Spring In The Valley. Charlotte Douglas

life by alpha males, police officers and farmers, big strapping men who lived with gusto and commanded respect, yet none had left her breathless, sped her pulse or quickened her interest as this Yankee stranger had.

      Inhaling a deep breath of the chilly night air to steady herself, she gathered the Officer Friendly teddy bear, her purse and a heavy wool shawl from the passenger seat, stepped from the car and climbed the stairs toward the front entry.

      The massive carved wooden door swung open before she reached it, and Rand stood in a pool of light with Jared in his arms. How did the man manage to look more attractive every time she saw him? Tonight he could have passed for a cover model for GQ in tight designer jeans, a bulky beige fisherman’s sweater and tooled leather boots. And beneath that handsome facade, she suspected, were rock-hard strength and a brilliant mind.

      Jared, arms tight around Rand’s neck, hid his face against Rand’s shoulder.

      “Welcome to River Walk,” Rand said.

      Brynn stepped inside, and the magnificent architecture drew her attention from her host.

      “Wow.” Brynn winced inwardly at her automatic naive response to the house’s interior. If Rand didn’t already consider her a typical hayseed, she’d just given him cause.

      The wide foyer with its soaring timber-framed ceiling was brightly lit by an immense chandelier of deer antlers. Brynn hadn’t seen a rustic building so impressive since her dad had taken her to the Old Faithful Inn in Yellowstone National Park when she was seven.

      “You remember Jared,” Rand said. “This is Brynn, tiger. She helped us when you were sick.”

      “Hey, Jared. I brought you a present.” She held the teddy bear toward the boy.

      One wide hazel eye filled with skepticism peeked out at her. She wiggled the toy to animate it and said in a high squeaky voice, “Hi, Jared. I’m Officer Friendly.”

      Jared raised his head and gazed at the bear. “Who?”

      “I protect you from all the bad guys,” Brynn explained in the same funny tone. “Will you play with me?”

      “That voice alone must strike fear in the hearts of evildoers,” Rand said with a bone-melting grin.

      “Evildoers?” Brynn asked in her normal voice, no mean feat considering the effect Rand’s smile was having on her pulse rate.

      “Legal term,” Rand answered with a straight face. “We lawyers use it all the time.”

      Jared stretched out a hand, and Brynn gave him the bear. He clutched it fiercely against his chest and buried his face in the toy’s plush fur.

      “Hi, Ossifer Fwienly,” he murmured, mutilating the name in typical toddlerese.

      “What do you say to Brynn?” Rand prompted gently.

      Jared shot her a quick glance before hiding his face in the toy again. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome, sweetie.” Brynn was happy he appeared much healthier than the last time she’d seen him. “You feeling okay now?”

      Without looking at her, he nodded, his withdrawal almost painful to observe. Brynn had encountered shy children before, but Jared’s quiet attitude went beyond simple timidness. She sensed an underlying sadness and wondered where the two-year-old’s parents were.

      Footsteps sounded from the rear of the hall, and a short, plump woman with gray hair in a pixie cut and rosy-pink cheeks hurried toward them, wiping her hands on her apron.

      “Sorry, Rand,” the woman said in a lilting voice with the faintest trace of Irish brogue. “I was headed for the door, but the oven timer went off, and I didn’t want the salmon overcooked.”

      Rand smiled at the older woman with obvious affection. “No problem. Lillian O’Mara, meet Brynn Sawyer.”

      “Hi,” Brynn said. “Whatever you’re cooking smells good.”

      “It’s nice to meet a friend of Rand’s,” Lillian said with a welcoming twinkle in her green eyes. “I’ve known him and Patrick since they were both no bigger than this little one.” Lillian held out her arms to Jared. “Come to Lillian, darlin’. It’s past your bedtime.”

      Jared released his stranglehold on Rand and went willingly to Lillian, but hid his face again as soon as he’d transferred to her arms.

      “I’ll tuck him in and sing him to sleep. By then, dinner will be ready.” Crooning softly to the child, Lillian climbed the spectacular log staircase and disappeared into the upper reaches of the huge house.

      “How about a drink?” Rand gestured toward his right, motioning Brynn into a living room with the same soaring timber-framed ceiling as the foyer. Walls of glass revealed the abundance of exterior lighting that showcased the surrounding decks and landscape. A fireplace of mountain stone, large enough to roast an ox, blazed with a cheery fire.

      “Nice place,” Brynn said, and struggled to suppress another cringe. So far she was two-for-two on the road to striking out in the game of scintillating conversation. “Plenty of room for the three of you.”

      “Lillian lives in the guest house,” Rand explained. “About that drink?”

      “Fine.”

      He crossed the room and opened a set of doors built into the wall next to the fireplace to hide a fully stocked bar. “What would you like?”

      Nothing to further addle her already befuddled senses. “Do you have a Diet Coke?”

      “Sure.” He placed ice in a tumbler and poured her Diet Coke, then fixed himself a scotch on the rocks. When he handed her the glass, their fingers brushed briefly, sending a buzz of pleasant warmth up her arm. He lifted his drink. “To friendship.”

      “To truth,” Brynn countered and took a sip.

      He stared intently for an instant, as if trying to assess her thoughts, and gestured to a sectional sofa covered in butter-soft beige leather. Brynn took a seat.

      Rand settled across from her in the sofa’s right angle. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

      She shrugged. “Trust has to be earned. I don’t know you well enough to know if you deserve to be trusted.”

      “Ouch. Are you always so blunt?” Although his words were accusing, he hadn’t lost his killer smile.

      “Bluntness saves time.” She sipped her drink and glanced around the massive room. Marion had said the house needed work, but what Brynn had seen looked fine. Mostly lots of window glass, aged timbers and minimal furnishings. “I don’t like beating around the bush.”

      “An admirable attitude for you, but not very productive for a man who earns his living by running up billable hours.” Rand reclined with one arm extended on the back of the sofa and swirled the ice in his glass with his other hand.

      “So why am I here?” Brynn had already established her penchant for bluntness. She might as well exploit it.

      Rand’s smile faded, and his expression turned serious, drawing her attention to the accentuated planes of his high cheekbones. With the rugged attractiveness and deep tan of an athlete, he lacked the softness she expected from a man who spent his life in conference rooms and courthouses. Flames from the massive fireplace reflected in the deep brown of his eyes.

      “As I explained before,” Rand said, “I wanted to thank you.”

      She shook her head. “You already have.”

      He set his drink on a table behind the sofa and leaned toward her, his strong hands clasped between his knees. “Not enough. I could never thank you enough. I was out of my head with worry the night you pulled me over. If you hadn’t stopped me, I might have killed Jared, myself and God knows who else.”

      The sincerity in his rich voice and the intensity