His Touch

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

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

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

“That’s hitting below the belt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three

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

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

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

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

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

Not a good thing.

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

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

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

Someone hated her.

Enough to kill her?

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

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

“You’re here awfully early.”

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

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

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

“So how was your evening?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Uh-oh, what happened?”

“More of the same, only worse.”

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

“I know.”

“So what happened?”

Jessica filled him in, leaving nothing out.

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

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

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

“How do you think the council will react?”

“They’ll be concerned.”

“Or tell me I deserve it.”

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

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

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

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

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