of the possibilities of what he might want her to do darted through her mind, sending her temperature higher than the fire she'd started. For a split second, she thought she saw desire flash in his eyes, too. But if so, it was gone just as quickly.
She thought about the comment the woman in the hair salon had made about Marcus Armstrong not liking women. Alicia definitely felt his animosity, and wondered if he sensed hers, though she was doing her best to keep it hidden.
"You can get settled into the boardinghouse," he said, his voice gruff. "Ask for Regina, she'll find you a room. Be back here in two hours, ready to work."
Oh, she would be ready to work, Alicia thought. Ready to work on him. Because if Marcus Armstrong was one of those old-fashioned men who thought women were frivolous, silly and subordinate, she'd happily be the female to bring him to his knees.
Alicia stood at the window of the plain but comfortable room she'd been assigned in the enormous and bustling boardinghouse. To her right, an orange sun melted into a pink-and-red sunset bleeding over a black mountain range. It was the stuff of Hollywood movie backgrounds---a surreal backdrop for a surreal little town.
The movie The Stepford Wives came to mind.
She held her cell phone to her ear and listened as it rang on the other end. She expected to leave a voice message for her mother, but Candace answered.
"Hello? Alicia?"
"Yeah, Mom, it's me. I'm just checking in. Looks like I'll be staying here for a while."
"Oh? I'm disappointed you won't be coming back right away. Is Sweetness as pretty as it sounds?"
Alicia absorbed the calming view and exhaled. "Yes," she admitted. "Very pretty. But it's also very humid, and there are lots of bugs."
Candace laughed. "You always hated insects of any kind. Bo asked me to ask if his truck is okay."
Alicia thought of the monogrammed panties that had rolled out from under the front seat. "The truck is fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Is everything okay there?"
"Sure," her mother said cheerfully.
Too cheerfully.
"So, have you met any mountain men?" Candace asked, her voice breezy.
"My boss," Alicia said idly. "I took a job in a diner to pass the time."
"A diner? Are they aware of your little problem with pyromania?"
Alicia frowned. "I don't set fires...not on purpose, anyway."
"Is he cute, your boss?"
Alicia shifted her gaze to the diner across the street just as Marcus Armstrong himself emerged to lock the door behind him. Unbidden, her vital signs increased.
"No." No one could accuse the man of being cute. After spending a couple of hours with him and the handful of waitresses he'd hired back, listening to his expectations for the eatery, she'd developed a list of adjectives for him---tough, opinionated and unyielding. But not cute.
"Oh, well," Candace said, "there are other more important qualities in a partner."
She turned her back to the window. "Mom, I'm not looking for a partner."
"I know."
Candace sighed and Alicia realized her mother was talking to herself as much as to her daughter, perhaps coming around to the belief that her "cute" boyfriend wasn't all he was cracked up to be.
"How do you like your bracelet?" her mother asked.
Guilt seized Alicia. She touched her bare wrist where her mother had fastened the bracelet that morning. Sometime during the day she'd lost it, but hadn't noticed until she'd undressed to take a shower.
"I love it," she said, which was the truth. She only hoped it was in the pickup truck somewhere.
"Good," Candace said, her voice infused with pleasure. "I'm asking because I'm thinking about starting my own jewelry business."
"That's terrific, Mom. You'd be good at it, and you have great contacts in retail." She wet her lips. "What does Bo think about the idea?"
"I haven't mentioned it to him yet."
"Maybe it's something you should keep to yourself for now," Alicia suggested. "Until you work out all the details." Or else Bo would probably plant doubts in her mother's head. She hated that Candace was so easily influenced by men who didn't have her best interests in mind.
"Maybe you're right," Candace agreed, her voice distant.
Alicia's phone beeped. She glanced at the screen to see her boss, Nina, was calling. "Mom, I need to take another call. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
"Of course, dear. Good luck with your story."
"Thanks, Mom. Goodbye." Alicia disconnected the call. Worry over her mother niggled her stomach, but she'd learned long ago not to get involved in her parents' relationships. Eventually, the players would change anyway.
She connected the second call. "Hi, Nina."
"Just checking in to make sure you weren't kidnapped...or worse."
"No," Alicia said with a laugh. "I got a job working in the town diner. I figure I can talk to a lot of people that way."
"You're a waitress?"
"I'm the manager and, for now, the cook."
"You? The woman who set the microwave on fire in the break room?"
Alicia frowned. "That was a faulty bag of popcorn."
"Right. Did you give your real name?"
"Of course not."
"Won't that be a problem when you provide your social security number?"
"I'll figure out something to stall the paperwork."
"No doubt. Have you met any of the Neanderthals?"
"I'm working for the head Neanderthal, Marcus Armstrong."
"You're kidding."
"He's overhauling the diner for an inspection from the Department of Energy. It has something to do with recycling and keeping their federal grant."
"And is he horrid?"
Alicia turned back to the window and glanced down into the street. Marcus Armstrong was still there, talking to a young boy in a soccer uniform, and the man was...smiling? "He's...hard to read," she murmured.
"What's your general feel of the place?"
She looked back to horizon. "I know I could never live here."
"Are the conditions primitive?"
"There aren't many luxuries for sure. But it's just so isolated. The town is surrounded by mountains. It feels like civilization is far, far away."
"So do you think something interesting is going on there?"
Alicia turned and picked up a sheet of paper that listed the resident rules, chief of which was no overnight male guests. Protective...or controlling? "Yes, I'm just not sure what to make of it all yet."
"Okay, keep me posted."
Alicia disconnected the call and looked back to the street. Marcus Armstrong was alone again, hands jammed on his hips, that perennial frown back on his face. He glanced up and down the sidewalks, as if to assess the town and its people. Tall and authoritative, he looked every inch the head of the community...a throwback to an earlier time, when a whole town could be held in one person's hands.
But what exactly did he have in mind for this one?
He looked up in the direction of her window and Alicia shrank back, her heart pounding. Even at this distance, he had the ability to make her feel as if he could see through her, as if he knew she was here under false pretenses. She blamed it on his mesmerizing blue eyes.
When she chanced another glance, he was walking away, his head and shoulders back. She watched his big body until he was out of sight.
Alicia bit into her lip. Marcus Armstrong seemed like an intelligent man. She was going to be disappointed if she discovered he was unstable, or some kind of religious zealot. The town didn't have a church, but she'd noticed postings downstairs about "services" on Sunday in the great room. While she wasn't a particularly religious person, she planned to attend to make sure nothing kinky was going on.
Because something strange had to be going on. A town where the women and children lived in a boardinghouse and the men lived in barracks and a water tower supplied hot showers and the General Store sold live bait and haircuts were five dollars and everyone honked and waved...well, that was just...crazy.
Wasn't it?
Alicia sat down and booted up her notebook computer, then opened a new file and began to type.
Undercover Feminist by Alicia Randall
A little more than a year ago, the Armstrong brothers, ex-military men, banded together to rebuild their hometown in the North Georgia mountains. Sweetness, Georgia was a tiny map dot decimated by an F-5 tornado just over ten years ago. The Armstrongs secured a federal grant to rebuild the town on the platform of recycling and alternative energy and set about reconstructing Sweetness. But to attract women to their fledgling remote town, they took the novel approach of placing an ad in a newspaper in economically depressed Broadway, Michigan, for women with a "pioneering spirit" looking for a fresh start. The ad promised lots of single, Southern men, although it wasn't clear what was expected of the women in return. I decided to go undercover in Sweetness to see how the matchmaking and town-building experiment is working.
When I drove into town in a borrowed pickup truck, I felt as if I'd gone back in time fifty years. A covered bridge over a picturesque stream welcomed me to the outskirts of town. A water tower straight out of the movies stands watch over visitors driving in. The drivers of cars I passed honked and waved, as if we were old friends. In my mind I could see someone phoning someone else that they'd just spotted a stranger driving into town and to pass the word.
At first glance, the town looks like a movie set. The hair salon, for example, is named simply Hair Salon. But at second glance...well, the town still seems to be out of some zombie movie plot because I soon learned that the men and women don't live together. The women and children live in a boardinghouse, and the men live in a barracks reminiscent of a military facility. And strangely, no one seems to think the living arrangements are odd. Methinks I will stay awhile and investigate further.
I walked into the town diner carrying a help-wanted sign and walked out with a job as manager. I figure it will give me the opportunity to meet some of the women who came to Sweetness in search of a new life, and find out if the experience has been all they expected it to be. The bonus? My boss is one of the Armstrong brothers---the eldest, in fact, and he appears to be the de facto leader of the community. He's an imposing figure, single and about as approachable as a grizzly bear. I've been told that "he doesn't like women." (Although he's infinitely straight.) In between slinging hash and dishing up apple pie, I hope to gain some insight into what he has in mind for the town, and what part he sees women playing in the future of Sweetness. Stay tuned...
"Still waiting on bacon!" Sheila shouted toward the grill.
Marcus flagged that he'd heard her, then turned a half dozen fried eggs and glanced around for Alicia Waters, his alleged cook. She stood at the opposite end of the counter chatting with Susan Sosa. Irritation ballooned in his chest---the woman seemed more interested in talking to the customers than tending the grill. Considering that she'd already caught a stack of menus on fire this morning, he was inclined to let her float around chinwagging, but his skills gained in KP duty in the Marines were limited, and he was falling more and more behind.
"Alicia!"
She looked over and he bit down on the inside of his cheek. When would those enormous brown eyes stop sending a jolt through his system?
"I could use some help over here."
She held up a well-manicured finger. "I'll be right there."
A waitress named Terri scooted past him with a coffeepot. "Are the biscuits done?"
Marcus peeked into the oven to find it empty. Damn---he'd forgotten to put them in. "Not yet."
A third waitress named Gina walked up and extended a half-empty plate of food. "The guy at table six said his steak was too well-done---he ordered medium rare."
Marcus noticed it hadn't kept the man from eating half of the T-bone. He tamped down his frustration and glanced toward the cook-wanted sign in the window. "Gina, can you cook?"
"No," she said definitively.
"Do you know anyone who can?"
"No."
He frowned. "Somebody in this town must cook---what does everyone eat at the boardinghouse?"
"Mac and cheese, frozen dinners, pizza and Crock-Pot stuff." She gestured to the crowded tables. "Why do you think this place is so packed, especially now that everyone knows it's under new management?"
He grunted.
"Still waiting for bacon!" Sheila called.
"And the biscuits," Terri added.
"What about the steak?" Gina asked.
He massaged the bridge of his nose. "I'll fix another one." This time, he'd leave it bleeding.
He sent another glance toward Alicia, only to find the woman bent over retrieving a pen from the floor. He hardened his jaw. She wore a pair of red shorts that were too short, in his opinion, no matter how nicely they hugged her derriere. And who wore high-heeled sandals to work in? Sure, they made her long legs look great, but they weren't very practical. And thank goodness the apron she wore covered the T-shirt that was tight enough to remind him of the display he'd seen yesterday at the creek.
As if he needed a reminder.
The images had kept him awake most of the night, grinding his teeth against his body's reaction.
She straightened, then headed his way, tucking her notebook into her pocket. Her hair was still in those silly pigtails. She walked up, then wrinkled her nose. "Something's burning."
He glanced down at the eggs and at the sight of the blackened edges, muttered a curse before scraping them all into the food waste canister.
"Someone's not paying attention," Alicia teased.
The words leapt to his tongue that his attention span had been fine before she came to town and started taking baths in the wild and wearing short shorts. Marcus closed his eyes. His lack of sleep---also her fault---was wearing on him. He opened his eyes, but averted his gaze.
"I need another dozen eggs from the kitchen, plus a T-bone steak and a tray of biscuits."
"Sure thing, boss."
He tucked his tongue into his cheek. His workers called him "boss" all the time...so why did it sound mocking coming out of her curvy red mouth? He tried to force his mind away from the woman and concentrate on the orders that were coming in. The three waitresses were tossing around slang he could barely decipher.
"Flop two, over easy." (Two fried eggs, runny yoke.)
"Heart attack on a rack." (Biscuits and sausage gravy.)
"Two pigs in a blanket." (Sausage links wrapped in pancakes.)
He was on the verge of throwing up his hands when Alicia returned with the promised food from the kitchen. She glanced over the food orders written on tickets posted over the grill. "I'll do the eggs and pancakes if you'll take care of the meat."
Her closeness unnerved him.
She looked supremely annoyed. "Do you want my help or not?"
He frowned. "Okay."
She stepped next to him and, bristling, they worked practically hip to hip. Marcus was aware of every inch of her...and how was it possible that her light, sweet perfume cut through the strong odors of the food cooking?
He'd never thought of arms as sexy, but hers were---long and shapely, ending in pretty hands that seemed better suited to office work than the harsh environment of handling food and detergents. Her slim bare wrist reminded him of the bracelet he'd found in the creek, the one he was still trying to find a way to return to her without raising a red flag.
She sighed. "What?"
He turned his head, a mistake because this close, her big brown eyes were so deep, he almost tripped. "What?"
Alicia frowned. "You're staring at my hands, so I'm obviously doing something wrong."
He scrambled for an excuse. "You shouldn't turn pancakes more than once."
Her shoulders went back. "Really? Is that another town rule? I've never seen so many rules in my life as this place has."
He frowned. "No, it's not a rule. It's just something my mother always said."
Her shoulders softened. "Oh." She turned back to the grill and loosened the cooking eggs with a metal utensil. "Is your mother still living?"
"Yes."
"Does she live here?"
"No."
Alicia gave a little laugh. "Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth."
He squinted. "Why do you want information?"
"I don't. I mean...I was just making conversation." She looked away, and Marcus felt like a jerk.
"After the tornado, she moved north of Atlanta to live with her sister," he offered. "But she's moving back to Sweetness Homecoming weekend."
"That's nice," she mumbled.
He'd hurt her feelings---Jesus, women were sensitive. "It's sort of a milestone for all of us," he added, turning the sausage. "One of the reasons we wanted to rebuild the town was so my mother could come back home."
Her expression turned wistful. "Your family must be close."
"We are," he conceded. "My father passed away when I was a teenager, but my brothers and I are close to our mother." He kept turning the food, and suddenly missed her conversation. "Do you have family?"
She took her time responding. "I have my parents. They divorced when I was young."
"I'm sorry," he murmured, unable to imagine a life where his parents hadn't lived together and loved each other.
Another shrug. "Some people just aren't meant to be together. Besides, marriage is an outdated institution."
Marcus agreed that these days marriage seemed to be more of a gamble than a promise, but the truth sounded bleak coming out of the mouth of a young, attractive woman.
"You've tried it?" he asked. "Marriage, I mean."
She looked horrified. "No."
He frowned. "Yesterday you seemed to be looking for a man."
She blanched and seemed to catch herself. "Yes, but I...I don't necessarily want to get married." She seemed nervous. "Have you ever been married?"
He let out a bitter laugh. "Not me."
"Ah, so we agree on one thing."
They did, yet for some reason it rankled him. "No brothers and sisters?" he asked to change the subject.
"Nope," she said in a way that closed the topic. She transferred two pancakes to a plate and handed it to him to add the sausages.
He rolled the hot pancakes around the links, then secured them with a toothpick and passed the plate off to Sheila. Alicia served up the eggs on another plate, but seemed preoccupied. He felt a pang for her, that she'd never experienced the security of a close-knit family.
The door opened and Porter and Kendall walked in, shooting grins in his direction.
Sometimes, though, he felt as if his family was too close. He plated the steak and handed it to Gina, then turned to face the firing squad.
"I like the apron," Porter said as he bellied up to the counter.
Marcus brushed at crumbs on the front of the camouflage-print apron he wore. "Shut up."
"What, no hair net?" Kendall asked as he slid onto the stool next to Porter.
Marcus sent a glare his way, too. "If I have to box your ears right here in public, I will."
Kendall laughed. "Relax, Marcus. We're just giving you a hard time. We're glad you took over this place."
Porter made a rueful noise. "Molly, on the other hand..."
Marcus sighed. "How is she?"
"She's stubborn, like you. She's working in the lost and found warehouse, sure that you'll come crawling back when you get fed up."
Remorse shot through Marcus---he felt indebted to Molly for her loyalty, but he'd given her as much leeway as he could to make the transition from running a military-inspired mess hall to running a civilian-friendly diner. He'd have to figure out a way to make it up to her.
Alicia walked up holding the glass coffeepot. "Coffee?" she asked his brothers.
They turned over the clean coffee cups sitting on the counter in front of them.
"Sure."
"Yes, thanks."
They both seemed wary of the coffee and intrigued by his new manager at the same time. He could see they were brimming with questions.
"I'm Alicia Waters," she offered with a smile that she'd never extended to him.
"Porter Armstrong."
"Kendall Armstrong."
"The boss's brothers?" she asked.
Porter arched an eyebrow in his direction and Kendall wiped away a smile with his hand. "Yes, we're the boss's brothers."
"Nice to meet you," she said.
"Same here."
"Likewise."
She walked away and both men pushed away their coffee cups.
"Go ahead, take a drink," Marcus encouraged.
Porter held up his hand. "No, thanks. The last time I drank coffee in here, it took the hide off my tongue."
"Ditto," Kendall said. "My mouth was numb for a week."
"Just try it," Marcus said.
Porter reluctantly lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. Then his eyes widened. "Not bad."
Kendall took a drink and nodded. "Not bad at all."
"So the coffee has improved dramatically since yesterday," Porter said. "How about the food?"
"See for yourself," Marcus said, waving toward the blackboard where Alicia had written the most popular items from the menu.
Porter lifted his hand. "No, thanks. I had breakfast with Nikki at the boardinghouse."
"I already ate, too," Kendall said.
They exchanged a quick glance and when Marcus realized what it meant, annoyance flashed in his chest. They felt sorry for him, sorry that they had someone to eat breakfast with and he didn't.
"But I could probably choke down a biscuit," Porter added quickly.
"Or an egg," Kendall offered.
Marcus frowned. "Never mind. You can get something later."
Porter took another sip of his coffee. "So...how's your new cook working out?"
"Fine."
"She's cute," Kendall said.
"Is she?" Marcus said idly.
Porter laughed. "Marcus, I know you haven't been in the company of a woman in...well, I won't embarrass you with the truth, but have you gone completely blind?"
Marcus gritted his teeth. "No, but considering you're practically engaged, you should be."
Porter scoffed. "Nikki's the only one for me." Then he set down his cup. "But that reminds me...I got a call from Emory Maxwell last night."
"Emory?" Porter's former Army buddy had been in Sweetness on leave with Porter when the devastating tornado had hit over a decade ago. Emory had been the one who'd sounded the warning siren from the water tower. "What's he up to?"
"Still living in Florida. He and Shelby are coming back to Sweetness Homecoming weekend. His dad is coming, too."
Marcus smiled. "That's good. It'll be nice to see them all."
Porter made a rueful noise. "Emory and Shelby are going through a rough patch. He said they've been trying to have a baby for a while now, and it's really wearing on their marriage. He asked if they could renew their vows in our church."
Marcus pursed his mouth. "Will it be ready?"
"If the fabricator delivers the sections next week as scheduled, then yeah, it should be. I'm putting out feelers for a minister to come and conduct services that weekend."
"I think it would be a fitting ceremony," Marcus said. "Of course they can use the church."
Porter nodded. "I agree. Especially since their first wedding had to be held down by the creek after the tornado. Did you know the town gave them wedding rings?"
"It was the least the town council could do," Kendall said. "Who knows how many lives Emory saved when he sounded that alarm."
"You should let Rachel know about the ceremony," Marcus added. "It sounds like the kind of thing she'd make a big deal over, get the whole town involved."
"While we're on the subject, when are you going to get that Homecoming banner hung across Main Street?" Kendall asked.
"Soon," Marcus said. "I think things here are under control enough for me to leave the new manager in charge."
"Molly will hate to hear that," Porter said with a smirk.
"Speak of the devil," Kendall murmured.
Marcus looked up to see Colonel Molly walk in. She gave them a smug smile as she hefted her considerable girth onto the stool next to Kendall.
"Good morning, boys."
"Good morning," they chorused.
"So, jarhead, how's your new manager working out?" Molly asked Marcus, nodding toward Alicia.
He turned to look at Alicia to make sure she wasn't on fire. She wasn't, but she was still working those short shorts. He turned back. "Fine," he said with more bravado than he felt. "She has a lot of experience running a restaurant."
"You don't say?" Molly asked mildly.
"And she has a lot of ideas to improve profitability," he lied.
Molly nodded, although she still looked unconvinced. "Good for you."
"Yes, good for me," he said, crossing his arms. But his bluster was shattered by a familiar whooshing noise behind him.
"Fire!" Alicia shouted.
He was jolted as she backed into him. He acknowledged a disturbing twinge from the contact before bumping into a stack of glasses on the counter that fell to the floor in a deafening crash. Flames encompassed the grill. He set Alicia aside and reached for one of the three fire extinguishers lined up under the counter. After stepping over the pile of glass, he pulled the key from the extinguisher, and foamed the fire until it was out.
He grunted, then turned a frustrated glare toward Alicia. "What happened?"
She gave him a sheepish shrug.
He took one step toward her, not sure what he would do when he got there, and his feet flew out from under him. He landed on his back on the hard tile floor, the wind knocked out of him. When he opened his eyes, Alicia peered down, along with Porter, Kendall and Molly, who had all stretched over the counter.
"Are you okay?" Alicia asked, her dark eyes wide and innocent.
He wanted to answer, but his lungs had compressed. Plus he had the insane urge to pull her down on top of him.
"Yes, I can see your new manager has everything under control," Molly said, her expression gloating.
In his head, Marcus unleashed a string of curses. Alicia Waters had caused him nothing but grief since he set eyes on her. He opened his mouth and dragged in a painful breath. "Everybody out," he announced where he lay. "We're closed for the day."
He and his new manager needed to have a little one-on-one training time.
Alicia watched as Marcus shepherded the waitresses toward the door. "Thanks for cleaning up. We'll reopen Monday morning. Don't forget to spread the word about the cook's position." He closed the door behind them and turned the dead bolt.
The clicking noise sent a little thrill through her chest---being locked in with Marcus Armstrong would be a great opportunity to pick his chauvinistic brain.
As far as feeling a little light-headed, she attributed it to not having had anything to eat. The smell of all the fried food on top of an empty stomach was making her queasy.
With his back to her, Marcus put his hands on his hips and heaved a huge sigh. Alicia frowned. It wasn't as if the man had people lining up to cook for him---he should be grateful she'd work in his dinky little diner!
He finally turned to look at her, then pulled his hand down his face.
She glared. "If you're going to fire me, then do it."
He settled his blue-eyed gaze on her and walked closer. "I can't---" He stopped. "I mean, I'm not going to fire you. It's my fault for expecting you to just walk in and know what you're doing."
Alicia crossed her arms. "Is that supposed to be some kind of back-handed apology?"
He straightened. "No." Then pain flashed across his face and he gasped, putting his hand to his back.
Contrite for setting off the events that led to his fall, she hurried toward him. "Are you okay?"
He held up his hand, as if she were a contagion. "Just a pulled muscle. I'll live."
She winced. "Sorry."
He didn't look to be in a forgiving mood. "Forget it. Let's just go over some things so Monday we can get through a full day of business with no mishaps. The Department of Energy rep will be here any day for another inspection, and the diner needs to be ready." His brows furrowed. "In other words, not burned to the ground."
A sharp retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it, reminding herself to act as if she wanted this job. So she simply inclined her head in concession, although the gesture sent her blood pressure skyrocketing.
"Chances are," he continued, "my brothers or I will be with the inspector, but in case he stops by on his own, you should know what to expect."
"What will the representative be looking for?"
"Mostly, how we're composting our leftover food and handling the recycling of our grease."
She made a face. "Okay."
"Follow me." He lifted a stainless steel bucket of grease from the side of the grill by its handle, then with his other hand, rolled a large trash container marked "Food Only---No Meat" toward the rear door.
"I can get one of those," she offered, but he acted as if he hadn't heard her.
She pursed her mouth. If the man with the gimpy back wanted to go all Southern macho on her, then she'd let him. She smirked as he wrestled with the door while trying to manage the two containers. From his jerky body language, it seemed as if his mood was rapidly eroding. She followed him outside, at a distance.
Next to the building sat two large plastic trash bins and a caged barrel. The midday sun was high and brutal. The humidity was cloying. Clumps of gnats hung in the air.
She shielded her eyes and watched as Marcus stabilized the food container and set down the vat of oil.
"This is our grease collector," he said as he unwound a big elastic cord that held the cage door closed. Then he had to use both hands to lift a metal arm and open the door to the wire enclosure.
"Why all the security?" she asked.
"To keep the bears out."
She blanched. "Bears?"
He nodded. "Finding a big barrel of grease would be like hitting the jackpot for a mother bear. So it's important we keep this area clean and secure."
While he lifted the barrel lid and carefully poured in the used grease, Alicia walked closer to him and glanced all around. Now she had to add bears to the list of things to look out for? "What happens to the grease---assuming a bear doesn't get it?"
"A company comes to pick up the barrel once every couple of weeks, then it's turned into biodiesel fuel," he explained as he resecured the barrel. "We're actually in talks with the company to enter into a partnership if the town moves forward."
She frowned. "If?"
He frowned back as he closed the cage door. "I meant when the town moves forward and we have more collection sources. For now there's only the diner and the school cafeteria." He turned toward the two larger containers. "These are the compost bins. The one with the red flag is always the active bin."
She was almost afraid to ask. "Active?"
He lifted the lid of the "active" bin and a horrific smell hit her, sending her staggering backward.
Alicia covered her mouth. "Oh...my...word."
"It gets ripe," he agreed. "The heat and the mealworms break down everything pretty quickly."
"Mealworms?"
He pointed inside the bin.
Still holding her nose, she gingerly stepped forward and looked inside to see the food waste crawling with small, pale worms. She recoiled and put her other hand on her stomach. Bears...worms...this was a world away from her life in Manhattan. Marcus Armstrong, however, seemed impervious to the stench...and completely at ease with the potential danger all around.
He picked up the container holding the day's worth of scraps and dumped it inside, although she could tell from his grunt that the movement hurt his back. But Alicia was too distracted by the display of impressive arm muscle to sympathize with other parts of his body. The man was built like a... What was the phrase?
A brick outhouse. She finally understood what the Southern saying meant.
"This container is too heavy for you and the other girls," he said matter-of-factly. "Two busboys start on Monday, so ask one of them to empty it for you."
Her chin went up at being referred to as a girl. "I'm stronger than I look."
His mouth went flat as he surveyed her up and down. "Suit yourself."
His gaze left her burning in its wake. She suddenly didn't feel very strong at all.
"After something new is added to the compost bin," he continued, "close the lid tight, then give it a stir." He cranked the large handle on the side.
She imagined the steamy worm stew inside and bile backed up in her throat.
"You okay?" he asked, his expression slightly mocking.
She swallowed hard. "Sure. What happens to the contents?"
"The bins are delivered to the garden for fertilizer."
"That makes sense." But ecology was a stinky, sloppy business. She preferred recycling "lite"---using eco-friendly shopping bags over plastic, and collecting newspapers.
He used a water hose to rinse the inside of the food container, then left it upside down to dry. Then he picked up the empty grease bucket and led the way back inside, moving slowly. He set the bucket on the conveyor belt for the industrial dishwasher. Again, he grunted and put his hand to his back.
"I have some over-the-counter painkillers in my purse," she offered.
He waved her off. "Time for a lesson in fire safety."
She bit her lip. "Will I be tested afterward?"
He leveled his gaze on her. "Let's hope not." He walked over to the grill and gestured to the surface temperature gauge. "The flashpoint of vegetable oil is just over six hundred degrees. The good news is it starts smoking before it bursts into flames, so you should have plenty of warning."
Alicia nodded, faking ignorance. What good would it do to tell him she knew vegetable oil smoked before it combusted? It didn't seem to matter. She'd read somewhere that some people attracted lightning strikes; she'd decided that she attracted fire.
"So as long as you keep the grill surface below six hundred degrees and keep the grill area free of flammable items like menus and napkins," Marcus said, "you should be...fine."
"Right," she said, bored with the Girl Scout lesson. She needed material for her blog. "So, boss, do you have a flashpoint?"
His mouth twitched downward. "Please don't call me boss."
"What should I call you---Mr. Armstrong?"
"My name is Marcus."
"Do you have a nickname?"
"No," he said in a clipped tone. "Could we stay on point?"
"Yes, boss," she said, then winced. "Sorry."
He exhaled and seemed to be summoning strength. "Do you know how to use a fire extinguisher?"
"In theory."
He leaned over to pick up one of the remaining fire extinguishers sitting under the counter. Again, he grunted when his back caught. Alicia held her tongue, but she moved to take the fire extinguisher from him. He allowed her, but moved his arm around hers. Even with the light touch, she could feel what a powerful man he was. It gave her a glimpse of what it might feel like to be in his arms.
Not unpleasant, she acknowledged.
"First, you would pull the pin," he said, pointing to the ring in the nozzle.
His mouth was close to her ear; his deep voice raised gooseflesh on her arms.
"Aim the nozzle at the base of the fire and squeeze the lever."
Suddenly, she was finding it harder to breathe.
"Then sweep it back and forth."
He guided her hand and pressed lightly to simulate the movements.
"Don't stop until the flames are completely out."
Except another kind of fire had started in her midsection. "What if I run out of foam?" she murmured.
He seemed to take his time responding. "The first extinguisher might not have a full charge," he said, his voice sounding husky. "So if there's another extinguisher close by, use it."
She swallowed. "What about throwing water on it?"
He made a rueful noise that bordered on a moan. "Not on a grease fire. If a canister of flour is sitting close by, that would smother the flame."
"Okay."
"Unless the fire is spreading," he added. "If that's the case, then pull the fire alarm and get out." He suddenly released her and stepped back.
Alicia let go of a pent up breath and turned toward him. "That was...enlightening."
He didn't seem to share her gratification. In fact, he looked supremely annoyed. "Have you had a chance to enter your employee information into the payroll system?"
"Er...no." She'd been dragging her feet over completing employee forms because she'd have to fudge her information.
"I'll show you now," he said, heading toward the tiny office adjacent to the kitchen. "Since everyone else has worked here at one time or another, they're already in the system. This way you'll know how to add future employees."
She bit her tongue to keep from saying she wouldn't be here long enough to learn the ins and outs of the payroll system. "Okay."
Her pulse was still jumping when she followed him into the cubbyhole where he turned on the notebook computer sitting on the desk.
"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the lone chair on wheels. She sat, very aware of his big physique in the close quarters. The demonstration with the fire extinguisher had fueled her imagination. There was something primal about the sheer size of him and how her body responded to being around him.
"Are you comfortable working on a computer?" he asked, pulling out a drawer of a file cabinet.
Alicia almost laughed. Between her smartphone, her laptop and her desktop computer, she was wired 24/7. "I can usually figure things out."
He nodded idly and withdrew a folder, then scanned the contents. He pulled out a form and frowned. "You didn't complete your W-4 withholding form."
"I must have been interrupted," she said, stalling. "And I didn't know what mailing address to use." Plus she didn't intend to sign a government form swearing to information that wasn't accurate.
"You can designate General Delivery and pick up your mail at the postal counter inside the General Store unless you want to get your own P.O. box." He stepped behind her chair and leaned down to point to an icon on the screen. "Open this program."
She didn't have to fake her klutzy navigation---his body was practically enveloping hers, sending little shudders all along her shoulders. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice they were practically touching. His warm breath on her neck was calm and steady.
She opened the program and, at the sign-in screen, typed in the user ID he'd assigned to the manager of the diner.
"Who did I replace?" she asked.
"A woman named Molly McIntyre."
"Why did you fire her?"
"I didn't---she quit."
She remembered the stocky woman who had brushed by her the day she'd walked in, the same woman who'd been in the diner earlier today when Marcus had taken a fall.
"You can reset the password to something private," he suggested.
Since he was looking over her W-4 form and not focused on her fingers, she typed in the word "undercover" as her password. He set her form on the desk next to the computer, presumably for her to finish filling out.
When a menu came up, he walked her through how to add herself to the payroll system. As she typed in the alias last name of "Waters," she told herself she was only adopting a persona that would allow her to get the story. No harm, no foul. When she filled in her social security number, she transposed the last two digits.
"Is everything accurate?" he asked, scanning the info on the screen.
She nodded, partially because she didn't want to verbalize a lie, and partially because his nearness was seriously starting to unnerve her. She hit the submit button, then he showed her how to enter employee hours. The food ordering system was next, including how to track inventory of food harvested from the garden. Throughout, her heart beat at an accelerated rate. At one point, he reached around her to type something on the keyboard and his large hands brushed hers. She didn't mind, but he seemed to.
"Sorry," he said, pulling back. "I didn't mean to crowd you."
"It's okay," she said, reminding herself that she was supposed to be cozying up to him. "I have to admit I'm surprised you're so adept on a computer."
"Why?"
"Because you don't seem like the kind of man who spends a lot of time behind a desk."
"I'm behind a desk more than I'd like," he said, his voice suddenly weary.
"I guess starting your own town takes a lot of organization."
His nod told her that was an understatement of gigantic proportions.
"What happens if the Department of Energy inspector doesn't like what he sees here at the diner?"
He looked thoughtful. "It's more of an inspection of the entire town, although last time around the diner was the weak link. And this is just an interim inspection leading up to the final inspection six months from now. In order to receive our final funding and to maintain ownership of the property that makes up the city limits, the D.O.E. has to be satisfied we're covering the basic needs of the townspeople in a way that's good for the environment."
"Your carbon footprint and all of that stuff?" she asked, playing dumb.
He seemed to check himself. "Right." Then he looked back to the screen.
She felt a pang of disappointment because for a few seconds there, Marcus Armstrong seemed like a different man. But obviously he didn't want to share too much...because something strange was going on in Sweetness?
"You must've had trouble getting people to come here," she said. "A couple of the women told me they answered a newspaper ad?"
He frowned. "Not my idea."
"You didn't want to run the ad?"
His mouth tightened. "That's right."
Alicia gave him a little smile. "Someone told me you don't like women."
He jerked upright, then pain flashed across his rugged face...and didn't subside. A guttural groan escaped him, and Alicia could tell from the way he was frozen that it was bad. She stood and reached for him, but he lifted his hand.
"Don't touch me."
She frowned. "I'm just trying to help."
"Give me a minute," he said, gasping.
"Here, sit down," she said, rolling the desk chair until it was positioned behind him.
Gingerly he lowered himself, then cursed when his back caught again. He fell into the chair heavily.
"You need to see a doctor," she said. "Otherwise, your back is only going to get worse."
He gritted his teeth, his face a mask of agony. After a few seconds, though, he nodded in concession, a testament, she realized, to how much pain he was in.
But when he tried to stand, it was apparent he wasn't going to be able to reach a vertical position...or walk if he somehow even managed to get up.
"I'll call the clinic and have them send an ambulance," she said.
"Clinic...doesn't have...ambulance," he ground out.
"Surely they have someone who can bring a stretcher."
"I can make it," he insisted, which was laughable.
Alicia assessed the situation. He was sitting in a sturdy chair...with wheels...and the sidewalks between here and the clinic were new. She made a split-second decision and stepped behind the chair.
"What are you doing?" He was still gasping.
"Taking you to the clinic," she said, then gave the chair a push and guided it toward the door.
"You're crazy!" he muttered.
"Hang on, boss."
Marcus was incredulous. It was broad daylight and the sidewalks of Sweetness were relatively crowded with Saturday foot traffic.
And Alicia Waters was wheeling him toward the clinic in an office chair at breakneck speed.
"Excuse us!" she shouted. "Out of the way! Injured man coming through!"
People and pets were jumping aside, then cheering them on.
"Hey, that looks fun!" one kid shouted.
He was thoroughly appalled. If he hadn't been in so much agony, he would've thrown himself from the damn chair. But at this speed, he was afraid he'd injure his back further. So he hung on to the arm-rests for dear life, biting back curses.
