Baby, Don't Go (17 page)

25

O
ver the next couple of weeks, it became clear to Alicia that she wasn’t going to see a lot of Marcus. He sent someone to repair the lock on her door, leaving her with the impression that he either didn’t have time, or didn’t want to see her…or both. She occasionally caught glimpses of him riding a four-wheeler from one job site to another, and a couple of times he came into the diner to fill a coffee thermos. But on those days he barely made eye contact, would flit his gaze over the fireproof apron she wore, then look away. He was in constant motion, a cell phone or a two-way radio always pressed to his ear. From what she gathered, the man was working nonstop, operating on scant food and even less sleep to meet the building and service requirements set forth in the grant guidelines.

Indeed, it seemed as if all the townspeople had kicked into high gear, preparing for Homecoming weekend activities and pitching in where they could to move projects forward. Dozens of new workers were bussed in to meet the increasing demands of the labor pool, and crews worked round the clock in eight-hour shifts. Structures seemed to go up overnight—a church, a library, a hotel and a city hall building with a small jail, plus two single-family homes in what would become the town’s first housing development.

For her part, to improve the diner, Alicia held daily staff meetings to engage the employees. She introduced a contest to name the diner. She had long wooden tables relocated from the meadow to the shade of trees next to the diner to double their serving area. She hired three more waitresses and another busboy. Clancey introduced daily specials to make the most of produce from the organic garden.

But even as the diner thrived, Alicia felt antsy and unfulfilled. The days were too busy to miss Marcus, but at night she would dab on the aromatic cedar oil he’d given her and, after her mother had fallen asleep, she would lie awake and wonder if he was sleeping, or if he ever thought of her. She replayed their lovemaking in her head so many times, she’d committed every detail to memory, like the way he’d entwined her fingers in his and how he’d kissed that special spot on her neck no other man had ever found…?.

She attributed her melancholy to the fact that she missed New York. The oppressive Southern heat and cloying humidity was wearing on her, and despite the endless openness of the landscape, she was feeling claustrophobic. She couldn’t escape the townspeople with their never ending cheerfulness and fascination for all things banal. If she never saw another horseshoe, it would be too soon. She longed for her tailored clothes and air-conditioned office and ergonomic desk chair.

And if she needed proof that she and Marcus Armstrong lived polar opposite lives, she only had to try to picture him in
her
native setting to see how they would mesh.

Her mood seemed to worsen every day.

Even as she chatted up her regulars to get more information for the continuing threads in her blog, she could feel herself retreating emotionally. It was as if she didn’t want to know any more about them than was absolutely necessary to do her job. The more they extended invitations to fold her into life in Sweetness, the more she resisted. She worked long hours at the diner, took long, solitary runs, then burrowed in her room to write blog entries, as if by writing more, she could hurry along the process. She and Nina had agreed the new deadline for the federal grant would be a good cut-off point.

And by the time the Undercover Feminist column and blog series about Sweetness were released, she’d be safely tucked back into her condo, sipping a chai latte, perusing reviews for Broadway shows she’d missed while she was gone.

Her mother, on the other hand, had taken to Sweetness as if she’d been born there. She had joined a book club, a sewing circle, and a craft group that met in the community room of the boardinghouse. And in every spare moment, she worked on her jewelry designs. She accepted every invitation to dinner that Alicia turned down, although she promised Alicia that she scrupulously avoided details that might compromise Alicia’s cover.

But Alicia still worried, because despite her mother’s newfound exuberance, she had the feeling that something was wrong. Candace constantly checked her phone and seemed to be looking over her shoulder all the time. Was she secretly hoping that Bo would follow her to Sweetness, profess his undying love, and take her home to Atlanta?

She could only shake her head and marvel over how attractive, otherwise intelligent women could get so wrapped up in a man who made them feel sad most of the time.

It was a fact she was still lamenting the next morning when she noticed that once again, in between waiting on customers, Gina was staring at Scott Bloom like a lovesick cow. Teri had tired of Scott and moved on to another regular male customer, but Scott remained oblivious to the devoted Gina. And Susan Sosa sat at the counter, wearing too much makeup simply to have the blue plate special, craning for the arrival of her beloved and elusive Kenny every time the door opened.

