His Touch Page 3

  “I’m not sure. Could be any time now, I suppose. Thurmon and Veronica are in charge of the arrangements.”

  “Meanwhile, do you think it’s wise for you to be alone? I can always bunk on your sofa.”

  “Absolutely not, even though I appreciate the offer.” Jessica’s full lips thinned. “I’m not about to let this maniac totally rule my life.”

  “You’ll be careful, though, won’t you?”

  Jessica heard the anxiety in Tony’s voice and realized how foolhardy she must sound. Last night’s incident, in particular, was not something to be taken lightly. Still, it was hard to admit she needed anyone. She’d grown so used to taking care of herself that she resented the loss of that God-given right.

  “I promise I won’t take any unnecessary chances. But I’m sure Veronica and Thurmon will see that I don’t, so you can rest easy.”

  “Good.” Tony stood, then peered at his watch. “Since it’s almost time for Saxon’s appointment, I’ll let these files slide until later.”

  “Not if they’re important.”

  “Nothing that can’t wait until after he leaves.” Tony paused, his features becoming solemn and pinched. “There is one more thing. I debated about telling you.”

  “Don’t ever do that.” Jessica came as close to snapping at him as she ever had. “What is it?”

  “Dale Lipton. He’s thrown his hat back into the mayoral ring.”

  Jessica groaned out loud. “That’s not good news.”

  “And Saxon will be backing him. Count on it.”

  “Oh, I know. Lipton and Saxon are not only good friends but business partners of sorts, or so I’ve heard.”

  “No problem. You’ve got class and smarts. They have neither.” He massaged the top of his head. “Besides, you’ve already trounced Lipton once. You can do it again.”

  “I won’t give in or up without a fight. Last election, he fought low and dirty.”

  “But you didn’t, and that’s why you beat him.”

  Tony grinned at the same time his glasses slipped down on his nose, making him look like a figure out of a comic magazine, especially as a twig of unruly hair was sticking up from the crown of his head. But she didn’t dare say a word. He would have a fit if he knew his hair was mussed.

  “As soon as things in the office and in my personal life settle, we’ll find a new chief, then I’ll get started on my reelection plans.”

  “I have several people in mind to manage the next one. Well-qualified people.”

  “Good. We’ll get together on that soon.”

  Tony headed toward the door. “Oh, something else.”

  “What?”

  “Since the council okayed that Zurich mayoral conference, does that mean I’m to make plans for you to attend?”

  “Of course. It’s a chance I’d be foolish to pass up.”

  “Well, with all this mess going on, I wasn’t sure.”

  Jessica didn’t hesitate. “Now you are.”

  “Great. I’ll buzz personally when Saxon arrives.”

  “Thanks,” Jessica said with a downturn of her mouth.

  Tony’s lips twitched. “Any time.”

  Once she was alone, Jessica stood, walked into her bathroom and trashed her cold coffee. But instead of heading back to her desk and tackling the phone messages and mounds of paperwork, she went to the window and stared at the Dallas skyline.

  Lovely city. Lovely time of the year. Her favorite, in fact. The flowers and trees were in full bloom. Everything looked and smelled fresh, especially after a cleansing rain shower like the one they’d had last night.

  Now the sun was shining. Maybe that was a good omen.

  She needed that. Since Porter’s death, she had made her career her life in an effort to soak up the loneliness that oftentimes haunted her. She knew she had been a good mayor. She had made things happen for the city—good things. She definitely earned more money than she was paid rather than being paid more than she earned.

  Her goal was to continue to be the best, most conscientious mayor she could be, then seek reelection, a prospect that no longer loomed brightly. But it would, as soon as she rode out the current political storm. Because she felt so justified concerning her bold actions, she was determined to remain strong and unbending in her decisions.

  The chips would just have to fall where they would.

  Her buzzing phone jolted her back to the moment at hand. She crossed to the desk and pressed the button. “Yes.”

  “Mr. Saxon’s here.”

  “Send him in.” Jessica walked to the coatrack and slipped into her jacket just as the door opened and Saxon strode in.

  “Morning, Mrs. Kincaid.”

  He rarely showed her the respect of her title, which didn’t bother her. It merely showed how unprofessional and insulting he could be when it suited him. Today was apparently one of those days.

  “Good morning,” she forced herself to say as politely as possible. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “I hope you’ll still feel that way after I leave,” he countered with his usual bluntness.

  She ignored that and asked him to sit down.

  Lance Saxon was of average height, with a balding head and jowls that shook when he made any kind of sudden movement. The circumference of his middle was also noticeable, indicating that he lived the good life to the max.

  He took a seat, but by the time she sat behind her desk, he was standing again, seeming to tower over her, his nostrils flaring.

  Keeping her emotions in check, Jessica smiled, then asked, “So what’s on your mind?”

  “Oh, I think you know. But for starters, I insist you reinstate the police chief.”

  Thirty minutes later Lance Saxon strode out of her office, but not before stopping, turning and firing off one more verbal round. “Rest assured, you won’t get away with your actions, Mrs. Kincaid.”