Damn the fool woman and her endless shenanigans. Alicia Waters was going to be the death of him.
Literally.
"Slow down!" he bellowed.
"I can't," she shouted in his ear. "Besides, we're almost there," she added as the sign for the clinic came into view.
He was holding his body rigid to withstand the jostling, and bracing himself for the grief he was sure to get from his brothers when they heard about this stunt.
Thank goodness the clinic had automatic sliding doors, or she might've sent him sailing through the plate glass. They rolled into the lobby of the clinic where patients waited to see the two doctors and to pick up prescriptions from the pharmacy. No surprise, everyone turned to stare. The first person Marcus saw was Porter, who was undoubtedly there to see Nikki.
Great.
Porter gaped as Alicia pushed Marcus past him, banking on two wheels before coming to a stop at the reception desk where Susan Sosa sat.
"Hi," Alicia said.
"Hello," Susan said, casting a wary glance at the couple.
"His back is hurt," Alicia said. "He needs to see a doctor right away."
"I can speak for myself," Marcus bit out.
Both women turned to look at him.
He sighed. "My back is hurt. I need to see a doctor...right away."
Susan picked up the phone. "I'll see who's available. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?"
"Twelve," Marcus managed between clenched teeth.
By that time, Porter had walked over, his mouth stretched into a grin. "What's this?"
"Go away," Marcus said, glaring.
"His back got worse," Alicia said, as if she were his spokesperson. "He couldn't stand or walk."
Porter pulled on his chin, obviously amused. "So you rolled him down here all the way from the diner?"
"Shut up," Marcus said to Porter.
"Yes, I did," Alicia supplied.
Marcus grunted. "If you tell Kendall, you're finished."
"Oh, don't worry," Porter said. "I'm not going to tell him." He held up his phone. A click sounded, followed by a flash. "A picture is worth a thousand words." He was grinning as he hit a few buttons, most certainly sending the impromptu photo of Marcus in the chair to Kendall.
Marcus felt murderous.
"Dr. Salinger said to come on back," Susan announced, setting down the phone receiver. She gestured to the chair. "Do you need a push or something?"
"Just point me in the right direction," Alicia said. Susan pointed.
"Think I'll come, too," Porter sang.
If Marcus could've gotten out of the chair, he would've boxed his brother's ears. But at this point, he just wanted to be out of pain.
As far as the woman pushing him...
Marcus remembered how his body had reacted to their close encounters at the diner, how his hands had fairly trembled when he'd shown her how to use the fire extinguisher, how good her hair smelled when he leaned over her in the office, and the enticing view of her cleavage from that angle.
Not that he had to use his imagination there, he reminded himself wryly. Before the vision of her bathing in the creek could once again take root in his mind, he shook himself. Which made his back spasm. He sucked in a sharp breath against the pain and irritation ballooned in his chest. It was her fault he was in this damn chair in the first place.
Marcus seethed. He was starting to wish he'd never set eyes on Alicia Waters---naked or otherwise.
Alicia could feel the anger rolling off Marcus as she pushed the chair down a hallway toward a woman wearing a white lab coat. Stubborn man---what else could she have done?
When the doctor saw the chair, her eyes flew wide, but she bit back a smile. "Bring him in here. Porter, I'll need your help to get him on a table."
Porter took over for Alicia as chair operator. The doctor looked at Alicia and smiled. "Hello. I'm Dr. Nikki Salinger."
"Alicia R--- Er, Waters," she said, then coughed to cover her gaffe. "I manage the diner."
"Nice to meet you. What happened?"
"He slipped and fell in the diner earlier today. He kept lifting and working and it got worse, until he couldn't stand or walk."
"There's nothing wrong with my mouth," Marcus grumbled from the chair.
Nikki gave a little laugh. "I can see that. What caused your fall, Marcus?"
His mouth tightened. "Fire extinguisher foam."
Alicia's cheeks warmed. "It was sort of my fault," she whispered to the doctor. "I feel terrible."
Nikki gave her a sympathetic look. "It's good that you made him come in."
"She didn't make me," Marcus snapped, then winced.
"I made him," Alicia confirmed.
"You can leave now," Marcus said.
"Won't you need a ride back?" Alicia asked.
Porter guffawed.
"Not in this chair," Marcus said, his tone low and lethal.
"I'll take him wherever he needs to go," Porter assured her.
Alicia nodded. "Then I'll at least wait and take the chair back with me."
"Marcus," Nikki said, "do you think you can stand if we help you?"
He nodded.
Alicia held the chair while Porter and Dr. Salinger helped him to his feet a few painful inches at a time. Getting to the table was another exercise in grunts and gasps. At last his big, long body was settled on an exam table. A sheen of sweat covered his face that was red from exertion. He was taking shallow breaths in an attempt to remain as still as possible. Guilt spurred Alicia forward---she was supposed to be trying to get close to this man, after all. She stepped to his side and lifted the edge of the apron she still wore to press it against his forehead and cheek. Even with the thin layer of fabric between them, touching him was electric.
He seemed as startled as she. "I said you could leave now." But his voice wasn't as gruff as his expression.
"You're welcome," she said pointedly.
"Thanks...for putting me here!"
She smiled. Having him hate her was better than having him ignore her. "See you later, boss."
She looked up to find Porter and Nikki staring at her. She addressed the doctor. "Anything else I can do?"
"Um...no," Dr. Salinger said. "I need to get a syringe, so I'll step out in the hall with you."
Alicia pushed the empty chair through the door and into the hallway. Dr. Salinger followed her, then indicated she was going in the opposite direction.
"Alicia, I assume you're staying at the boardinghouse?"
"That's right."
"Would you like to join a group of us for dinner tonight in the rear great room?"
Alicia nodded, happy for the chance to talk to more people. "What time, and can I bring something?"
"Seven, and not this time."
"Okay, thanks. See you then." Alicia's instinct was to like the woman, but she had to wonder what would bring a young female doctor to such a rural town. Her general impression of the women living in Sweetness was that they'd come because they had few options.
This certainly wouldn't be a place she'd choose to live.
She rolled the chair back to the lobby. Susan Sosa looked up from her desk. "Is everything okay, Alicia?"
"I hope so," Alicia said cheerfully. She and Susan had spoken just this morning in the diner, but work had kept her from getting much information out of the woman other than the fact that she was in the diner hoping to run into a certain gentleman.
"Did your fellow show this morning?"
"Kenny?" Susan looked disappointed and shook her head. "Maybe tomorrow."
Alicia felt a pang for the woman. "Does this Kenny know you're interested?"
Susan shrugged. "I've dropped enough hints."
"How long have you known him?"
"I met him when I was working for Dr. Salinger before the clinic was built. The workers didn't cotton to seeing a lady doc, so Porter paid some of the men to come with made up ailments, and Kenny was one of them." She looked dreamy. "He had an ingrown toenail. I thought he was so cute."
Alicia pursed her mouth. "Sounds...appealing. The Armstrongs had to pay men to see a female doctor?"
"Yeah. But it all worked out. And now Dr. Salinger and Porter are a couple."
Ah. "But they're not married?"
"Right."
The phone rang and Susan excused herself to answer it. Alicia started to turn away when something on the desk caught her eye.
Among the selection of magazines for patients to read while they were waiting was the current copy of Feminine Power.
Her heart jumped to her throat. Who in this podunk town read Feminine Power? She casually picked up the magazine. The name on the subscription label read "Rachel Hutchins." She hadn't met the woman, but she would need to be on her guard. She didn't want to be recognized and her cover blown before she got her story.
Big, sexy Marcus Armstrong had reacted so violently to her comment that he didn't like women, he'd thrown out his back.
No, she wasn't ready to leave Sweetness just yet.
She looked all around to make sure no one was watching her, then rolled up the magazine and stuck it under her arm. Then she wheeled the chair out the door into the intense heat and turned in the direction of the diner. Along the way, people grinned and gave her a thumbs up. Apparently word had spread about her wheeling Marcus Armstrong down the street.
And apparently, it had been high entertainment.
This place really was like an alternate universe. Maybe she could get another blog entry to Nina before dinner...
"This is good stuff," Nina said. "Sweetness sounds like something out of a time warp."
"It is," Alicia agreed. "It's a strange dichotomy because their agenda seems progressive and the town is technologically connected to the rest of the world, yet everyone seems content to exist in relative isolation."
"They have a pet deer named Cupid living in the boardinghouse?"
"That's right. She's housebroken and named in honor of their mass matchmaking experiment."
"And has the matchmaking been successful?"
"I'm still trying to get my hands around it. I need to talk to more women who came here from Broadway. With the living arrangements the way they are, it's hard to tell how many couples there actually are."
"Do you get the sense that it's some kind of religious cult?"
"Not that I can tell. They don't even have a church. But I'm going to a worship service in the morning. Maybe I'll learn something there."
"Your boss didn't really throw out his back when you asked him if he liked women?"
"Yes." But she felt obligated to add, "He aggravated an earlier injury...that I might've caused."
"Did it have anything to do with a fire?" Nina asked dryly.
"It didn't even set off the smoke alarm," Alicia said in her own defense. "He overreacted."
"Uh-huh. And this thing about wheeling your boss to the clinic in a chair---is that true?"
"Nina, I told you---I can't make up this stuff."
Her boss laughed. "How is your boss man?"
"Miffed, the last time I saw him. I hope I have a job when I go in on Monday."
"So you get tomorrow off?"
"Almost everything here is closed on Sunday."
"Right...you are in the Bible belt. What are you going to do all day?"
"I don't know what to expect. The entertainment around here is a little...unvaried, but I'd like to get some exercise." She glanced at her watch. "I have to run, Nina. I was invited to join a few women for dinner. I'm hoping to widen my circle of acquaintances."
"Okay. Keep the entries coming. I'll be feeding your blogs to the syndication group to see if they like the direction of the piece."
Alicia frowned. "But they won't publish them now, right?"
"No, they don't want to blow your undercover status. This is just to whet their appetite."
"Okay. I'll try to send you an entry every evening starting tomorrow."
She disconnected the call, then surveyed her outfit in a mirror. Her mother's pink cotton dress was a little sweet for her tastes, but it would have to do. For makeup she used loose powder in an effort to combat the seemingly constant shine on her face since she'd arrived, plus mascara and lip gloss. She'd decided to leave her hair down.
She tucked a small notebook into her purse, along with her mini tape recorder. She didn't intend to use them during dinner, but she might be able to slip away to a restroom if she needed privacy to make a few notes.
As she descended the stairs to the first floor, Alicia thought back to the previous Saturday when she and friends had taken in a multi-course dinner at a four-star restaurant at the chef's table.
"What a difference a week makes," she murmured to herself as she made her way to the great room that was crowded with people and raucous with noise. Children ran between tables. Country music played in the background. She glanced around the room that during the day doubled as a media center, and saw Nikki's hand go up to wave her over.
Alicia smiled as she approached, but faltered when she reached the table. Marcus Armstrong sat there with his two brothers, Nikki and another woman, and a teenage boy. Marcus didn't look pleased to see her. Was she crashing some sort of family gathering?
"Alicia, it's good to see you," Nikki said, then introduced her to Amy Bradshaw and her son, Tony, who bore an unmistakable likeness to Kendall Armstrong. Tony, she learned, was one of the busboys starting Monday at the diner. Porter and Kendall said hello, but their older brother maintained a stony silence.
"Have a seat," Amy urged.
The only empty seat was, coincidentally, next to Marcus's chair. Alicia slid into it, feeling self-conscious and a little annoyed. She'd been hoping to talk to Nikki and perhaps some other women about their experience in Sweetness. But it would be hard to ask a lot of questions under Marcus's watchful blue-eyed gaze.
Marcus was more than a little annoyed. He'd accepted Nikki's invitation to join his brothers, their girlfriends and his nephew for dinner partially out of appreciation to her for the treatment to his back.
If he'd known Alicia Waters was going to be a guest, too, he would've bowed out.
He sent Porter a glare, but Porter just lifted his shoulders in an almost imperceptible shrug to say he wasn't responsible. Nikki looked wide-eyed and innocent, but he knew better. Alicia had seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her, but he wouldn't put it past the woman to jockey for an invitation---after all, she'd as good as admitted that she'd come to Sweetness because of all the single men. And she'd chatted up every guy who'd come into the diner this morning.
Before she set the place on fire...and wrecked his back...and his concentration.
"Hi," Alicia offered.
"Hello." He picked up his water glass for a drink.
"How's your back?"
"Better."
"Good."
She touched her bare wrist absently, and it made him think of the bracelet she was missing, the one he still hadn't returned. Yet another complication...
Nikki grinned at Alicia across the table. "You win the prize for the most creative method of patient transportation."
Everyone around the table laughed. A hot flush traveled up Marcus's neck.
"The picture Porter sent is priceless," Kendall said to him. "I just wish I could've seen the whole thing, you barreling through town in a rolling desk chair."
"You can," Tony piped up. "A couple of kids caught it all on their cell phones and uploaded the video to the internet."
Marcus set his jaw. Perfect.
Another round of guffaws sounded. Porter wiped his eyes. "Alicia, I don't know what you did to talk my uptight brother into doing something so wild, but kudos."
Next to him, Alicia squirmed.
"Glad I could provide comic relief for the evening," Marcus said, deadpan.
"Oh, we're going to milk this for years," Porter promised.
"You don't know how long we've been waiting to have something on our older brother," Kendall told Alicia. "Thank you."
"The important thing is that Marcus is feeling better," Alicia responded, obviously trying to divert attention away from the incident. He felt a tiny blip of gratitude for the solidarity.
"A syringe of cortisone did the trick," Nikki said. "But he should take it easy."
"I'll keep an eye on him," Alicia said, sliding a smile in his direction.
Marcus frowned---when did she become his keeper?
"Let's eat!" Tony exclaimed. "Dad, can I say grace?"
Kendall nodded.
"Everyone, hold hands," Tony blurted.
Marcus was happy to see his transplanted nephew was thriving in Sweetness. Having had only his mother for most of his life, he was more enthusiastic about family dinners than most kids his age. And Marcus had bowed his head plenty of times---growing up and on the battlefield and a few times since. But the hand-holding...
Amy sat on the other side of him and took his hand. He reluctantly offered his other hand, palm up, to Alicia. She seemed confused by the ritual, slow to put her hand in Porter's, who sat on the other side of her, slower still to take Marcus's proffered hand. A pang struck his chest. Saying grace at family dinners must not have been part of her upbringing.
He tried to concentrate on Tony's heartfelt prayer, but the exquisite texture of Alicia's fingers distracted him. Again he mused that she seemed out of place working in a diner. She seemed more...genteel. Her skin was as soft as silk, as warm as butter...
Marcus opened his eyes before his mind wandered too far afield of the prayer, and chanced a glance in her direction. Her head was bowed and her eyes were closed, her rosy lips parted slightly. He preferred her dark hair loose over those silly pigtails. Her lashes were long and curly on her pink cheeks that mimicked the color in her dress...again, too cutesy for his taste, but becoming nonetheless.
Under the table, someone kicked him. He glanced up to see Kendall staring at him pointedly. Busted, scrutinizing Alicia.
"Amen," Tony pronounced.
"Amen," everyone chorused.
Marcus dropped Alicia's hand and reached for his water glass. He'd much rather have a beer right now---or something stronger---but Nikki had warned him against mixing alcohol with the painkillers she'd prescribed. His best recourse at this point was to eat quickly, then beg off on the pretense of resting his back. He took the salad bowl from Amy, used tongs to remove a helping, then passed the bowl to Alicia. She seemed to be trying to follow all the conversations going on around her, and deal with the bread basket, salad dressing, salt and pepper shakers, and other items passed around. He noticed she was finicky, scrutinizing things before passing more often than not.
With a start he realized he'd never seen her eat anything at the diner other than yogurt or a piece of fruit. When Kendall handed her a glass of red table wine, she thanked him, but after a sniff, relegated the untasted wine next to her plate where it remained.
Marcus pursed his mouth. Alicia Waters was a bit of a snob.
He studied her, paying attention to detail. Her hair was ultra contemporary and recently cut. Her nails were long and elegantly manicured. Her body was trim and toned from regular exercise, yet she wasn't tanned or athletic, which probably meant she belonged to a gym. Her manners were fastidious, down to the way she held her fork. Everything about her was elegant and precise...except her clothing. And while it looked great on her curvy body, for some reason, she seemed uncomfortable in her wardrobe, constantly pulling and adjusting.
Not to knock any of the other women who'd come to Sweetness, but Alicia seemed...different...as if she were accustomed to more refined surroundings.
Although that image didn't exactly mesh with the woman who'd stopped to bathe in the creek...?.
Kendall stepped behind Marcus's chair and leaned down to refill his water glass from a pitcher.
"You're staring again," Kendall murmured for his ears only.
Marcus frowned up at Kendall. "It's not what you think," he said, under his breath.
"Brother, I think it's exactly what I think."
Kendall moved on, filling Alicia's water glass before continuing around the table.
Marcus stabbed at his salad, now in a hurry to get out of there. The last thing he needed was for his brothers and their women to believe he was interested in Alicia Waters. He concentrated on the food---after the salad came a pan of lasagna that Nikki admitted was store-bought but tasted good to him---and let everyone else carry the conversation. Alicia asked Nikki and Amy how they had come to live in Sweetness and the women gave her, thankfully, the shortened versions.
Dr. Nikki Salinger was one of the original women from Broadway who'd answered the ad that Kendall had placed in the newspaper of the Michigan town that had been hit so hard by the downturn in the economy. She'd left a sliding family practice there (and a cheating fiancé, Porter added) to come to Sweetness and start her own practice at the clinic.
Amy Bradshaw had grown up in Sweetness. She and Kendall were high school sweethearts, but had gone their separate ways when Kendall joined the Air Force. Six months ago, Amy, a structural engineer, had accepted Marcus's offer to return to Sweetness to rebuild the Evermore Covered Bridge over Timber Creek that had been blown away by the twister. Only Marcus had known that Amy was secretly raising Kendall's son, Tony. As he'd hoped, though, Amy and Kendall had reconciled and now Tony had both of his parents.
When Amy gave Marcus the credit for bringing them together, he held up his hand. "Don't blame me, Amy."
The remark elicited laughs and deflected attention back to general conversation. Alicia seemed to have a lot of questions about the segregated living arrangements...and if any of the women from Broadway had found the man of their dreams among the workers.
Marcus rolled his eyes. Chick talk.
He idly glanced around the great room, looking for familiar faces. He prided himself on knowing the people who lived and worked in the town.
Across the room, Rachel Hutchins was having dinner with Dr. Devine, the scientist for whom they'd built a laboratory on a large plot of kudzu so the man could study the invasive vine. At a nearby table, Dr. Jay Cross sat alone with his laptop, apparently taking advantage of the wireless connection that was stronger here. Then he noticed the man seemed less interested in what was on his computer screen than what was going on between the attractive, blond couple. Marcus recalled his brothers' remarks that Cross was smitten with the beautiful Rachel.
He shook his head for the prim little man---it was a lost cause. He wanted to pull Dr. Cross aside and tell him it was for the best. His life would be infinitely simpler without a woman.
"Isn't that right, Marcus?" Porter said.
He jerked his attention back to the conversation at the table. "Sorry---say again?"
"Alicia asked if the town could withstand another tornado like the F-5. I said I believe so."
Marcus nodded, then looked at Alicia and almost lost his train of thought in her cavernous eyes. He averted his gaze and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Modular construction is actually stronger than traditional building techniques, plus we further reinforce the buildings with steel as they're being erected on-site."
"And every building, including this one, is built on a basement," Kendall added.
Alicia looked impressed. "It sounds as if you built your town to withstand just about anything." Marcus stopped---your town? Something in her tone seemed...off, as if she were mocking them.
"The town doesn't belong to the Armstrongs," he corrected. "The city limits are incorporated. Everyone who lives and works here will share ownership of the town's manufacturing and retail businesses."
"If you pass your final inspection," she added.
He shifted in his seat---his back was starting to ache, probably because this woman's mere presence made him tense up. "Right. But the town will pass inspection. Everything is on schedule."
"And your family stands to gain financially when that happens?" Then she gave a dismissive wave. "Never mind...I didn't mean to pry."
"No, it's a fair question." He realized it was difficult for others to believe that he and his brothers weren't in line for some kind of windfall if the town succeeded. "The Armstrongs will benefit only in the respect that our family will have land here and hopefully will be able to make a living here."
Alicia's expression turned wistful. "That sounds very wholesome and...nice."
Marcus bit down on his cheek---how did she do that? Make him go from suspicious to defensive to remorseful in the space of a few seconds?
He looked away to escape those bottomless eyes and spotted Rachel Hutchins walking up to the table. Vivacious and statuesque, she often floated from table to table in the evenings to schmooze. Rachel had made no secret of the fact that she planned to have a hand in running the town once ownership was handed over to the residents.
"Hello, all," she sang.
Everyone chorused hello.
"Marcus," she said sweetly, "can I get you a chair?"
He smirked while everyone else laughed uproariously. "Nice," he said dryly, then tossed his napkin in his plate.
Rachel grinned. "Sorry---I couldn't resist. And I'm still waiting for that Homecoming banner to be hung across Main Street."
He nodded. "It's on my list for next week."
"Rachel," Nikki said, "have you met Alicia Waters? Alicia is managing the diner. Alicia, this is Rachel Hutchins."
"Nice to meet you, Alicia," Rachel said. "I can't tell you how happy I am that the diner is under new management."
Alicia smiled. "Nice to meet you, too."
Rachel angled her head. "Have we met before? You seem familiar to me."
Alicia shook her head. "I don't think so."
"You were in the diner the day Alicia came in," Porter offered.
Rachel bit her lip. "I guess that's it."
Alicia smiled, then glanced around the table. "Excuse me. Is there a ladies' room close by?"
Nikki gave her directions and Alicia left the table. Marcus had to drag his gaze from her back to Rachel.
"I'm so excited that Emory and Shelby Maxwell want to renew their vows in our church Homecoming weekend," the blonde said. "I have ideas for getting the whole town involved!"
At the mention of the church, he noticed Porter was looking everywhere but at Nikki. Marcus wiped away a smile and thought this would be a good time to leave---while Alicia was gone.
"Excuse me, but it's time I called it a night," he said, standing. He thanked Nikki for dinner, then picked up his plate.
"Leave it," Nikki said, waving him off. "Go rest your back."
"Actually, I was thinking of heading out, too," Porter said.
"You, stay," Nikki said, her tone deceptively sweet as she placed a restraining hand on his arm.
Marcus shot his brother a sympathetic glance, then said goodbyes all around and left while the leaving was good. From the dining room, he walked down the hallway and through the dimly lit front great room that was more of a sitting room and was usually empty. Which was why he was surprised to see Alicia standing near the stone fireplace hearth. She was speaking into a device, her voice low. When she heard his footsteps, she looked around and startled.
"Marcus...hi." She pushed the gadget into her purse.
"The ladies' restroom is in the other direction."
"Right," she said, then smiled. "I had to make a phone call."
But she seemed nervous. "Nothing serious, I hope?"
"No," she said with a laugh. "I promised my mother I'd call. You know how mothers are."
He nodded. "That I do. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"I left her a voice mail message. Listen, Marcus, I'm sorry about the chair incident. I didn't mean to embarrass you."
She looked even more beautiful in the rosy lighting of the room that picked up the highlights in her dark hair and the shine on her full lips. Her dark eyes were luminous. He had the crazy urge to kiss her, and before he could crush the thought, his body reacted independently, hardening in all the wrong places.
Because he couldn't get the image of her half-naked wet body out of his mind.
"Forget it," he bit out, then took a step toward the front door.
"Are you leaving?"
He stopped. "Yeah...my back is bothering me."
"I hope your bed is comfortable."
"It isn't," he blurted, then felt like an idiot. Because it sounded as if he was fishing for an invitation to climb into hers...which was ridiculous.
"Oh," she murmured. "That's...too bad."
"It's fine," he added quickly. "The barracks are just bare-bones accommodations, that's all." Plus her bracelet was under his mattress and made it lumpy.
"It sounds...simple," she offered.
"That's how I like my life," he rambled. "Simple."
She squinted. "Okay."
He was acting like a moron. "Good night," he said abruptly. Marcus didn't wait for her to respond, just bolted out the door as fast as his tender back would allow him to move.
Sleeping tonight loomed as a very remote possibility.
A shrill noise yanked Alicia from a deep sleep. She sat up straight, disoriented, heart pounding and ears piqued. Police siren? Ambulance? Fire alarm? She looked at the clock---it was just past 6:00 a.m.
A flurry of motion at the window caught her attention. A black bird sitting on the sill cawed in a strident decibel.
Her rural setting flooded back to her. Alicia groaned, then tossed one of the pillows at the window, but it fell short. The bird kept squawking. She fell back on her bed and put the other pillow over her head. The one morning she could sleep in, and the stupid bird wouldn't shut up. At that moment, she would've given anything to be back in her bed in her Manhattan apartment, dozing peacefully to the background noise of honking horns, garbage trucks and raised voices from the street.
And where she could set the air conditioner as low as she wanted. She reached around to pull at the cotton gown she wore that was stuck to her back. The town's commitment to energy conservation meant thermostats were set high in the summer, low in the winter. She'd been steeping like a teabag since she'd arrived.
A tickle on her arm sent her flailing---a fly had been pestering her all night. The insects here were relentless. She cringed to think where the fly had been before it had found her room and her bare arms---in a nice manure pile somewhere? The worm-juice compost bin?
She swatted at the fly and it flew away...for now. Alicia sighed and pulled the pillow off her face. She was wide-awake and utterly exhausted. Sleep had eluded her last night not just because of the pesky fly and the pervasive heat, but because of her encounter with Marcus Armstrong.
Had he heard her speaking into her voice recorder when he walked into the front room, or had he bought her story of leaving a message for her mother? She pressed her fingers to her lips. And had it been her imagination, or had he been on the verge of kissing her in those few minutes before he walked out?
A smile curved her mouth. Maybe the man wasn't totally immune to the opposite sex.
Then she frowned. On the other hand, considering the ribbing he'd taken over the chair ride to the clinic, he could've just as likely been on the verge of throttling her. The man was obviously not accustomed to being the brunt of a joke.
She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. As usual, she checked the floor for possible creepy-crawlies before she put her feet down. When the coast appeared to be clear, she stood and walked over to the window where the noisy bird still perched. She waved her arm to shoo it away and watched it swoop down to a tree branch across the road.
She'd never seen so much green in her life. It was unsettling, all this untamed vegetation. At home she'd strolled through Central Park countless times which, by comparison to this wild place, was groomed and manicured. Yet even after walking through the Park, she'd always felt somewhat relieved when she returned to the surety of sidewalks and streetlights. Nature was just too unpredictable for her tastes.
But she would fake an interest for as long as she was here.
She padded to the table where her laptop sat and turned it on to boot up while she showered. A headache pinged her temples...she'd give anything for a cup of espresso from Grant's, and a copy of the Sunday New York Times. Alicia gave in to a few pangs of homesickness for the energy of the city and for her friends and coworkers. While the people here in Sweetness were friendly enough, an invisible barrier existed between her and everyone she met because they didn't have anything in common.
She simply didn't understand the appeal of living here when there were so many more exciting places to settle down.
After a quick shower, she returned to her laptop where she typed in as many snippets from last night's dinner conversation as she could recall, aided by the voice recordings she'd made when she'd excused herself from the table to avoid further exchanges with Rachel Hutchins. The woman who subscribed to Feminine Power magazine had given Alicia a scare when she'd said she recognized Alicia from somewhere.
She only hoped the blonde didn't put two and two together.
Dr. Salinger and Amy Bradshaw's stories had been interesting, and had ended well...so far. They were both obviously enamored of their men. And they all seemed to get along so well, she'd felt like an interloper at dinner...especially when she sensed that Marcus didn't want her there.
But she recognized allies in the women in her quest to stay close to Marcus, had thanked them profusely for including her and hinted she wouldn't mind spending more time with the eldest Armstrong brother. Alicia had squashed a pang of guilt when the women exchanged conspiratorial glances. She had a job to do, after all.
She checked the time and, after determining she had several minutes before she had to dress to attend the worship service, she picked up her phone and dialed her mother's number. Candace was an early riser, so Alicia wasn't surprised when she answered.
"Hello?"
Her mother's cheery voice made her smile. "Hi, Mom...are you busy?"
"I'm working on some new jewelry designs, but no, I'm never too busy to talk to you."
Alicia's stomach fluttered with remorse---she kept forgetting to check Bo's truck for the missing bracelet. "Tell me about the jewelry you're making."
Her mother scoffed. "I'm just experimenting with odds and ends I picked up from an estate sale, some ivory buttons and copper findings."
"Sounds interesting. Have you contacted any of your friends in retail?"
"Not yet. I'm trying to figure out a way to get my pieces in front of customers first, just to see how people respond."
"That's a good plan. How's everything else?"
"Fine," her mother said, but her voice was tight. "How's your story going, dear?"
"Fine," Alicia mimicked.
"Can you tell me what it's about?"
"I'm looking into some business activities around here, that's all. Will Bo need his truck back anytime soon?"
"He doesn't seem worried about it," Candace said. "He's content to drive my car, I think."
Alicia squinted. "Doesn't he need a truck for landscaping?"
"I guess not. Say, how's that mountain man boss of yours?"
"Bossy."
Candace laughed. "Sounds like your father. It's rather attractive, isn't it?"
Alicia frowned. "Not particularly. But I have to stay close to this guy."
"Ooh, are you trying to seduce him?"
"Mother."
"Women have slept with men for far worse reasons," Candace said, as if she were referring to herself.
Alicia pinched the bridge of her nose---too much information. "I have to be somewhere in a few minutes, Mom. I just called to check in."
"Okay, dear. Call again soon. Take care."
Alicia disconnected the call, shaking her head over how quickly the conversation had gone sideways. And reading between the lines, it sounded as if things between her mother and Bo weren't peachy.
She sighed, then pushed to her feet and dressed for the morning services. Not sure what to expect, she put on a skirt and summery blouse and sandals, then made her way downstairs, her conscience tripping over how long it had been since she'd attended any kind of religious service.
At the bottom of the stairs, she was met by the pet deer, sporting a sequined collar with the name "Cupid" and a yellow tennis ball in its mouth. Alicia recoiled from the animal and tried to sidle around it, but the doe followed her, its hooves tapping on the wood floor. Two little girls came sliding up, dressed in their Sunday best.
"She wants to play fetch," one tow-headed girl explained.
"Take the ball and throw it," the other one urged.
Alicia gave them a tight smile, then inched her hand forward. The deer opened its mouth and dropped the ball. Alicia dipped to catch it, grimacing at the drool dripping from the ball. She tossed the ball back down the hallway, and the deer and the little girls went running away. Holding her slippery hand away from her, Alicia went in search of a paper towel in the large community kitchen abuzz with activity. Moving between bodies, she managed to wipe her hands, then helped herself to a cup of coffee from one of the two coffeepots. Everywhere she turned, she was greeted with "Good morning!" and "Lovely day, isn't it?"
She wasn't accustomed to so much friendliness, so early in the day. What kind of medication were these people on?
A small crowd had gathered in the rear great room where the dining tables had been pushed to the perimeter and chairs set up in neat rows, with a podium in the front. Feeling self-conscious, Alicia took a seat in the back row, recalling how uncomfortable she'd been the previous evening, praying with the Armstrong family and holding Marcus's hand throughout. She had felt like an imposter.
Alicia smirked to herself---she was an imposter.
Everyone she encountered had a greeting and a handshake for her. She rallied to respond in kind, but slumped down in her seat when Rachel Hutchins walked in. To her chagrin, the blonde made a beeline for her.
"Alicia, right?"
She hid behind her coffee cup. "Yes."
"Mind if I sit?"
"Actually---"
"Great!" Rachel dropped into the next seat. "You disappeared last night."
"You were gone when I returned from the ladies' room."
Rachel smiled. "I hope you didn't mind my teasing about the chair incident---that was priceless."
Alicia returned a weak smile. "I didn't mean to cause an uproar."
Rachel scoffed. "We need an uproar around here."
Alicia's curiosity got the better of her. "Where are you from?"
"Broadway, Michigan. I was one of the women who answered an ad the Armstrongs placed in the newspaper for women to help build their town. In fact, I spearheaded putting the group together."
This woman was the ringleader? Her story should be told. "Do you mind if I ask why you came?"
The beauty smirked. "I had half a dozen engagement rings and no wedding dress, plus a dead-end job. I saw the ad in the newspaper promising single men and a fresh start and I thought why not?"
"And?"
Rachel grinned. "I'm seeing a big, hunky scientist whose last name is Devine, and girl, is he ever."
Alicia smiled. "So things are going well?"
Rachel nodded, then her delicate eyebrows furrowed. "Except he doesn't like kids...and I'd like to have three or four."
"That sounds sticky."
"I'll tell him when the time is right," Rachel said with a little wave. "I'm hoping he'll be so in love with me by then, he'll change his mind." She angled her head. "Wow, I'm getting that feeling again that I know you from somewhere."
Alicia took a long sip from her cup. "I guess I just have one of those faces."
Luckily, a chime signaling the start of the service interrupted their conversation. Alicia darted a glance around the room and spotted Porter and Nikki, Kendall and Amy and Tony...but no Marcus. She wondered briefly if he abstained from religious ceremony or if his back was worse this morning. It would've been more fodder for her blog if he himself had shown up in a suit, wielding a Bible and preaching fire and brimstone to his townspeople, but she acknowledged a certain amount of relief that he hadn't assumed that role. Instead, a pleasant-looking man who appeared to be in his thirties walked to the front of the room holding a Bible.
"I hope this works out," Rachel whispered. "We're looking for a minister for the church that's being built."
Alicia turned her head. "A church is being built?"
Rachel nodded. "Next week. This is sort of an audition."
The man bestowed an encompassing smile on the group. "G-g-good m-m-morning. M-m-my n-n-name is M-M-Michael M-M-Mason."
"Oh, dear," murmured Rachel.
Alicia cringed inwardly as the man proceeded, wondering why on Earth a person who stuttered would choose an occupation that required him to speak to crowds. But after a few minutes, her respect and admiration for the minister grew. Despite his speech impediment, he exhibited an ease of manner and sense of humor the crowd seemed to respond to. And although she'd attended the service with the anticipation of uncovering some kind of patriarchal agenda, his simple message about living an authentic life seemed directed at her, the woman sitting there under false pretenses. Alicia squirmed throughout, as if a spotlight shone on her head. At the close of the service, she was antsy to make her escape.
On the way out, she said hello to Nikki and Amy. They invited her to a community barbecue---apparently it was a regular Sunday event on the school grounds.
"Everyone is welcome," Nikki said.
"Will Marcus be there?" Alicia asked.
Nikki made a rueful noise. "I doubt it...Porter asked him, but he said he had other plans. But stop by if you can make it."
Alicia thanked them and slipped out of the room while Rachel Hutchins was preoccupied with the minister. The less time she spent with the woman, the better.
In fact, she was feeling claustrophobic. She'd underestimated the emotional energy required to maneuver in a small community---especially for someone like her, who, despite having her own column in a high-profile magazine, was accustomed to going about her life in Manhattan in relative anonymity. A good, sweaty run sounded appealing. The heat would be brutal, but the solitude would be worth it.
She returned to her room and changed into running shorts, sleeveless shirt and sneakers, then pulled her hair into pigtails and strapped on a belt to hold a water bottle and an armband to hold her MP3 player. At the last minute she remembered the key for Bo's truck so she could look for her bracelet. She stopped by the kitchen on the way out to fill her bottle with cold water, once again dodging Rachel, opting to exit through a side door.