“Enough,” Alicia said, wiping her hands on her fireproof apron. “Gina, go talk to the man already.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t know what to talk to him about.”

“Do you know anything about baseball?”

The woman shrugged. “Not so much. Why?”

She gestured to the table where Scott sat. “Because every morning Mr. Wonderful spends all his time devouring anything having to do with the Atlanta Braves.”

Gina brightened. “Well, I did go to a Braves play-off game once. I caught a homerun ball and got it autographed.”

Alicia lifted her hands. “There you go—perfect conversation starter.”

“You think?”

Alicia made a shooing motion. “You’re on break.”

Gina smiled and hurried away, smoothing a hand over her hair.

Clancey turned from the grill and arched an eyebrow. “That was nice of you.”

“Trust me—I did that for me, not for Gina.” She looked down the counter to where Susan sat checking her lipstick. Alicia glanced out the window. Sure enough, Kenny Stapleton was walking in the direction of the diner. “One down, one to go,” she murmured.

She dashed into the office to grab an envelope and piece of scrap paper from the desk. When she leaned down and pulled out the drawer, she noticed her mother’s small suitcase pushed back against the wall. Just as she’d suspected, someone must have stashed it there for safekeeping during the cleanup and forgotten about it. She smiled, then hurried back to the counter where Susan sat.

“Susan, when Kenny comes in, don’t look at him. Instead, write something on this piece of paper, then seal it in this envelope, and use that great shade of lipstick to kiss a nice, big imprint on the back. He’ll think you’re writing to another man.”

Susan looked doubtful. “Are you sure that’ll work?”

“No. But do you have a better idea?”

Susan put out her hand. “Give it.”

Alicia walked back to the grill and crossed her arms to watch.

Clancey wagged an egg turner at her. “You little matchmaker, you.”

“Oh, please.”

“This town could use one, you know. I’ve never seen so many single men and single women in one place, yet they all act like sixth graders throwing dodge balls at the ones they like.”

Alicia laughed. “Good analogy.”

“So which one are
you
trying to dodge?”

She shook her head. “No one—I’m on the sidelines.”

“Uh-huh.”

The door opened and to her surprise, Marcus walked in. Alicia straightened and smoothed a hand down her apron, flicking off a speck of dried food.

Clancey made a rueful noise. “Ah…that one. I must say, you have very good taste.”

Alicia elbowed him. But when Marcus headed her way, her heart pounded in her chest. Even though he looked exhausted, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Those eyes…?.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, looking around.

Her chest infused with pleasure. “I’m…glad.” She reached up to twist her hair, but caught herself. “Can I get you something? Coffee?”

He lifted his thermos. “Coffee would be nice, black.”

She unscrewed the lid and poured the steaming liquid inside. “You look tired.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

“No, you look good, just tired.” She balked. “I mean…”

His smile grew wider. “Thanks.”

She handed him the thermos, her cheeks as hot as the coffee. “How are things going?”

“Honestly, I’m afraid to stop to see,” he said, already edging toward the door. “Oh, and Kendall asked me to tell you that your social security number got kicked back again—will you check it in the system?”

“Absolutely.”

He turned and walked out. She exhaled, still smarting from the exchange.

“Smooth,” Clancey mocked.

She frowned.

Then he gestured to Gina and Scott, who were chatting away, and to Susan and Kenny, who were sharing a menu. “But you have a knack when it comes to other couples…what’s that saying? People who can, do, and people who can’t, teach.”

His smile took the sting out of his words, but not entirely. She made her living with words, yet Marcus reduced her to a tongue-tied teenager. She squinted, trying to remember when the tide had changed…and narrowed it down to between the time she’d pulled him into her room and the moment she’d felt his heart beating against hers.

Unnerved, Alicia excused herself to the kitchen to call her mother’s phone. Candace didn’t answer, so Alicia left her a voice message that her missing suitcase had been located at the diner. She had two messages of her own from Nina, so she dialed her boss’s office number.

When Nina answered, Alicia said, “I have five minutes—what’s up?”

