Mary Baxter - His Touch

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re right, I didn’t.”

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

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

“Thanks again, but no thanks.”

“Can’t blame a fellow for trying.”

“Is Ronnie all right?”

“Great. Blowing and going, as always.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Funny.”

Brant kept his features bland.

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

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

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

“You read my mind.”

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

Surprise raised Brant’s eyebrows. “Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

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

“I have a favor to ask, that’s why.”

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

“Because you’ve became paranoid?”

Brant snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope. But she has a friend who is.”

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

“How’s that going?”

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

“Nothing like a woman scorned.”

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

“After you were never home.”

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

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

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

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

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

“By getting you back to Texas.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s hitting below the belt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a good thing.

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

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