When Alicia stepped out into the blistering heat, she almost changed her mind---the humidity was as thick as cotton. She would have to pace herself and stay hydrated. She stopped under the shade of a copse of trees for warm up stretches, with a nervous eye on her surroundings, on the lookout for rattlesnakes, scorpions and bears in particular.
A spongy path alongside the boardinghouse led to Main Street. A group of children with soccer balls were heading in the direction of the school, with adults carrying coolers straggling behind. Several people buzzed by on four-wheelers.
Small-town Americana at its best, and Alicia literally wanted to run in the opposite direction. She felt like an alien here.
Alicia jogged the short distance to the grassy lot where she'd parked Bo's blue pickup truck among dozens of other vehicles. Just looking at the jalopy brought back bad memories. She opened the driver's-side door and stood back to allow some of the heat to dissipate, then leaned in to look for her bracelet. It was a messy undertaking. In addition to "Pam's" panties, she found a small black address book wedged down in the seat, several empty beer cans and fast-food containers, and more than one roach clip. But no bracelet.
Disappointment washed over her and the sudden tears caught Alicia by surprise. She wasn't normally a sentimental person, but her mother had never made her anything before and her carelessness made her feel like an ungrateful child. Desperate, she closed her eyes and replayed in her mind the last time she remembered seeing the gift.
Putting it on at her mother's house...adjusting it on her wrist a few times when she was driving...snagging it when she pulled her T-shirt over her head at the creek---
At the creek.
Her heart sped up---if the bracelet had fallen in the water, it was gone. But maybe she'd dropped it on or around the rock she'd sat on.
She estimated the distance back to the covered bridge and decided the run was doable. Hopeful that she'd find the bracelet, she walked back to the paved main road and set off on a slow jog.
The sun was ruthless. Soon she was sweating profusely, and she was a nervous wreck from scanning the unending foliage on either side of the road for wild beasts. She wound up removing the ear-buds so she could hear an impending attack. By the time she was seriously regretting the run, it was too late to turn back, so she kept pressing forward. No cars passed her...she'd never felt so alone. Her mind started playing tricks on her, imagining all kinds of terrible outcomes. In that moment she realized how much she needed population density around her. When the covered bridge came into view, she exhaled in relief, then downed the last of her water and picked up the pace.
Just the sound of the creek running lowered her body temperature a few degrees. She slowed to a jog, then walked to the covered bridge to cool off, and sought refuge in its shaded interior until her heart rate slowed.
The bridge was even more spectacular up close. The pattern of the yellow-tinged wood in the ceiling alone was a treat for the eyes. Interspersed among the new timbers were older ones---remnants from the original structure, if she remembered correctly from the website. Amy Bradshaw had built quite a landmark, evidenced by the arrival of a family of sightseers who'd apparently come just to see the bridge. Alicia gave them a brief smile as she exited the bridge, then she made her way down to the creek using the same path she'd used when she'd first arrived.
No one was around, thank goodness, so she was able to comb the area for the bracelet. She didn't find it on the first pass, so she retraced her steps, poking under bushes with the toe of her running shoe, poised to flee if something living crawled or slithered out. Then she checked the water's edge and all around the rock she'd used as a platform, but the bracelet was nowhere to be found. Heaving a sigh of disappointment, Alicia crouched on the rock and trailed her fingers in the cool water, then splashed her face and arms.
Her cheeks burned from a different kind of heat when she remembered how brazen she'd been when she was here before. She'd been lucky that a group of tourists hadn't come upon her then.
She removed her empty water bottle from its belt and scrutinized the stream, wondering if it was safe to drink from. But since facing a hot run back without water was even less appealing, she filled the bottle and stood.
A terrific splashing noise about thirty yards down on the same side of the creek caught her attention---it was a fish...fighting at the end of a line...connected to a fishing pole...held by Marcus Armstrong.
Alicia smiled to herself and headed toward him.
Marcus bit back a curse. The first damn bite he'd gotten all day and of course it had to be when he was hoping Alicia Waters would leave before she noticed him.
He leaned back and cranked the reel, keeping the tip of the rod up, but allowing the fish to wear itself out before he reeled it in entirely. Meanwhile, he kept one eye on Alicia, who was picking her way along the water's edge toward him. He hoped she realized how steep the bank was.
He reeled in the fish, and held the striped bass in one hand while using pliers to remove the hook in its mouth with the other hand. He grinned. It was at least twenty-four inches long, easily a keeper.
A shriek pierced the air. He jerked around in time to see Alicia sliding down the hilly bank toward the water. Her eyes were wide, her arms and legs flailing, to no avail. She rolled and plopped into the water head first, then disappeared.
Marcus cursed again and bolted in her direction. Here the water was well over her head---if she wasn't a strong swimmer or if she panicked, she could drown. With a flash of regret, he tossed the bass back into the water. Then he kicked off his boots and waded in, stripping off his bulky fishing vest as he went. When the water reached his chest, he made a shallow dive. His back quickened and he prayed it didn't seize up on him. The spot where she'd gone in was muddy from the dirt she'd stirred up, but at least her white shirt was easy to spot. He grabbed a handful of it and jerked her to the surface.
She surfaced sputtering, her eyes rounded. She threw her arms around his neck and gasped for breath.
The feel of her body jammed up against his was a jolt to his system. "Easy," he said. "I've got you."
He wrapped one arm around her waist and used the other to paddle backward until his feet touched bottom. She coughed and wheezed, clinging to him like a piece of seaweed. He stood and dragged them both to the bank where he'd been fishing, depositing her on a flat rock.
"Are you okay?" he asked, brushing her wet hair out of her big, brown eyes.
She nodded, gulping air. "I...can't swim."
Latent fear spiked in his chest. "Then for future reference, you shouldn't fall into water."
She frowned. "I didn't exactly mean to."
"Still, you should be more careful."
She touched the water bottle in her belt. "I was coming down here to ask you if the water is safe to drink...but I guess that's a moot point now."
"I guess so, since you swallowed a bellyful."
"And I wanted to see your fish," she said, looking around. "Where is it?"
He pulled on his boots and gave her a wry look. "It was either him or you."
She gave a little laugh. "Then I'm glad you chose me."
"Except I was planning to eat him for supper." Too late, he realized where her mind went because his mind went there, too.
And he was suddenly ravenous.
"I guess I could offer to cook you supper," she said finally.
He scoffed. "And burn down the town? I'll pass."
She smirked. He wondered if she had any idea how beautiful she looked, with water droplets on her skin and her running clothes vacuumed to her curves. His body warmed in response. He shifted, lest his own soaked clothing give away too much.
As if she read his mind, she gestured to his worn jeans. "I got you all wet."
Lord, everything the woman said came out sounding so sexy. "They'll dry." To distract himself, he retrieved his fishing pole and began to repack his tackle box.
"You're giving up?" she asked.
He gestured to the water, still cloudy from their "swim."
"I think we've scared off anything that might've been interested in a worm."
"Where are you going?"
He jerked his thumb toward a four-wheeler parked on the bank above them. "I thought I'd ride up to the home place and check on things."
"Home place?"
"Clover Ridge, where I grew up."
"You have a home there?"
"No...the twister took my parents' home, but Porter and Kendall are building on the property. Can I give you a ride back to town?"
"Why not take me with you?"
He looked up. "To Clover Ridge?"
She grinned. "Are you afraid I'll set fire to something?"
Yeah---him. "No."
"Okay, then. Let's go." She pushed to her feet and brushed off her backside.
It was a fine-looking backside.
He hooked his vest over his shoulder, then picked up his fishing gear with one hand and helped her pick her way across slick rocks and weeds to where the four-wheeler sat. He stowed his tackle and collapsing pole in the storage compartment under the seat, then straddled the ATV, fairly certain this wasn't a good idea.
He had the same feeling in his stomach now as he'd had on the battlefield, just before enemy mortar rounds started falling.
"Climb on," he said, once again feeling as if everything he said was sexually loaded. Alicia was going to think he was a hound dog.
And if she knew he'd ogled her that first day at the creek, her opinion of him would be cinched. He pulled his hand down his face. He had no business getting tangled up with this woman---aside from the fact that she was a firebug and had fantastic breasts, he knew next to nothing about her.
She threw one long tanned leg over the seat and settled in. "Where am I supposed to hold on?"
"There's a handle behind the seat...or you can hang on to me."
She smoothed her hands over his bare wet stomach. "Where? I don't see any love handles."
Marcus couldn't help the stab of male satisfaction as he started the engine. "Here we go."
She wrapped her hands around his waist and he pulled away. The warmth of her soft fingers distracted him from his twinging back. Her body was tucked up behind his, her breasts pressing into him, her thighs hugging his. He was aware of every inch of her as they rode along the shoulder of the main road.
Just before entering town he veered onto a more narrow, less well-maintained road that climbed high on a ridge overlooking the town. He knew this road as well as he knew his own hand, had traveled it on foot, bicycle, horse, tractor, truck and just about any other type of transportation available. It looked as if Porter had bush-hogged the weeds recently, so the road was more passable than the last time Marcus had ventured up this way to visit his dad.
He didn't know what Alicia Waters would think of him stopping by the family cemetery, but she'd invited herself along, so he honestly didn't care.
He slowed as they approached the section of road where the Armstrongs' home had once stood next to the Maxwells' place.
"Armstrong," Alicia read from the black mailbox sitting at the end of the broken, grown-over driveway. "This is where you grew up?" Her velvety voice was near his ear.
He nodded, then pointed. "If you look closely, you can see the footprint of the house. Over there is the root cellar where Porter and my mother hunkered down during the twister."
"I saw the photos on the town website," she said. "The devastation looked pretty extensive."
"It was. This entire area is like a big mixing bowl," he said, twisting on the seat to gesture to the opposite ridge. "The twister touched down and because it was contained in this relatively small space, it just kept getting stronger and stronger."
"It's amazing no one was killed."
"The Sweetness Miracle," they said at the same time.
Marcus smiled. "I haven't heard that phrase in a long time."
"I must've read it on the website," she said. Then she turned back and pointed to the two stacks of timber drying in adjacent fields. "Your brothers' future homes, I take it?"
"Right. Porter is going to build where our parents' home sat, and Kendall is building about a quarter-mile away. Together we own about three hundred acres up here."
"It's pretty," she said, glancing all around with something akin to fear. "But it seems so...remote. I assume these roads have to be repaired?"
He nodded. "And utilities provided. Yes, once we get the city limits stabilized, it's going to be a huge effort to extend services to the outlying areas."
"Where's your future home?"
"I haven't thought about it," he said. A lie. He'd thought about building his own home more often than he cared to admit. But it seemed pointless when he'd be rambling around in it alone and most of his duties would be in town, at least for the foreseeable future.
"You don't want a home of your own?" she pressed. "A family?"
"I have other priorities," he said, his voice more curt than he intended. But if the woman had any ideas about including him in her manhunt, she needed to know right up front that he wasn't on the market.
She seemed to digest his words. "What happens to this land if the town is turned over to the government?"
"Everything outside the city limits is still privately owned, or is reverted to the state if property taxes weren't paid. The ownership of the town itself doesn't change that."
"But will you want to live here if you don't have influence over the direction of the community?"
"It wouldn't be as appealing," he admitted. Then he turned to look at her. "But that's not going to happen if I can help it."
"Are other former residents coming back to rebuild on their land?"
"Some have said they will."
"But they're waiting to see what happens with the federal grant?"
He set his jaw. She had found his sore spot---the fact that even though everyone said they believed in Sweetness and believed in him, everyone was waiting to see if he could really pull it off.
Even his brothers, who hadn't yet broken ground on their own homes.
But he understood. They had other people in their lives to consider and didn't want to invest everything in this ridge if the town wasn't a sure thing.
Still, it stung.
It occurred to him that the sudden probing curiosity seemed out of character for his head cook. "You're full of questions today."
"Just making conversation," she said lightly.
He put his hands on the grips. "Ready?"
"We're leaving?"
"Just going a little farther along the ridge."
He tried not to think about how good it felt when she put her hands back around his waist. He goosed the gas and continued along Clover Ridge, dodging potholes and tree saplings that had taken root in the crumbling asphalt.
Her hands tightened when they rode through tall weeds or went over particularly rough patches of road. And her head swung side to side, as if she were afraid of what might be lurking in the dense growth. He wondered if she was starting to have second thoughts about living in Sweetness. She wouldn't be the first person attracted by the romantic notion of living "in the country," only to discover it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
When the cemetery came into view, he slowed and steered toward the tall iron gate.
"We're stopping at the graveyard?" she asked, sounding alarmed.
"I'm stopping to visit my father," he said. "You don't have to go in." He pulled to a stop outside the gate and cut the engine.
She climbed off gingerly. "I don't want to intrude, so I'll wait here if that's okay." She brushed at her clothes that looked to be nearly dry after their ride.
"Sure," he said, pulling a shirt from the storage compartment. "I won't be long."
He shrugged into the shirt and walked through the gate, scanning for recent damage. He and his brothers had repaired headstones and tended to all the local cemeteries, but with Homecoming weekend coming up, he wanted to make sure everything was in good shape for visitors, especially his mother. He picked up branches and bits of trash as he walked among the tombstones of families he knew: Maxwell, Cole, Dodge, Smithson, Moon, Clinton and so many more. He deposited the garbage in a metal bin in a far corner away from any graves. They would burn the contents when it was filled.
Then he made his way to the Armstrong plot and laid a hand on his father's headstone. Alton Armstrong, beloved husband and father.
"And grandfather," Marcus said. "You should see Kendall's son, Pop. He's a chip off the old block. I guess it's a good thing one of us is keeping the name going, huh? I wouldn't be surprised if he and Amy have another little one or two. Porter, too." Then he laughed. "He's dragging his feet about walking down the aisle, but I see how he looks at Nikki, and he'll come around. They'll add to the Armstrong brood before long."
Marcus looked up and saw Alicia watching him, her hand cupped over her eyes. Suddenly self-conscious, he crouched to pick up a twig from his father's grave. "Mom's good. Having Tony around has given her someone new to dote on. She can't wait to move back to Sweetness and be a full-time grandma."
He ran his hand along the base of the headstone to clear a few leaves. "The town's coming along nicely. I'm finally feeling good about where we are and making Sweetness ours again. I want to make you proud, Dad." He swallowed a lump in his throat, then he smiled. "I went fishing today, caught a nice bass on your favorite lure. Had to toss him back, though...you'd understand if you'd been there."
He pushed to his feet and glanced back to the gate, but didn't see Alicia. She must've gone exploring.
He looked back to his dad's tombstone. "No, I haven't met the right girl yet," he added with a rueful laugh. "I haven't had a lot of time and besides, you and Mom set the bar pretty high. You told me if I ever met the right woman, I'd know, so that's what I'm banking on---"
A bloodcurdling scream rent the air. Marcus jerked his head around---he still couldn't see Alicia. He took off at a run, his mind racing. There were bears in the area, and he'd seen more than one mountain lion at too-close range, wolves, too. When he reached the four-wheeler, he looked all around, but she was nowhere in sight.
"Alicia!"
"Marcus!" Her voice came from a grove of small trees. He could see her white shirt through the leaves. "Rattlesnake!"
His pulse spiked. Timber Rattlers were not to be taken lightly. "Don't move, Alicia---I'm coming!"
He opened the storage compartment of the four-wheeler and pulled out a soft-sided pistol case, then removed a handgun. He'd had to use the weapon against aggressive species only a few times while they were clearing the land, but was glad he'd had it on those occasions.
He hurried to the trees and stopped short at the sight of Alicia's bare butt. She was crouched down, had obviously gone in search of somewhere to relieve herself and chosen an unfortunate place to drop her pants. She was frozen, riveted on the snake a few feet in front of her, its head raised, its tail swaying ominously.
Alicia was beyond terrified. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stared at the hissing snake reared high, its flattened head bobbing toward her. She could barely breathe, could only picture this horrific, violent end to her life. Nina would post something nice in the magazine posthumously, about how Alicia had died doing something she believed in.
Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Marcus. He was holding a gun at his side. But the snake was growing more agitated, weaving and hissing---could he shoot it before it bit her face off?
She wobbled, on the verge of fainting.
Marcus strode toward the snake. Alicia tensed. But instead of raising his gun, he reached forward and grabbed the snake by its neck.
Alicia's eyes went wide---was he completely mad?
But to her amazement, instead of turning on him, the snake went limp in his hand.
"Relax," he said. "It's not a rattlesnake."
She relaxed only a millimeter. "But I heard it rattle!"
"No, you heard its tail stirring up leaves to make you think it has a rattle. It's a hognose snake. Completely harmless."
She frowned. "It's an imposter?"
He laughed. "Exactly." He walked a few feet away and set the snake on the ground. It promptly slunk away. He looked back to her and grinned. "You have to admit it's a clever defense. Very convincing."
Alicia glared. "Will you please turn around so I can pull up my pants?"
His mouth twitched. "A little late for modesty, don't you think?"
"Turn. Around."
Biting back a smile, he turned around.
Alicia stood and yanked up her panties and running shorts, mortified. How did she keep getting in compromising positions with this man?
"Okay, you can turn around."
He turned and scanned her head to toe. She tingled with the knowledge that he'd gotten an unedited view of her nether regions and, crazily, wondered if he'd made an assessment of her assets.
His shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open to reveal the muscled chest and stomach she'd fondled on the ride there. Her mouth watered. To redirect her attention, she gestured to the handgun he held down to his side. "Do you carry one of those everywhere?"
"I typically have a gun within reach," he drawled.
"I don't like guns."
"Neither do I. But they come in handy sometimes."
She bit her lip, thinking of his background report, his Marine Corps history, his war honors. This man had probably shot himself out of places too horrible for her to imagine. Admiration and gratitude swelled her heart.
Attraction made her swell in other places.
"I'm glad you didn't have to use it this time," she murmured. "That's twice you saved me today."
"We won't count this one," he said. "But lady, you do have a penchant for getting into trouble."
She opened her mouth to say she was an extremely competent woman---all of her friends and colleagues said so---then she clamped her mouth shut. She couldn't tell him, of course. "I'm...out of my element."
"What is your element?"
"Not this," she said simply, gesturing to their untamed surroundings.
He seemed to consider her, then nodded toward the four-wheeler. "Then I should probably take you back before something else bad happens."
His words sent a tug of longing to her midsection. Why did she have the feeling he was warning her that he posed as much danger to her well-being as a pool of water or an angry snake?
He started walking and, not about to be left behind to confront more wild beasts, she fell in step with him. He didn't seem to be in a hurry and she wondered if his back was still bothering him.
Best not to ask, she decided.
But when the iron gate to the graveyard came into view, she felt contrite. "I'm sorry. I said I didn't want to intrude and that's exactly what I did."
"I was wrapping up," he said.
"Is your father buried here?"
He nodded.
"And you come here often?"
"Not as often as I should, but as often as I can."
"You must miss him."
"Every day."
His words were so genuine, they plucked at her heart. "Tell me about him."
He shrugged. "He wasn't special or famous or rich. He worked hard and respected the land and loved his family. He left an impression."
"That's nice," she said, studying the laces of her running shoes as she walked. "My father lives a ten-minute cab ride from me, and I haven't seen him in more than a year."
"Cab ride? Your father lives around here?"
With a start, Alicia realized she'd almost blown her cover. "Lived," she corrected. "When I was up north."
"You and your father don't get along?"
"We get along fine," she said, monitoring her words. "On the rare occasions we see each other, we're perfectly polite and pleasant to each other."
"My dad always said if two people don't argue once in a while, one person in the relationship is useless."
She smiled. "It sounds like he was a wise man."
"He was. How old were you when your folks split?"
"Eight," she said. "Dad tried to stay involved in my life, but then he remarried and...well, he got busy."
He nodded as if he understood, but she could tell he didn't. "Do you at least get along with your stepmother?"
"Which one?" she said with a little laugh. "In any case, I'm about to get a new stepmother in a few weeks. This one's younger than I am."
"How about your mother?"
"She's currently living with a man half her age who treats her badly."
He shook his head. "No wonder you don't want to get married."
She smiled. "So what's your excuse?"
He was silent for so long, she thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he exhaled noisily. "The exact opposite, I guess. My parents were so happy, so perfect for each other. I decided a long time ago I'm not going to settle."
She arched an eyebrow. "Wow, that's pressure---or a cop-out."
He frowned. "Cop-out?"
They had reached the four-wheeler. "Sure," she said lightly. "You set your standards so high, no woman will ever meet them, so she gets written off before you give her a chance."
He lifted the seat and stowed the handgun, then lowered the seat. "You don't know me," he said evenly.
"Does anyone?" she challenged.
A muscle worked in his jaw. "Time to go."
It dawned on her that his suggestion that they leave before anything else bad happened was to protect himself. She stepped closer to goad him. "I think what I heard about you is true---that you don't like women."
"That's ridiculous," he said.
She moved forward, into his personal space, and lifted her mouth so close that her lips scraped against his when she whispered, "Prove it."
A heartbeat passed, then another...and then his mouth claimed hers with such intensity that it took her breath away.
He plied her with his tongue until her mouth opened for him to explore. Then he curled his hand around the nape of her neck to slant his mouth against hers harder...and to stab his tongue deeper.
Her senses reeled. She'd never been kissed like this before.
She lifted her hands to splay against his bare chest, skimming her hands over the smooth, corded muscle. She wanted to touch him everywhere.
He slid his hand down to her waist and pulled her body against his. Her nipples budded and her thighs quickened at the hardened proof of his own need pressing against her stomach. Her body was on fire.
And still the kiss went on...he pillaged her mouth, then soothed it with sweet moans that vibrated down to her womb. When she needed breath, he gave her his, filling her lungs. And when her knees threatened to give way, he supported her body, pulling her closer.
At last he lifted his mouth from hers. His dark blue eyes were hooded, his expression defiant. She was laboring to breathe and she was positively weak. Her lips were swollen, and her erogenous zones were still pinging.
"You've been misinformed," he said, his voice raspy.
He released her and turned to swing a leg over to straddle the seat of the ATV. He checked gauges, then started the engine and looked over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"
Alicia opened her thoroughly kissed mouth, but could only nod.
The ride back to town was tense. She could feel the strain in the muscles of his stomach, in the way he held his back erect. She was tense, too, trying to hold herself away from him. But every bump in the road and every swerve had their bodies shifting and brushing against each other. By the time he pulled to a stop in front of the boardinghouse, she was practically panting.
She loosened her grip on his waist and gingerly climbed off the four-wheeler. "See you in the morning," she said. "Thanks again for...everything."
He lifted his hand in a half wave and pulled away, his unbuttoned shirt flapping behind him.
"Nice."
Alicia turned and saw Rachel Hutchins standing there, holding a leash. At the other end of the leash was a dark-faced pug so ugly he was cute.
"Pardon me?" Alicia said, reaching down to give the pug's head a scratch.
"You and Marcus," Rachel said. "Everyone thought he was an impenetrable wall of rock, but you seem to have gotten through."
"He just gave me a ride home," Alicia said. "I ran too far in this heat."
"Whatever you say," Rachel said in a sing-songy voice.
Alicia just smiled and went up to her room. But when she got there, she saw why the woman had jumped to conclusions. Between the spill she'd taken in the creek and the wind-blown ride on the ATV and Marcus's grinding kiss, Alicia looked as if she'd been... What was the saying? Ridden hard and put up wet.
She stripped to take a shower, but while standing under the spray her mind wandered back to the kiss. Her breasts were heavy and taut, and she could still feel the imprint of his fingers everywhere he'd touched her.
The man could kiss.
She fantasized about where that kiss might've led until icy-cold needles stabbed her skin. She reluctantly climbed out and toweled off, then booted up her laptop to make notes on the morning's worship service, her near-drowning, the close encounter with the "rattler" and her even closer encounter with Marcus Armstrong. She had enough material to write several blog entries later.
Her empty stomach sent her walking to the school to the barbecue Nikki had invited her to. It was a big community picnic, with blankets on the ground and music and horseshoe pits and smoking grills. Everyone looked as if they were having a hootin' good time. Alicia stood there for a few minutes observing the interaction, feeling utterly lost in the alien environment.
Nikki Salinger stood and waved her over to where the Armstrongs occupied a patch of ground. Alicia said hellos all around, once again feeling out of place.
Porter gave her a wry smile. "I invited Marcus to join us, but he said he had other plans."
Alicia sipped from a cup of tea so sweet it made her teeth hurt. "Yes, I took a run down to the bridge earlier and saw him fishing." She gave a rueful laugh. "Actually, I fell in the water and he kind of saved me."
"You don't say?" Porter said, shooting a look at Kendall.
"Then he showed me where you're building your homes."
The men exchanged another glance. "Marcus took you to Clover Ridge?" Kendall asked.
"Yes. He showed me where you grew up and then he visited your father's grave."
The men looked at each other again.
"Is something wrong?" Alicia asked.
"No," Porter said hastily.
"Not at all," Kendall added quickly.
"So what's your brother's story?" she asked the men. "He seems to be a bit of a lone wolf."
Kendall laughed. "That's an understatement."
"Marcus is too busy taking care of everyone else to see to his own happiness," Porter said.
"He's under a lot of pressure," Kendall added. "We hope he can relax after the federal deadline, slow down a little and smell the roses."
"He's a good man," Porter said, "but he can be a bit of a bear to live with."
Alicia smiled. "He told me he didn't want to run the ad in the newspaper to bring women here."
"He didn't," Porter confirmed. "But our workers were on the verge of mutiny, so Kendall and I convinced Marcus we needed to do something drastic."
"And have things worked out the way you'd hoped?" she asked.
Porter glanced at Nikki, who stood a few feet away examining a teddy bear covered with colorful adhesive bandages for a concerned-looking little girl. "Better than I could've imagined."
Kendall glanced over to where Amy sat on a blanket with Tony. The boy said something and she ruffled his hair playfully. "Me, too," he said.
Something akin to envy stirred in Alicia's stomach. "So am I missing something?" Alicia asked. "Why is no one here married?"
Porter blanched. "I need to go see about...something." He turned on his heel and walked away.
Kendall gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry, marriage is a touchy subject."
Tony came up to pull his father away for a game of horseshoes. Alicia made small talk with Nikki and complimented Amy on the covered bridge, then decided to mingle and try to find other women who'd made the trip from Broadway so she could collect more stories. The spicy, greasy meat being served wasn't her favorite fare, but she made a meal out of fresh vegetables and managed to identify more women for her blog.
From the looks of things, many couples had been established, but there was an innocence about the atmosphere that smacked of a middle-school prom. There was some hand-holding and a few quick kisses, but no blatant public displays of affection, and no drunkenness.
It was all very...chaste.
And very traditional, she noted. The women seemed to be cooking and waiting on the men while the guys ate and played games. Even Dr. Salinger and Amy Bradshaw, both accomplished professionals, appeared to dote on their men.
In fact, the longer Alicia stayed, the more evident it became that the gender roles here seemed to be stuck in the 1950s. It piqued her ire to see someone like Rachel Hutchins, who subscribed to Feminine Power, carry a plate of food to her good-looking scientist boyfriend who, as far as Alicia could tell, had two perfectly good legs of his own.
Alicia's blood pressure ballooned. She would never put herself in a subservient role to a man.
Her lips tingled. No matter how good a kisser he was.
She slipped away from the gathering feeling sorry for the women of Sweetness. By coming here for the sole purpose of finding a mate, they'd given up any leverage they might've had in the relationship. They were repeating their mother's mistakes, setting women back decades.
And she intended to expose their folly for the sake of women everywhere.
"Missed you at the barbecue yesterday," Porter said over his coffee cup.
"It was a nice turnout," Kendall added.
Marcus dragged his gaze away from Alicia at the grill back to his brothers sitting opposite him at a table in the diner. "I went fishing."
"Catch anything?" Porter asked.
"As a matter of fact, I caught a keeper."
"You don't say?" Porter asked, his mouth quirking. "Tasty, was it?"
Marcus frowned. "I tossed it back."
"That's not like you," Kendall said, smothering a smile. "Did something more interesting come along?"
He worked his mouth side to side. "Are you two idgets getting at something?"
Porter shrugged. "We heard you, um, fished Alicia out of the creek."
Marcus tamped down annoyance. "The woman fell in and she can't swim. I didn't exactly have a choice."
"And then you took her to Clover Ridge to recover," Kendall added with an arched eyebrow.
He shifted in his seat---Christ, had she told them about the kiss, too? "She invited herself along."
"Guess you didn't have a choice there either," Porter said, shooting a glance toward Alicia, dressed in a short flowered skirt, T-shirt and high-heeled sandals. "She seems like such a bully."
"My impression exactly," Kendall seconded, nodding.
Marcus bit down on his cheek. "Could we get back to our meeting?"
Porter sipped from his cup. "You're the one who can't stop looking at her, bro."
"I'm just making sure she's not setting another fire," he muttered, then nodded toward Tony who was bussing a table nearby. "Especially since my nephew now works here."
Kendall glanced at his preteen son, then back. "Speaking of which, from the way he keeps staring at Alicia, I think he's developed a crush on her, too."
"Too?" Marcus laughed and shook his head. "I don't know who you're talking about."
"He's talking about every guy sitting at the counter," Porter said, nodding to the crowded stools. Then he grinned. "And you." Marcus harrumphed.
"We're just giving you a hard time," Kendall said. "I think it's great if you enjoy her company."
"I wouldn't call it enjoyable," he bit out.
Porter grinned. "Even better."
He gave his little brother a lethal look. "How's the church coming along?"
Porter's smile vanished. "The sections should be delivered the day after tomorrow."
"Have you decided when you're going to propose to Nikki?" Kendall asked.
Porter glanced to the table across the room where Nikki and Amy were having breakfast. "Not yet," Porter said in a clipped tone.
Marcus sighed. "Could we get through one conversation without talking about women?"
"Sorry," Kendall offered, although he looked anything but.
"What about the minister who performed the Sunday service?" Marcus asked. "Is he interested in having his own church?"
"Yes," Porter said.
"Well?"
His brothers exchanged a glance.
"What?" Marcus demanded.
"Michael Mason is a great guy," Kendall said. "And he really connected with the residents."
"But...he stutters," Porter added.
Marcus lifted his hands. "Okay...a little unexpected, but what does that have to do with anything?"
Porter sighed. "We have to consider all of his duties as a minister. If you were getting married, would you want the person officiating to stutter through the ceremony?"
Marcus frowned. "Since I'm not planning to get married, it doesn't matter to me one way or another."
"Still, you can see the position it puts us in," Kendall said. "Frankly, I suspect it's why Mason doesn't already have a church of his own."
"It sounds as if neither party is in a position to be choosy," Marcus said. "Give the man a contract and let's move on." He looked down at the list in front of him. "Where do we stand on getting an ambulance for the clinic?"
"We decided to strike it off the list," Porter said.
Marcus looked up. "What?"
"Right," Kendall added. "We're just going to order a bunch of rolling desk chairs to have on hand for emergencies."
His brothers collapsed in gales of laughter, high-fiving each other. A hot, angry flush worked its way up Marcus's face. He set down his pen and folded his arms. "If you two have something more important to do, I'll let you get to it."
Kendall wiped his eyes. "Lighten up, Marcus."
"Yeah," Porter added. "We're just having a little fun."
Marcus felt his mouth quirk, then he conceded a wry smile. "Okay, okay, get it out of your systems."
He drank from his coffee cup until his brothers recovered, sneaking glances toward the grill to make sure all was well.
So far, so good---the smoke alarm hadn't sounded a single time since opening. Alicia seemed particularly focused this morning---on everything except him. Like Porter, he'd noticed the counter was especially crowded with workmen who seemed happy for a front row seat to watch Alicia navigate in her short skirt and high-heeled sandals and an apron that was, in his opinion, too tight for safety's sake. What if it caught on fire, or she needed to make a sudden move? Yet she seemed oblivious to the dangers the constricting garment posed as she chatted with the men.
"Things seem to be running well around here," Porter offered.
Marcus pulled his attention back to his brothers.
"The D.O.E. rep should give the diner high marks this time," Kendall added.
"Let's hope everything else holds up," Marcus added, glad they were back to business. He brought up the subject of constructing a city hall building and endeavored to keep the conversation on track even if his mind wasn't.
Yesterday on Clover Ridge he'd allowed Alicia to goad him into kissing her, and he'd paid for it all night, tossing and turning. This morning he'd removed her bracelet from under his mattress and shoved it in his pocket, determined to return it to her, hoping that ridding himself of it might rid him of constantly thinking about her.
"Don't you agree, Marcus?"
He jerked his head up. "Say again?"
Porter quirked his mouth, then pushed back his chair. "Never mind---we'll let you get back to work."
Kendall stood and nodded to the papers they'd brought with them. "Yeah, Porter and I got this covered."
Marcus frowned. "Wait. Where will you both be this afternoon?"
"On the church site," Porter said, as if he were repeating himself.
"And I'm going to start surveying for a city hall building next to the bank," Kendall said in a tone indicating he also was restating something he'd said moments earlier.
Marcus nodded. "Okay. I'll catch up with you as soon as I can get away from here."
Porter glanced toward Alicia, then back. "Take your time, brother."
Kendall grunted. "Yeah...take your time."
Porter grinned. "And let us know if you need help downloading a special ringtone."
Marcus scowled at both of them as they walked away, pleased with their silly selves.
Then he glanced toward the counter where Alicia was talking to Shawn Taylor, one of the more randy workers. And she was apparently unaware that when she bent over like that, she was giving the man an eyeful of her mouth-watering cleavage.
His frown deepened---or maybe she was fully aware.
Irritation brought him up out of his chair. He felt an obligation to his employees to protect them from the likes of Shawn Taylor. He walked over to the counter and took the order pad from her manicured hand.
"I'll handle this one." Just the brush of her soft fingers reminded him of the hold she'd had on his waist yesterday riding the four-wheeler. His body reacted to the sensory recall accordingly. He gritted his teeth as the memory of that heated kiss flooded back to him, flanked by the image of her topless, her skin shimmering with water droplets.
Marcus swallowed a curse. The woman was torturing him---he had to get out of here as soon as possible, back to a real day's work to distract his frustrated body.
Alicia reached for her pad. "I was in the middle of taking Shawn's order."
He held it out of her reach. "Why don't you give Gina a hand at the grill? I'll take Shawn's order. He's in a hurry since he has to be on the job site in twenty minutes, right, Shawn?" He gave the man a pointed look and Shawn dipped his head.
"Right, boss."
From the reluctant way Alicia turned away, he had a feeling she'd been enjoying the exchange. But surely one of the women would inform her that Shawn Taylor was a man to be avoided.
"What do you want to eat?" Marcus barked to pull Taylor's gaze away from Alicia's retreating backside. He picked up a pen and put it to the pad, then frowned.
Instead of food orders, the sheet of paper was covered with names and what looked like notes of some kind---Susan Sosa, receptionist, sweet but desperate (relatable)... Traci Miles, hair stylist, hopeful but idealistic (makeover)... Rachel Hutchins, feminist beauty who wants kids (more here)...
Marcus turned his head to follow Alicia, inadvertently catching his own eyeful of her rear end. Marcus bit down on the inside of his cheek to steel his body's response even as warning bells chimed in his head. What was this woman up to?
Alicia's pulse jumped as she walked away from Marcus, but she tried to act cool. There wasn't anything blatantly incriminating written on the notepad...was there? Just a few jotted thoughts here and there to jog her memory later when she blogged about her conversations with the women of Sweetness.
She chanced a glance back. He was staring at her with a quizzical expression. Darn those amazing blue eyes---it was as if the man had X-ray vision.
She offered him a carefree little smile, then turned to Gina at the grill, who was flustered, trying to flip fried eggs.
"Can I help?" Alicia asked.
Gina sighed. "I keep breaking the yokes. I told Marcus I'm no cook."
"You're doing fine," Alicia soothed, noticing the way Gina kept looking over her shoulder to a certain table where a certain male customer sat alone, perusing the menu. "Friend of yours?" Alicia asked.