“Your personal net worth,” Nina sang. “We finalized the syndication deal this morning!”

“That’s great,” Alicia said, happy that her work here would count for something.

“The editor is completely hooked on your blog series. She talks about those people like she knows them personally. She even wants to
visit
Sweetness. And so do I.”

“If you come, don’t forget your scorpion repellent.”

“Oh, that’s our favorite part—the fact that Matthew gave you cedar oil and a fireproof apron to protect you when he can’t. It’s so primal!”

Alicia frowned down at her apron. “Or controlling.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s obvious the man’s crazy about you. You’re going to have to let him down easy when you leave.”

She scoffed. “He won’t even notice I’m gone.” At the sound of someone approaching, she glanced up to see Candace. “Gotta run, Nina. Thanks for the good news. Later.”

She stashed her phone in her pocket, then smiled at her mother. “You got my message about your suitcase?”

Her mother nodded, but she looked drawn and agitated.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Candace said, looking around. “Where is it?”

“Here,” Alicia said, reaching under the desk. “Someone must’ve found it during the cleanup and put it here for safekeeping.” She pulled on the handle, but it was wedged in. She pulled harder, and the suitcase popped out with enough force to send Alicia stumbling back…and to cause the catches to snap open.

Prescription pill bottles spilled all over the floor, each of them full of white tablets.

Alicia stared, incredulous, then looked up at her mother. “What’s this?”

Her mother looked stricken. “Bo’s stash.”

She gaped, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “You stole his illegal drugs? Are you insane?”

Candace put a hand to her forehead. “I didn’t know what to do. I came here to think. Then when the suitcase was lost, I figured it had gotten thrown away and I didn’t have to worry about it.”

Alicia fell to her knees and scooped the loose bottles back into the suitcase. “Not worry about it?” she said under her breath. “Mom, don’t you think Bo is going to figure out that you have his drugs and come looking for you?”

Candace chewed on her lip. “It crossed my mind.”

Alicia banged the lid shut and secured the clasps. “Why wouldn’t you just leave this in the trunk of the rental car?”

“I was afraid to let it out of my sight…and I didn’t want you to be implicated if someone found it.”

Alicia handed the suitcase to her mother. “Take this to the room and put it on the top shelf in the closet. We’ll talk later.”

He mother looked teary-eyed, but nodded and left.

Alicia covered her face with her hands. Her mind whirled—what should she do? Call the state police? The FBI?

Marcus?

The thought of telling Marcus made her nauseous. She’d already caused more than her fair share of trouble around here…and he didn’t know the half of it.

She pulled out her phone and punched in a number, relieved when a real, live voice came on the line.

“Hello?”

“Dad?” Alicia swallowed hard. “Mom’s in trouble.”

26

M
arcus read the same contract paragraph for the third time, then put down his pen and rubbed his eyes. They felt as if they were full of grit. He glanced longingly at the couch on the other side of the office—he hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a stretch ever since the D.O.E. rep had dropped the time bomb.

He glanced to the wall calendar on which he’d marked the new deadline with a large red X. Seeing how few days were left and knowing how much work still remained sent panic crowding his chest.

He reached inside a pocket on his cargo pants and pulled out the nugget he’d found in the creek bed. He kept it close for inspiration, as a reminder of what was at stake.

It was gold, all right. Under the guise of testing a new fertilizer mix, he’d asked Dr. Devine for a small amount of nitric acid, then applied one drop of the powerfully corrosive agent to the nugget. When the surface didn’t change in color or composition, he knew what he’d found was the real McCoy, and not a less valuable imposter.

He’d wrestled with the decision to tell Porter and Kendall, but in the end, had decided not to. If he told them, they’d be tempted to tell Nikki and Amy, and although he knew the women would never do anything intentionally to put the town at risk, there were just too many ways that conversations or text messages or emails could be intercepted. But keeping the discovery to himself felt like an added burden.

And at times, he thought he might crack under the pressure. There had been few occasions in his life when he’d longed for a life partner with whom he could share his most heartfelt secrets, and this was one of those occasions.