  Though her legs were less than steady, Jessica had forced herself to follow him to the door with another smile plastered on her face. Now that he was actually leaving her office, her hand circled the knob so hard she experienced a wince of pain.

  That was when she saw him.

  Standing in her outer office, staring at her. A moment of panic seized her and held her motionless. Had her nemesis managed to get… No. The pervert harassing her wouldn’t look like this man.

  Was that her bodyguard?

  Most likely, she assured herself, feeling her stomach unknot. As far as she knew, she didn’t have any more appointments until after lunch. Where was Tony? Not at his desk, unfortunately.

  “You’re obviously Jessica Kincaid.”

  His low, rather rough-sounding voice had a strange effect on her nerves. She stiffened. “And who might you be?”

  “Brant Harding, your bodyguard.” His lips twitched, as if he would have loved to smile, only his lips wouldn’t cooperate.

  Jessica swallowed, suddenly at a loss for words. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the likes of this man. For some crazy reason, she felt an instant visceral response. The first thought that came to mind was the word dangerous; with his dark, brooding looks, he reminded her of a stalking panther.

  No man had ever struck her with such animal force, leaving her more than a little disconcerted.

  Wetting her lips, she said inanely, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “That’s obvious.”

  She flushed, something she didn’t do often. “Won’t you come in?”

  He strode into the room. Reluctantly she closed the door behind her, fighting off the insane feeling that she was sealing her doom.

  Four

  Jessica sensed Brant Harding was as uncomfortable with the situation as she was. It didn’t take any brain-power to figure that out. So why had he come? And why didn’t she just send him on his way? Good questions, but with no good answers.

  “Shall we get down to business?”

  Although his tone was not exactly brusque, it touched on it. “I
have no problem with that,” she said, feeling her temper rise, which was totally out of character for her. It took a lot to rile her, but there was something about this man that set her on edge. As the seconds ticked on, that edge seemed to sharpen.

  Why hadn’t she asked Veronica more about him when she’d had the chance? She kicked herself mentally for that oversight. At the time, however, she had assumed he was an older man, the Saxon type, perhaps, with a bald spot on the top of his head. Well, he certainly wasn’t old—early to mid-forties, she gauged. Nor did he have a bald spot.

  Shifting her thoughts abruptly, Jessica turned and made her way into her office proper.

  Brant didn’t sit down, but then, she didn’t invite him to, either. Briefly their eyes met before both looked away.

  However, Jessica didn’t have to stare at him to know what he looked like. The image of his tall, well-honed body dressed in a pair of casual slacks, sports shirt and boots was imprinted on her mind. He seemed to dominate her office, and it wasn’t small, either. It was the man himself. He exuded that kind of power and authority.

  No wonder he was a crackerjack agent. Still, that didn’t excuse his curt behavior. Without having to be told, she knew no one had been able to make him show up here—favor or no favor. She imagined Brant Harding did his own thing, in his own time.

  Handsome? No. His features, which were etched with an almost bitter overtone, were too strong for that. Noticeable? Oh, yes. His thick dark hair was entwined with silver and appeared like it wanted to curl, which merely added to its richness. And his dark eyes were surrounded by thick sooty lashes, lashes that most women would kill for, herself included.

  A living, breathing work of art was what he was.

  Clearing her throat and hoping she’d successfully maintained her composure, Jessica jerked her mind back on track. Remembering her manners, she offered him a cup of coffee.

  “No, thanks. But I would like to know who that guy was and what he meant by his parting shot.”

  He was also a man who came straight to the point, Jessica noted. A man who apparently didn’t believe in wasting words.

  “His name is Lance Saxon, and he’s a councilmember.”

  “He’s obviously not happy with some of your latest decisions.”

  “That’s an understatement. He’s by far my biggest critic.”

  “Is it because of the police stink?”

  “So you know about that.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, which were the width of a fullback’s. “Thurmon told me you’d cleaned house.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. What I did was relieve the chief of his duties, along with two officers whom I put on suspension.”

  Dark eyebrows quirked. “Sounds pretty drastic to me, but I’m sure you had your reasons.”

  God, he was irritating. “Evidence was uncovered that the officers were on the take and the chief knew it but did nothing. In addition, there was strong evidence of police brutality, not just in one incident but several. The same officers were involved each time.”

  Jessica paused and drew a clear breath. “Pending further investigation, I thought it best for the city that I take such a bold move.”

  “So everything is well documented.”

  “I have folders filled with complaints,” Jessica said.

  “So you do indeed have your guns loaded.”

  “That seems to surprise you,” she responded in a testy tone, having difficulty hiding her growing irritation. “Or maybe it’s that you don’t approve.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t.

  ” Brant’s eyes narrowed. “It’s what the council thinks that matters.”

  “If I were a m—” Jessica broke off, choking on the word man.

  Brant finished the sentence for her. “If you were a man, you might have more support, right?”

  “That’s right,” she said, unable to suppress the bitterness that sometimes caught her unawares. “I suppose you feel the same way.” Not that she gave a damn.