Gina blushed. "Scott Bloom. He asked me to keep score when he and another guy were playing horseshoes yesterday at the barbecue."
Alicia schooled her face to hide her reaction to the dubious distinction. "Oh."
Then Gina nodded toward another waitress. "But Teri flirted with him like crazy, brought him sweet tea refills while I was tied to the scorekeeper's table. How could I compete with that?"
"Indeed," Alicia said in what she hoped was a sympathetic tone. Annoyance skipped along her nerve endings at the realization that a woman had to go to elaborate lengths to get a man to notice her. Or in her case with Marcus Armstrong, to get a man to kiss her.
She darted a glance in his direction and wondered if he'd given that kiss a second thought since pulling his lips from hers. She was starting to regret mentioning it in the blog entry about "Matthew" she'd sent to Nina last night. It had seemed triumphant at the time, but now it felt...indiscreet.
Marcus lifted his head and caught her gaze and Alicia quickly looked away, tingling all over. "Why don't you let me take over and you get back to the floor," she suggested to Gina. "Marcus is finished with his meeting now, he'll help with the grill."
"Do you think he's going to find a cook?"
Alicia turned an egg and winced as the yoke broke, sizzling into a crispy mess. "I hope so."
Gina scooted away and Alicia sighed at the number of orders hanging from the exhaust hood. She'd much rather be talking to customers and getting more fodder for her blog.
"Sausages and fried eggs," Marcus said near her ear, causing her to startle.
"Got it," she murmured, her cheeks warming.
"You're jumpy today," he said mildly, as if he was fishing.
She shrugged, her gaze darting to her notepad he set on the counter. "Just frustrated with these eggs. Any luck finding a cook?"
"Still working on it." Then he tapped the notebook. "What's with all the notations on customers?"
She shrugged again, carefully. "Just my way of trying to remember everyone."
His eyes narrowed. "It seemed more personal than that."
"Not at all," she said in a breezy tone. "I thought it would be good for business since I'm an outsider." Then she picked up the notebook and slid it in her apron pocket. But she didn't like the way he was looking at her, as if he didn't trust her. Well, he couldn't trust her. But he didn't know that.
And she didn't feel guilty because she suspected Marcus Armstrong didn't trust anyone. The way he watched her like a hawk, she'd never get the chance to talk to customers and ferret out stories for her blog. Never mind that the way he watched her messed with her concentration. She had to get rid of him for a while for her own self-preservation.
"Look, boss---I'm sure you have other things to do. You hired me as manager, so let me manage. Things here are under control." Then she wet her lips and leaned in close. "Unless you just want to stay?"
He stared at her mouth---was he thinking about their kiss?---then pulled his head back. "That's not it at all." He frowned. "And don't call me boss."
She batted her lashes. "Sorry."
Which only seemed to irritate him more. "All right, I'll leave you in charge, but only if you promise to stay away from the grill." He flagged down Sheila, then removed the spatula in Alicia's hand and handed it to the waitress. "There...now I won't have to worry about the place going up in flames while I'm gone."
"But I'm not a very good cook," Sheila protested.
"Alicia can tell you what to do," he said with a wry smile, "as long as she doesn't stand too close." And then either consciously or subconsciously, he took a step back.
Anger sparked in Alicia's stomach at his patronizing behavior, but more than anything she wanted him to be gone so she could talk to customers more freely and show the man that a woman could run this place. So she pasted on a smile and said, "You can go...we'll be fine without you."
Marcus frowned again, then he pulled out a ring of keys and handed them to her. "Okay, you can lock up." Then he inclined his head and turned to stride out of the diner, settling a frown on Shawn Taylor and tapping his watch as he walked by.
When the door closed behind him, Alicia fought a nagging sense of emptiness---the bustling little diner was suddenly a less appealing place to spend the day. She pushed aside the disconcerting tug and reminded herself why she was there. With Sheila working diligently---if not confidently---at the grill, Alicia floated around the diner doing whatever she could to help the waitresses and busboys.
Kendall's son Tony seemed especially eager to please on his first day. She stopped by Nikki and Amy's table to brag about Amy's son, then moved on to others, striking up conversations with women who revealed they were in the original group who'd arrived from Broadway in search of a new start and, yes---a man.
Poor Susan Sosa was once again seated alone, casting longing glances toward a man Alicia confirmed was the woman's beloved Kenny...a guy who seemed completely oblivious to her presence.
Alicia felt a pang for the woman's desperation. How horrible to be in a position to so want a man's affection. Alicia was glad she'd never bought into the idea of having to have a man in her life in order to be happy.
On her waist her cell phone vibrated. She glanced at it in case it was Nina calling and was surprised to see her father's name appear on the screen. She smirked at the timing---speaking of not having a man in her life. But since Robert so rarely called her, she was immediately concerned. After glancing around the diner to make sure everything was running smoothly---and gloating a bit because it was---she stepped into the kitchen to take the call privately.
"Hi, Dad."
"Good to hear your voice, sweetheart."
She gripped the phone tighter. "Is something wrong?"
"Can't a father call his daughter just to say hello?"
"Of course," she said on an exhale.
"You sound like you're in a cave."
She looked around the industrial kitchen. "Actually, I'm on assignment. I can't talk long."
"Ah---undercover again? I hope it's not something dangerous."
Inexplicably, Marcus's kiss came to mind. "No...not so far."
"Where are you?"
"In a little town in the North Georgia mountains."
Her father laughed. "You've got to be kidding."
"No," she said, then wet her lips. "Actually, I'm not too far from Mom."
A scoffing noise came over the line. "I heard she was in Atlanta shacking up with a youngster."
"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" she asked mildly. "How is Miranda?"
"Energetic," he said with a sigh that sounded more sad than satisfied. "What are you doing in the North Georgia mountains?"
"I'm running a diner."
He laughed. "Now I know you're kidding---who'd let you near a hot stove? Oh---" He caught himself. "I guess if you're undercover, no one knows you're a firestarter?"
She frowned. "For your information, everything is running very smoothly."
Alicia heard a noise behind her. She turned to see Tony Armstrong standing there, his eyes wide.
She covered the mouthpiece on her phone. "Do you need something, Tony?"
He jerked his thumb toward the dining room. "You'd better come. I think they're going to fight."
She frowned, then uncovered the mouthpiece. "Dad, I have to go. I'll call you soon." After stowing the phone, she followed Tony in the direction of the raised voices.
Female voices.
Two of the waitresses, Gina and Teri, seemed to be in some kind of disagreement.
"I'll take Scott's order," Terri said, elbowing Gina out of the way.
"No, I'll take Scott's order," Gina said, applying her own elbow.
Scott sat at a table between the women looking like an unwitting bone, while the crowd around them craned for a better look. Alicia hurried over and positioned herself between the two women, offering a smile.
"Ladies, there's no need to argue--- Ow!"
A shoving match ensued, with Alicia caught in the middle. One of the women pushed her out of the way. She slipped on a French fry and went down, her cheek glancing off a chair. Pain lit up her face as she sprawled on the floor.
Everything went quiet as both waitresses gasped, then bent over to help Alicia in such haste, they banged heads---hard. They each staggered backward and went down. Then Tony's face appeared over Alicia's.
"Are you okay, Miss Alicia?"
She nodded and extended her hand when he reached out to help her up, but suddenly Shawn Taylor, her customer from the counter, was there.
"I got this," he told Tony, and the boy deferred to the man's considerable bulk.
Alicia allowed him to help her into a chair. He thumbed the tender skin of her cheek and winked. "Gonna have a shiner later."
She grimaced. "Great."
Nikki appeared and leaned down to scrutinize Alicia's face. "Do you have a headache?"
"No."
"Blurriness of vision?"
"No, I'll be fine." Alicia pushed to her feet, uncomfortable with the attention, especially from Shawn Taylor, whose body language seemed suddenly proprietary.
Nikki nodded. "Stop by the clinic later if you need something for swelling or pain." Then she turned to tend to the waitresses being helped to their feet by the man they'd been arguing over.
"Look what you've done!" Gina said to Teri, her eyes flashing as she rubbed the goose egg on her forehead.
"Me?" Teri shrieked. "You were the one who started it!"
"Silence, ladies," Alicia said, her voice lethal. This time they listened. She had every right to fire them, but she was uneasy about the fact that she was only posing as their boss, that she'd be leaving soon, and she didn't want to do something that would affect them after she was gone. Aware of their audience, she leaned in and whispered, "Both of you, take a break to cool off, then get back to work."
The women slunk off, eyeing each other angrily. Alicia had a feeling there would be more drama to come.
And her first day alone as manager went downhill from there.
If trays of spilled food, a broken dishwasher and running out of hamburger wasn't bad enough, in the peak of the afternoon heat, the air conditioner went out. With each crisis, someone offered to get Marcus, but Alicia resisted, handling things her own way even as her frustration mounted. By the time she turned the closed sign and walked to her room, she was exhausted, but she made herself write a blog entry before she took a shower.
Nina was calling before she toweled off.
"You were really caught in the middle of a cat fight?"
Alicia surveyed her bruised face in the mirror. "Shall I send a picture of my black eye?"
"Absolutely! This is a good storyline---readers will come back to see which woman gets her man."
Alicia frowned. "The point is how unhealthy this atmosphere is for women---every woman here feels like she has to have a man."
"Oh?" Nina asked. "And is it rubbing off?"
Alicia's pulse quickened. "Of course not."
"Not even after kissing Marcus, or as you refer to him in your blog, Matthew?"
Alicia scoffed. "That was just for the sake of the story."
"Too bad, because the people at the syndicate are really liking the blog entries about the interplay between the two of you---they're ready to negotiate."
Alicia's face split into a grin. "That's great news!"
"Yes," Nina agreed. "Consider yourself officially on assignment. Stay as long as you need to finish a few story arcs."
Alicia worked her mouth back and forth. "Well, I guess if this editor likes the false chemistry I've created between me and Marcus so much, I could keep working that thread."
"You could," Nina agreed. "The reason you're at this level, Alicia, is because you understand the importance of sacrifice. Keep those blog entries coming."
Alicia disconnected the call and rummaged for clean clothes in her borrowed wardrobe. Her stomach churned with excitement---not at the prospect of staying longer in Sweetness, of course, but at the prospect of having a nationally syndicated blog.
With a national web presence, she'd be able to reach a larger audience and warn exponentially more women about matchmaking towns like Sweetness, Georgia, run by chauvinists like Marcus Armstrong.
He needed to be brought down a notch.
In fact, she practically had a duty to sleep with the man.
But even as her chest thrummed with the thrill of the challenge, she worried her lower lip. She'd essentially had to double-dog-dare the stubborn man to kiss her.
How would she ever get him into bed?
"Heads up, Marcus!"
Marcus looked up in time to see a log swinging his way. He ducked, but felt the whiff of air on his cheek as it narrowly missed him. He swore under his breath and took a step back, then watched the boom operator lower the huge log onto a growing stack on a flatbed trailer. He could've been killed, or seriously injured.
Kendall strode up to him. "You okay, bro?"
"Yeah," Marcus mumbled.
"I yelled twice," Kendall said, his brow creased.
"I didn't hear you."
Kendall gave him a tense smile. "Everything's under control here if you need to get back to the diner."
Marcus frowned and checked his watch, then realized he'd been doing that all day---watching time crawl on his wrist. And tapping his shirt pocket to make sure Alicia's bracelet was still there, like some kind of compulsive idiot. "No, I'm good," he assured Kendall through gritted teeth. "Besides, the diner closed an hour ago."
His brother clapped him on the back and looked to the horizon. "No smoke cloud---that's a good sign."
Marcus grunted his agreement. "I guess we're going to have to advertise for a cook. I can't believe no one in this entire town wants the job."
Kendall scratched his temple. "Amy told me everyone is afraid that Alicia will leave and Molly will come back."
His stomach cramped a little. "Why would Alicia leave?"
Kendall shrugged. "I have no idea."
"Dad!"
Kendall turned and waved at Tony, who loped toward them wearing a big grin. "Mom asked me to come and get you for dinner."
"Okay," Kendall said. "How was your first day on the job?"
"I worked hard," Tony said, his words tumbling out. "The air conditioner went out and Miss Alicia asked me to bring big fans out of the stockroom. That helped a lot. And when we ran out of clean plates, Miss Alicia asked me to go the General Store and buy paper plates for everyone to use."
"Good job," Kendall said.
Marcus bit down on his cheek. Why hadn't she called him?
"I like working for Miss Alicia," Tony added in a lovestruck voice. Then his eyes flew wide. "I almost forgot---there was a fight at the diner!"
Marcus did a double-take. "A fight?"
Tony nodded excitedly. "Yeah---Miss Teri and Miss Gina got into a fight over some guy they were waiting on and Miss Alicia stepped in the middle of it and she got hit---"
"Whoa," Marcus said, alarmed. "Alicia was hit?"
Tony gave another exaggerated nod. "She fell down." His eyebrows drew together. "I was going to help her up, but that big Shawn Taylor helped her instead."
Marcus's stomach tightened at the thought of Taylor's hands on Alicia. "Was she hurt?"
"She got a black eye, but Dr. Nikki said she was okay and she kept working all day." Admiration shone on the boy's face.
Still, Marcus was seized with concern, although he schooled his face into mild disinterest. He looked up at Kendall. "I probably should go check on...the air conditioner."
"Absolutely," Kendall said. "We're finished here for the day anyway."
Marcus gave a curt nod and headed in the direction of the diner. As his mind spun scenarios about Alicia's injuries and just how much "help" Shawn Taylor had given her, his feet moved faster. He stopped by the diner to find it locked up tight, with nothing seemingly amiss. He made a cursory pass by the air conditioning unit to find it was running, but sounded sluggish. He made a mental note to have one of his electricians check it out, then headed across the street to the boardinghouse.
He knocked before entering the front door. Most of the first floor was common area where residents and visitors roamed freely until the hour when men were supposed to be out, but he preferred to err on the side of caution in case one of the women was walking around in a state of undress.
The thought slid into his mind that he wouldn't mind seeing Alicia in a state of undress. And despite his best efforts to squash it, the image lodged in his brain as he scanned the common areas for her dark hair and flashing brown eyes.
"Hey, Marcus."
Startled, he looked up to see Amy standing nearby, a quizzical expression on her face.
"Something I can help you with?"
He tried to be nonchalant. "I, uh, heard Alicia Waters was injured today at the diner. I just wanted to check on her...you know, liability and all."
"Right," she said with a nod. "I saw Alicia earlier, she was headed to her room."
"Oh," he said, inexplicably disappointed.
"You should go up and knock on her door," Amy encouraged, and gave him Alicia's room number.
He frowned. "Were her injuries serious?"
"Nikki didn't think so, but you should talk to Alicia yourself," Amy said, turning to go.
Marcus hesitated. "Amy?"
She looked back. "Yes?"
"Kendall mentioned you said no one was willing to take the cook's position because they think Alicia will leave and Molly will come back to run the diner."
She nodded. "That's the general feeling."
"Did Alicia tell you she's going to leave?"
"No, but..." Amy made a vague gesture. "She just doesn't seem like the kind of woman who would be happy here."
His chest stirred with discontent. "What makes you say that?"
She shrugged. "Call it intuition. She seems like someone who's just passing through." Then she gave him a pointed look. "Then again, I guess that depends on whether she thinks there's something here worth sticking around for."
Amy walked away and a sudden headache settled between Marcus's temples. He massaged at the pain, biting back a curse. Alicia Waters had been nothing but a strain on his mind and body since she'd driven into town. He glanced toward the front door, tempted to leave. After all, if Nikki thought Alicia was okay, that should be good enough for him. But something pulled at him---he wanted to set eyes on Alicia himself...
And see if Shawn Taylor's handprints were all over her.
He patted his pocket that held her bracelet and brightened with an idea. If he gained entrance to her room, maybe he could leave the bracelet somewhere she'd find it. She'd never have to know she'd dropped it while she was playing mermaid in the creek. Or that he'd been watching.
He made his way to the stairs, only to find his way blocked by the doe the women had domesticated, holding a tennis ball in its mouth. Marcus frowned---wild animals had no business being indoors with humans.
He felt that way about himself sometimes, that except for his brothers, he had no business mixing with people. With Porter and Kendall pairing off and marrying soon, he---and everyone else---would probably be happier if he moved to a shack on the top of the mountain and lived alone.
He sidestepped the deer, which followed him until a couple of children appeared to divert it. Marcus climbed the stairs, nodding self-consciously to women he passed. He'd never set foot on the second floor of the boardinghouse. He felt like an interloper in this alien space that was occupied by women and children. Walking toward Alicia's room, his footsteps slowed, but his heart was pounding---he must've taken those stairs faster than he'd realized.
When he reached her door, he stopped and jammed his hands on his hips. What if she misinterpreted his visit to her room? After goading him into that kiss, she might get the wrong idea. Marcus worked his mouth back and forth, then decided he was making a mountain out of a molehill when it came to her injury. If Alicia didn't show up for work tomorrow, then he'd send someone to look in on her.
With his decision made, Marcus felt relieved. He turned to go---but came up short when a hair-curling scream sounded from behind Alicia's door.
He pivoted back and knocked loudly. "Alicia? It's Marcus. Are you okay?"
"Help me!"
Her voice was panicked. He put his hand on the doorknob, but it was locked. He put his shoulder to the solid wood door and slammed into it until the lock gave way and the door flew open. He had conjured up all kinds of scenarios, from the room being on fire to her lying in the floor with a life-threatening injury. Smoke or blood he was prepared for.
What he wasn't prepared to find was Alicia standing on the bed in spitting-good health with only a towel covering her voluptuous curves. He stopped, momentarily paralyzed...and mesmerized.
But Alicia was animated. Her big brown eyes were wide as she pointed to the closet. "Kill it!"
Alicia's finger shook. She distantly registered that she was wearing a towel and Marcus was staring at her, but her quaking fear overrode everything else. "Hurry, it'll get away!"
Marcus blinked then moved closer to the closet. "What is it?"
"It's a scorpion! A real, live scorpion! There, on top of my laundry," she said, pointing.
But Marcus didn't seem to be intimidated as he stared down at the vile creature...which she now conceded was much smaller than she'd first thought. But still---it was a scorpion, curled and bristling, poised to pump lethal poison into her from its stinger at the end of its wicked curled tail. She shuddered when she remembered how close she'd come to picking it up with her laundry.
"Kill it dead," she said evenly.
Marcus looked up and the man was...smiling? "I don't think that'll be necessary."
She frowned. "Why not? Is it some kind of scorpion imposter, like that second-rate rattlesnake?"
He laughed, and the sound caught her by surprise. "No, it's a scorpion, all right. But our scorpions here in Georgia aren't aggressive. And if they sting you, it's not dangerous unless you're allergic. It feels kind of like a wasp sting."
Alicia lifted her chin. "Even so...that can't feel good."
"No," he agreed, smothering a smile. "But scorpions are good for the environment---they eat their weight in insects."
She scowled. "But aren't they better able to do their job if they're outside?"
He grinned. "Yes."
She realized she'd never seen the man so congenial, and it only spiked her ire. "I'm glad you're enjoying this."
His gaze skated over her from her shower-damp hair to her curled toes, as if to indicate he was enjoying some parts of the situation more than others. Alicia tried to gather the towel around her more closely, but when she covered one patch of skin, she only revealed another. She didn't dare try to climb down, lest she flash him. As it was, she could feel air on her private parts. The way he was looking at her with those hooded blue eyes triggered a full-body flush starting at her knees. Her midsection tightened with desire; her nipples budded.
"I can deal with this," he said. But his words held such vehemence, she got the feeling he was talking to himself...and not about the scorpion.
He stared.
She stared.
He was still wearing his work clothes---a leather belt held up rugged jeans and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled above his elbows revealed muscular forearms. Dusty work boots were planted in a wide stance. His hands looked large and capable. He was so sexy and so masculine, he literally took her breath away. Alicia wet her lips.
He abruptly turned to retrieve an empty paper cup and her order pad from her dresser, then used them to scoop up the intruder. "I'll take it outside," he announced without looking at her, then walked out of her room and closed the door behind him with a bang.
Alicia remained standing on the bed for a few seconds until she regained her wits. As she climbed down unsteadily, she wasn't sure which creature had affected her the most---the scorpion or the man. Now that the crisis was over, she wondered briefly how Marcus happened to be outside her door...and she chided herself for not seizing the moment. Since hanging up with Nina, she'd been racking her brain for ways she could take it to the next level with the town's caretaker. Yet he'd been in her bedroom and she'd been nearly naked and her womanly wiles had completely abandoned her.
She sighed and walked over to the door to examine the splintered jamb. Her chest buzzed with an unfamiliar sensation. She usually hated male bravado, but admitted it had been thrilling when Marcus had burst into the room. She'd never had a man break down a door for her before.
And the way he'd looked at her in her towel...
Alicia shook her head to clear it of romantic nonsense---cozying up to Marcus Armstrong was simply a means to an end. She jammed a chair under the doorknob to compensate for the broken lock, then padded to her closet to remove a soft cotton dress while keeping an eye out for stray scorpions. After pulling the dress over her head, newly inspired, she returned to her laptop to type in another blog entry, this one about Marcus Armstrong unexpectedly coming to her rescue while she stood on the bed. Her fingers flew over the keys, then she read the ending aloud.
"The next time I have a chance to get close to Matthew, I'll have to be on my toes. Of course, considering the fact that he was in my bedroom and I was short of clothing, there might never be a better time. Matthew is so distant and so aloof, it's not as if he's going to just knock on my door."
Then a knock sounded on her door.
At the knock on her door, Alicia's heart lurched in her chest. "Who is it?" she called.
"Marcus."
She hastily sent the blog entry to Nina, then closed her laptop. On the way to the door she touched her tender eye, wishing she had time to apply concealer, then chastised herself for allowing the man to bring out her vanity. She removed the chair wedged under the knob and opened the door.
From the threshold, he held up her order pad, his blue eyes twinkling. "The scorpion is safe."
She smirked and took the pad. "Well, that's a relief."
Then he sobered. "I'll fix your door tomorrow. Will you be okay tonight?"
"Unless there are more scorpions lurking about."
"I can check if you like."
Here was the opportunity to get him back into her room, and she was suddenly nervous. "Uh, sure," she said, then opened the door wider to allow him in. She closed it behind him, and the room seemed to shrink. He was so big...and so sexy. Her heart thudded in her chest.
He turned to look at her and to her surprise, he reached for her. She was a split second away from falling into him when she realized he was merely reaching past her to flip the light switch. The overhead light went out, casting the room into relative darkness. She went still as all of her other senses kicked into overdrive.
"What are you doing?" she asked with a little laugh.
The round beam of a small flashlight clicked on. "Scorpions are translucent, so they're easier to spot if you shine a light on them in the dark."
"I'm picking up all kinds of helpful tidbits," she murmured dryly.
As her eyes acclimated to the soft light of dusk coming through the window, she watched him move methodically around the room, shining the light under furniture and into corners. That same strange sensation from earlier suffused her chest, the feeling of being protected. No man had ever made her feel that way...it was a powerful aphrodisiac. When he worked his way back to where she stood, she was trying to calm her galloping nerves.
"I just need to check your bed," he said. "They like to burrow in fabric, which is why you found it in your laundry."
"Go ahead," she agreed readily.
But there was something intimate about him lifting the pillows and shining the light over the covers on her bed. She had a vision of them lying in the sheets together, naked and sated.
"All clear," he said finally.
When he turned back to her, the space between them hummed with electricity. In the dark Alicia could feel his big body pulling on hers. The light from the window emphasized the hard angles of his face---the sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. Alicia was torn---Nina's voice encouraging her to up the ante reverberated in her head...yet she felt something akin to fear, like when she was tumbling down the creek bank, about to fall in over her head. Except instead of saving her, Marcus Armstrong would be the one pulling her under.
He shifted his feet, then reached past her for the light switch...but somehow his hand was diverted to her face. The warmth of his fingers was a shock to her system. Her throat convulsed.
He caressed her bruised cheek. "I heard you were in a brawl today."
She gave a little smile. "You should see the other girl."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said. Except for the fact that she was practically trembling under his touch.
"What happened?"
"It was silly. Teri and Gina were quarreling---over a man, no less. It turned into a shoving match and I stepped in, then I fell and caught a chair on the way down."
His jaw hardened and he dropped his hand. "I hope you fired them."
She shook her head, again thinking how she didn't want the women to be out of a job when she left. "They were remorseful. Besides, we're shorthanded the way it is."
"Still, I don't like it," he said. "And Tony said the air conditioner went out?"
"For a few hours. Then Shawn came by and said it probably needed coolant. He offered to get some and put it in, and it started working again."
He frowned in the low lighting. "Shawn Taylor?"
"Yes."
Marcus's shoulders went rigid. "I wish you hadn't let him do that. He's not experienced, he might've put the wrong type of coolant in the unit."
Alicia blinked at his sudden mood change. "I assumed Shawn knew what he was doing."
"You should've called me."
Her mouth tightened. "You left me in charge. I took charge."
His eyebrow arched. "And Tony said you sent him to buy paper plates?"
"That's right. The dishwasher broke down."
He frowned. "Did Shawn Taylor fix that, too?"
She crossed her arms. "As a matter of fact, he did."
"Something else I'll have to double-check," he said, his voice vibrating with irritation. "And for the record, if the D.O.E. rep had dropped in and found we were using paper plates, the diner might've failed the inspection."
Her neck itched with an angry flush. "I improvised."
"Yeah, well, next time, don't."
"I won't." Alicia turned and flipped on the light, no longer in the mood to be alone with him in the dark. She opened the door. "Goodnight, boss."
He grimaced in the glare of the light, then strode through the door.
Alicia slammed the door, then wedged the chair back underneath the knob with more zest than required. The man was impossible!
She closed her eyes briefly and pulled her hands down her face. Instead of seducing him, she'd allowed him to provoke her. Exasperation whipped through her---at this rate she'd never get to...blog him.
Alicia leaned against the door and fanned her heated body. And she really, really wanted to blog him.
Marcus set his jaw as he strode away. The woman was impossible! He'd gone to her room with good intentions, had gotten rid of her pest, had shown concern for her injury...and when he'd tried to point out how her decisions at the diner could've set them back, she'd gone all female on him.
She was good at that, he conceded---being female. Alicia had his body on high alert, and now he had images of her in a towel to add to the erotic slide-show of her in his head that was on continuous play.
He stopped suddenly, and patted his pocket. Dammit---he still had her bracelet. While he was this close to being rid of it, he wasn't about to take it back to the bunkhouse and stuff it under his mattress again. He turned around and walked back to her door, his mind racing for a plausible explanation as to why he had it in the first place.
He could say he found it in the diner...or the spot where she'd fallen into the creek...or on the floor just now when he was scanning her room...
He hesitated in front of her door and exhaled. He would make this quick, like a blitz maneuver. Marcus lifted his hand and knocked.
A scraping noise sounded, then the door opened and Alicia's sexy brown eyes landed on him, erasing his concocted explanations. "I...uh..." Christ, he felt like a schoolboy---he couldn't look at her and talk at the same time.
But she eliminated his need to speak when she grabbed his shirt collar with both hands and hauled him inside like a sack of potatoes.
Marcus stumbled into Alicia's room and put his arms around her to keep from knocking her down. Kissing her seemed like another sensible way to keep her upright.
And Marcus prided himself on being sensible.
He lowered his mouth to hers and she met him eagerly, slashing her tongue against his. He inhaled the clean scent of her skin and hair and his body was instantly on fire. He ran a hand down her back to cup her buttocks and draw her curves against him. His erection leapt against her stomach. He moaned into her mouth, relishing the feel of her, the taste of her. He was so consumed with desire, he had to tell himself to slow down. After all, women were complicated creatures who emitted mixed signals. Just because she had pulled him into her room and was returning his kiss didn't mean she was all in.
As if she'd read his mind, she abruptly pulled back from him and wheeled away.
Marcus was left heaving for air and shot through with disappointment...until she walked the few steps to the door, picked up the chair, and wedged it underneath the doorknob again. When she turned around, her brown eyes were liquid and sensual, her candy-pink mouth swollen from their kiss.
"I wouldn't want anyone to walk in on us," she murmured, then she was back for more.
"Wait," he said, holding up his hands. Marcus pulled his hand down his face to collect himself. "This is embarrassing, but I didn't exactly come...prepared to...um---"
"No worries," she interrupted, then walked over to her purse and withdrew a small, slender case from which she removed a strip of condoms. "Will this do the trick?"
He arched an eyebrow, but at this moment, he was very glad that Alicia was a modern woman. He reached for her hand, then pulled her close. "I think we can work with that," he whispered in her ear, then captured her mouth in another deep kiss.
Their movements went from hurried to feverish in the span of a few heartbeats. He kissed his way down her neck to her collarbone, reveling when she rolled her shoulders and pushed her fingers into his hair. He caressed her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress, nearly crazy with anticipation to see and touch them after fantasizing about them nonstop since he'd first seen her at the creek, topless and splashing water on herself.
"What do you want?" she whispered, taunting him.
"I want to see your tattoo," he murmured.
She stilled. "How did you know I have a tattoo?"
Marcus stopped, then resumed kissing her. "You...mentioned it."
She was quiet. "Did I?"
"You must have," he said, nuzzling her ear. "How else would I have known?"
She bought it, thank goodness, and began undoing the buttons on his shirt with her quick, soft fingers. She took a moment to splay her hands over his chest and stomach, then she unfastened his belt. Marcus shrugged out of his shirt, but stilled her hands at his waist. He didn't trust his restraint.
"I want to see you," he said, then he lifted her dress over her head and stood back to watch her breasts fall into place. The tattoo he'd seen at a distance was a stemmed red cherry...and he couldn't wait to taste it. Her body was lithe and lean, her breasts high, her waist tapered and her legs long. A pair of tiny pink panties promised to reveal more secrets. He groaned as lust bolted through his body.
He half-walked, half-carried her to the bed and eased her back, kissing her while thumbing her hardened nipples. Then he lowered his head and licked the cherry tattoo until she writhed beneath him and dug her nails into his back.
Marcus slipped lower still, blazing a trail down her flat stomach before sliding his fingers into the tiny panties. Alicia gasped, and kneaded his shoulders as he readied her body for him. He eased the lacy underwear down her legs, then stood back to memorize her. She was arched on the bed, her arms overhead, her amazing breasts jutting in the air, her eyes heavy with anticipation.
His body surged to have her. He fumbled with the zipper on his jeans, then pushed down his boxers to free his erection. She reached to clasp the length of him, and he gritted his teeth to maintain control, then pulled away to kick off his boots and retrieve the condom. He rolled it on and came back to her. When he stood between her knees, a warning bell went off in his head that this felt so good it had to be bad. But the only way he could stop now was if she asked him to.
Instead, she opened beneath him, and he was lost. He thrust into her, and groaned against the ecstasy that rolled through him like a tide. Her soft cries floated on the air as he found a rhythm. He was only able to contain himself by concentrating on her pleasure. She held his gaze with her sexy, bottomless eyes, and he felt as if he was falling into her. She was a vocal lover and her face was expressive. He responded to her wishes with his hips and his fingers. When her body convulsed beneath him in a shuddering climax, he couldn't hold back any longer. Marcus buried himself in her and succumbed to a release that rocked his entire being.
When she pulled him down to cover her body with his, he was still reeling from the sheer intensity of their physical chemistry. But when she sighed in his ear and he felt her heart beating against his, Marcus knew this woman, this connection was different from anything he'd ever experienced before. He already wanted her again.
And he wasn't happy about it.
Alicia's mind spun as Marcus's heart thudded against hers. She had pulled him down on her chest because she was afraid of what he might see in her eyes, that sex with him had shaken her to the core. Sure, it had been a while. In fact, she'd had to glance at the expiration date on the condoms to make sure they were still viable, but she didn't remember lovemaking being like this.
Not lovemaking, she corrected---sex. It was just good, casual sex with a man whom she'd never date or...anything.
She and Marcus Armstrong belonged to such different worlds, they weren't in the same galaxy.
But his breath in her ear and his weight pressing into her left her feeling very...strange. It was uncomfortably comfortable.
Then Alicia smiled to herself---nothing broke the spell of afterglow like talking. "So how was your day?" she asked.
He lifted his head and squinted. "Hmm?"
"I told you about my day. How was yours?"
He hesitated, then gingerly rolled to her side. "Uh...fine, I guess." He was still breathing hard.
"What did you do?"
He was slow to respond. "I spent the morning with Porter at the site where the church is being built. Mind if I use your bathroom?"
"Not at all."
He pushed to his feet and walked to the bathroom. The fact that he was still wearing his jeans wasn't lost on her---the man wanted her completely nude, but had uncovered himself only enough to get the job done, so to speak.
It spoke volumes for how much of himself he was willing to give.
The bathroom door closed and she heard the water kick on. Alicia pushed back to recline on the pillows, pulled a sheet over her nakedness, then closed her eyes to relive what had just happened. Wow. She'd assumed that sex with the man wouldn't be terrible, but...wow.
How was she going to handle this in the blog?
Her gaze darted to the strip of condoms lying on the table next to her bed. She was suddenly regretting her bravado---what if he wanted to use them all? She now had no doubt the man had the stamina, but she was having second thoughts...although she couldn't put her finger on why.
Still, wasn't this the best time to pick his brain, while his guard was down?
He reemerged to cut into her thoughts, and she was struck all over again by his sheer size and masculinity. Her vital signs raced at the memory of his body joined with hers.
Marcus looked at her, then the door, as if he were torn between making whoopee again or making his escape.
"Sit for a while," she said, patting the bed next to her.
He hesitated, then came over and lowered himself next to her, his long jean-clad legs stretched out on top of the sheet, his feet bare. He wasn't touching her, but just having him close made her skin tingle.
Feeling compelled to acknowledge what had just transpired, she murmured, "That was nice."
"Mmm," he grunted noncommittally.
Hurt knifed her unexpectedly. Obviously the sex hadn't been as earth-shattering for Marcus Armstrong as it had been for her. Her reaction left her floundering for conversation. After an awkward lull, she seized on the thread of their previous conversation. "So...you spent the morning at the site where the church is being built. When will it be finished?"
He shifted. "Soon, before Homecoming weekend. There's going to be a wedding."
She lifted an eyebrow. "One of your brothers?"
He shook his head. "There's a couple coming back for the celebration, Emory and Shelby Maxwell. They were here when the tornado touched down and were married down by the creek after the storm passed. They're going to renew their vows in the new church."
Alicia's heart squeezed---even a cynic like her could appreciate the symbolism. "Did you find a minister?"
"We're offering a contract to the fellow who gave the sermon last Sunday."
She nodded. "I was there---he seemed nice."
"Porter and Kendall are afraid that people will be put off by the fact that he stutters."
"I didn't get that feeling."
"Not so much for the sermons, but for formal things, like weddings. Porter said no one would want the person officiating to stutter through the ceremony."
She shrugged. "It seems to me the most important thing about the ceremony is what the bride and groom are saying to each other."
He turned his head to look at her, and the seriousness in his blue eyes made her nervous.
Alicia gave a little laugh. "But since I'm not planning to get married, it wouldn't affect me one way or another."
He nodded. "My thoughts exactly."
An awkward silence settled around them. Reminding herself that she needed fodder for her blog, Alicia tried to redirect the conversation. "Were you at the church site all day?"
"No. I spent the afternoon at the site where the city hall building is going to be built."
"So everything in town is moving ahead as planned?" she probed.
"So far," he said, without elaborating.
She could tell she was losing him, so she tried another tack. "Your brother mentioned that every building in town will have a basement. That's great, but what are the chances of another tornado actually striking again?"
"Percentages only matter to insurance actuaries. I'm not taking any chances with Sweetness."
The passion in his voice made her turn toward him. "You talk as if the responsibility for the entire town is on your shoulders alone."
He shifted and swung his legs over the side of the bed, obviously uncomfortable. "I didn't say that. I just want residents to feel safe."