Alicia’s face flashed in his mind…along with other parts of her. Their erotic encounter now seemed like a distant dream, but he drew on the memory of it when he needed an escape. And while he wouldn’t go so far as to say she was life partner material—they were far too different—he admitted feeling a connection with her, an ease of intimacy that he’d never experienced before. And he wanted her again.

Hell, he wanted her now.

A rap at the office door jarred him out of his reverie. He shoved the gold nugget back into this pocket, then he picked up the pen and called, “Come in.”

The door opened and Alicia stuck her head inside, as if he had conjured her up.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked.

He pushed to his feet. “For what?” In his head, he calculated the time it would take to complete various activities.

She smiled, then held up a basket. “To take a picnic?”

Picnicking had not been one of the activities on his mental list…and yet he still wanted to go—so much that he knew he couldn’t. “Unfortunately, I can’t get away right now.” He gestured to the stack of paperwork on his desk.

Her smile fell. “I understand. Sorry to interrupt you.”

“But don’t go,” he said quickly. A hot flush burned his neck. “I mean, come in…I have a few minutes.”

She walked in, looking fresh and toned in a sundress and sandals. He fairly groaned, he wanted to touch her so badly.

She held out the basket. “At least keep the food for later.”

“Thank you.” He set the basket aside and drank her in. “How are things at the diner?”

“Fine.”

“Kendall told me it was your idea to run a contest to come up with a name for the place.”

She laughed self-consciously. “I realize it’s a small detail in the scheme of things.”

“No, it’s great.” He smiled, a movement that felt rusty, but good. “I’m sure Rachel is upset she didn’t think of it first.”

At the mention of Rachel’s name, she looked away. A disagreement, perhaps?

“Is your mother still visiting?”

Another misstep, judging from her reaction. He wondered if she realized how expressive her face was—a thought that transported him back to their time together.

“Yes, she’s still here.”

Part of him was relieved because there had been so many nights where the only thing that had kept him from knocking on her door was knowing her mother was probably still staying with her.

Alicia gave him a pained smile. “Actually, I had an ulterior motive for taking you on a picnic.”

He arched an eyebrow, enjoying himself for the first time in days. “Really?”

She nodded. “I, uh… I need to tell you something…about my mother. She’s gotten herself in a bit of a…situation. Does the town have a law enforcement officer?”

He frowned and leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk. “Not yet. We’re trying to attract a Justice of the Peace. It’s one of the requirements of the grant. We have promises from Justices in neighboring counties to help us in a pinch, but it would be nice to have our own in place. Is your mother in some kind of legal trouble?”

“You could say that.” The color rose high in her cheeks. “It turns out that her boyfriend in Atlanta is a bit of a…drug dealer.” She lifted her hands and gave an awkward laugh. “Mom didn’t know about it until she found a suitcase full of prescription narcotics.”

He schooled his face because he didn’t want to appear judgmental.

Alicia forged ahead. “The good news is she decided to leave him.”

“And the bad news?”

“She decided to take the evidence with her.”

His eyes widened. “She stole his inventory?”

Alicia closed her eyes briefly, then nodded. “She planned to turn it over to the police, but she got here the day of the fire, and the suitcase was lost in the confusion—”

“There’s a suitcase of narcotics floating around town?” He didn’t bother hiding his alarm.

She put out her hand. “No. We found the suitcase, and everything was…intact. My mother’s lawyer is coordinating a deal to surrender the drugs to the Fulton County D.A.”

“So she won’t be charged with anything?”

“That’s the idea.” Alicia shook her head. “You saw my mother—she’s
not
a drug dealer. She just…makes poor decisions where men are concerned.”

He didn’t comment, although he couldn’t help but think of his sweet, selfless mother, who lived for the happiness of her family. Emily Armstrong hadn’t looked at another man since their father had passed, and would never be mixed up with any kind of criminal element. He felt a pang for Alicia; she’d probably had to deal with her mother’s poor decisions her entire life.

No wonder the woman didn’t want anything to do with marriage.

“Anyway,” Alicia continued, her voice artificially bright, “the reason I’m telling you is because, one, I thought you should know about the suitcase full of drugs in the closet of my room, and two, although his low I.Q. makes it unlikely, it’s possible that Candace’s boyfriend could follow her here looking for his drugs.” She exhaled, visibly drained.

