Sweet Child of Mine. Jean Brashear

Meredith Colton, gracious and elegant as always, her warm brown eyes filled with sympathy.

      “The whole staff’s pretty tired. No one’s gotten much sleep since this thing started.”

      “But are you sure that’s all that’s wrong? You seem so—” Ever the soul of discretion, Meredith didn’t continue.

      As soon as she could get away, Suzanne was going to crawl in a hole somewhere and hide from the bombshell that had been dropped right into her dreams just as she was about to leave for the meeting tonight.

      Joe Colton and Blake looked at her oddly, and Suzanne straightened. She would lick her wounds in private. “I’m just fine. It’s the kids I’m worried about. Tell us how you want to work out the details of turning your beautiful home into an orphanage.”

      Joe and Meredith laughed and even Blake, exhausted and worried as he was, cracked a smile.

      Suzanne shoved away the blues and concentrated on the children under her care.

      “See you in the morning, Blake.” Michael waved at his troubled friend. “Go get some sleep. It’ll all be here tomorrow.”

      Blake shook his head. “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

      “We’re going to lick this, buddy. Your friend Sinclair broke the case, and the FBI’s now involved. The EPA guys are champing at the bit after Inspector O’Connell’s death. We’ll find out who and why and what we have to do. Joe’s brought all his resources to bear, too.”

      “But what if—”

      Michael knew exactly what Blake meant. He wouldn’t be sleeping soundly at night until they knew for sure how the DMBE got into the Hopechest water and could be sure it hadn’t traveled into the city’s wells. But he’d learned long ago that lying awake didn’t do anything but make you too tired to deal with tomorrow. “Tomorrow, Blake,” he said firmly. “No more for you tonight.” With a friendly push, he sent his friend toward his car. “Home. Sleep.”

      Blake saluted, got into his car and drove away.

      Michael stood on Prosperino’s Main Street and looked around him at the town where his childhood memories had been born. He thought of the son who’d never ride his bike on these streets, never climb a tree. He felt an echo of the old, gut-wrenching pain and looked up at the stars.

      Not one parent in Prosperino is going to lose a child, I swear it. I will not rest until everyone here is safe again, no matter what it takes.

      There was nothing he could do to safeguard the woman and child buried, along with his heart, a continent away. There was nothing he could do to make his father’s long-damaged heart mend. Nor was there anything he could—or would—do to satisfy his father’s dying wish for Michael to marry.

      But he could expend every ounce of his determination and strength to keep the citizens of this town safe. Corny as it might sound, they were his responsibility. He had taken an oath to serve this town that was so much a part of him, of his family’s heritage, and he would honor that oath.

      Michael’s senses registered the breeze through the trees, the muffled sounds of slow, small-town living. Suddenly he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He was starving. His gaze lit on Ruby’s Café, the heartbeat of Prosperino. He didn’t feel like going home to an empty house tonight. Ruby’s, it was. With quick strides, he headed down the block.

      When he entered the café, quiet at this late hour, he was stopped at every occupied table or booth by people seeking reassurance. He did the best he could, though it had been a very long day and all he really wanted was some peace and quiet and food.

      He spoke with the last group and traded handshakes all around, then headed for his favorite back booth.

      But it was occupied—by the very woman he’d been worried about earlier.

      Staring into a coffee cup, looking utterly lost, Suzanne Jorgenson seemed to gather what little light made it into that corner of the room. Sleek and straight, her black hair fell past her shoulders, veiling her face as she leaned forward, her head in her hands.

      Suzanne was a good foot shorter than his own six four, but her will was so strong and her spirit so indomitable that she’d always seemed taller. Tonight she looked fragile and vulnerable, and it shocked Michael so much that he wasn’t sure whether to go to her or retreat.

      But he’d never been much for retreating.

      “Mind if I join you?”

      Her head jerked up, and he could see that she’d been crying. On her lovely face was a look of such despair that it didn’t matter how tired he was. Instead of waiting for an answer she seemed too dazed to give, he sat down. “What’s wrong?”

      For a moment the old sparks flickered in those stunning violet eyes. “I don’t recall inviting you to sit down, Mr. Mayor.” But he heard the tremble in her voice.

      “So sue me. What’s wrong? The kids are going to be okay, I swear it. We’ve got lots of people working on this. The ranch isn’t alone anymore.”

      “It isn’t—” She stopped, but he could see temptation flicker.

      He cocked his head. “Is there something about the ranch I need to know? Something you and Blake haven’t told us?”

      She shook her head slowly. “It’s not the ranch. It’s—” She glanced away. “Nothing. Not anything you need to worry about.”

      But she was worried, desperately so. He made his living reading people—in court, in depositions, in the confidences they shared with him. He also knew the value of silence. “I’ve got pretty broad shoulders and a willing ear to spare.”

      When her gaze flickered over him, measuring those shoulders, Michael felt an answering response, and the strength of it surprised him. Well, all right, it wasn’t like he’d never looked at her as a woman. But most of the time she was a pain in the behind, always involved in some cause or other, always trying to push for the city to pitch in, always impatient with the pace of bureaucracy.

      But he had noticed she was female. She was slender though definitely curved in all the right places. You couldn’t look at her with those big violet eyes and those knockout legs and not know she was all woman. If she’d use that delectable mouth for something besides arguing with him over every line of the city budget as though the only important causes were hers—

      He caught himself staring at that mouth and turned away quickly, calling out his order to Ruby.

      “No date tonight, Mr. Mayor?” There it was, that tone she used, that snotty tone that made him—

      She didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that was making her cry, so she must be out to pick a fight.

      He wasn’t going to cooperate. “Nope. No date. Doesn’t look too good for the head of the emergency management team to be playing while the Titanic sinks.”

      Her eyes went wide, and she shifted in the booth. “Oh God, the kids—”

      He stopped her with one raised palm. “It was a joke, Jorgenson. All right, a lousy one, but I’m a little punchy. We’ve been putting in some long nights lately.”

      Suddenly her eyes softened. “Blake’s exhausted.”

      “I’ll bet you are, too. You’ve been at the hospital every day and all that driving back and forth to the ranch trying to keep the kids calm has to be wearing you out. You should be home asleep, you know. You won’t do them any good if you wind up in a bed beside them.”

      She studied him for a long moment. “Careful, Longstreet. I might get the idea that you’re a decent guy.”

      He shrugged and grinned. “I even have a mother who thinks I’m pretty terrific. Go figure.” He watched her closely. He took one more stab, keeping his tone light. “So if it’s not the ranch, is it some deep, dark secret that I can exploit the