"But you like being in control, don't you?" she asked softly, studying his profile.
He gave a harsh laugh. "War taught me that none of us are in control."
Sympathy panged her chest---he'd probably seen terrible things. "Even so, it's clear to me that people around here consider you their leader."
His big shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Maybe."
She wet her lips. "The culture here seems very patriarchal---is that what you had in mind for the town?"
Another shrug. "If Sweetness is developing along those lines, it's because the residents want it that way."
Her hackles rose. "Really?"
Her voice must've conveyed her skepticism because his head turned. "Really. Maybe it's a little old-fashioned around here, with the men and women living separately, but I think people are hungry for some old-fashioned ways in their life. It's simpler."
She bit down on her cheek. "It's simpler for the men to be waited on hand and foot by all the women who came here looking for husbands?"
His jaw hardened. "No one forced the women to come." He stood and reached for his clothes, signaling an official end to their tryst. "And everyone is free to leave Sweetness any time they want to." He gave her a pointed look.
Surprising hurt barbed through her. Alicia reached for her dress and pulled it over her head to shield her face, lest her expression give her away. Her mind spun as to how to salvage the derailed conversation---it wouldn't do any good to alienate Marcus after she'd finally gotten him to lower his guard.
He was staring at her when she looked up, but he quickly averted his gaze.
"I didn't mean to sound critical," she said, standing and smoothing the crumpled dress.
"That's a relief," he said dryly, shrugging into his shirt and buttoning it with speedy fingers. "Especially from the woman who told me she came to Sweetness because she heard there were lots of eligible men around."
Alicia's face warmed. She was allowing her true feelings about relationships to interfere with the fact that she was here under the guise of looking for a man. But Marcus pushed her buttons. She lifted her chin. "Maybe I just think a relationship should be more balanced, that the man shouldn't be calling all the shots."
He tucked his shirt into his pants. "There are probably a few guys out there who would agree with you...but I wouldn't call them men." He touched his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute, then he strode to the door, removed the chair, and walked out.
White-hot anger whipped through Alicia. She screwed up her mouth, then grabbed a pillow and threw it against the closed door. "Ooh!"
"The air conditioner seems to be working," Kendall commented from across the table where they were having morning coffee at the diner.
Marcus pulled his gaze away from Alicia, who was pouring refills at the counter. "It's sluggish," he muttered. "Jenkins is supposed to come by later to replace the wrong coolant Taylor put in. Idiot."
Porter grunted. "He was only trying to help, Marcus. What put you in such a bad mood?"
"Or should we ask who?" Kendall added with a sly smile.
Marcus frowned. "You two put me in a bad mood. Both of you snored like bears last night. I barely got any sleep." That and the fact that he'd marched out of Alicia's room the night before with her bracelet still in his shirt pocket. It had felt like a grenade under his mattress. And there was the matter of not being able to get the woman out of his mind. He sneaked another glance her way. She, on the other hand, seemed to have taken their encounter in stride. She was smiling at a customer, happy and fresh as a damn daisy.
"It never bothered you before," Porter remarked, pulling Marcus's attention back to the table.
Marcus squinted. "Hmm?"
"Our snoring," Kendall prompted. "It never bothered you before."
"Well, it does now. When are you two idgets going to get your houses built so you can move out of the bunkhouse?"
His brothers exchanged glances, then squirmed.
"Soon."
"We're going to break ground sometime after Homecoming weekend."
Marcus nodded, keeping his doubts to himself. He took another deep drink from his cup, hoping the caffeine would kick in.
Looking back on last night, Alicia had been the one who'd pulled him into her room. And considering her stash of condoms, the woman probably had many lovers. It would explain why she'd been so skilled at drawing him out afterward. She'd sounded interested in what he was trying to do here. For a while, he'd actually considered telling her how much pressure he felt to meet the federal deadline and to make the town succeed. Until she'd made it sound as if he was trying to start his own cult.
"That young girl, Betsy Hahn, is doing a great job on the website for Homecoming," Porter remarked.
"She says we have over three thousand friends on our social media page," Kendall added.
Marcus shook his head. "I have no idea what that means."
"It means we need to be prepared for a bigger crowd than we expected," Porter said.
"Amy and I are going to stake off more areas for parking along the road leading into town," Kendall said. "I'll peel off a crew to start clearing the lots. Oh, and Porter has good news."
Marcus looked at their younger brother. "What?"
"The fabricated pieces for the church will be here today."
Porter's tone didn't exactly connote good news, but Marcus assumed he was preoccupied with a pending proposal. "Good. Did you extend a contract to the minister?"
"Yes...and he accepted on the spot." Porter made a rueful noise. "I hope we're not making a mistake."
"Because of the stuttering thing?" Marcus asked.
His brothers nodded.
"I'd hate to see Emory and Shelby's vow renewal ceremony turn into something awkward," Porter said.
"Seems to me the most important thing is what Emory and Shelby will be saying to each other," Marcus offered.
His brothers shot him surprised expressions.
"I'm just saying." He lifted his cup for another drink and frowned. Now he was parroting Alicia?
A woman who'd hinted he was a chauvinist pig? Just because Alicia Waters didn't plan on getting married didn't mean she had to pass judgment on an entire town because the current living arrangements were a little traditional for her tastes.
"Refills?"
At the sound of Alicia's voice near his ear, Marcus jumped. He looked up to see her standing there, wearing a tight apron over shorts and a tank top, holding a coffeepot and extending a group-encompassing smile.
Just as if nothing special had transpired between the two of them yesterday.
"Sure," Porter said, scooting his cup closer. Kendall did the same.
"Tony's doing a great job," Alicia told Kendall, nodding to where the boy vigorously bussed a table across the room. "He's a joy to have around."
Kendall looked pleased at her praise for his son.
She turned to Porter. "And Nikki was a dear to look me over yesterday after I had a little accident here in the diner."
Porter beamed with pride. "She's a gem. Hope you're feeling better."
"Oh, yes, thanks. It was just a bump."
After she topped off their cups, she leveled her gaze on Marcus, her brown eyes wide and innocent. "Refill, boss?"
He set his jaw. "I'll pass."
"Don't mind him," Porter offered. "Marcus didn't get any sleep last night."
One delicate dark brow arched. "Really? That's too bad. Everything here is under control if you need to go take a nap."
Porter snorted into his cup, and Kendall bit back a smile.
Marcus frowned up at her. "I don't take naps."
"No?" She gave him an artless smile. "I feel like I get to know you better every day." She flapped her big long eyelashes, then flitted to the next table.
Marcus realized his brothers were watching him. "What?" he barked.
"Nothing."
"Just enjoying my fresh coffee, bro."
He lifted his cup for another drink, but it was empty. He set it on the table with a thud. "How are things at the city hall site?" he asked Kendall.
"Ready to break ground today," Kendall said, then he snapped his fingers. "That reminds me, Marcus---don't forget the ribbon-cutting ceremony this afternoon for the opening of the bank."
"I'll leave that to you," Marcus said. "I'm going to hang the Homecoming banner like I promised Rachel, and while the fire truck is out, I figure it's a good time to set fire to that burn pile in the meadow."
"You going to get Alicia's help with that one?" Porter asked.
Kendall grinned at Porter. "Good one."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "You two are a riot, you know that?"
"Any word from the D.O.E. rep?" Kendall asked.
"Nothing yet," Marcus said. "He should be here any day."
"The diner will get high marks this time," Porter said, looking around the bustling place.
"I'd feel better if we had a dedicated cook," Marcus said. "Will one of you ask Regina Watts to place an ad?"
"Will do," Kendall said, then checked his notes. "What else can we tick off today?"
Marcus tapped his finger on the table. "Could you ask Dr. Devine to recommend the best environmentally safe way to treat the boardinghouse for pests?"
Kendall blinked. "Since when are you interested in anything that goes on at the boardinghouse?"
Marcus shifted in his chair. "I heard they might have a scorpion problem."
Kendall nodded slowly. "Sure, I'll look into it."
Porter pushed back from the table. "I'd better get to the church site."
"Before you go..." Marcus looked back and forth between his brothers, then he leaned in to keep his voice low. "Do you think Sweetness has a patriarchal culture?"
Kendall stared, and Porter looked utterly bewildered.
"I'm outta here," Porter said, then he fled.
The way Kendall was looking at him, Marcus was seriously regretting saying anything. "Forget it."
"You okay, bro?" Kendall asked.
"Just tired." Marcus rubbed his eyes.
"You've been working too hard. Why don't you take a break sometime today and see if anything's biting at Pop's fishing hole?"
Marcus nodded. "I might do that."
"Good," Kendall said, eyeing him with concern. "I'm worried about you."
Marcus waved him off. "I'm fine."
When Kendall walked away, Marcus angled another glance toward Alicia. She was laughing at something one of the male customers at the counter had said, and looking way too sexy for her coffeepot.
Marcus ground his teeth. He was fine...he was always fine.
Alicia laughed at a comment made by a man sitting at the counter, but she was having a hard time keeping her mind on work this morning because Marcus crowded every corner of her brain.
"What's your name?" the man asked. He was nice-looking---bald and muscular. And he had a friendly, refreshing vibe.
"Alicia Ran---" She stopped herself just in time. "Er...Waters. Alicia Waters."
"I'm Clancey King. Nice to know you. Are you from around here?"
"The Northeast," she said vaguely. "You?"
"Atlanta. I read about Sweetness on the internet, thought I'd come up and take a look around. How do you like living here?"
Her mind raced. It was probably best not to say she desperately missed gourmet coffee, hot yoga and intellectual stimulation. She forced a smile. "It's simple here."
He pursed his mouth. "I could go for simple."
Alicia left him to his pancakes and perused the morning diners. Scott Bloom had returned today and thankfully no scuffles had broken out. Teri seemed to have won the wishbone because she was gushingly attentive while a red-eyed Gina ignored the couple. Alicia felt sorry for her, but was determined to observe and not interfere.
At the end of the counter, Rachel Hutchins took a seat and pulled what looked like a bundle of mail out in front of her. She smiled at Alicia expectantly. Alicia glanced around for a waitress she could send to take the woman's order, but they were occupied. She'd gone out of her way to avoid Rachel, but at the moment she had no choice but to be friendly.
Alicia excused herself and made her way down the counter. "Hi," she offered to Rachel. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Grapefruit juice would be great," Rachel said, then she squinted. "Your eye looks bruised."
Alicia smiled. "I fell yesterday---no big deal. I thought I'd done a good job this morning covering it with makeup."
"You did," Rachel said, still staring. "I'm just very observant."
Alicia managed to maintain her smile. "I'll get your juice." She walked to the chilled pitchers and poured the woman's drink. "Observant" Rachel Hutchins made her nervous.
And when she returned to set down the drink, her pulse shot even higher. Rachel was unrolling the current issue of Feminine Power magazine. If she turned to the Undercover Feminist column and noticed Alicia's picture and byline, she might recognize her and realize why Alicia was in Sweetness.
Alicia wanted to kick herself for not using a different first name.
"Thanks," Rachel said, picking up the juice glass. "And a bowl of oatmeal with fruit."
"Coming up," Alicia said.
While she supervised orders and chatted with Clancey King, she kept one anxious eye on the blonde, who seemed to scrutinize every page of the magazine. She even produced a yellow highlighting marker and underlined passages.
Great, Alicia thought---the magazine's most devoted reader lived in Sweetness, Georgia.
Was it her imagination, or was Rachel giving her curious looks?
To make matters worse, Marcus walked by and Rachel flagged him down. Soon the two of them were immersed in conversation, with Rachel doing most of the talking. Alicia tried not to stare, but more than once, she caught Marcus's gaze over the blonde's shoulder. Then he walked away from Rachel and made a beeline for Alicia.
Perspiration beaded her hairline. Had Rachel figured out who she was, and shared her revelation with Marcus? Was she about to be outed?
Marcus stopped. "Could we have a word in private?"
Her throat convulsed---he didn't look pleased. "Sure," she said, then turned and walked into the kitchen.
Tony was mopping the floor, and Marcus asked him to take a bucket of scraps to the compost bin. Alicia gnawed on her thumbnail---noticing how badly she needed a manicure only made her more antsy. When Tony was gone, Marcus turned back to her. "Something just came to my attention."
"Oh?"
He reached into a folder he held and removed what looked like a computer-generated message. "Your social security number was kicked back as invalid."
Was he leading up to exposing her? She put on her best mask of incredulity and reached for the piece of paper. "That's impossible. Oh, wait---two of the numbers are transposed."
After what seemed like an interminable pause, he nodded agreeably and gestured to the computer. "Will you fix it in the payroll system when you can and resubmit it?"
"Absolutely," she said, exhaling deeply when she realized her cover hadn't been blown after all.
"And..." He shifted from foot to foot, then withdrew a small bottle from his pocket and handed it to her.
Alicia squinted at the homemade label. "Cedar oil?"
"It's supposed to repel scorpions. A local man, Riley Bates, makes his own concoctions. Kendall is looking into having the boardinghouse treated, but until then, I thought it might make you feel...better."
Surprise flowered in her chest, flustering her. "Thank you." She unscrewed the lid and sniffed the aromatic contents. The scent was pleasant, if a little strong. "What am I supposed to do with it?"
"Rub it on," he said, then his face reddened. "I mean, like perfume, if you don't mind the smell."
She replaced the lid. "This was nice of you."
He lifted his hands as if to deny her description of nice. "I just want everyone in my patriarchal town to feel safe."
She smirked, but gave him credit for good humor. The man confounded her. Hadn't she been furious with him just last night...and angry still this morning? How did Marcus Armstrong manage to make her feel so many conflicting things at once?
"I'd better get going," he said. "I promised Rachel I'd hang a banner across the street today, and I need to take care of some other things to get ready for Homecoming weekend. But I'll be around if you need me." He balked. "I mean, if anything goes wrong."
Before she could respond, he was gone.
The exchange left her feeling sideswiped...and strangely privileged, as if she'd seen a side of Marcus Armstrong that few people had been privy to. For all his swagger and sway, the man obviously struggled with expressing himself.
Was the cedar oil his idea of a peace offering for their tense words last night?
Alicia bit her lip. She was starting to rethink the blog entry she'd sent to Nina this morning, with her brittle appraisal of the town leader's opinion of traditional male and female roles. True, he was old-fashioned, but the man had redeeming qualities.
She fingered the cloudy bottle. Its labeling and appearance were downright primitive when compared to the pots and jars from exclusive cosmetic counters that littered her vanity at home. Yet it seemed special...
Alicia gave herself a mental shake and tucked the bottle into her apron pocket. She couldn't lose sight of why she'd come to Sweetness in the first place---and that she'd be leaving as soon as Nina felt she had enough material. Leaving to return to the fast-paced urban lifestyle she enjoyed.
And she'd never set foot in Sweetness again.
With new resolve, Alicia walked back into the diner and eyed Rachel at the end of the counter, still poring over Feminine Power magazine. Any minute now the woman might turn to the Undercover Feminist column and make the connection.
While Alicia's mind raced, a slender bespectacled man whom she recognized from the clinic as Dr. Cross walked up and lowered himself onto the stool next to Rachel, giving her an adoring smile. But it was clear from Rachel's body language that she didn't welcome the doctor's company. Alicia surmised the woman was still dating the hunky scientist. She felt sympathy for Dr. Cross, but she was hopeful he'd keep Rachel distracted for a few minutes.
Alicia ladled oatmeal into a bowl and picked up a side dish of fresh fruit. Then she walked to the end of the counter and set it down, giving the glass of juice a nudge in the process. "Here you go---oh!"
The sticky liquid rushed over the magazine and counter. Rachel jumped up to spare her summer dress, raising her arms. "Ugh!"
"Are you okay?" Dr. Cross asked. But in trying to right the glass, he managed to toss the rest of the juice onto the front of Rachel's dress.
Rachel shrieked.
"I'm so sorry," Alicia said, grabbing a handful of paper towels to mop up the mess.
"Me, too." Dr. Cross removed a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the front of Rachel's dress, but his well-meaning hands were promptly slapped away.
"I'll do it! Go away."
Alicia watched as the man relinquished his handkerchief, then slunk away, crushed. Feeling complicit, she squashed a pang of guilt, then scraped the saturated magazine and towels into a waste can. "I'll replace your magazine. And of course breakfast is on me---as well as the dry cleaning."
Rachel gave a rueful laugh. "We don't have a dry cleaner, but thanks." She looked longingly after the magazine, then smiled. "It's okay. Now that I'm in a relationship, I don't like that magazine as much anyway."
Alicia blinked. "Why not?" Then she caught herself. "I mean...what kind of magazine is it?"
"It's one of those strident, man-hating women's magazines, but they have great business articles."
Alicia bit her tongue to keep from blurting the virtues of all aspects of the magazine she worked for. Instead she carried the waste can to the office, gratified that at least Rachel wouldn't be able to identify her.
She chatted more with Clancey, who planned to spend the day in Sweetness, hiking to the water tower and taking photographs. He said goodbye and hinted that he'd probably stop by again later. When he left, Alicia couldn't help but think a little piece of sunshine had gone with the likable man.
After that, even though she got the chance to talk to customers and gather more material for her blog, the day seemed to drag. She ruefully admitted that she missed jockeying for space at the grill next to Marcus and learning more about him, even though the man revealed himself one monosyllable at a time.
After the lunch rush, she walked into the kitchen to find the juice-stained issue of Feminine Power magazine lying on a counter.
Teri saw her do a double-take and offered, "You know how strict we are about recycling around here. Someone fished it out of the garbage and set it out to dry before it goes into the paper bin." She nodded toward the large blue recycle bin brimming with newspapers, cardboard and paper plates from yesterday's stopgap measure when the dishwasher had broken down.
Noble, Alicia acknowledged, but she couldn't risk someone else flipping through the magazine. When Teri left, Alicia skimmed the table of contents and turned to the page with her column that had sustained almost no damage. Even though she was wearing her hair differently, anyone would know it was her.
She tore out the page and glanced around the desk looking for a paper shredder, but didn't see one. She did, however, spy a box of matches that someone had left lying on the counter. And the empty waste can under the desk was metal. Alicia looked over her shoulder then carried the wastebasket outside. Considering her history with fire, no way was she going to start one indoors.
Under a brutal sun next to the compost bins, she struck a match, lit the corner of the page, then dropped it into the waste can and watched it burn. When the paper had been reduced to ash, she added the spent match, then carried the can back inside.
Whew.
She took a few moments to check her voice messages on her cell phone. As expected, Nina was thrilled with the new blog entry, which left her with mixed feelings. Her boss asked her to call her later with "Details! Details!" Alicia frowned---Nina was enjoying this assignment way too much.
When she returned to the counter, Tony and the other busboy were pressing their faces against the window.
"Can we take our break, Miss Alicia, and go out to see the fire truck?"
She nodded, then looked out herself to see the big red truck positioned between two utility poles. The truck itself made her stomach roil---she'd seen enough fire engines to last a lifetime. But when Marcus came into view, her heart gave a little jump.
He was such a handsome man, it was a treat to watch his body move. He carried himself like an athlete...and a soldier, she realized---shoulders back, head tall, eyes all-seeing. He placed a toolbox and the rolled-up banner into a bucket known as a cherry picker (she'd once been rescued in one), and climbed inside, then signaled to someone to lift him.
Alicia couldn't take her eyes off him. Something inside her swelled just knowing that she'd been intimate with him last night. His every movement was purposeful...and effective. When her body started to react to the vivid memories, she forced herself to look away.
Then she spotted something that alarmed her more than the fire truck. Alicia pressed her nose against the window.
"Mom?"
Outside, Candace spotted her through the window and waved, then entered the diner. She stopped inside the door and set a suitcase on the floor. "Surprise!"
Alicia stared at Candace and her suitcase, disbelieving. She walked closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Mom? What is this?"
Candace's bright smile dimmed a bit. "I missed you, so I decided to come up for a visit. Aren't you happy to see me?"
Alicia scrutinized her mother's body language, knew her nervous tics. Something was wrong. She pulled Candace into a brief hug. "Yes, it's good to see you. Have you had lunch?"
"I'm not hungry, but I wouldn't mind a glass of iced tea."
Alicia reached for the suitcase. "Let's sit."
She let the waitresses know she would be on break, then shepherded her mother to a table in a far corner and retrieved a glass of tea for each of them.
"It's so pretty here," Candace chattered. "It's like a picture postcard driving in. That covered bridge is simply amazing."
"Yes, it is," Alicia said patiently.
"And it looks like you've settled in," Candace said, gesturing to the diner.
Alicia looked all around to make sure they couldn't be overheard. "That's kind of the point, Mom---I'm undercover. I wish you'd called first."
Candace looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry, you're right, of course. You're always right."
Alicia reached across the table to clasp her mother's hand. "Did something happen?"
Her mother's eyes filled with tears. "I left Bo."
Alicia knew the drill---ask questions, but don't offer any opinions in case her mother wound up getting back together with the guy. "Why did you leave?"
"He's not the man I thought he was."
The monogrammed panties she'd found under Bo's truck seat came to mind, but Alicia swallowed a retort. "Can you be more specific?"
Candace pressed her lips together. "He uses drugs."
Alicia winced, but wasn't wholly surprised.
"I had my suspicions, but this morning after he left for work, I was cleaning and I found his stash. I was so scared. You can see why I had to leave."
"Of course."
"So...I can stay with you for a while?"
Alicia looked around again and lowered her voice. "Mom, it's not that I don't want you to stay, but it's hard to pretend I'm someone I'm not if my mother is around."
Candace looked hurt momentarily, then brightened. "Why can't I just be the mother of the person you're pretending to be?"
Alicia squinted.
"Please, Alicia?" Candace worried her lower lip. "Just until I figure out what I'm going to do."
Alicia sighed. "Okay. If my boss says it's okay, you can stay in my room at the boardinghouse for a few days."
Candace beamed. "Thank you! We're going to have the best time, you'll see."
Alicia had her doubts, but she gave her mother an encouraging smile.
Candace looked down at Alicia's wrist. "You're not wearing your bracelet."
Guilt flooded her chest. "Oh...I don't wear it when I'm working." She'd ease her way into telling her mother she'd lost it. At the moment, Candace seemed a little fragile and Alicia didn't want her to think she didn't like the gift or appreciate it.
Candace happily sipped from her tea and looked around. "I like this place---it's so...it's so..." She inhaled deeply, then frowned. "Smoky."
Alicia sniffed the air, pulling an acrid odor into her lungs. Then she realized in horror that from the kitchen area, gray smoke was billowing into the diner.
Marcus completed fastening the Homecoming banner on one pole, then signaled to be moved to the other utility pole. He looked down at the crowd gathered to make sure no one was standing in harm's way and noticed a white extended-cab truck with a Department of Energy insignia pulling into a spot near the diner.
Their inspector was back.
He glanced toward the diner and prayed they were ready.
A tanned man with dark blond hair climbed out of the truck and waved up to Marcus. Marcus waved back to Dale Richardson, then cupped his hands and yelled that he would be down in fifteen minutes. He planned to escort the man around himself on this visit. They had too much at stake.
Suddenly an alarm sounded, followed by another. He scanned the buildings below, but quickly narrowed the shrill noise to the diner. His pulse rocketed higher---what was going on?
The door to the diner flew open and a clump of people poured out, followed by a cloud of gray smoke. Marcus's vital signs went on high alert.
"Fire!" he shouted, then pointed to the diner. "Get everyone back! Put me down!"
As the operator lowered him at a painstakingly slow speed, he was relieved to spot Tony standing outside the diner, along with the other busboy. He also located Teri and Gina and Sheila.
But he didn't see Alicia.
He started to panic because it seemed likely that she was behind the blaze, and maybe this time she'd hurt herself---or worse. His mind spun worst-case scenarios of her working at the grill and catching her apron on fire, or spilling a container of hot grease on herself.
A handful of volunteer firefighters he'd trained had been standing next to the truck. Some men had mobilized to deploy a hose and were attaching it to a hydrant. Others were pulling on gear in preparation for going inside.
"Hurry up!" he shouted to the operator.
The cherry picker finally settled back into its base. Marcus swung himself over the edge and hit the ground running. He didn't stop to put on gear, just rushed past people, directing them to get back.
"Is anyone still in there?" he asked a man who had just exited the diner.
The man was coughing uncontrollably, but nodded.
"My daughter!" a woman cried. "My daughter Alicia is still in there!"
Marcus didn't recognize her. "Alicia Waters?"
"No... Yes!" the woman said, her eyes huge. "She told me to leave, that she was going to try to put out the fire with an extinguisher."
He flashed back to the "fire safety" lesson he'd given her. Marcus set his jaw. Foolish woman. He waved to his volunteer crew and shouted directions. One of the men gave him his own gear, and Marcus led the way inside.
The interior of the dining room was thick with smoke, but Marcus knew from experience that smoke could be more dangerous than flame. A blaze burned at the doorway to the kitchen. The lights were out. Marcus passed his flashlight over the floor in case she'd fallen or had passed out, but he didn't see her.
"Alicia!"
He heard something and shouted her name again.
"I'm in the back! Help me!"
He gave directions to his men to extinguish the blaze blocking the way to the kitchen, but after three attempts, they threw up their hands. "There's no water getting to the hose!"
Adrenaline fueled him forward. He ran through the blaze to find Alicia lying flat on the floor next to a spent fire extinguisher. Relief flooded his limbs. He helped her to stand, then shouted, "Stay low and cover your mouth." Shielding her with his equipment, he led her back through the blaze and out the back door.
"Is anyone else inside?" he asked her when they were clear of the building.
She coughed into her hands, but shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Are you okay?"
She nodded, but her brown eyes were wide. "Thank you, Marcus."
He couldn't speak, he was so unnerved from imagining what could've happened. Needing to touch her, he clasped her by her upper arm and walked her around to the front of the diner. There he handed Alicia off to Dr. Cross, who was standing by with a gurney. Marcus saw that Porter had arrived and was working on the hydrant. By the time he made his way back inside, the water was flowing. His crew made short work of the blaze in the kitchen that was being fed by the large bin of recyclable paper sitting near the back door.
When it was over, the fire damage was minimal...but it would take a while to clean up the water and smoke damage.
Marcus returned to where Alicia was sitting on the gurney, begrudgingly letting Dr. Cross listen to her lungs. The women who'd said she was Alicia's mother stood nearby, hovering.
"How is she, doc?" Marcus asked, fighting the urge to put his arms around her. Her face and arms were smudged. Her apron was singed.
"Her lungs sound clear," Dr. Cross said in his crisp British accent. "I think she'll be fine."
"I'm right here," Alicia said, then eased herself off the gurney. "And I am fine."
"What happened?" Marcus asked her. Now that he knew no one was injured, his mind was starting to process all the ramifications of the fire, not the least of which included the fact that the D.O.E. rep's inspection would be delayed---at best.
She bit her lip. "It was my fault."
Anger sparked in his stomach. "How?"
"I was burning paper earlier, and I thought the fire was out...but it must've smoldered. I'm so sorry, Marcus."
"Sorry doesn't cut it," he bit out. "Besides the fact that someone could've been hurt, the D.O.E. rep just arrived to do the inspection."
Her face paled beneath the smudges of ash. "What's going to happen?"
"I honestly don't know." He turned and strode away before he said something worse. He was mad at Alicia for being so careless, and mad at himself for being so concerned about her welfare.
He spotted Dale Richardson standing in the crowd and made his way over to him. Marcus shook the man's hand, but despite Dale's friendly greeting, his expression did not look promising.
"I don't suppose we could reschedule the inspection," Marcus asked with as much good humor as he could muster.
Richardson gave him a tight smile. "I need to talk to you and your brothers."
Marcus didn't like his tone. He rounded up Porter and Kendall and the four of them walked away from the crowd.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news," Richardson said.
Kendall held up his hand. "Hold on, Dale." Kendall knew Richardson better because the man and Amy were acquainted. "I know the diner looks bad now, but come on, we've made some giant strides since the last time you were here. We'll meet that deadline in six months, if you can give us some leeway on today's inspection."
Dale's mouth tightened. "I am giving you leeway on today's inspection---the fact that the hydrant wasn't delivering water would normally be enough to sink you on the emergency response section."
The brothers acknowledged his concession.
"And I know you guys have been busting your asses to make things happen. I have an electronic alert set up, so I know when anything having to do with Sweetness hits the internet. And it's all been good."
"So what's the bad news?" Marcus pressed.
Dale sighed. "Because of budget cuts, a lot of federal programs have been abandoned."
Marcus's heartbeat sped up. "Dale, don't do this."
"I was able to convince my superiors to keep your project on the books," Dale said hurriedly.
Marcus exhaled.
"But," the man continued, "your deadline has been moved up. Instead of having six months to meet the requirements of the grant, you only have one."
"What?" Kendall roared.
"That's impossible," Porter said. "Will the requirements be relaxed?"
Richardson shook his head. "No."
"Wait," Porter said. "If the program were cancelled outright, would the land revert to us?"
"No," Kendall said, his voice bitter. "It was the failsafe clause the government put in the contract. If the program is cancelled, ownership reverts to the entity that owned the land prior to the agreement---namely, the federal government."
"Unfortunately, he's right," Dale said.
The bleak truth hit Marcus---they were being set up to fail. Instead of paying out what was left of the hefty grant to give the town financial footing, the government would assume ownership of the town, or, more likely, contract out ownership to a private company that would log the area and strip it of other natural resources, then retreat.
Leaving the residents high and dry.
And making a mockery of the Greenest Place on Earth.
He saw the truth of his theories reflected in Richardson's face. "I'm sorry, but it's out of my hands."
Marcus felt their gazes swing toward him. He knew his brothers expected him to spout words of guidance and encouragement, to assure Richardson they could pull off a miracle, with time to spare. But he was feeling worn down, and at his breaking point. He was tired of being tired, tired of squabbling residents and problematic business partners, tired of sleeping in a bunkhouse with two hundred and fifty other men, tired of putting everyone else's needs and wants before his own.
"Marcus, what are you thinking?" Richardson finally ventured.
"I'm thinking," Marcus announced, "that I'm going fishing." Then he turned around and walked away.
Alicia hugged herself to stave off the uncontrollable trembling that had set in. All the employees and countless customers had overheard Marcus's reproach. What had she done? From day one, the man had drilled into her the fact that the success of the town hinged on the next inspection of the diner, and all he'd asked was that things run smoothly for the few hours the inspector would be there. Instead she had single-handedly torpedoed the town's efforts by setting a fire in the waste can that she'd thought had burned out, but had apparently rekindled.
Molly McIntyre walked up to her, her expression forlorn. "I blame myself for this. Marcus only hired you to spite me. He thought he could train anyone off the street to run the diner. I wanted to see him taken down a notch, but I didn't want this to happen." Tears swam in the woman's eyes. "Excuse me," she said brusquely, then she marched off, sniffling.
Alicia felt close to tears herself. She hadn't meant for any of this to happen.
Candace came up and squeezed her in an embrace. "I was so frightened. Are you all right?"
"No," she whispered. "Mom, I've ruined everything."
"That's not possible," Candace soothed.
"I was responsible for the fire. Someone could've been killed or injured."
"But they weren't. And look." Candace swept her arm toward the building. "The diner is still standing. With a little soap and muscle, it'll be good as new. I'll help you."
"So will I," offered Tony, who stood nearby.
"Me, too," the other busboy piped up.
"Count me in," the waitresses chorused.
Clancey King emerged from the crowd. "I don't have anything else to do the rest of the day."
Alicia's heart swelled as more and more people volunteered to help clean the diner. It wouldn't undo the damage she'd caused, but at least they could get it back up and running. It might help to assuage the guilt niggling at her...for using the people of Sweetness to advance her career.
Marcus stooped to pick up a flat rock, then sent it sailing across a deep pool of water in Timber Creek, watching it skip across the top, then disappear, then reappear, then disappear and reappear twice again before sinking.
Just the way his father had taught him. How many rocks had he sent skipping across the water over the years? Hundreds? Thousands?
How he loved this creek. There had been so many days when he was in Bosnia or Iraq or a half dozen other desolate, dusty war-torn areas when he had dreamt he was back in Sweetness, taking a dip in its cool waters.
He tilted his head back and shielded his eyes from the sun. The temperature and the humidity both hovered in the mid-nineties. His shirt was plastered to his back. He looked at his soot-covered arms and realized his face probably looked much the same.
On impulse, Marcus leaned over and removed his work boots and socks, then his shirt and jeans. Wearing only his boxers, he waded into the crisp water and made a shallow dive before coming up and rolling to his back. He sighed in relief as the bracing water washed away the grime and, temporarily, his cares.
But as much as he tried to keep worrisome thoughts at bay, Dale Richardson's words crept in.
Six months to meet the requirements of the federal grant to gain ownership of their town was daunting enough, but one month?
It was hopeless.
He hung there in the water, floating, for what seemed like hours, willing a solution to come to him. He felt closer to his father here, at the remote spot where Alton Armstrong had extracted the promise from his son to always keep the Armstrongs rooted in Sweetness.
He felt like an utter failure. His chest ached...it was as if his father had died all over again. Their mother, who'd been planning to realize her dream of moving back to Sweetness Homecoming weekend, would be devastated.
But he was all out of tricks.
Finally Marcus conceded he was only putting off the inevitable. Richardson had to give his superiors an answer, and he owed it to the man not to leave him hanging. Instead of throwing good money after bad, they might as well cut their losses and pull out.
He leaned his head back and dunked his face again, then swam to the shallows and stood to wade out of the restorative waters.
Waters that would soon be under the control of outsiders.
The word waters made him think of Alicia---a mistake. His chest tightened like a vise. The woman had tormented him since she'd arrived, but he'd been wrong to blame her for what he presumed would be a failed inspection. The fire, whatever its source, had been an accident. She had come the closest to being injured, a prospect that still made him nauseous. And as it turned out, the fire itself had no bearing on the future of the town. It was clear that Richardson had been planning to give them a pass on this interim inspection in light of the news the man had come to deliver.
Marcus slung dripping water off his arms with more vehemence than necessary. He owed Alicia an apology. Unfortunately, saying "I'm sorry" had never been his strong suit.
He lowered himself to sit on a wide rock to allow the sun to dry his skin before getting dressed, feeling miserable about pretty much everything. His fishing pole lay nearby, but he didn't feel like fishing any more than the fish probably felt like being caught. To pass the time, he leaned down to choose a flat skipping rock, but stopped when he spotted an odd formation.
At first he thought the craggy rock was sandstone, but something about the way the sun was hitting it seemed...different. There was a waxy sheen to the yellowish surface. He picked up the egg-size rock and hefted it in his hand---it was too dense for sandstone, and heavier than any rock of its size he'd ever held.
Marcus's breathing became shallow as the seed of a fantastic possibility took root. It couldn't be...could it?
Gold?
His mind raced to recall any factoid he knew about gold, and its much-poorer cousin, pyrite, also known as fool's gold. Believing folklore that the Georgia mountains were riddled with gold ore, he and his brothers had spent many a summer day panning for gold when they were younger, in the end having to settle for a nice piece of quartz, a fossilized rock, or if they were very lucky, a flint arrowhead.
Gold, he remembered, didn't change color when held up to a light source. He lifted the rock with shaking fingers and perused it at all angles before conceding it passed the color test.
He also knew that despite its density and weight, gold was a relatively soft substance. He retrieved a pocketknife from his jeans and etched a tiny groove into the nugget. It was soft, all right. And the smooth surface was correctly pitted, like moon rocks he'd seen once at the Space Museum in Huntsville, Alabama.
Adrenaline began to drip through his veins, but he refused to jump to conclusions. After all, he'd never heard of anyone actually finding gold in these mountains, his father had never passed down stories---
Marcus stopped. His father... He'd said something on the day he'd made Marcus promise to keep the family in Sweetness. Alton Armstrong had said Sweetness was a golden place that molded people...a golden place. It had stuck in Marcus's mind all these years because it was such an odd thing for his father to say---not the sentiment, but the wording.