Marcus made a rueful noise. “So that’s why you asked about law enforcement?”

She nodded. “Look, Marcus—this isn’t your problem, and you have enough on your plate at the moment. If you prefer that my mother just leave and wait somewhere else while the deal is being worked out, I understand.”

It would certainly be the easier thing to do, he conceded…except when he looked into Alicia’s big brown eyes and saw the pain there. And then there was only one choice.

He crossed his arms, already formulating a plan to pull the men from his crew who had been military police during their time of service. “First of all, your mother is welcome to store the suitcase in a safe at the city hall building until the authorities arrive. And second—there’s only one way in, and one way out of Sweetness. If you get me the name and description of this guy and what he might be driving, I promise you, he won’t get anywhere close to your mother.”

The smile that lit her beautiful face would’ve been enough of a thank-you, but when Alicia threw her arms around him to plant a kiss on his mouth, it was an overindulgence that threatened to undo him. His senses reeled. He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her between his legs, wedging her body up next to his.

Her mouth was soft and warm, and the kiss was sweet and thorough. He wanted to while away the rest of the day…the rest of his life…kissing her until she gasped for breath.

Suddenly she pulled her mouth away, covering her lips with her fingers. “I…should go.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, but I should let you get back to your deadline.”

He nodded and pushed to his feet, still trying to catch his own breath.

She walked toward the door. “About the deadline—do you think you’re going to meet it?”

It was a simple question—one that people had been asking him for weeks. But at that moment, all the pressure he’d been feeling over the past two years seemed to coalesce, squeezing his chest like a vise. He wet his lips. “Honestly…no, I’m not sure we’re going to make it.”

There…he’d said it.

Alicia tilted her head, her gaze intent. “Of course you’re going to make it. You haven’t come this far for things to unravel at the end. Marcus, you do realize, don’t you, that people believe in you, not out of blind faith, but because you’re probably the only man alive who could pull this off?”

Her words bolstered him, but he was feeling so shot through with emotion, he didn’t trust his voice.

She smiled wide. “Just remember, you’re not in this alone. These people will do anything you ask of them.”

He nodded, suddenly feeling very raw.

Her dark eyes grew soft. “Thank you again, Marcus, for your help.”

The way she looked at him made him feel powerful and weak at the same time. “Like I said before, I want everyone here to feel safe.”

“I do.” Then she opened the door and was gone.

Marcus stared after her, already wanting her back, but newly restored by her faith in him. He reached into the pocket of his cargo pants and withdrew another treasure—Alicia’s bracelet. He knew he should return it, and he would. But for now, he liked having a piece of her with him.

And with the deadline barreling toward him like a runaway freight train, he needed all the good-luck charms he could get.

Alicia paced in a deserted spot outside the diner, her phone to her ear. “Nina, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Alicia, talk to me. What brought this on?”

She stopped and put a hand to her forehead, loath to reveal how her mother’s sordid personal life had spilled over into the assignment. Tears pushed at the back of her eyes. “It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t think there’s anything nefarious afoot in this town. There’s no story.”

“So maybe it’s more of an observation piece than an exposé.”

“But it feels…underhanded.” Especially in light of what Marcus was doing for her mother. Guilt pummeled her.

Nina sighed. “Alicia, this is bigger than just you now. The syndication deal has already been signed, and the deal was based on the material you submitted. You made commitments—we all did.”

Alicia closed her eyes. “You’re right. I guess I’m getting too close to the story.”

“And to Marcus Armstrong?”

“No, that’s not it.” But her voice wobbled.

“It’s okay to become emotionally attached to the people of Sweetness, as long as you remember why you’re there. Are we clear?”

Alicia drew in a deep, cleansing breath, then released it. “Yes.”

“Good. But don’t worry. You’re doing those people a big favor. If this blog series takes off like I think it’s going to, it’ll put that little town on the map. People will be flocking to Sweetness for months to come.”

Alicia bit her lip. That was all well and good…assuming Sweetness was still around in a few months’ time.