  Again he seemed a bit shocked at her directness, though his tone was even and unruffled. “Actually, I don’t have an opinion one way or the other.”

  “Good,” she muttered, turning away from his intense gaze.

  “Not all on the council are on your side, I take it.”

  Jessica faced him again. “Saxon especially, like I said. He’s determined to make me reinstate the chief and the officers, then make a public apology.”

  “And you intend to fight him?”

  “To the end. I did what I felt was right, but only after I carefully weighed all the evidence. And consequences. Trust me, it wasn’t an easy decision. And in the long run, it could cost me dearly.”

  “Your job.” A blunt statement of fact.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think Saxon might be behind the threats toward you?”

  Jessica was taken aback. “Of course not. He’s a pillar of the community, plus he’s one of the wealthiest men in the city.”

  “So?”

  She stiffened. “So I don’t think it’s Saxon. He’s pompous and everything that goes with that, but he’s no fool.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  Jessica tightened her lips. Talking to him was like constantly bumping into a brick wall.

  “What else is going on in your professional life that might generate this kind of menace?”

  “There’s a big land deal pending,” she said, following a deep sigh. “More to the point, there’s a huge tract of land I’m trying to annex into the city. In fact, I thought I had all the loose ends tied and knotted, that it was a done deal, only I’ve suddenly encountered severe opposition.”

  “Such as?”

  “Industry. One of the major land owners, who’s actually a friend of mine, has been approached by a worldwide industrial company. This company wants to build a plant on part of the land. As it stands now, the community where it’s located has a much cheaper tax rate than the city of Dallas.”

  “If you get your way, then the company might want to move elsewhere.”

  “Most likely they will.”

  “Which will screw the owners out of a mega deal.” Brant rubbed his chin. “Not a great scenario.”

  “There’s more, I’m afraid,” Jessica added. “The other portion of the land is being developed for garden homes. A polling firm was hired to question the interested parties. The community won hands down, citing city taxes again.”

  “Sounds like another hornet’s nest.”

  “Maybe.” Jessica stiffened. “Nonetheless, I’m going to fight them on it.”

  “Is the council behind you?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Could anyone connected with the land project be responsible for the threats?”

  “I have no idea, though my first thought would be no.”

  Brant rubbed his jaw. “What about your friend?”

  “Curtis Riley? Absolutely not.” This time she was empathic.

  His eyes drilled her. “How do you know?”

  “I just know,” she said with cold emphasis.

  “Okay, how ’bout your personal life?”

  Jessica bristled. “That’s not an issue.”

  “At this point, Mrs. Kincaid, everything’s an issue.” He gave her a hard stare. “And everyone.”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned.”

  The air suddenly crackled with suppressed hostility.

  “Look, if I’m going to do my job effectively,” Brant said, his slightly curled lip registering his impatience, “you have to be forthcoming.”

  “Need I remind you it’s not your job yet?” The words were out before she could stop them. Now it was too late to recall them. In that moment the already charged atmosphere seemed to heighten another degree.

  “Fine.” Brant pushed away from the wall where he’d been leaning. “When you decide, I’ll be at the Nashes’ house.”
>
  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Brant turned at the door, his eyes narrowed to slits. “You have twenty-four hours to make up your mind, then I’m out of here.”

  The moment she was alone, Jessica’s entire body wilted. She hadn’t realized she’d been so uptight until then. Biting down on her lower lip, she walked back to her desk and sat down.

  Brant Harding had the potential to rev up her nerves as much or more than the threats against her. The idea of having him invade her life was unthinkable. Where did that leave her?

  Back at square one.

  He had told Thurmon this was crazy, that he wasn’t the right man for the job. Since he’d met the woman, he knew that for a fact. Thank God her clear dislike of him had gotten him off the hook.

  She wasn’t about to hire him.

  Even so, he thought as he sat in his car in his friends’ driveway, he wasn’t looking forward to conveying the news to them. If he weren’t careful, the whole episode could turn around and bite him on the ass. The monkey had to rest on Jessica’s back. But whether she would assume that responsibility remained to be seen.

  That was her problem, not his.

  He might as well get out and get his chore over with. Yet he didn’t budge. Instead he took his cell phone out of his pocket with every intention of calling his son. Then it dawned on him that Elliot was probably still in school. Or was school out? Hell, he didn’t even know what his kid was up to. All the more reason why he needed to hang around, he reminded himself, bitterness swelling inside.

  But working for that uptight broad was not the answer.

  She might be a looker as well as a mover and a shaker, with that lovely face, short tousled hair that moved when she did, and those long, shapely legs, and thin, well-curved body. Too much for him to handle. He would be the first to admit that, and he didn’t feel the least bit shamed by it.

  A cold fish under a warm designer outfit.

  That had been his initial reaction and that hadn’t changed. Hell to work for, too, he would bet. Spoiled, used to having her own way. Nah, he didn’t need that extra headache. Thurmon would just have to find someone in his firm who would suit her needs. He wished them the best of luck.