His heart began to pound in earnest as a revelation flooded him. It suddenly made sense---his father had known about the gold, perhaps had found nuggets himself over the years, and wanted his family to be here in the event of a boom.
And, Marcus realized, to protect such a discovery. His head spun at the ramifications of word of a gold strike getting out---Sweetness would be overrun with speculators. The town as he and his brothers foresaw it would cease to exist as every inch of these mountains was mined and commercialized.
Marcus looked up to the rim of soaring peaks that formed a bowl around Sweetness. They were stalwart soldiers, protecting their secrets. He pulled his hand down his face. The town's land simply couldn't fall into the hands of the government now. As hopeless as it seemed, meeting the accelerated deadline was no longer a longshot or a choice---it simply had to happen.
Marcus looked back to the precious stone in his palm, and realized he literally held the future of Sweetness in his hands.
Alicia waved goodbye to the last of the volunteers and started to close the door to the diner when she realized that Clancey King lingered outside in the waning light, his good-natured face and formerly neat clothes smeared with grime and perspiration, like all the workers. Alicia realized she probably looked much the same.
"I can't thank you enough for all your help today," Alicia said from the doorway. "I'm sure this wasn't what you expected when you planned a peaceful day in the mountains."
"You're right," Clancey said, walking closer. "But I was glad to help. I was hoping for a minute of your time?"
She hadn't picked up a sexual vibe from him, so she doubted his interest was personal. "About?"
He pointed to the cook-wanted sign in the window that had somehow survived the water and smoke. "Are you still looking for a cook?"
Surprised, she nodded. "Are you interested?"
"I am. I went to culinary school, and I've worked in restaurants most of my life."
She smiled. "I think you're a tad overqualified to be a short-order cook."
"Maybe. But the camaraderie I saw here today embodies the type of community I want to live in, one where I can make a difference." He smiled wide. "Is that what attracted you to Sweetness?"
Alicia swallowed hard. "That's right," she lied.
"Then you know what I mean."
She gave a brief nod. "Listen, Clancey, the diner does need a cook, but I'm not the person you need to talk to. To be truthful, I probably don't have a job here myself after today, but I'll pass along your information."
He pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it to her. "I'd appreciate it. I can start immediately."
She nodded. "Good to know."
"Just out of curiosity, do you know what the job pays?"
"No, but generally, jobs in this town include some sort of living arrangement. The men live in a bunkhouse and the women and children live in the boardinghouse."
"Oh." He scratched his head. "If the living and sleeping space is shared, you should probably know I'm gay."
She shrugged. "Okay."
He smiled. "It might be okay in the Northeast where you're from, but I'm not so sure Sweetness, Georgia, is ready for me."
He had an unfortunate point. "I'm sure someone will be in touch."
"Great." Although she could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't believe her. He extended his hand. "Regardless, it's been a pleasure."
She shook his hand. "Likewise."
He crossed the street to where a shiny black motorcycle was parked. Clancey donned a helmet, climbed on, then started the big bike with a rumble. He lifted his hand in a wave, then he was off, heading back toward the interstate highway.
Alicia turned when the door to the diner opened behind her. Candace emerged, looking flushed and tired. Alicia's heart went out to her. "Did you find your suitcase?" In all the commotion, her mother's suitcase had gone missing from the diner.
"No." Worry lined her mother's mouth.
"It's okay," Alicia said. "Someone probably stuck it somewhere for safekeeping. Remember that everything in my closet is yours anyway."
Her mother attempted a smile. "I have another bag in the car, enough clothes to last awhile."
"Have you talked to Bo?"
She nodded nervously. "I called him and told him I'm visiting you, so he doesn't think anything is amiss. When I feel stronger, I'll drive Bo's truck home to get my things, and leave your rental car here for you."
Alicia made a mental note to perform the disgusting chore of removing the misplaced panties from the truck before her mother found them. "Mom, I don't know how long I'll be here. I might be leaving soon." Like, tomorrow, if Marcus fired her and she couldn't find a reason to stay in Sweetness.
"Then I'll leave when you do," Candace said brightly. "And don't worry. Today, when anyone asked, I just said I was your mother and that I was visiting. Is there a name I should use?"
"Anything but Randall."
"Okay."
Alicia conceded she was drained from the day's events, but the fact that she was asking her own mother to lie was a stark reminder of just how fraudulent her presence was in this town. Her previous assignments had been short-term, or in an environment where people hadn't been as accepting of a stranger. She'd never before had the chance to insinuate herself into a community. It was starting to feel predatory.
At her waist her cell phone rang---it was Nina. "Mom, I need to take this."
"Why don't I get my toiletry bag out of the car?"
"It wasn't in your suitcase?"
"No...luckily," Candace said, then she headed in the direction of the graveled lot that served as community parking.
Alicia walked back into the diner and connected the call. "Hi, Nina."
"I've been waiting all day for you to call!"
"Sorry...it's been a little hectic here." She glanced around the diner which looked remarkably normal considering she'd almost burnt it down.
"I guess I'll read about it in your next blog entry---"
"Nina, I'm leaving Sweetness."
"What? Did someone recognize you?"
Alicia sighed. "No...but that's another story. The thing is, I think I have enough information to write an exposé on what a woman can expect if she comes here looking for love."
"But you can't leave now! What about Cindy and Kyle? Is he ever going to notice her? And is Parker ever going to propose to Vikki? And is Raquel going to tell Dr. Goodbody that she wants children? And how about you and Matthew?"
Alicia frowned, trying to keep all the fictitious names straight. "What about us?"
"Well, what happens now that you've done the deed?"
Disconcerted, Alicia floundered for footing. "That's not the point. I was only trying to get close to Marcus Armstrong to find out more about his philosophy on men's and women's roles in this manufactured town of his. You make my blog sound like some kind of soap opera."
"Human interest drama," Nina corrected. "The way to get readers invested in the larger issue is through personal stories, you know that. And you've done a fantastic job of painting a picture of life in Sweetness. Everyone at the syndicate is riveted to see what happens next."
Panic licked at her---how could she tell Nina that she'd probably burned a bridge as far as her fake relationship with "Matthew" was concerned? And that once residents learned she'd single-handedly destroyed the town's future, they would probably ride her out of town on a rail?
The diner door opened. Expecting to see Candace, Alicia was surprised to see Marcus's wide body spanning the door frame. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Time to face the firing squad.
"I'll call you back," she said to Nina, then disconnected the call.
Marcus walked in, looking all around the diner. He set a package wrapped in plain brown paper on a table, then walked into the kitchen area. When he returned, his expression was unreadable.
Frustration ballooned in her chest---she was competent in so many areas, yet this man had only seen her at her most inept. Her skin tingled under his condemning gaze. She scooped a loose hank of hair behind her ear, knowing she must look a fright. Again, she was usually so well put together, yet he'd only seen her in casual clothes, soaking wet, in a towel, or disheveled.
Oh, and naked.
He continued to assess the state of the diner. She'd learned in business school that the first person to end a standoff put himself or herself in the weaker negotiating position, but his silence was unbearable.
"Everyone pitched in," she blurted.
He nodded. "It looks better than I expected."
"We can open for business tomorrow. So maybe the Department of Energy representative would be willing to come back to do another inspection?"
His expression hardened. "That won't be happening."
Her stomach dropped. "Oh."
"Circumstances have changed. The D.O.E. rep came to tell us we have only a month to meet the requirements for the federal grant."
She gasped. "A month? Is that even possible?"
"With Homecoming to get ready for, it's going to be tough." A muscle in his jaw worked. "But failing isn't an option."
The man looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, but his conviction moved her. She could see why soldiers had followed this man into battle.
"What can I do to help?" As soon as the words were out, she realized how ridiculous they sounded---he would probably tell her she'd "helped" enough already.
He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm going to be out of pocket for a while, so I need to know things are under control here at the diner."
"And you're bringing Molly back to run it?" she prompted to save him the trouble of firing her.
"No. I realize Molly feels territorial where the diner is concerned, but frankly, she's more valuable to us coordinating the lost and found warehouse and liaising with former residents." He expelled a long-suffering sigh. "So I guess I'm stuck with you."
Alicia felt relief for a split second, then consternation brought her up short. Stuck with her? She opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort, then bit her tongue. After all, the important thing was that she'd have a chance to fulfill her assignment. So she forced a tight smile. "I guess you are."
He was standing at least ten feet away. The distance reminded her just how far apart they were ideologically. Still, the air between them crackled with sexual energy. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she labored to breathe. Visions of the previous night came back to her...she could almost feel his hands moving over her skin. As if he were reading her mind, he clenched his hands at his sides. She felt a pull on her body, like a string was stretched between them, and he was tugging on it.
He straightened, snapping the tension. "I brought you something." He picked up the package and extended it to her.
She wondered if Marcus was even aware that he made people come to him. Even more disconcerting---the fact that they did it willingly. She stepped forward and took the package. "Is this something else to keep away the creepy-crawlies?"
"Something like that."
She unwrapped the paper to reveal a silvery fabric item. When she unfolded it, she felt nonplussed to receive something so...domestic. "It's an apron."
"A fireproof apron," he said. "Call it my own little insurance policy."
Pleasure collided with resistance in her chest. The man had a way of making her feel taken care of and taken advantage of at the same time. She wasn't sure what to make of it, or how to respond. "Thank...you?"
He looked pleased with himself. "You're welcome."
Alicia swallowed a guffaw---the man was clueless.
"I should let you close up," he said, nodding to the entrance. "And I need to get to the office."
It was almost dark, but it sounded as if he was getting a jump on the massive workload ahead. His pent-up energy was palpable.
"By the way," he said, "there was a woman here earlier. She said she was your mother?"
"That's right. She lives in Atlanta and came up for a visit. I assume it's okay if she stays with me for a few days?"
His mouth quirked and she wondered if he was thinking there would be no more trysts as long as her mother was there. "She can stay with you as long as she likes," he said, then strode toward the door, obviously intent on leaving.
Alicia frowned. That was the answer she wanted, but for the wrong reason. "Boss?"
He turned back, clearly irritated to be addressed as boss. "Yes?"
"I found a cook."
"Then hire her."
"It's a him."
"Then hire him. Get with Kendall and figure out a wage we can offer."
"Okay. Just one thing---he's gay."
Marcus lifted his hands. "And?"
"Is that going to be a problem with him living in the bunkhouse?
"Not while I'm in charge."
He walked out the door. Through the window, Alicia watched him stride across the road, tall and strong and as determined as a bulldozer. The man was in charge, all right---no one who met him would ever doubt it. But for all of his conservative alpha-male bluster, he had some liberal views. Wonder flowered in her chest.
The man had layers.
And courage to spare. But she'd noticed the strain around his intense blue eyes, and the pull on his wide shoulders that hadn't been there this morning. It made her worry that this time, for this project, Marcus Armstrong's determination and courage might not be enough.
Over the next couple of weeks, it became clear to Alicia that she wasn't going to see a lot of Marcus. He sent someone to repair the lock on her door, leaving her with the impression that he either didn't have time, or didn't want to see her...or both. She occasionally caught glimpses of him riding a four-wheeler from one job site to another, and a couple of times he came into the diner to fill a coffee thermos. But on those days he barely made eye contact, would flit his gaze over the fireproof apron she wore, then look away. He was in constant motion, a cell phone or a two-way radio always pressed to his ear. From what she gathered, the man was working nonstop, operating on scant food and even less sleep to meet the building and service requirements set forth in the grant guidelines.
Indeed, it seemed as if all the townspeople had kicked into high gear, preparing for Homecoming weekend activities and pitching in where they could to move projects forward. Dozens of new workers were bussed in to meet the increasing demands of the labor pool, and crews worked round the clock in eight-hour shifts. Structures seemed to go up overnight---a church, a library, a hotel and a city hall building with a small jail, plus two single-family homes in what would become the town's first housing development.
For her part, to improve the diner, Alicia held daily staff meetings to engage the employees. She introduced a contest to name the diner. She had long wooden tables relocated from the meadow to the shade of trees next to the diner to double their serving area. She hired three more waitresses and another busboy. Clancey introduced daily specials to make the most of produce from the organic garden.
But even as the diner thrived, Alicia felt antsy and unfulfilled. The days were too busy to miss Marcus, but at night she would dab on the aromatic cedar oil he'd given her and, after her mother had fallen asleep, she would lie awake and wonder if he was sleeping, or if he ever thought of her. She replayed their lovemaking in her head so many times, she'd committed every detail to memory, like the way he'd entwined her fingers in his and how he'd kissed that special spot on her neck no other man had ever found...?.
She attributed her melancholy to the fact that she missed New York. The oppressive Southern heat and cloying humidity was wearing on her, and despite the endless openness of the landscape, she was feeling claustrophobic. She couldn't escape the townspeople with their never ending cheerfulness and fascination for all things banal. If she never saw another horseshoe, it would be too soon. She longed for her tailored clothes and air-conditioned office and ergonomic desk chair.
And if she needed proof that she and Marcus Armstrong lived polar opposite lives, she only had to try to picture him in her native setting to see how they would mesh.
Her mood seemed to worsen every day.
Even as she chatted up her regulars to get more information for the continuing threads in her blog, she could feel herself retreating emotionally. It was as if she didn't want to know any more about them than was absolutely necessary to do her job. The more they extended invitations to fold her into life in Sweetness, the more she resisted. She worked long hours at the diner, took long, solitary runs, then burrowed in her room to write blog entries, as if by writing more, she could hurry along the process. She and Nina had agreed the new deadline for the federal grant would be a good cut-off point.
And by the time the Undercover Feminist column and blog series about Sweetness were released, she'd be safely tucked back into her condo, sipping a chai latte, perusing reviews for Broadway shows she'd missed while she was gone.
Her mother, on the other hand, had taken to Sweetness as if she'd been born there. She had joined a book club, a sewing circle, and a craft group that met in the community room of the boardinghouse. And in every spare moment, she worked on her jewelry designs. She accepted every invitation to dinner that Alicia turned down, although she promised Alicia that she scrupulously avoided details that might compromise Alicia's cover.
But Alicia still worried, because despite her mother's newfound exuberance, she had the feeling that something was wrong. Candace constantly checked her phone and seemed to be looking over her shoulder all the time. Was she secretly hoping that Bo would follow her to Sweetness, profess his undying love, and take her home to Atlanta?
She could only shake her head and marvel over how attractive, otherwise intelligent women could get so wrapped up in a man who made them feel sad most of the time.
It was a fact she was still lamenting the next morning when she noticed that once again, in between waiting on customers, Gina was staring at Scott Bloom like a lovesick cow. Teri had tired of Scott and moved on to another regular male customer, but Scott remained oblivious to the devoted Gina. And Susan Sosa sat at the counter, wearing too much makeup simply to have the blue plate special, craning for the arrival of her beloved and elusive Kenny every time the door opened.
"Enough," Alicia said, wiping her hands on her fireproof apron. "Gina, go talk to the man already."
Her eyes widened. "I don't know what to talk to him about."
"Do you know anything about baseball?"
The woman shrugged. "Not so much. Why?"
She gestured to the table where Scott sat. "Because every morning Mr. Wonderful spends all his time devouring anything having to do with the Atlanta Braves."
Gina brightened. "Well, I did go to a Braves play-off game once. I caught a homerun ball and got it autographed."
Alicia lifted her hands. "There you go---perfect conversation starter."
"You think?"
Alicia made a shooing motion. "You're on break."
Gina smiled and hurried away, smoothing a hand over her hair.
Clancey turned from the grill and arched an eyebrow. "That was nice of you."
"Trust me---I did that for me, not for Gina." She looked down the counter to where Susan sat checking her lipstick. Alicia glanced out the window. Sure enough, Kenny Stapleton was walking in the direction of the diner. "One down, one to go," she murmured.
She dashed into the office to grab an envelope and piece of scrap paper from the desk. When she leaned down and pulled out the drawer, she noticed her mother's small suitcase pushed back against the wall. Just as she'd suspected, someone must have stashed it there for safekeeping during the cleanup and forgotten about it. She smiled, then hurried back to the counter where Susan sat.
"Susan, when Kenny comes in, don't look at him. Instead, write something on this piece of paper, then seal it in this envelope, and use that great shade of lipstick to kiss a nice, big imprint on the back. He'll think you're writing to another man."
Susan looked doubtful. "Are you sure that'll work?"
"No. But do you have a better idea?"
Susan put out her hand. "Give it."
Alicia walked back to the grill and crossed her arms to watch.
Clancey wagged an egg turner at her. "You little matchmaker, you."
"Oh, please."
"This town could use one, you know. I've never seen so many single men and single women in one place, yet they all act like sixth graders throwing dodge balls at the ones they like."
Alicia laughed. "Good analogy."
"So which one are you trying to dodge?"
She shook her head. "No one---I'm on the sidelines."
"Uh-huh."
The door opened and to her surprise, Marcus walked in. Alicia straightened and smoothed a hand down her apron, flicking off a speck of dried food.
Clancey made a rueful noise. "Ah...that one. I must say, you have very good taste."
Alicia elbowed him. But when Marcus headed her way, her heart pounded in her chest. Even though he looked exhausted, he was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Those eyes...?.
"I like what you've done with the place," he said, looking around.
Her chest infused with pleasure. "I'm...glad." She reached up to twist her hair, but caught herself. "Can I get you something? Coffee?"
He lifted his thermos. "Coffee would be nice, black."
She unscrewed the lid and poured the steaming liquid inside. "You look tired."
He smiled. "Thanks."
"No, you look good, just tired." She balked. "I mean..."
His smile grew wider. "Thanks."
She handed him the thermos, her cheeks as hot as the coffee. "How are things going?"
"Honestly, I'm afraid to stop to see," he said, already edging toward the door. "Oh, and Kendall asked me to tell you that your social security number got kicked back again---will you check it in the system?"
"Absolutely."
He turned and walked out. She exhaled, still smarting from the exchange.
"Smooth," Clancey mocked.
She frowned.
Then he gestured to Gina and Scott, who were chatting away, and to Susan and Kenny, who were sharing a menu. "But you have a knack when it comes to other couples...what's that saying? People who can, do, and people who can't, teach."
His smile took the sting out of his words, but not entirely. She made her living with words, yet Marcus reduced her to a tongue-tied teenager. She squinted, trying to remember when the tide had changed...and narrowed it down to between the time she'd pulled him into her room and the moment she'd felt his heart beating against hers.
Unnerved, Alicia excused herself to the kitchen to call her mother's phone. Candace didn't answer, so Alicia left her a voice message that her missing suitcase had been located at the diner. She had two messages of her own from Nina, so she dialed her boss's office number.
When Nina answered, Alicia said, "I have five minutes---what's up?"
"Your personal net worth," Nina sang. "We finalized the syndication deal this morning!"
"That's great," Alicia said, happy that her work here would count for something.
"The editor is completely hooked on your blog series. She talks about those people like she knows them personally. She even wants to visit Sweetness. And so do I."
"If you come, don't forget your scorpion repellent."
"Oh, that's our favorite part---the fact that Matthew gave you cedar oil and a fireproof apron to protect you when he can't. It's so primal!"
Alicia frowned down at her apron. "Or controlling."
"Are you kidding me? It's obvious the man's crazy about you. You're going to have to let him down easy when you leave."
She scoffed. "He won't even notice I'm gone." At the sound of someone approaching, she glanced up to see Candace. "Gotta run, Nina. Thanks for the good news. Later."
She stashed her phone in her pocket, then smiled at her mother. "You got my message about your suitcase?"
Her mother nodded, but she looked drawn and agitated.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine," Candace said, looking around. "Where is it?"
"Here," Alicia said, reaching under the desk. "Someone must've found it during the cleanup and put it here for safekeeping." She pulled on the handle, but it was wedged in. She pulled harder, and the suitcase popped out with enough force to send Alicia stumbling back...and to cause the catches to snap open.
Prescription pill bottles spilled all over the floor, each of them full of white tablets.
Alicia stared, incredulous, then looked up at her mother. "What's this?"
Her mother looked stricken. "Bo's stash."
She gaped, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "You stole his illegal drugs? Are you insane?"
Candace put a hand to her forehead. "I didn't know what to do. I came here to think. Then when the suitcase was lost, I figured it had gotten thrown away and I didn't have to worry about it."
Alicia fell to her knees and scooped the loose bottles back into the suitcase. "Not worry about it?" she said under her breath. "Mom, don't you think Bo is going to figure out that you have his drugs and come looking for you?"
Candace chewed on her lip. "It crossed my mind."
Alicia banged the lid shut and secured the clasps. "Why wouldn't you just leave this in the trunk of the rental car?"
"I was afraid to let it out of my sight...and I didn't want you to be implicated if someone found it."
Alicia handed the suitcase to her mother. "Take this to the room and put it on the top shelf in the closet. We'll talk later."
He mother looked teary-eyed, but nodded and left.
Alicia covered her face with her hands. Her mind whirled---what should she do? Call the state police? The FBI?
Marcus?
The thought of telling Marcus made her nauseous. She'd already caused more than her fair share of trouble around here...and he didn't know the half of it.
She pulled out her phone and punched in a number, relieved when a real, live voice came on the line.
"Hello?"
"Dad?" Alicia swallowed hard. "Mom's in trouble."
Marcus read the same contract paragraph for the third time, then put down his pen and rubbed his eyes. They felt as if they were full of grit. He glanced longingly at the couch on the other side of the office---he hadn't slept more than a few hours at a stretch ever since the D.O.E. rep had dropped the time bomb.
He glanced to the wall calendar on which he'd marked the new deadline with a large red X. Seeing how few days were left and knowing how much work still remained sent panic crowding his chest.
He reached inside a pocket on his cargo pants and pulled out the nugget he'd found in the creek bed. He kept it close for inspiration, as a reminder of what was at stake.
It was gold, all right. Under the guise of testing a new fertilizer mix, he'd asked Dr. Devine for a small amount of nitric acid, then applied one drop of the powerfully corrosive agent to the nugget. When the surface didn't change in color or composition, he knew what he'd found was the real McCoy, and not a less valuable imposter.
He'd wrestled with the decision to tell Porter and Kendall, but in the end, had decided not to. If he told them, they'd be tempted to tell Nikki and Amy, and although he knew the women would never do anything intentionally to put the town at risk, there were just too many ways that conversations or text messages or emails could be intercepted. But keeping the discovery to himself felt like an added burden.
And at times, he thought he might crack under the pressure. There had been few occasions in his life when he'd longed for a life partner with whom he could share his most heartfelt secrets, and this was one of those occasions.
Alicia's face flashed in his mind...along with other parts of her. Their erotic encounter now seemed like a distant dream, but he drew on the memory of it when he needed an escape. And while he wouldn't go so far as to say she was life partner material---they were far too different---he admitted feeling a connection with her, an ease of intimacy that he'd never experienced before. And he wanted her again.
Hell, he wanted her now.
A rap at the office door jarred him out of his reverie. He shoved the gold nugget back into this pocket, then he picked up the pen and called, "Come in."
The door opened and Alicia stuck her head inside, as if he had conjured her up.
"Is this a bad time?" she asked.
He pushed to his feet. "For what?" In his head, he calculated the time it would take to complete various activities.
She smiled, then held up a basket. "To take a picnic?"
Picnicking had not been one of the activities on his mental list...and yet he still wanted to go---so much that he knew he couldn't. "Unfortunately, I can't get away right now." He gestured to the stack of paperwork on his desk.
Her smile fell. "I understand. Sorry to interrupt you."
"But don't go," he said quickly. A hot flush burned his neck. "I mean, come in...I have a few minutes."
She walked in, looking fresh and toned in a sundress and sandals. He fairly groaned, he wanted to touch her so badly.
She held out the basket. "At least keep the food for later."
"Thank you." He set the basket aside and drank her in. "How are things at the diner?"
"Fine."
"Kendall told me it was your idea to run a contest to come up with a name for the place."
She laughed self-consciously. "I realize it's a small detail in the scheme of things."
"No, it's great." He smiled, a movement that felt rusty, but good. "I'm sure Rachel is upset she didn't think of it first."
At the mention of Rachel's name, she looked away. A disagreement, perhaps?
"Is your mother still visiting?"
Another misstep, judging from her reaction. He wondered if she realized how expressive her face was---a thought that transported him back to their time together.
"Yes, she's still here."
Part of him was relieved because there had been so many nights where the only thing that had kept him from knocking on her door was knowing her mother was probably still staying with her.
Alicia gave him a pained smile. "Actually, I had an ulterior motive for taking you on a picnic."
He arched an eyebrow, enjoying himself for the first time in days. "Really?"
She nodded. "I, uh... I need to tell you something...about my mother. She's gotten herself in a bit of a...situation. Does the town have a law enforcement officer?"
He frowned and leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk. "Not yet. We're trying to attract a Justice of the Peace. It's one of the requirements of the grant. We have promises from Justices in neighboring counties to help us in a pinch, but it would be nice to have our own in place. Is your mother in some kind of legal trouble?"
"You could say that." The color rose high in her cheeks. "It turns out that her boyfriend in Atlanta is a bit of a...drug dealer." She lifted her hands and gave an awkward laugh. "Mom didn't know about it until she found a suitcase full of prescription narcotics."
He schooled his face because he didn't want to appear judgmental.
Alicia forged ahead. "The good news is she decided to leave him."
"And the bad news?"
"She decided to take the evidence with her."
His eyes widened. "She stole his inventory?"
Alicia closed her eyes briefly, then nodded. "She planned to turn it over to the police, but she got here the day of the fire, and the suitcase was lost in the confusion---"
"There's a suitcase of narcotics floating around town?" He didn't bother hiding his alarm.
She put out her hand. "No. We found the suitcase, and everything was...intact. My mother's lawyer is coordinating a deal to surrender the drugs to the Fulton County D.A."
"So she won't be charged with anything?"
"That's the idea." Alicia shook her head. "You saw my mother---she's not a drug dealer. She just...makes poor decisions where men are concerned."
He didn't comment, although he couldn't help but think of his sweet, selfless mother, who lived for the happiness of her family. Emily Armstrong hadn't looked at another man since their father had passed, and would never be mixed up with any kind of criminal element. He felt a pang for Alicia; she'd probably had to deal with her mother's poor decisions her entire life.
No wonder the woman didn't want anything to do with marriage.
"Anyway," Alicia continued, her voice artificially bright, "the reason I'm telling you is because, one, I thought you should know about the suitcase full of drugs in the closet of my room, and two, although his low I.Q. makes it unlikely, it's possible that Candace's boyfriend could follow her here looking for his drugs." She exhaled, visibly drained.
Marcus made a rueful noise. "So that's why you asked about law enforcement?"
She nodded. "Look, Marcus---this isn't your problem, and you have enough on your plate at the moment. If you prefer that my mother just leave and wait somewhere else while the deal is being worked out, I understand."
It would certainly be the easier thing to do, he conceded...except when he looked into Alicia's big brown eyes and saw the pain there. And then there was only one choice.
He crossed his arms, already formulating a plan to pull the men from his crew who had been military police during their time of service. "First of all, your mother is welcome to store the suitcase in a safe at the city hall building until the authorities arrive. And second---there's only one way in, and one way out of Sweetness. If you get me the name and description of this guy and what he might be driving, I promise you, he won't get anywhere close to your mother."
The smile that lit her beautiful face would've been enough of a thank-you, but when Alicia threw her arms around him to plant a kiss on his mouth, it was an overindulgence that threatened to undo him. His senses reeled. He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her between his legs, wedging her body up next to his.
Her mouth was soft and warm, and the kiss was sweet and thorough. He wanted to while away the rest of the day...the rest of his life...kissing her until she gasped for breath.
Suddenly she pulled her mouth away, covering her lips with her fingers. "I...should go."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, but I should let you get back to your deadline."
He nodded and pushed to his feet, still trying to catch his own breath.
She walked toward the door. "About the deadline---do you think you're going to meet it?"
It was a simple question---one that people had been asking him for weeks. But at that moment, all the pressure he'd been feeling over the past two years seemed to coalesce, squeezing his chest like a vise. He wet his lips. "Honestly...no, I'm not sure we're going to make it."
There...he'd said it.
Alicia tilted her head, her gaze intent. "Of course you're going to make it. You haven't come this far for things to unravel at the end. Marcus, you do realize, don't you, that people believe in you, not out of blind faith, but because you're probably the only man alive who could pull this off?"
Her words bolstered him, but he was feeling so shot through with emotion, he didn't trust his voice.
She smiled wide. "Just remember, you're not in this alone. These people will do anything you ask of them."
He nodded, suddenly feeling very raw.
Her dark eyes grew soft. "Thank you again, Marcus, for your help."
The way she looked at him made him feel powerful and weak at the same time. "Like I said before, I want everyone here to feel safe."
"I do." Then she opened the door and was gone.
Marcus stared after her, already wanting her back, but newly restored by her faith in him. He reached into the pocket of his cargo pants and withdrew another treasure---Alicia's bracelet. He knew he should return it, and he would. But for now, he liked having a piece of her with him.
And with the deadline barreling toward him like a runaway freight train, he needed all the good-luck charms he could get.
Alicia paced in a deserted spot outside the diner, her phone to her ear. "Nina, I don't think I can do this anymore."
"Alicia, talk to me. What brought this on?"
She stopped and put a hand to her forehead, loath to reveal how her mother's sordid personal life had spilled over into the assignment. Tears pushed at the back of her eyes. "It just doesn't feel right. I don't think there's anything nefarious afoot in this town. There's no story."
"So maybe it's more of an observation piece than an exposé."
"But it feels...underhanded." Especially in light of what Marcus was doing for her mother. Guilt pummeled her.
Nina sighed. "Alicia, this is bigger than just you now. The syndication deal has already been signed, and the deal was based on the material you submitted. You made commitments---we all did."
Alicia closed her eyes. "You're right. I guess I'm getting too close to the story."
"And to Marcus Armstrong?"
"No, that's not it." But her voice wobbled.
"It's okay to become emotionally attached to the people of Sweetness, as long as you remember why you're there. Are we clear?"
Alicia drew in a deep, cleansing breath, then released it. "Yes."
"Good. But don't worry. You're doing those people a big favor. If this blog series takes off like I think it's going to, it'll put that little town on the map. People will be flocking to Sweetness for months to come."
Alicia bit her lip. That was all well and good...assuming Sweetness was still around in a few months' time.
As the days leading up to Homecoming weekend ticked down, Alicia managed to push aside thoughts of her mother's legal drama by dividing her spare time between writing and pitching in to do whatever she could to help with preparations.
She marveled that she could be so calm about a potentially explosive situation. Under normal circumstances, she'd be a nervous wreck, trying to fix everything herself and fretting over the outcome. She'd never allowed herself to rely on others because when she had, she'd always been disappointed. But Marcus Armstrong made her feel safe and protected.
It was a new experience for her, this trusting business.
And while she had no doubt that if Bo Dixon showed up in Sweetness, he would be quietly dealt with and held until the authorities arrived, she also knew her request couldn't have come at a worse time, when countless strangers would be arriving to take part in Homecoming activities.
She was keenly aware that his offer to help had cost Marcus precious resources at a time when he most needed them. Feeling indebted to him, Alicia was determined the diner would be a hub for get-togethers during Homecoming activities. She decorated with posters and streamers and balloons, strung lights in the trees over the outside seating area, and added a bulletin board for customer pictures that Clancey took on his digital camera. The new name of the diner had been chosen from all the entries and a painter was creating a new sign in utmost secret, to be unveiled Saturday. The ceremony had even been granted a spot on the official Homecoming schedule, right after the artists' market on Main Street ended and before the country music show at the school athletic field began.
Residents and visitors seemed happy and energetic, and Alicia found the nervous excitement contagious. She actually forgot about the miserable heat, the relentless insects and the extreme pollen count.
Conversely, Candace was tense and tearfully apologetic about the mess she'd made and spent the days mostly confined to their bedroom, working on her jewelry designs. When Alicia experienced bouts of resentment toward her mother for involving her and nearly jeopardizing her assignment---not to mention the safety of the town---she reminded herself that Candace was doing a brave thing by testifying against Bo, something the old Candace wouldn't have done.
And Alicia was tolerant because she knew that being forced to ask her ex-husband for help had been a pride-swallowing experience for Candace. Alicia noticed how her mother's voice changed when she talked to him---it was clear to her that Candace still loved him, and Alicia was grateful that her father would do this for her mother, especially when he was supposed to be planning his upcoming nuptials. Robert Randall had flown to Atlanta and was still there, working out details with the District Attorney's office. A bench warrant had been issued for Bo's arrest, and Alicia hoped to hear soon that the odious man had been put behind bars.
With Homecoming activities set to begin in less than twenty-four hours, there was more activity than normal when she walked across the street to open the diner for the day. When she got to the door, she smiled to see that Tony was waiting for her. "You're an early bird this morning."
But to her dismay, his face crumpled and his Armstrong-blue eyes filled with tears. "I have to tell you something."
Alarm spiked through her. "What's wrong, Tony?"
"You're going to be mad."
"Maybe," she admitted. "But whatever it is, you can tell me."
"The fire...it was my fault." He choked back a sob.
Her eyebrows climbed. "How was it your fault?"
He looked tormented. "Jason had cigarettes, and we were s-smoking in the bathroom."
Jason was one of the other busboys.
"I didn't like it, though, and when I came out, I got rid of the cigarette by dropping it into the p-paper recycle bin." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, Miss Alicia. I should've said something, but I was so s-scared."
Alicia's heart went out to the boy---he was trying to make things right. "Who else knows about this?"
He sniffed. "Nobody."
She smiled. "So how about we make this our little secret?"
His eyes rounded. "You mean it?"
She nodded. "The important thing is that everyone is okay, and it sounds like you learned a lesson."
He nodded his head vigorously. "No more smoking for me."
"Good," she said with a wink. "Ready to get to work?"
He nodded again, this time with a huge grin.
By mid-morning, they were getting a taste of what the crowds might be like for the weekend. The diner was busy and raucous, and Alicia was happy to see that things were running smoothly. Clancey had been a rare find. His personality was electric, and his food elevated the menu past the standard diner fare. In fact, he'd gotten a tip from a chef friend that the food critic for the Atlanta newspaper was planning to drop in to review the diner, which would be a major coup.
Just after lunch, the door opened and a plump, smiling woman with graying hair came in, flanked by Marcus. Just the sight of him sent Alicia's pulse racing, and a flush climbing her neck. Her curiosity piqued, Alicia watched as he steered the woman toward an empty table. After she was settled, he turned and headed in her direction, his handsome face lined with fatigue---and purpose.
"Did something happen?" she asked without preamble.
"Dixon was picked up an hour ago driving into town."
Her throat convulsed. "Was anyone hurt?"
"No. He was wasted. The idiot could've hurt someone, but he was easy to subdue. He's in the jail, sleeping it off. I contacted the Atlanta P.D. and let them know we have a person who has a bench warrant against him. Hopefully they'll get here before he wakes up. But I thought you'd want to let your mother know."
Alicia's eyes filled with grateful tears. "How can I thank you?"
He smiled. "You can come say hello to my mother."
Pleasure coursed through her. "Okay."
As they approached the table where his mother was seated, it was easy to see where the Armstrong boys had inherited their deep blue eyes---the woman's friendly but shrewd gaze passed over Alicia, missing nothing. Even as Alicia told herself the woman's impression of her shouldn't matter---they would likely never meet again---she felt self-conscious of her casual clothing and the low pigtails she'd grown accustomed to wearing. She longed for her own clothes that were in a suitcase in the trunk of the rental car, and for her ceramic flat-iron.
"Mother," Marcus said, "this is Alicia Waters. She manages the diner. Alicia, this is Emily Armstrong, my mother."
"Hello." Alicia extended her hand and was surprised at the firm grip she received in return.
"It's nice to meet you," Emily said, inclining her head.
Alicia liked her instantly---she was feisty. "Are you here for the weekend festivities?"
"I'm moving back to Sweetness," Emily said. "To spend time with my sons and their families."
Alicia smiled. "That sounds lovely." And it did.
Marcus excused himself to speak with one of his foremen, who was taking a late lunch. Alicia watched him walk away, panicked at being left alone with his mother, but Emily picked up the conversation thread.
"Do you have family around?"
Alicia squirmed. "My mother is visiting, actually."
"How nice. I hope I get to meet her."
She nodded politely, thinking the woman probably wouldn't feel the same if she knew about Candace's brush with the law. "You must be so proud of your son, Mrs. Armstrong."
"Call me Emily. And yes, I'm proud of all my sons." Her blue eyes sparkled. "But the firstborn is always special. Of the three boys, Marcus is the most like his father. He looks and acts the strongest, but deep down he's the most vulnerable. Please be careful with his heart, my dear."
Alicia blinked. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you have the wrong idea about me and Marcus."
Emily smiled. "Alicia, do you know how many women my son Marcus has introduced to me?"
Alicia shook her head.
"One."
While Alicia digested that surprising bit of information, Marcus returned with three people in tow---a couple who looked to be in their early thirties, and an older gentleman whose resemblance to the son indicated they were related.
"Mother," Marcus said, "look who just arrived."
Emily Armstrong gasped. "Cletis!" She jumped to her feet and embraced the older man, who seemed equally pleased to see her.
"You sure look fine, Emily."
Alicia started to edge away, but Marcus looked her way. "Alicia, this is Emory Maxwell and Dr. Cletis Maxwell---they used to live next to us on Clover Ridge. And this is Emory's wife, Shelby. Shelby used to live in Sweetness, too. Everyone, this is Alicia Waters---she manages the diner."
She exchanged hellos with everyone.
"Emory is our resident hero," Marcus said, clapping the dark-haired man on the shoulder. "He was the one who spotted the tornado and sounded the alarm from the water tower."
Emory blushed. "Anyone else would've done the same."
"But you were the one who did," Shelby said, clearly still proud of her husband.
"I understand you're renewing your wedding vows tomorrow in the church," Alicia offered.
"That's right," Emory said, patting Shelby's hand. Then he looked at Marcus. "Assuming the church is ready. The last time I talked to Porter, he seemed a little stressed about it."
Marcus grinned. "I think he's stressed about something else. The church is ready, although the paint might still be drying."
Emory shook his head. "Man, I can't believe what you've managed to achieve. We've been monitoring everything on the website, but we didn't know what to expect."
"It's a far cry from what we left," Shelby added.
Dr. Maxwell nodded. "Total destruction. I agree with Emory---what you've done here, Marcus, is nothing less than amazing."
She could tell Marcus was uncomfortable with the praise. "This has been a team effort...and we're not in the clear yet."
"When is the deadline for the federal grant?"
"The official date is next week," Marcus said. "But the inspectors are coming sometime this weekend to observe."
"And what's left to be done?" Emory asked.
"Ten thousand little things," Marcus said. "All we can do is cross our fingers that we haven't skipped something the D.O.E. team thinks is essential."
"I'm sure the inspectors will give you high marks on everything," Emily said, beaming. "Then Sweetness will once again belong to its people."
Everyone chorused agreement and launched into small talk, but Alicia could tell that Emily's words had caused a shadow to cross Marcus's eyes. He was already under an incredible amount of pressure---knowing that he might disappoint his mother, though, undoubtedly took that pressure to a whole new level.
Feeling like an outsider, Alicia excused herself to get back to work. Marcus smiled at her and gave her a little nod, as if she'd passed some kind of test. She returned to the counter, her heart clicking in her chest...and feeling like a total fraud. While it gave her a little thrill that Marcus had thought enough of her to introduce her to his mother, he'd thought he was introducing his mother to Alicia Waters, pigtailed manager of the small-town diner.
He didn't even know her real name.
"Everything okay?" Clancey asked, giving her a concerned look.
She forced a smile. "Never better."
She needed to call her mother to let her know about Bo, but if she waited until her lunch break in fifteen minutes, she could deliver the news in person. It would be nice to see her mother smile again.
A few minutes later, Marcus and Emory left, probably to find Porter and Kendall, Alicia mused. Shelby made her way over to the counter. "Okay if I sit?"
"Of course," Alicia said with a smile.
Shelby nodded to the table where Emily Armstrong and Dr. Maxwell were deep in conversation. "I thought I'd let them catch up." She lowered herself onto a stool and sighed.
"Would you like something to eat?"
She pointed to the dessert case. "I don't usually like sweets, but that cheesecake looks good."
"Good choice---it's homemade." She sliced a piece from the cheesecake Clancey had made, then set it in front of Shelby, along with a fork. "You must be excited about the ceremony tomorrow."
"It was Emory's idea," Shelby said.
But something in the precise way the woman cut and ate the first bite of the cheesecake made Alicia think something was amiss. "That's very romantic of him," she offered.
"Yes," Shelby agreed. "He's trying to make me happy."
"That's a good thing."
The blonde nodded, then her eyes clouded. "It's because we can't get pregnant."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Shelby said, taking another bite. "We've tried all the shots, the treatments, in vitro---it's just not meant to happen." She stabbed at the cheesecake. "Emory wants to get a dog when we go back home to Florida."
"I'm more of a cat person," Alicia said lightly.
Shelby smiled. "You know, it's probably for the best that we haven't had children. They wouldn't have had a childhood like mine and Emory's."
"I take it you liked growing up here."
"Yeah. It was special. Everyone knew everyone and family was everything. Most places aren't like that now."
Alicia nodded agreement. "Everyone around here is excited about your ceremony tomorrow."
Shelby carefully ate another bite. "So I guess I would disappoint a lot of people if I called it off?"
Alicia studied the woman, trying to assess how serious she was. "Probably. Are you having second thoughts?"
The woman heaved a sigh. "I love Emory, but I hate our life. We both work long hours to afford a house that's too big for two people. We don't even know our neighbors. The only person we socialize with is his father. After ten years of marriage, we're officially in a rut."
"I hear that happens," Alicia remarked.
"The thing is, I think Emory is as bored of us as I am. He believes the ceremony tomorrow will give us a new spark."
"Perhaps it will."
"What if it doesn't?"
"But what if it does?"
Shelby looked down, then took another bite, chewing slowly.
"Maybe you just need a change of scenery," Alicia suggested. "Have you considered moving back to Sweetness?"
"We could never move back," Shelby said, shaking her head. "Not after what we went through during the tornado. My father and I and dozens of other people were trapped in the basement of the grocery my father owned. Emory and Porter dug us out with their bare hands. An experience like that changes a person."
Alicia nodded, unable to fathom such a horrific incident. "Listen, I don't know you very well, but you and Emory both seem like nice people who really care about each other. That's a lot...maybe that's even enough."
Shelby set down her fork and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders began to shake and Alicia panicked, thinking she was crying. But when Shelby uncovered her face, she was laughing. "You're right---Emory is a wonderful man and I love him dearly. And that is enough." She lifted her hands. "Thank you, Alicia, for reminding me."
Alicia fought a smile. The woman must truly love her husband. Otherwise, her "revelation" wouldn't have been so close to the surface. A little pang of envy wormed its way through her chest. "Glad to help."
As sad as the woman had been a few minutes earlier, now she was effervescent. "Will you come to our ceremony tomorrow?"
"I'd love to---thank you for inviting me." Then she glanced at the clock and reached around to untie her apron. "It was wonderful to meet you, but I need to deliver a message in person." She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Shelby nodded, then made a face and touched her stomach. "Ugh---that cheesecake tasted good, but it's not sitting well in my stomach." She covered her mouth. "Oh, God---I'm going to be sick."
Alicia managed to get a trash can under her before she threw up. Dr. Maxwell was alarmed and at her side instantly.
"It's just an upset stomach," Shelby protested. "I'll be fine."
"The pharmacy will have something to make you feel better," Alicia suggested.
"I'll take you," Dr. Maxwell offered.
"I'm leaving, so I can walk with you," Alicia offered. "It's not far."
Shelby nodded. "Stay, pops, and visit with Mrs. Armstrong."
He relented, and Alicia walked with Shelby the short distance to the clinic. Along the way, people waved and shouted hello to Alicia. She waved and shouted back. Shelby asked questions about the new buildings and some of the events going on over the weekend.
"How long have you and Marcus been dating?" Shelby asked.
Alicia balked. "We're not...anything."
"Really? I thought I saw something between you two. How long have you lived in Sweetness?"
"A little more than a month."
"Wow, I would've guessed much longer. You seem to know everybody and everything that's going on."
"It's from working at the diner," she said lightly as they reached the parking lot of the clinic. "Would you like for me to walk inside with you?"
Shelby gave a dismissive wave. "No...I'll just get some antacids."
"May I suggest something?"
Shelby shrugged. "Sure."
"A pregnancy test." The fact that the woman was experiencing food cravings, mood swings and nausea seemed too coincidental.
Shelby's face reflected she hadn't even considered the possibility---proof she'd long ago given up hope of conceiving. "I will."
"Good luck."
Alicia waved, then turned to look up and down the street at the new "skyline" of Sweetness. From this vantage point, she could see the new city hall building. An Atlanta P.D. car sat in front of the building and while she watched, Bo Dixon was led out in handcuffs by a uniformed officer and deposited into the backseat of the cruiser. A third man emerged from the building---Marcus. She'd know that tall silhouette anywhere. He shook hands with the officer, and when the police car pulled away, he watched it until it was gone.
That was the kind of man he was, Alicia realized---looking out for the people in this town. Protecting them...
From people like her.
She swallowed hard, then hurried toward the boardinghouse to give her mother the good news.
"It looks like rain," Candace said, standing at the window where she'd been parked for the past hour, scanning for Robert's car among the stream of other cars arriving in town for the Friday festivities.
Alicia stood in front of the mirror, perusing her outfit. "Isn't rain on a person's wedding day supposed to be good luck?"
"It rained on my wedding day," Candace said, "and that didn't exactly pan out."
Alicia bit her tongue---there was a conversation she didn't want to rehash. "Maybe it's not the same if you're renewing your vows. I hope it doesn't rain all weekend. That'll put a damper on some of the events."
"They're setting up tents for the artists' market tomorrow."
"You're still planning to have a booth?"
"Robert said the earliest I would need to be back in Atlanta would be Monday, and since I made so many pieces of jewelry while I was holed up in my room, I thought I might as well try to sell them."
Alicia felt another pang for her lost bracelet. Tomorrow she would visit her mother's table and fess up to losing it, then buy a new one. It wouldn't be the same, but the important thing was to support her mother's new venture. Alicia patted her hair and sighed. "How do I look?"
Candace turned toward her and gasped, then came over to clasp Alicia's hands. "You will positively out-shine the bride."
Alicia scoffed a little laugh. "That's such a motherly thing to say."
"Compliments are one of the motherly duties that I'm good at," Candace said. "As far as the rest of it..." She looked down, and when she lifted her head, her eyes shimmered. "I haven't been a good mother to you, Alicia, and I'm sorry."
She automatically opened her mouth to deny her mother's statement, then changed her mind. She squeezed her mother's hands. "You loved me, and you did the best you could do. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm healthy and I'm happy."
Candace angled her head. "Are you happy?"
Alicia frowned. "Of course. I have a great job and a great apartment in the most exciting city in the world. I'm living my dream life."
"Alone," Candace added.
Alicia released her mother's hands and turned back to the mirror. "I like it that way. Now, be honest. Is this dress too much?" From the trunk of the rental car her mother had driven up, she'd retrieved one of her own dresses, a fitted turquoise shift with a silver beaded collar.
"The dress is perfect. Will Marcus be at the ceremony?"
She ignored the sly note in her mother's voice. "I have no idea."
"You two make a beautiful couple."
"We're not a couple."
"I've seen the way he looks at you."
She sighed. "Mom---don't. In a few days, Marcus Armstrong will learn the fate of this town. No matter which way it turns out, I'm packing my bags and I'm going back to New York."
"If they don't get the grant, maybe he'll go back to New York with you."
"Right, I saw that movie." She shook her head, then pointed to the window. "You're going to miss Robert's car."
Candace hurried back to the window, reinforcing Alicia's suspicions that her mother had pinned a lot of hope on this reunion.
Alicia worried her lip. She hated to see her mother get hurt again.
"I think I see the car he said he'd be driving." Candace leaned closer to the window and smiled. "Yes, that's Robert!" She turned. "Now me. How do I look?"
Alicia appraised the wheat-colored pantsuit she'd loaned to her mother. Honestly, Candace looked stunningly elegant---she was still a very beautiful woman. But Alicia didn't want to put a romantic spin on the meeting. "You look sympathetic and convincing."
"Good. Maybe the D.A. will go easy on me."
"They want Bo, not you."
"Right. Robert said this man would only ask a few questions today, that he's more interested in getting his hands on the evidence."
"Do you have the combination to the safe Marcus let you use?"
"Yes." Candace's face lit up. "It'll be so good to see Robert again."
"Mom," Alicia admonished lightly, "exhale. And remember---no one can know Robert is my father. I don't want anyone connecting me to the last name Randall."
"Got it."
"I'm ready. I'll walk down with you and say hello."
"Don't forget your umbrella."
Alicia tucked an umbrella under her arm and followed Candace out of the room and down the stairs to exit the front door. A brisk wind blew up Main Street, setting the rocking chairs on the porch of the boardinghouse into motion and wrecking Alicia's carefully styled hair. She gritted her teeth. She'd had to surrender her entire grooming routine since she'd arrived.
Throughout the town, it looked as if the population of Sweetness had doubled. They waited in front of the boardinghouse until they saw Robert and another suited man heading their way on the busy sidewalks. Candace waved, and Robert waved back. Alicia waved, too, but she realized when her father walked up, he only had eyes for Candace.
Alicia sighed in relief.
"Hi, sweetie," he said finally, and gave Alicia a big hug. He introduced the assistant district attorney, who seemed affable enough. Just as Robert had indicated, the man seemed most interested in the whereabouts of the evidence, and if Candace could give him the name of possible co-conspirators. She couldn't. But a few minutes later while Candace and Robert were engrossed in their own conversation, Alicia suggested to the man he might look for someone named Pam, and told him about the underwear and the address book she'd found in Bo's truck. Then she handed him the keys and told him where it was parked.
The sound of church bells pealing filled the air. Alicia smiled---it was the first time the bells had rung. She said her goodbyes, then headed toward the church, ducking her head into the whipping wind. Dark clouds were gathering overhead, but she knew storm clouds didn't always mean a storm. Still, she hurried toward the church lest she get caught in a rain shower.
The church was a picturesque white clapboard building, tall and narrow, with a soaring white steeple and a set of wide, neat steps leading up to the double-door entrance. Nobody would ever guess it was a pre-fabricated building, but she'd seen the pieces arrive herself, like a model kit on a tractor-trailer flatbed truck.
She joined the stream of people walking into the church, most of whom she recognized. Rachel Hutchins was there with Dr. Devine...Emily Armstrong and Dr. Maxwell...Porter and Nikki...Kendall and Amy. When she didn't see Marcus, her heart sunk a little, but she reasoned the man had too much on his plate to indulge in frivolity.
Everyone was smartly dressed, which made her feel good about what she'd chosen to wear, and she was embarrassed that she'd assumed people would dress casually just because the daily uniform here was work clothes and spare, lightweight fabrics.
But some of the clothing here would rival anything she'd seen in the windows in New York.
At the top of the steps, Michael Mason wore a minister's robe and greeted everyone with a wide smile. "H-hello...g-good m-morning...h-hi there...n-nice t-to see you...w-welcome."
Alicia returned his smile and his greeting, then walked into the gleaming sanctuary. She gasped in pleasure. On either side of a red-carpeted center aisle sat two rows of long wood pews, handmade and rubbed to a spectacular finish, adorned with white swag ribbons. White calla lilies enveloped the altar, and solar candles burned in every cathedral-shaped window. It was simple and lovely and...perfect.
Just what she'd want if she ever---
Alicia stopped the thought before it fully materialized.
Nikki and Amy invited her to sit with them, and she happily agreed. She conceded that she would miss the women when she left---they were smart and grounded and forward-thinking. She wondered if the couples would stay in Sweetness if the town failed to receive the grant. The image of Porter's and Kendall's lots on Clover Ridge came to her. They hadn't yet broken ground. Were Marcus's brothers also waiting to see if he could pull off a miracle?
Her heart lurched at the amount of strain the man must be suffering. The trajectory of so many lives hinged on the pass or fail of the town's inspection, and despite his claims that the accomplishments were a team effort, she knew he felt singularly responsible.
To her surprise, Dr. Jay Cross walked to the front of the church carrying an acoustic guitar. He sat on a stool and began to play a beautiful melodic tune. The acoustics in the sanctuary were startling, sending the music flowing to them in all directions. Alicia noticed Dr. Cross looking in Rachel Hutchins's direction more than once, but the woman was oblivious to him and playing wedding coordinator, fluttering around the church, disappearing at will, then reappearing. Alicia felt for the young man who was so obviously hung up on a woman who wouldn't give him the time of day.
A reminder that love failed more often than it succeeded.
At the feel of a body settling in next to her, Alicia turned her head to see Marcus, breathtakingly handsome in a gray suit, snowy white shirt, and a blue striped tie that echoed the hue of his amazing eyes.
"Okay if I sit here?" he asked.
Instead of pointing out he was already sitting, she nodded mutely.
"Nice dress," he murmured.
She smiled down to her toes. "Thank you. Nice tie."
He smiled. "Thank you." He leaned forward to quietly address his brothers, who were sitting farther down the pew. "The D.O.E. team just arrived. They're touring the recycling plant."
"Should one of us be there?" Kendall asked.
"Richardson said it was best if we weren't, but he said he'd call me if he needed anything." He sat back.
"Are you worried?" Alicia whispered.
A muscle worked in his jaw. "It's out of my hands now."
Dr. Cross ended a song, then paused as the minister and Emory Maxwell entered through a side door in the front and made their way to the altar. Emory looked happy and handsome in a dark suit. Michael Mason nodded to Dr. Cross, who began to play the wedding march. Everyone turned to see Shelby appear at the back of the church on the arm of Dr. Maxwell.
She was exquisite in a pale pink dress and short jacket, the perfect foil for her light hair and complexion. In her left hand, she carried a single calla lily.
Everyone stood in her honor, and she began her walk down the aisle toward her groom.
Alicia noticed that today Shelby seemed to emanate an inner glow---a far cry from the sad woman sitting at the counter yesterday contemplating ending her marriage. And when Shelby caught her gaze and mouthed, "You were right," Alicia knew why. She smiled back, filled with happiness for the couple.
"What was that all about?" Marcus whispered when Shelby passed.
"She's pregnant," Alicia whispered back.
The smile that curved his mouth was so unaffected, she wondered if he wanted children of his own. He would be a good father, she knew innately, and the thought caused a tug on her womb.
A gust of wind buffeted the building and Shelby glanced up at the ceiling with a worried look. Next to her, Marcus shifted. The wind continued to howl and then hail showered the windows. Dr. Cross tried to play over the noise, to no avail. By the time Shelby got to the altar, she looked terrified, but Emory took her hand and gave her a squeeze.
Dr. Maxwell took a seat in a pew next to Mrs. Armstrong, who also looked worried. The minister plunged in, practically shouting to be heard over the wind and hail. "D-dearly b-b-beloved, w-we are g-gathered here to celebrate the r-r-r-r-reuniting of Sh-Sh-Sh-Shelby and Em-m-m-mory M-M-Maxwell."
The lights flickered, then outside a siren sounded, shrill and keening. "That's the tornado alarm!" Marcus shouted. "Everyone in the basement---now!"
His words struck fear in her heart. Alicia wasn't sure which direction to go. Marcus's hand scooped around her waist, pulling her toward the center aisle. "The basement door's up front," Marcus said in her ear. "Follow Emory---go!"
"Come with me," she called.
"I'll find you," he shouted. "Go now!"
She made her feet move, trying to keep pace with the bodies in front of her and behind her. The lights flickered again, and went out. Shrieks sounded.
"Everyone stay calm!" she heard Marcus shout, but he seemed very far away. "If you have a cell phone, turn it on for the light!"
Alicia hadn't brought her phone, but one by one, small screens illuminated, casting enough light to allow everyone to keep moving.
The wind was growing louder and stronger. She wondered where her mother and father were, and prayed they were safe. Debris flew against the roof and the windows. She remembered the Armstrong brothers talking about how much stronger the new buildings were. She desperately hoped they were strong enough.
Marcus couldn't believe this was happening to Sweetness...again. He hung back, holding his cell phone high to share the light, herding bodies in front of him. He hoped his mother had been able to navigate those steps. Alicia, too. Frustration and fear crowded his chest. He'd helped convince people to come to this town and in some cases, bring their families. And today hundreds of visitors were milling around. If a single person was hurt, he'd never forgive himself.
After what seemed like an eternity, only he and his brothers and Emory remained aboveground. The building began to shake and the telltale sound of a freight train filled the air. "Go!" he bellowed. "I'm right behind you."
The men scrambled down the stairs. Marcus brought up the rear and slammed the door behind him. When he reached the basement, he shone his phone light all around. He was relieved to see his mother huddled with Dr. Maxwell. He swung the light again, and it picked up the silver collar on Alicia's dress. He went to her and pulled her to him. "Are you okay?"
She nodded against his chest. It felt so good to hold her. Above them, the building rocked and swayed. His mind raced. Had the concrete in the basement cured long enough? Would the support timbers hold? If they were trapped down here, how long would their air supply last?
Alicia was trembling. Marcus smoothed his hand down her back to reassure her they would be all right, even though he wasn't sure himself. But he was sure of one thing---he didn't want to let go of her.
Ever.
The minister was praying aloud and, oddly, there was no trace of his stuttering.
And then a deafening roar sounded...the tornado was upon them.
Alicia burrowed her head under his neck and he held on tight. Concrete dust rained down on them. She started to cough.
"Cover your mouth and nose with your hand," he said in her ear. She did.
He counted off the seconds because he knew later it would seem much longer. By the time he counted to ten, the shaking had begun to subside and the roaring had begun to die down. In another three seconds, all was still except for the dust raining down on them.
"Are you okay?" he said in Alicia's ear.
She nodded against his chest and slowly disentangled herself.
"Is anyone hurt?" Marcus shouted, shining his light around. Everyone was covered in white dust. "Please check the person next to you and make sure they're okay."
Kendall walked past him. "I'm going up."
Marcus grabbed his arm. "No, I will. It could be dangerous---there could be a fire, gas leaks, anything."
"So why you and not me?"
"Because you have a son to consider...and Amy."
Kendall's mouth tightened, but he relented. Marcus walked to the stairs, then climbed them carefully, in the event the staircase itself had been torn loose from its supports. He made it to the top and felt the closed door for heat. He didn't feel anything, so he gingerly opened the door, expecting to see daylight and open sky.
Instead, he was amazed to see the sanctuary was not only intact, but in remarkably good condition. The lights were on and the air conditioner buzzed. The altar had toppled and a few other things had fallen, but the windows hadn't blown out and even the double doors to the church entrance hadn't flown open. He sniffed the air for the scent of fuels or chemicals, but all seemed well.
"Bring everyone up," he called down. Then he strode to the doors and opened them.
He walked out on the steps gingerly to test their safety. A few boards were missing here and there, but for the most part, they had held up well. He looked up and down Main Street, expecting the worst. He saw several felled trees, but at first glance, all the buildings were intact.
Feeling hopeful for the time being, he walked back inside the church where Emory and his brothers were helping people out of the basement. His mother sat on one of the front pews with Dr. Maxwell. They were both shaken, but shooed him away in case there were others who needed help. Dr. Maxwell promised to see his mother back to the boardinghouse where she was staying.
"How bad is it out there?" Porter asked.
Marcus felt a pang for his little brother, who had been home on leave from the Army when the first tornado had struck. Like everyone else who'd been through that monster, he was reliving a nightmare.
"A lot to clean up, but everything's still standing."
Porter's eyebrows climbed. "Really? Wow."
Nikki stepped out of the basement and went into Porter's arms. He noticed how Porter's eyes closed when he held Nikki, as if he'd almost lost something precious and it had just been returned. Suddenly Porter cleared his throat, dropped to one knee and said loudly, "Nikki Salinger, marry me."
Nikki's mouth rounded, then her eyes filled with tears. "I thought you were never going to ask."
Everyone within earshot laughed and chorused, "So did we!"
Beneath the white dust, Porter flushed. "Is that a yes?"
Nikki nodded. "That's a yes."
Porter whooped and gathered her in his arms for a kiss. When she pulled back, Nikki said, "Walk me to the clinic, fiancé? I'm hope I'm not needed, but I should be there."
"Me, too," Dr. Cross piped up. He was holding his guitar, which was flattened, with broken strings poking out in all directions.
"What happened to the guitar?" Porter asked.
"The altar fell on it," Dr. Cross said cheerfully. "Sort of a little exclamation point from God, I suppose."
Porter laughed, then looked to Marcus. "Is it okay if we go?"
"Of course. Call me, any one of you, if you see anything...alarming."
Amy climbed out next and went into Kendall's arms. Her face was tear-streaked. "We have to find Tony."
Kendall held up his phone. "He's at the diner, he's fine and he's on the line."
Amy grabbed the phone and leaned into Kendall while she talked to her son. Kendall put his arm around her and pressed her back against his chest, looking as if all was right with the world.
Marcus was relieved his nephew was okay, and welcomed the news that the diner had fared well. But again, he was assaulted with feelings of envy as he watched his brother gather his loved ones close.
Then Alicia stepped out. He hadn't gotten a good look at her in her pretty dress before things had gotten crazy. Now her dark hair and shoulders were dusted white, but he could still tell the fitted dress suited her better than the short skirts and T-shirts she wore every day. With her hair down and simple jewelry, she almost looked like a different person.
She walked up to him, her dark brown eyes glistening. "Thank you, Marcus."
His mouth went dry. "For what?"
"For making me feel better while we were down there."
He opened his mouth to tell her she'd made him feel better, too, but it came out as "Do you want to use my phone to call your mother?"
She smiled and nodded, oblivious to the fact that his entire life had just changed because of her.
Good.
Alicia disconnected the call, then handed back Marcus's cell phone. "My mother is fine. She was with her attorney at the city hall building when the storm struck. She said they took cover in the basement, but everything and everyone is okay."
Marcus nodded. "Good to know. Kendall talked to Tony. He said things at the diner are okay, too."
She sighed in relief. "I'd still feel better if I saw it for myself."
"I'll take you. I rode one of the four-wheelers down here. I need to go to the recycling plant to check things there."
"Oh, right---the D.O.E. inspectors are here."
He nodded, grim.
She glanced around the church as they walked toward the front entrance. Everyone seemed to be leaving, obviously eager to check on loved ones, but when she spotted Emory and Shelby sitting curled up together in a back pew, her heart went out to them. Shelby must've been terrified down in the basement, reliving her previous experience in the last tornado.
"Were you planning to finish the ceremony?" she asked gently.
Shelby smiled and shook her head. "Emory and I decided that we did it right the first time around."
"Why fix it if it ain't broke?" Emory said in agreement. He patted Shelby's stomach.
"Thanks again, Alicia," Shelby said.
"Don't mention it," Alicia said, moving toward the double doors.
Marcus held the door open for her. "Watch the steps."
She was careful, allowing him to help her down to the sidewalk. Several large trees lay across Main Street, and trash was everywhere---up against buildings, hanging in trees. Cleanup alone would be a huge effort. That was assuming the buildings hadn't sustained major damage.
She turned to look at Marcus's profile and her heart twisted. After all his hard work, this was a devastating setback. She reached to clasp his hand. "We'll get through this."
He looked at her, surprise in his eyes, then nodded and squeezed her hand.
When they reached the four-wheeler, the seat was wet. Marcus removed his jacket and spread it on the back of the seat where she'd be sitting, then he climbed on. He fired up the engine and gestured for her to get on.
Alicia stared. The label in the jacket was clearly visible. "That's a fifteen-hundred-dollar suit jacket."
He shrugged. "I'll take it to the dry cleaner."
"The town doesn't have a dry cleaner," she reminded him. She tried to straddle the four-wheeler in the dress, but it was impossible. So she grabbed the hem and ripped the side seam enough for some give.
"What are you doing back there?"
She put her arms around his waist. "Just drive."
He took off and she pressed into his back. It felt so good to be close to him again. She'd never been in such a terrifying situation as in that basement, yet with his arms around her, she'd felt secure.
They moved slowly down Main Street to assess the damage. The sight of all the downed trees made her nauseous. How would people even be able to get in and out of town?
The white Homecoming banner flapped in the wind, still attached to one pole.
"Looks like we'll have to cancel Homecoming activities," he said.
But she knew he was thinking of other things that might be lost, such as the grant, if the D.O.E. team determined that structures had been compromised, or any number of other things.
Marcus pulled out his phone and hit a button, scanning the road as he talked. "Kendall? I need for you and Porter to organize the men with chainsaws and start working on clearing these trees. No, Richardson isn't answering his phone. Do you want to try the plant foreman? Okay, let me know." He returned his phone to his belt and resumed picking their way through the debris.
People were starting to emerge from buildings where they'd taken refuge. Marcus stopped frequently to ask people if they were okay, if anyone had been injured. Amazingly, though, they encountered only the occasional scrape or bruise.
"I can't believe there's no broken glass anywhere," she remarked.
"A shatter-proof laminate was applied to every window in every building," Marcus said. "That way, even if a window is hit with enough force to break or crack, there's no flying glass."
She marveled at the attention to detail. The brothers' forethought and planning had undoubtedly prevented injuries and loss of life today.
Marcus waved to a group of a half-dozen men riding ATVs toward them at top speed. They were covered in mud. The man in the lead slowed down and she recognized him as one of the men who transported the compost bins from the restaurant to the organic garden.
"We were riding on Clover Ridge and we saw the twister set down. Got here as fast as we could. What can we do?"
Marcus directed them to go from building to building methodically checking for victims, and, if they were able to be moved, to transport them to the clinic.
"Start with the school," he told them.
Overhead the whup-whup of a news helicopter sounded, getting aerial footage of the damage, she presumed.
When he pulled to a stop in front of the diner, she noticed immediately their large generic "Diner" sign was gone. It shouldn't have mattered since they were preparing a new sign, but it still felt like a violation. And it looked as if they would have to put off the unveiling of the new sign until...
After she was gone, she realized with a start.
Feeling out of sorts, she released her grip on his waist and climbed off the ATV. She didn't want to be away from him right now.
Marcus's gaze flickered to the expanse of leg revealed in the V of her torn dress hem. "Do you want me to go in with you?" But his brow was furrowed and his shoulders were stiff.
"No. Go check on things on the other end of town. We'll be fine."
His phone rang. He unclipped it from his belt and put it to his ear. "Yeah, Kendall." His jaw hardened. "How bad is it? Yeah, divert the men there---the trees will have to wait. I'll be there in five." He flipped his phone shut. "Gotta go."
"What's wrong?"
"Fire at the recycling plant."
"Oh, no. Be careful."
"I'll see you later," he said, then goosed the gas and sped off.
Alicia stared after him thinking the man couldn't catch a break. He'd practically killed himself to get everything done and have the town spit-shined for an accelerated deadline and the day the inspectors arrive, another tornado touches down? And now a fire?
It just didn't seem fair. There had to be some way she could help.
With a start, she suddenly understood women who throw themselves into a cause or a project for the men they care about.
For the men they love.
She tucked away that little revelation for later scrutiny, then walked into the diner. Employees and customers and various residents were gathered around a small television.
"They say it was an F-4 tornado that came through here!" Tony exclaimed.
"Not as big as last time," added Molly McIntyre. "But big enough to make the national news."
"I saw a helicopter flying over," Alicia said.
"Here it is," Clancey said, turning up the volume.
"We're flying over the mountain town of Sweetness, Georgia, which was leveled by an F-5 tornado over ten years ago. The town was finally getting back on its feet, but it was hit again less than an hour ago by a freak storm system measuring a four on the Fujita scale, which is still a very fierce tornado capable of causing immense damage. But as you can see, other than downed trees and loose debris, it doesn't appear that the town suffered any major structural damage. No word yet of the extent of injuries. We do see people on the ground walking, and riding all-terrain vehicles. According to a banner we saw flapping in the wind, the town was having some sort of Homecoming celebration, so we can only assume there were more people in town than usual. We tried to land on a helipad, but it was too badly damaged. We understand that rescue teams are on their way, but considering how remote this area is, and those huge trees blocking the roads, it could take a while to reach the residents of Sweetness."
Molly scoffed. "They act like we're a bunch of sissies who can't take care of ourselves." The boxy woman looked at Alicia. "Where's Marcus?"
She explained that the D.O.E. team was at the recycling plant when the tornado touched down, and about the fire.
Molly's didn't hide her disdain. "They're here to 'observe' when all these extra people are in town?"
"Exactly," Clancy said. "When I worked in the hotel industry and we wanted to evaluate staff members on how well they could handle a bigger property, we would schedule an evaluation when they were having a big event in the hotel."
"So you could see how they worked under pressure," Alicia said.
"Right."
"So you think the D.O.E. wanted to see how the town of Sweetness would operate with the pressure of Homecoming and a lot of extra people?"
"That would make sense. It's the best way to predict if the town has the capacity to grow. The tornado was probably just a bonus," Clancey added. "I wouldn't be surprised if right now they're evaluating the town on emergency response."
Inspired, Alicia lifted her hands. "Then let's respond. Since the workers have been diverted to the fire, that leaves the trees and the garbage to us. We need as many volunteers as we can pull together."
"But we don't have any equipment," Clancey said. "We need chainsaws and axes and tarps---"
"Leave the equipment to me," Molly interrupted. "Just get the people here."
Every muscle in Alicia's body ached. It hurt just to type in her blog entry about the tornado and the enormous cleanup effort afterward.
The worst part wasn't being in a concrete hole while a freight train ran overhead---you're glad for the concrete hole. The worst part is the moment when you climb out, and you don't know what you're going to see.
From the lost and found warehouse, Colonel Molly had produced enough equipment to arm the volunteers with chainsaws, axes, rakes, shovels, buckets, tarps---any kind of tool imaginable, including a backhoe to transport the large pieces of debris. The woman had organized the volunteers into platoons, divided the storm path into color-coded areas, and given the platoon leaders strict orders to stay focused on the mission.
The bullhorn she used helped to get her point across.
The helicopter reporter said it was like looking down on a swarm of locusts moving over the land, leaving a wide, clean swath in its wake.
Alicia paused in her typing, remembering the sense of community she'd felt with residents and visitors of Sweetness---including her parents---working side by side, all united in one purpose. She acknowledged that she was starting to feel...attached.
She hit the send button, then limped to the bathroom to take a lukewarm shower to keep her muscles from tightening further. She had just pulled on soft pajamas when the phone rang. No surprise, it was Nina.
"Oh, my God. A freaking tornado? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"I've been on the West Coast in meetings, so I haven't even seen the news! This is incredible. What are the odds?"
"I'm guessing astronomical?"
"And no one was hurt?"
"Just minor injuries."
"Another Sweetness Miracle," Nina said. "Okay, Alicia, this is too good---we have to go live with the blog entries now, while the story is trending."
Alicia frowned, panicked. "When?"
"I'll ask the syndication team to hold off until Monday."
She bit her lip. "So I'll have to leave Sweetness before then."
"That's up to you and whether you think you'll get blowback from residents once they find out about it."
"But Marcus probably won't hear back about the federal grant money until sometime after Monday."
"So you'll find out about the grant later and write about it remotely. The results will be made public, won't they? Or maybe you could call someone who still lives there and get an update?"
"Maybe."
"There is a third option," Nina said.
"Which is?"
"Come clean with your Mr. Armstrong. Maybe he won't be as upset as you think."
A knock sounded on her door, startling her. "Nina, I have to go. I'll call you soon."
She disconnected the call and walked to the door. It was probably a neighbor wanting to borrow an emory board, or her mother coming back for something she'd forgotten. "Who is it?"
"Marcus."
Her heart thudded against her breastbone. She took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths, then opened the door.
His body practically filled the door frame. Gone was the soiled suit, replaced by worn jeans and a navy blue short-sleeve collared shirt. "Hi."
She tried to tamp her nerves---and her libido. "Hi."
"I came by to thank you."
His blue eyes were so sexy, so intense, she could barely maintain eye contact. "For what?"
"I understand it was your idea to organize the volunteer effort today. My men spent hours getting that fire under control, and in the backs of their minds, they knew they had another thankless job to do as soon as it was over. It was a nice surprise to find out it was already done, and that we still have the Homecoming events to look forward to tomorrow." He straightened and assumed an expression she'd never seen before, leveling those dark-denim eyes on her. "So thank you, Alicia. It really means a lot to me."
His gratitude only made her feel more guilty about...everything. "You're welcome for my part, but I can assure you, there were a lot of people out there working much harder."
"Molly told me you would probably say that."
She smiled. "Have the two of you buried the hatchet?"
"No, but maybe someday she'll let me back into her good graces." He craned his neck. "I thought your mother was staying with you."
"Tonight she's staying at the hotel...with her attorney."
He arched an eyebrow. "Oh."
"They used to be married a long time ago."
He pursed his mouth. "Oh." He scratched his temple. "So...what a day, huh?"
"I know...I can't believe I lived through a tornado." She held out her hand. "I'm still shaking. But you were so calm. Did you get that steely nerve from the Marines, or from business school?"
He squinted. "How did you know I went to business school?"
Her throat convulsed. "Uh..."
"My mom told you, didn't she?"
She gave a little laugh, then made a zipping motion across her mouth. "She's incorrigible."
"Mothers," she agreed with a sigh, then changed the subject. "So...how are things with the D.O.E. inspectors?"
He lifted his big shoulders in a shrug. "I can't really tell."
"I heard no one at the plant sustained any injuries in the storm, or the fire."
"Yeah...we were lucky." He cleared his throat. "Listen, I also came to talk to you about something...else. Can I come in?"
Something in his demeanor set off a warning bell in her head. Whatever it was, he didn't really want to talk about it. "Uh...sure." She stepped aside, then closed the door behind him. No one man should be so good-looking.
And so strong...and so noble...and so intelligent...and so...good-looking.
"I'm sorry for inviting myself in," he said, "but I didn't want to talk where someone might overhear us."
Her nerves bundled. "What's on your mind?"
He reached into his shirt pocket. At the sound of paper crackling, she tensed. Was it her column torn out of Feminine Power? Notification from the IRS that they didn't have an Alicia Waters in their records?
He pulled out a piece of folded up newspaper, and her knees went weak---it was something about her in a newspaper.
He unfolded the newsprint and held up...her missing bracelet.
"My bracelet!" She reached for it. "Where did you get it?"
"I...found it."
"Where?" She held it and turned over her wrist so he could fasten the clasp.
His fingers were rough and masculine against her skin. "At the creek."
She held up her wrist and smiled, then she squinted. "Where?"
"Uh...near the covered bridge."
"Oh...yeah, I went back to look for it there, but I didn't find it." Then she squinted again. "Wait---how did you know it was mine? My name isn't on it."
"I, uh...might've been there when you...dropped it."
Alicia's mind rewound. She'd gone back to that spot because she thought she might have dropped it when she..." She looked up and covered her mouth with her hand. "Not when I..."
He bit back a smile, then nodded.
A hot flush zoomed up her face. "But I didn't see anyone."
He reached forward and picked up her hand. "I kind of gathered that at the time. Then I didn't want to make myself known and embarrass you, so I just..."
"Watched?"
He locked his gaze with hers and nodded. "I couldn't help it." He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. The sensation shot straight to her nipples. She gasped.
"You are---" he kissed his way up her arm and neck "---the most...beautiful woman...I've ever seen."
Her mouth opened, inviting him. He captured her lips in a warm, deep kiss, lapping at her tongue. He slid his hands underneath her top and lifted it over her head, tossing it away. Her nipples budded in the open air.
"That's how you knew about my tattoo," she accused.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, then dipped his head for a taste. His tongue set fires all over her body. He groaned and lifted her, walking her back to the bed where he feasted on her breasts until she cried out.
They pulled and pushed at each other's clothes. She expected him to hold back, but this time he shed his clothes with no modesty or restraint. She explored his body with her mouth and hands, following his guttural cues, until he stilled her hand. "Enough...I have to have you."
She was beyond ready for him. He rolled on a condom, then spooned her body to his. "You've bewitched me," he murmured, then he thrust into her from behind, and buried his face in her hair.
He flicked his tongue against her ear and fondled her nipples. "Does that feel good, baby?"
She moaned and arched into him. He slid his hand lower to please her, murmuring in her ear throughout...how sexy she was...how he thought about her all the time...
Alicia's body bucked against his as a climax broke over her. She felt wild and frenzied in his arms, like the most wanton woman in the world.
"Are you ready for me?" he asked.
"Mmm-hmm," she whispered, weak and still convulsing.
"You make me crazy," he rasped. "Oh, baby...?." Then his body shuddered and he clenched her hips against his. "Oh...oh...baby...?."
He relaxed, but held her to him in a powerful grip. As their bodies recovered, Alicia thought she might die of pure pleasure. Sex had never been like this for her. Funny, but she'd always thought casual sex was hotter than committed sex. But casual sex didn't hold a candle to intimacy with someone you had an emotional connection to.
It was as if their bodies communicated in some kind of carnal shorthand.
He leaned up and kissed her shoulder, then pulled himself out of bed and into the bathroom. When he came back a few minutes later, he stretched out next to her with a groan.
"I have to warn you, I'll probably be asleep in about five minutes. If you don't want me to be here in the morning, you'd better kick me out now."
"I thought men weren't allowed to spend the night."
"What are my brothers going to do to me? I only hope they put me in jail. That way, I might get some rest."
She laughed.
"Besides, they've spent their fair share of time sneaking in and out of Nikki's and Amy's rooms."
"Ah. I heard that Porter proposed to Nikki."
"Yeah, he did. Right after she came up out of that basement, he fell to one knee and proposed." Marcus chuckled. "I guess that experience scared him straight. He said he didn't want to waste any more time."
She pressed her lips together. "I can relate to that."
"So can I," Marcus murmured. "Moments like that are a gift." He reached over and traced a finger down her cheek. "When you can so clearly see what you want."
Her breathing grew shallow.
He made a rueful noise. "This is going to sound nuts, but...I think I fell for you that first day, when I saw you bathing in the creek. You were so...magical. I thought, now there's a woman who knows how to be herself, who knows how to enjoy life. When you walked into the diner, I couldn't believe my luck. And I couldn't get you out of my mind. It was torture working with you every day."
"Thanks a lot."
"You know what I mean."
She wet her lips. "Yes. I do know what you mean."
Her heart thrashed in her chest. She wanted to blurt that she loved him, too, but she needed to do some housekeeping first---namely, cancel the blog, or arrange to write a different kind of blog about Sweetness. She could tell him her real identity and explain things after she'd mitigated the town's exposure.
Marcus missed his estimate---within three minutes, he was sound asleep, his broad chest moving up and down. Alicia lay there and marveled at the turn of events, about how much her outlook on life had changed in a scant few weeks. She would be content to fall asleep on this man for the rest of her life...?.
When she awoke the next morning, Marcus was fully dressed and sitting in a chair, pulling on his boots. "I was trying to be quiet," he said. "It's still early, you could sleep."
She sat up and stretched, then winced at the soreness from yesterday's---and last night's---exertion. "No, I wanted to say goodbye."
He stared at her, his hand over his mouth.
She smiled. "What's wrong?" She touched her hair. "Do I look awful in the morning?"
"You look beautiful in the morning."
She basked in his compliment, but when he kept staring, she gave a little laugh. "Something you want to share?"
"Actually, there is something."
"I'm all ears."
He lowered his gaze to her nakedness. "You are definitely not all ears."
She laughed and pulled the sheet higher. "You're evading, you don't want to tell me."
"No, I do. It's just---" He stopped.
"Just?"
"It's just that I'm not used to...having someone to...talk to."
Her heart squeezed for him. The man had created his own town, yet he was lonely.
"You seem close to your brothers."
"We're close," he agreed. "But it's not the same as..."
She leaned forward and offered her hand palm up. "I know."
He lay his large work-calloused hand on top of hers, then fell into silent mode again.
After a few minutes, she sighed. "So...are you going to tell me?"
"How about if I show you?"
Her curiosity piqued, she scooted to the edge of the bed and watched as he retrieved something out of his jeans pocket. He brought it over and handed it to her.
At the unexpected weight of it, she sat up and held it closer to the lamp light. It looked like some kind of dull rock. "What is it?"
"Gold."
Alicia went still. "Gold? You mean, real gold?"
He nodded.
She scrutinized the rock, now almost afraid of it. "I don't understand. Where did you get this?"
"Out of Timber Creek."
As the significance of his words bled over her, her jaw loosened. "There's gold in your creek?"
"So it would seem."
"What's something like this worth?"
"That nugget is worth about twenty grand, give or take."
She blinked. "Who knows about this?"
"Me...and you." She took a few seconds to absorb the fact that he would share something so monumental with her, but she had to know one thing. "So is this why you came back to build your town?"
He gave a little laugh. "Absolutely not. I had no idea there was gold in this area. I found this nugget the day we were handed the new deadline. Before that, I was ready to give up."
"But then you found this and realized you couldn't let the land revert back to the government?"
"Right. Can you imagine what a circus that would be? The mountains would be blasted right off the map."
"And overrun with crazies looking to strike it rich."
"You see why I'm so desperate to make this work," he said. "I want to keep the land intact and I want Sweetness to be the kind of town where people can make a decent living and raise a family and feel safe."
"So you're not going to tell anyone about the gold?"
"Right...I'm just keeping it in case I run out of options. I might be able to use it as leverage of some kind."
She reached out to stroke his arm. "I'm glad you told me. You must feel like you're dragging an anvil around with you."
"Some days," he agreed.
Alicia was suddenly more antsy than ever to call Nina and unwind everything regarding the syndication deal. Then she could be totally honest with Marcus, and they could start with a clean slate.
"It won't be for much longer," she soothed, then handed back the nugget and folded his fingers over it. "Hopefully the D.O.E. team will make the right decision."
He nodded. "Have you ever had the feeling your life is on pause?"
"Yes." Like right now.
He gave her a tight smile. "I guess I'd better try to get out of here without raising a ruckus."
She squinted. "What is a ruckus, exactly?"
He grinned, then leaned forward to kiss her. "Today's going to be pretty hectic for us both. I hope we can see each other."
"If you can, come by the diner for the unveiling of the new name at one o'clock."
"Wouldn't miss it." He gave her another lingering kiss, then he slipped out.
Alicia lay there for a few moments, reveling in all the new parts of her life that seemed to be unfurling in front of her. It was as if she'd lived her life to this point behind a veil, and now suddenly the veil had been lifted, and the really good things that she'd always thought were out of her reach, were right there in front of her to be plucked. She smiled to herself and gave a little squeal.
But first things first. She called Nina's cell phone and no surprise for a pre-dawn Saturday morning, it rolled to voice mail.
"Nina, it's Alicia. Listen, I know this is going to come as a bit of a shock to you, but I need for you to stop the blogs from being published Monday." She gave a little laugh. "I guess the joke is on me---the Undercover Feminist has fallen head over heels in love with the man I came here to skewer. But I do have some other ideas for replacement blog series. Just call me when you can to confirm that you got my message."
Marcus had made it as far as the porch of the boardinghouse undetected and thought he was home free, but ran into Rachel Hutchins as she was bringing in her pug from being walked.
"Marcus?" she asked, her eyes wide. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
He considered lying, but he was in such a good mood this morning, he decided not to. "If you must know, I spent the night with Alicia Waters." He gave her a mock salute. "Have a nice day."
Her outraged gasps followed him off the porch, but he didn't care.
He felt almost weightless. He was in love for the first time in his life, and he was going to enjoy it.
True, Alicia hadn't exactly reciprocated with her feelings about him, but he couldn't have imagined the connection they shared. He wasn't a playboy, but he wasn't a monk, either---he'd had his share of liaisons, some of them rather nice.
But none of those women had made his heart race just by stepping into a room.
Or made him feel as if she was looking into his soul when she set those amazing brown eyes on him.
This was different than anything that had ever come across his heart before.
On the way to the construction office, he appraised the clean streets, sidewalks and storefronts with wonder and appreciation. Daylight was just beginning to break, and unless someone looked very closely, the town looked much like it had yesterday morning, before the tornado had ripped through.
When he reached the office and unlocked the door, he was whistling, eager to work for the first time in ages, because now it didn't seem as if work was the only thing he had to live for.
He plunged elbow-deep into a stack of paperwork that still needed to be completed before the official deadline of the federal grant. After the disastrous day they'd had yesterday, it seemed unlikely the inspectors would give them passing marks---a fire of any kind was never good, but a fire in the plant that served as a model for the industry on which they were building the town seemed unrecoverable. Especially since the D.O.E. team had had a front-row seat to the fact that it had taken his firemen so long to extinguish the blaze that had started in one of their processing containers after the storm had caused a short. Granted, once paper and compost ignited, it was like burning fuel, but still...they should've been more prepared. They were very fortunate that no one had been injured.
But if the unlikely happened and the grant payment was approved, he didn't want to risk losing out on a paperwork technicality. What he'd been putting off for weeks, he now tackled with a renewed zest, and little by little, his "done" pile grew taller than his "to do" pile.
Around eight, he stopped to stretch and make another pot of coffee. The office door opened and both of his brothers came tumbling in.
"Toldja," Porter said to Kendall.
"What?" Marcus asked.
"This morning when we saw your bed hadn't been slept in, Kendall thought you'd spent the night with a certain lovely diner manager. But I told him you'd probably spent the night here, working."
Marcus sipped from his mug.
"Well?" Kendall asked. "Did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Lose your virginity," Kendall said dryly.
Marcus laughed heartily.
"Oh...my...God," Porter said, his eyes wide.
Kendall boxed Porter's ear. "Toldja."
"Do you idgets want some coffee?" Marcus asked.
"Not if you made it," Porter said.
"I'll make a new pot," Kendall offered, reaching for a new filter.
Marcus smiled to himself. His brothers knew when to poke him, and when to circle. He appreciated them more than they would ever know.
"Have you seen the D.O.E. team this morning?" he asked.
Kendall nodded. "They were having breakfast, and I said hello. But they were pretty stand-offish." He frowned. "I don't think that bodes well."
"How were things at the diner?" Marcus asked lightly.
"Great," Kendall said. "Except when I walked in, I thought it was on fire again."
Marcus's heart skipped a beat. "What?"
"There was this glow all around. Turns out it was just the big beaming smile on the face of the manager."
"Good one," Porter said.
"I thought so," Kendall said.
Marcus grinned in spite of himself...and his good mood lasted all morning.
Shelby and Emory and Dr. Maxwell stopped by. The couple were both radiant over the fact that they were expecting a baby and surprised Marcus with the news that they'd decided to move back to Sweetness and reopen Moon's grocery, in memory of Shelby's father.
He was happy for them, but even as he was hugging Shelby and shaking Emory's hand, he couldn't help wondering if the town of Sweetness would still be around for them to come back to. But for their sake, he remained upbeat.
Dr. Maxwell stayed behind after the couple left and his demeanor was suddenly awkward.
"Something on your mind, Dr. Maxwell?" Marcus asked.
"Marcus, you can call me Cletis, you know."
He inclined his head to the man he'd known his entire life. "Sorry, old habits die hard, but okay... Cletis."
The man held a worn fedora and was twisting it as if he were wringing it out. "The thing is, I'd like your blessing to court Emily."
Marcus's eyebrows shot up. This he had not seen coming...although, in hindsight, he should have. He lifted his hands. "I think that's between you and my mother."
"I agree," Cletis said. "But I also know how your mother felt about your father and how she feels about you boys. She wouldn't see me if she thought you disapproved. You, especially, Marcus."
"I appreciate that...and for what it's worth, you have my blessing." He stood and extended his hand to one of the best men he'd ever known. "Be happy."
Dr. Maxwell looked like a teenager who'd just passed parental approval of the girl he wanted to take to the movies. "I'll take good care of her, son."
"I know you will."
The man jammed his battered hat on his head and left grinning.
Marcus shook his head in wonder. Life continued to surprise him.
He glanced at the clock---it was nearly noon. The ceremony to announce the new name of the diner wasn't for another hour, but maybe Alicia would have time to have lunch with him. If not, he could simply sit at the counter and ogle her.
He smiled and headed toward the diner, taking note of the nice weather. The storm system that had roared through yesterday had ushered in cooler temperatures. It was perhaps the nicest day they'd had since spring, fitting for the crowds that had arrived for the day of festivities. Coverage of the tornado and subsequent cleanup had been good publicity---Main Street was positively hopping.
It was a word he never thought he'd use to describe Sweetness.
"I need to take a quick break," Alicia said to Clancey.
His eyes rounded. "Now? Half of Atlanta is here."
"I'm sorry---the artists' market is closing in a few minutes and I promised my mother I'd stop by her booth. I'll be back before you miss me."
"I'm only not mad because you seem so incredibly happy today, and I want you to stay that way."
She grinned. "You're a gem."
"Go."
Alicia threaded her way through the crowded diner and walked out to peruse Main Street, which had been blocked off to car traffic. If she didn't know better, she'd think she was on a market street in SoHo. White tents that housed artists and their wares lined the street, and were packed with customers. News cameras and vans in the distance reflected the popularity of the story of Sweetness bouncing back from not one, but two tornadoes. She had a feeling the hours of the market would be extended to accommodate the astonishing crowds, but she wanted to at least stop by and say hello.
She found her mother's tent and was gratified to see that she was doing a brisk business. Candace was animated and pretty, wearing many of her own pieces designed from recycled metals, glass and bits of plastic. Her mother's talent fit in perfectly with the town's recycling theme, and customers seemed to love her work.
Robert stood by, gazing at Candace with loving eyes, and waiting on customers. No one would guess he was a high-powered attorney who earned eight figures. Alicia wondered if the two of them would settle into a more laid-back lifestyle than before. It suited them, she decided.
He spotted her and waved. "Isn't this great?"
She nodded, waving at her mother. Candace pointed to Alicia's wrist where she wore the bracelet her mother had given her, and smiled wide.
Alicia touched the bracelet and smiled back. Her mother would be pleased to know the role the bracelet had played in getting her and Marcus together.
"She's so talented," Robert said.
"Yes," Alicia agreed. "I think she's finally decided what she wants out of life." She gave him a pointed look and he blushed like a schoolboy.
"We're going to give it another try."
Alicia's heart swelled. "I'm so glad, Daddy."
"You haven't called me that in a long time. I like it."
He hugged her and she thought how odd it would be to have normal parents after all this time.
Her phone rang. She checked the caller ID to see it was Nina calling. "I need to get this and get back to the diner. Tell Mom I'll see her later."
She walked away from the crowd and answered. "Hi, Nina. I guess you got my message about the blog series."
"Yes," Nina said. "Too late."
Alicia gripped the phone tighter. "What do you mean too late?"
"I told you I would ask that they wait until Monday, but the editor wanted to run the series now to coincide with a piece they were already doing on the tornado."
"Now?" Alicia said, her heart pounding.
"Yes, now...today. They published the series this morning."
When Marcus arrived at the diner, a crew of workers was preparing to hoist the covered sign bearing the new name of the diner for the unveiling. He wandered over and surreptitiously pulled back enough of the tarp covering the name to be able to make it out.
Molly's.
He smiled---it was perfect, of course. Alicia had probably chosen it to help repair his friendship with the colonel. And it would work---Molly would be thrilled.
His heart squeezed when he thought of Alicia...he was eaten up with it. He walked into the diner and scanned the crowd, but didn't see her. Clancey caught his eye and gestured him over.
"She'll be back in a few minutes."
He didn't mind that the man assumed he was looking for Alicia. In fact, he kind of liked it. "Thanks, man."
Marcus leaned against a wall and surveyed the scene before him. Conversation and laughter abounded. Oldies music played overhead and some of the little kids were dancing. A bulletin board with customer photos was getting a lot of attention. It was just the kind of place he'd hope it would become, in just the kind of town he wanted to preserve for his own children.
He looked up to see Rachel Hutchins headed his way, with a thundercloud on her forehead. He straightened, wondering what had the woman so riled up.
"Look. At. This."
He glanced down at a magazine she held, opened to a page. "What is it?"
"A replacement copy of Feminine Power magazine I received this morning. Imagine my surprise when I recognized one of their feature columnists."
He took the magazine and frowned at the name. Alicia Randall. He squinted at the picture. His Alicia. Then he read the name of the column--- Undercover Feminist.
Confused, he looked back to Rachel. "I don't understand."
"Neither did I. So I did some digging on the internet this morning. Imagine my surprise when I found this."
She opened a folder that held photocopies of an article titled "Southern Town Seeks Single Women for Servitude."
His brain didn't seem to be processing at the moment. "What am I looking at?" he asked.
"It seems that your girlfriend is actually Alicia Randall, a renowned feminist writer who came to Sweetness undercover and has been recording the activities of our people since she arrived."
His mind raced---the invalid social security number, the notes about customers on her order pad. "What...what kinds of things?"
Rachel read from one of the copies with yellow highlighting. "The three brothers who run the town ran an ad in the newspaper next to ads for cattle and sheep."
Marcus's mouth tightened.
"Talk to the women who answered the ad, and you'll quickly see what a sad, desperate lot they are to stay... The men and women live separately, like some kind of cult... Talk to the man who runs the town, and you'll see why things are the way they are---he's the most arrogant, misinformed, chauvinistic man I've ever met...it will be a pleasure for the Undercover Feminist to take him down a notch."
Rachel's face was mottled red. "This was posted on a nationally syndicated blog this morning. It's all over the internet. She's made fools out of all of us."
Marcus couldn't breathe. He was the biggest fool of all...he'd shared his secret of the gold with a journalist? It would sweep the internet, and of course the D.O.E. team would find out. Richardson said he had an alert set up to be notified when Sweetness was mentioned. He would no doubt see this garbage, too.
Nikki and Amy walked up. "It looks intense over here," Nikki said jokingly. "What's going on?"
Rachel handed both of them copies of the article, and walked around passing them to other residents.
Marcus closed his hand around the piece of paper. How could he have been so blind, so trusting? All of the signs had been there...even Amy had told him Alicia seemed like someone who was just passing through. He didn't want to see it. Even now, his mind churned for some kind of explanation. He didn't want to believe it was true.
The door opened and Alicia walked in. He locked gazes with her, and the truth hit him like a kick to the gut.
Alicia's knees threatened to buckle. Marcus knew.
Rachel charged toward her, holding up a printed copy of the blog series that had been posted. "I knew you looked familiar! You spilled that drink on my magazine on purpose because you were afraid I'd recognize you." Alicia glanced around, saw that Rachel had distributed copies. Stony stares were angled in her direction.
"I'm sorry---" Alicia began.
"You're sorry?" Rachel said, her voice high. "No, I'm sorry...for you. Maybe the women who came here didn't have the glamorous life of a Manhattan journalist, but we're good people. We would never befriend someone under false circumstances and then betray that person for our own gain...and entertainment."
Alicia pressed her lips together. The woman was right. These people were better than her.
"Leave," Rachel said. "You don't deserve to live here." She tossed a stack of the photocopied articles at Alicia's feet.
A wall of tears pressed on her eyes. Marcus strode toward the door, but wouldn't look at her. When he walked out, she followed him and snagged his arm. "Marcus, let me explain."
He looked at her, but his intense blue eyes had gone stone cold. "What's left to say?"
"It's true. I came here intent on proving how this place had set back women's rights by fifty years, but I was wrong. I tried to stop the story from being posted, but I was too late."
"That's convenient," he said, his voice hard. "And the story about our gold---when does that go up on the internet?"
She blinked. "It won't. I would never betray your confidence."
He held up a copy of the article he held fisted in his hand. "This says otherwise."
She choked back a sob. "Marcus, I love you. I want to make this right."
He bit out a harsh laugh. "I think Rachel spoke for all of us." He turned his back and walked away, anger punctuating every step.
Alicia's heart crumpled.
She was numb as she walked back to the boardinghouse. Inside, everyone she passed had a highlighted copy of the blog series. The women glared at her, then turned away. She hurried up the stairs to escape their deserved censure. Once she was in her bedroom, her tears fell freely. She sobbed as she threw her few personal things into a suitcase. Most of the items were her mother's so she'd leave those for Candace. She would call her parents when she got on the road and explain what happened.
For now, she just wanted to leave this place---and these memories---as soon as she could.
Marcus was so disoriented, he made it back to the construction office on muscle memory alone. His entire body ached with pent-up emotion. His mind sprinted ahead, to how he was going to explain to his brothers that he'd been so hoodwinked by a pair of brown eyes that he'd divulged the one secret that would ensure they would lose Sweetness forever.
He'd failed his father...he'd failed his brothers...he'd failed an entire town.
When he walked into the office, the desk phone was ringing. He picked up the receiver, then slammed it down again.
He opened the copy of the article and scanned her picture. She looked overconfident...powerful...cold. Self-recrimination coursed through his blood. How could he not have seen through her? She hadn't even told him her real name...from there he guessed it was just one lie after another. How she must've been laughing at him for his awkwardness around her, how she must've laughed at them all. Rachel had said she was from Manhattan. Sweetness had probably seemed pathetically backward and dull in comparison.
She probably thought he was a hayseed, easily manipulated.
And he had been.
The desk phone rang again. He picked up the receiver and slammed it back down.
There was a rap on the door.
"Marcus?" Porter asked. "Can I come in?"
His brother rarely knocked and certainly never asked if he could come into the office, which meant he knew what had happened and thought Marcus was in here crying his eyes out. He pulled his hand down his face. His brothers didn't know the half of it.
"The door's open," he called. He might as well tell them everything.
The door opened and Porter came in, looking wary. Kendall was behind him, for reinforcement, he assumed.
"We heard," Porter said, gesturing to the article that Marcus held.
"So let the jokes begin," Marcus said.
"Hey," Kendall said, his voice serious. "We wouldn't do that."
"We just came to say that we're sorry," Porter said. "And if it's any consolation, I thought Alicia really had feelings for you."
"Amy and Nikki said the same thing," Kendall said. "We all liked her."
"Did she offer an explanation?" Porter asked.
"Did she apologize?"
Marcus sighed. "She said after she got here she changed her mind about the story and tried to stop it."
"But you don't believe her?" Kendall asked.
The desk phone rang. Marcus picked it up and slammed it down again. "I think she's an expert at saying whatever needs to be said at that moment." Like I love you, after her lies had been revealed.
"I'm sorry, bro," Kendall said.
"It's no big deal," Marcus lied. "I just regret telling her some of the things I told her."
"Well, don't be embarrassed for our sake," Porter said. "We don't have secrets from each other."
Marcus wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. The gold nugget in his pocket felt like lead.
"There's plenty of time later for getting drunk," Kendall said. "The D.O.E. team is outside---they want to talk to us."
Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. Because this day wasn't bad enough already. "Sure," he said, gesturing to the door. "Let's get this over with."
They probably already knew about the gold, and were going to give the Armstrongs the courtesy of briefing them on just how the government was going to rape the land.
Kendall opened the door and invited the team inside. Marcus had met most of the six-member team---four men and two women. Dale Richardson appeared to be the spokesperson because he'd been around for so much of the Sweetness project.
Marcus moved to stand behind his desk. "Please sit," he said, gesturing to chairs Porter had arranged.
"That won't be necessary," Dale said, confirming Marcus's fears that they'd lost the grant.
His chest filled with dread. His mind rewound over the journey that had brought him and his brothers to this point: the day they first surveyed the abandoned, overgrown land and formed a pact to undertake the massive project, creating a master plan for the resurrection of a town, recruiting an army of strong men to get them started, importing a group of feisty women to move them forward, fighting back when Mother Nature had threatened to destroy everything. It had all come down to this moment.
"What I mean," Richardson continued, "is that it won't take me long to say. I don't know how you did it, but you pulled off a miracle, with time to spare. Congratulations, gentlemen, the town of Sweetness, Georgia, is yours."
Marcus fell into his chair with a thud. Two years of stress and aggravation and setbacks drained out of him like toxins leaving his body.
His brothers were whooping like fools...and he let them. Porter and Kendall came over and hauled him out of the chair for a massive manhug.
"We did it," Porter said.
"We did it," Kendall said.
"We did it," Marcus agreed.
"Everything about this town impresses us," Richardson said. "But nothing more so than the people in it. If we hadn't been here yesterday to witness the effort of your men putting out that fire as if their very lives depended on it, and the determination of your residents to clear the ravages of the tornado, we wouldn't have believed it. You've created something very special here. We expect big things out of Sweetness."
Marcus shook Richardson's hand. "Just watch us."
After the team left, Kendall removed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, and three shot glasses. "I think it's time for a toast." He poured the shots, and passed them around. "And I'll let you, big brother, do the honors."
Marcus lifted his glass. "To Dad."
Porter nodded. "To Dad."
Kendall clinked his glass to theirs. "To Dad."
They tossed back the shots, and Marcus sighed, thinking it hadn't been such a bad day after all. Except for that little matter of getting his heart stomped on.
The phone on the desk rang and Porter reached for it. "Since you obviously don't want to talk, let me get this." He put the receiver to his ear. "Armstrong Construction." He frowned in Marcus's direction. "Yes, he is...who's calling?" His eyebrows shot up. "Just a moment."
He handed the phone to Marcus. "Nina Halleck. She says she's Alicia's boss."
Marcus frowned. "I don't want to talk to her."
"She said she was going to keep calling until you did."
He scowled. "Bossy Northern women." He took the receiver. "Hello?"
"I'm Nina Halleck, and I'll have you know I was taught to be bossy by a Southern mama. May I have a moment of your time, Mr. Armstrong?"
"The clock is ticking," he said.
"I assume your brother told you I'm Alicia Randall's boss. I just talked to Alicia and I know she's making plans to leave your town. I just thought you should know that the blog series was originally scheduled to be released Monday. I received a voice message this morning from Alicia asking me to halt the publication. She said she'd fallen in love with you and didn't want it to go forward. She had no idea the series had already been released."
Marcus swallowed hard. He wanted to believe that he hadn't simply imagined the connection their hearts had made. "Why should I trust you?"
"Because, as my mother would say, I'm shooting myself in the foot by telling you this. I could lose one of my best staff writers."
He was silent, mulling.
"Look, I've known Alicia since she graduated college. She's one of the smartest, most independent women I know, but she's always withheld her heart. I've seen her change over the duration of this assignment. You did that...and your town did that. If you let her get away, you're an idiot who doesn't deserve her. Goodbye, Mr. Armstrong."
He frowned at the disconnection, then settled the receiver back in its cradle.
Alicia could barely see the road in front of her for the tears clouding her eyes. Even so, every time a car passed and the driver waved and honked, she did the same.
She was, officially, a Southerner.
Just in time to go back north.
At least the road leading out of Sweetness was flat and straight. In her rear view mirror, she caught a glimpse of the white water tower soaring over the town, with its graffitied I Nikki and I Amy. She knew now that Porter and Kendall had left those messages, a public and shameless statement of how they felt. It was immature and silly...and impossibly romantic. She was envious of what Nikki and Amy had.
She'd had it for a few hours---Marcus's love and adoration. And now...he would never speak to her again. Fresh tears flooded her cheeks.
A truck came up behind her and flashed its lights. She squinted, thinking it was probably some kind of Southern Morse code, but all she knew to do was pull over to let the truck go around her. She saw the covered bridge up ahead and decided to pull off there.
The driver started honking and she looked again, blinking for focus. Her heart jumped to her throat. It was Marcus. He probably wanted to give her another piece of his mind. And she deserved it, she conceded. She'd arrived in Sweetness only to be embraced with open arms and folded into the community as if she were one of its own. And she'd repaid that friendship---and love---by holding them up to the world as buffoons.
She didn't blame them for hating her...she hated herself right now.
The area around the covered bridge was full of tourists' cars, so she had to drive a little farther, but finally found a spot to ease onto the shoulder. When she realized the edge dropped off into a ravine, she hugged the road. The truck pulled in behind her. Marcus got out and strode toward her, his face serious, his jaw rigid.
He wanted the last word, obviously. Maybe he'd threaten her with a lawsuit if she told anyone about the gold, or let her know she was never again welcome south of the Mason-Dixon line.
He stopped in front of her window and looked so angry, she was tempted to just drive off. Instead she swallowed hard and zoomed down the window.
He leaned over and put both hands on her door. His blue eyes pierced her like arrows. "Was it a lie?"
She bit into her lip. "Unfortunately, you'll have to be more specific."
His mouth tightened. "When you said you loved me---was that a lie?"
Her heart fluttered with hope. Why would he care, unless... "No," she said. "Not that one."
He was still for a moment, then he wet his lips. "In that case...baby, don't go."
Her heart leaped for joy, and she couldn't get out of the car fast enough. She flew into his arms and he kissed her hard, lifting her off her feet.
"I know I have a lot to do to regain the trust of everyone in Sweetness," she said.
He traced a finger down her cheek. "You have plenty of time for that because I'm never going to let you go. I can't wait to see how we grow the town together."
Her eyes widened. "You got the grant?"
He grinned. "We got the grant."
She shouted with elation and they held on to each other. God, she loved this man. She wanted to build a legacy with him.
"There's one thing I need to do," he murmured.
She pulled back. "What?"
He reached into his pocket and removed the gold nugget, then wound up and threw it like a bullet out and over the infinite ravine.
"Be quiet over there," Marcus said.
Alicia looked up from the notebook she was writing in. She was sprawled on a warm, flat rock near his favorite fishing hole. "I didn't say anything."
"I can hear you thinking," he said, then pointed to his motionless pole in the water. "You're scaring off the fish."
She picked up a pebble and tossed it in his direction. "I'm almost finished, then I'll come over there and look at you."
He grinned. "You figured me out."
"A long time ago," she said, then looked back to the entry for her new Engaged Feminist blog series. The words had been pouring out of her since she'd moved to Sweetness. The little town, as it turned out, was the perfect place to study all kinds of relationships.
Take her parents, for example. They had moved to Sweetness and remarried. Her father was the Justice of the Peace and happily referred to himself as a kept man since Candace's line of jewelry had taken off.
It was interesting to watch the way relationships between the men and women in Sweetness continued to change as the town evolved. More people relocated to their little spot on the mountain every day. It had become a trendy "it" destination for scientists and creatives...and singles of all kinds.
It was true that in some ways the roles of men and women in Sweetness were defined along traditional lines. But just like when the residents had pulled together to clean up after the tornado, most of the time no one stopped to consider what was "women's work" and what was "men's work." If someone saw something that needed doing, they did it, without expecting credit or accolades. The rest of the world could take a lesson from what was happening in Sweetness.
The place was, as far as she was concerned, a Southern Utopia.
She closed her notebook and sat up. From this vantage point, she could see the white water tower, which now sported a third graffitied message: I Alicia. The sight of it always made her smile. She hoped it was still there when she and Marcus had children and their children grew up to have children of their own.
She felt the sweet pressure of Marcus's mouth on her neck. "You look so good, baby, I decided to come over here instead. Reminds me of the first time I saw you...?."
Alicia rolled her shoulders, knowing what ecstasy was to come. She still considered herself a feminist, but she didn't mind submitting to her man once in a while...?.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8047-2
BABY, DON'T GO
Copyright © 2011 by Stephanie Bond, Inc.
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